#chanel tape

[elismaster]

Uzi inspo

#lil uzi eternal atake #lil uzi vs the world #lil uzi vert #chanel uzi #v x uzi #inspiration #pink tape

[blueberryarchive]

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses. 

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy. 

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it. 

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time. 

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door. 

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again.  Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place. 

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.  

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs. 

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

#bts #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin x you #bts imagines #taehyung #halloween #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #halloween smut #bts x reader #bts x you #hoseok imagine #hoseok smut

[wosowrites]

Tattoo Tour (Ona Batlle x Reader )

Warnings: none! pure fluff

A/N: I had to invent some meanings to Ona’s tattoos bcs obviously i don’t know what they all actually mean. UPDATE: this fic rly flopped oops

Prompt: reader and ona play for man united and are doing a tattoo tour video for manchester uniteds youtube chanel.

"You guys ready?" The media manager asks, looking between you and Ona. "Yeah, let’s do it!" Ona answered, her spanish accent making your heart melt for her. You two had been together for over a year and a half now, but every day, your love for her grew even more.

"Okay, 3,2,1, rolling!" The woman behind the camera said. "Hey red devils! I’m y/n y/l/n…" you start saying, "and I am Ona Batlle…" Ona finished, "and today we are doing a tattoo tour. We both have a lot of tattoos. I think i have 9 and Ona has… 8?" you say, turning to Ona. "Sí, eight." "Right, so we’ll be showing them off to you guys, and explaining what they mean. So… let’s do it!" you finished the introduction and the camera woman cut the video taping. "Which tattoos do we show first?" Ona asks, turning to you. "Uhmm… I think i’ll start with my arms. I have three on my left and two on my right." You told her. "Okay, i’ll do my back first." Ona said. "But we should show our matching tattoo at the same time." She then added. "Yeah, of course."

Ona started unzipping her training jacket, leaving her in her sports bra. Ona had always been very comfortable with her body, often posting more revealing pictures on instagram, you were always the one behind the camera. So, you follow suite, unzipping your training top, revealing a red, manchester united muscle tank so that you could easily show your arms. "Giving the fans a show, eh?" Ona whispered lovingly into your ear. "Aren’t you to one with your abs out?" You answered, looking down at the shorter girl. "Yeah, but you have guns." Ona said, poking your bicep.

Little did they know, the camera had started rolling already. "Guys, we’re rolling." The camera woman said, laughter in her voice. "Oops… sorry." Ona said, blushing. "Okay! Ona is going to start, she’s going to show us the three tattoos on her back, while i’ll show you the ones on my arm. Then we’ll move on. Good?" You said, turning to your girlfriend at the last part. "Muy bien." She answered. "You start." You told her.

Ona turned around and started talking about her tattoos. "I got the lion when I was 22, a few months after I met y/n actually. I think it’s kind of a reminder to stay fearless, while still being kind and caring. Lions are known to be protective animals and y/n always calls me protective even though she’s 10 times more protective than I am." Ona says, laughing as you roll your eyes. "When your girlfriend is teeny and gets thrown all over the place on the pitch, you get pretty protective." You simply answer. "Ha, ha." Ona says.

A camera man comes up to the duo to get a close up of the artistic lion on Ona’s back. "Then I have this sentence right here." Ona said as you traced your finger under the sentence. "It’s in spanish but it translates to 'love should be a two sided coin' and it’s something my abuela always used to tell me. She’s never cared that I like girls, as long as the one I love loves me just as much." Ona explained.

Once again, the camera zoomed in on the sentence. "Okay it’s a short video so show yours y/n/n!" Ona said, giving you her full attention.

Despite your strong build, you were known in the world of women’s football as a pretty shy person, so every time Ona’s eyes met yours, your blush would give you away. It was something you and your best friend, Jessie Fleming, shared. "Okay. Sure." You said, turning to the main camera. "First things first. Almost all my tattoos have stories behind them, so bare with me. Speaking of, my first tattoo is a bears head." You say, turning your left bicep towards the camera and pointing to the tattoo that was about the size of your fist. "This was actually my first tattoo, which is kind of weird because usually people opt for a smaller one as their first. But I kind of just went straight for it. My teammates at UCLA used to call me bear, which is weird when you don’t know the backstory. Bears are used in two common expressions. Soft like a teddy bear, and strong like a bear. And they always used to say that those sentences both described me." You say, a camera coming and filming the tattoo up close.

You don’t notice Ona smiling at you, her eyes almost twinkling. "Then on my forearm-" you say, turning your arm to show words. "-I have the words rationed trust. That’s kind of simple honestly, never trust just one person. Then, on the back of my hand I have butterflies. Butterflies are my favorite animal. I’ve had butterflies land on me during football games like… three times. They’re just really special to me." You say, smiling at the two butterflies. "I’m gonna hurry this up a bit to get back to Oni but on my other arm I have two tattoos. One of which i’ll let Ona explain. but on the back of my arm I have a bike. Which is matching with Jessie Fleming, who’s one of my best friends in the entire world. We got them after our first year of university because we would bike everywhere, all the time and it became one of our favorite activities." You finished explaining, smiling at the camera.

You looked at Ona, staring at her as though she was the most mesmerizing person in the universe. Which, to you, she was. "A lot of people have caught on to this but we’ve never actually confirmed it. We both have a tattoo in the crook of our arm that says lover. We’re pretty big Taylor Swift fans and well, yeah." Ona says. "Plus this one here is really corny. She always says how people would tell her not to get matching tattoos with partners because what if you break up. And she always says 'the pain of getting the tattoo removed would be nothing compared to the pain of loosing Ona. So I don’t care.' " Ona quotes you. "Hey! Now everyone’s gonna think you have me wrapped around your pinky." You pout at her. "Oh but I do." Ona joked, all thought she wasn’t really joking.

Ona then explained a couple more of her tattoos, and you pointed out the whale on your rib cage, the human heart on your upper left back, the olympic rings on your hip bone, and the daisy, rose, and orchid bouquet behind your ear.

Finally, the video wrapped up, and you and Ona were free to go home.

THE WEEK AFTER:

"Oh my god guys you need to see this." Alessia Russo said, rushing towards you and Ona. Ella was right beside her, smirking. Alessia was on tik tok and pressed play on a video. It seemed to be a fan page for you and ona. the username was onaxy/n and in the caption it said 'I will never ever get over how y/n looks at Ona.'

The song playing was MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT by Elley Duhé, and at the beat drop, clips from the tattoo tour video were played, edited in sync with the audio. Clips of you looking at Ona with so much love in your eyes, the clip of you tracing Ona’s tattoo with your index, clips of you smiling down at her like she was the only person in the world.

"People are obsessed with you two." Ella said as the edit ended. "Is that how you look at me?" Ona said, smiling at you. "I don’t know! I didn’t notice I was doing that." You answered, your cheeks burning. "It is. All the time." Lessi answered, smiling cheekily. "Ha! You looove meeee!" Ona said, teasing her girlfriend. "Don’t get cocky Ona, you look at her like that too." Ella said, giggling and rushing off with Alesia. "You were saying?" You said, smirking at your girlfriend. "Te amo, bebé," Ona said, kissing you sweetly.

[callmeurbunny]

so u wanna be an “it girl”?

do u wanna be a miumiu esoteric lana del rey lily rose depp angelcore my year of rest and relaxation rococo painting coquette 60s french girl dior east coast chanel sylvia plath it girl? the lifestyle may seem exclusive, allusive, unreachable even (i mean, that’s kinda a major facet of the aesthetic/lifestyle) yet there is hope! regardless of your age, race, gender, health status, socioeconomic status, size, you too can be the it girl of your dreams!!

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

clothing:

the simplistic vintage vibes of the style are actually rather easy to thrift! simple sweaters, skirts, etc. tend to go for super cheap (especially in colder/temperate climate regions)

i’ve gotten some of my best pieces via hand-me-downs. my tiffany and co bracelet that i wear daily was a hand-me-down :)

estate sales are another great avenue for true vintage pieces that are unlike any other

tights of all sorts are great accessories. most pharmacies and general stores in the us and mexico sell women’s tights for super cheap and in a variety of styles. i’ve also found many unopened pairs at thrift stores!

knee socks are a great alternative, altough some may find them too youthful for their personal style. definitely don’t knock ‘em til you try em tho!! this is perfect option for people w/ conditions that require compression socks

beauty products:

the makeup is super simplistic and often a little messy. u don’t need much more than some pharmacy mascara, lip gloss, and brow gel. personal fav for the brows is nyx brow glue!

you don’t need fancy chanel or guerlain perfume to smell like a doll. dollar stores & wholesale stores tend to actually have excellent body sprays/perfumes. a favorite of mine is cancan burlesque by paris hilton, found at 5below.

some perfumes offer body spray versions with the same scent, just a cheaper price. my favorite perfume (pink sugar by aquolina) retails for $18 at walmart, yet you can find the near identical body spray version for just $7!

media:

podcasts on spotify are free & have no ads! one i love is nymphet alumni

many books that are cult classics (ie. the bell jar, lolita, my year of rest and relaxation) can be found in free pdf form online

soundcloud, youtube, spotify, and bandcamp all offer free music (although they have ads)

you can find old dvds or even vhs tapes of older films at the thrift store and newer ones are often available on youtube. there’s always sketchy sites like soap2day but i don’t want anyone to get crazy malware!!

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #coquette community #coquette fashion #girly aesthetic #dollette #ldr #doelette #angelcore #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #marie antoinette #lana del rey #girlblogging #girlblogger #girlblog aesthetic #live laugh girlblog #it girl #miu miu #lily rose melody depp #lizzy grant #lux lisbon

[aloysiavirgata]

Details of how his school works aside, tomorrow is VirgataBoy’s last day of high school classes. He won’t graduate until June, but he finishes formal classes tomorrow.

He turns 18 the weekend after this, and his sister will be 20 in June. Legally, I’m just about done parenting. It’s a very strange feeling.

I was 43 in December and maybe I should be feeling my age, but I don’t. I love my 40’s and this sort of quiet peace I’ve found in not caring about whether other people find me pretty anymore or if my clothes are cool or in performative femininity or whether I’ve done my makeup the right way.

I’m feeling a little wistful for being a teenager in the 90’s, but not because I was young and easy under the apple boughs. My closest friends and I from those days, we are all still friends. I like and love myself much better now than I did then.

Truth? I was conventionally attractive on the East coast and took road trips with my friends to DC and Manhattan and the beach. I was VERY lucky for parents who gave me a car (a Taurus of course) and a cell phone in 1997. I was lucky that my jobs were at trendy places to have jobs. (I was an Abercrombie Girl, a barista in the nascent days of the independent coffeehouse boom.) There was no social media. There were mix tapes and the mall and the Delia’s catalogue and Hard Candy nail polish and posters carefully ripped out of Tiger Beat. Kipling bags and Peace Frogs and Absolut Vodka ads that Rachael (that BITCH) collected.

And also, also.

Also.

I was super into this geeky show, and there wasn’t streaming or social media so you watched or you recorded it on VHS. You were, if as EXCEPTIONALLY geeky as I was, on ATXF on the dial-up modem. You printed reams of fanfic on a dot matrix printer because your friends worked at Kinko’s. You were a little shy about it all because it was wildly popular but somehow also not quite cool.

You eyed up the FTF action figures at Suncoast. Even though your friends bought Chanel Vamp, you bought Chanel Brown Sugar because it seemed like a Scully sort of lip color.

You realized some things about yourself, with Scully. With Gillian. With the complicated feelings being at an all-girls school gave you.

You went to college and grad school and got married and had babies and they grew up too. You shop online now and the posters and Scotch tape gave way to framed art.

Kinko’s isn’t even a thing anymore, you married a coffee shop customer, the Ford Taurus has been discontinued, is Abercrombie even cool?

But. This one funny thing remains. Remains so unexpectedly and sometimes, on a Thursday evening in March, you might be 17 again.

***

“We are not preordained, we are not predestined, and even so, in this enormous world of men we found each other, a colossal global coincidence causing earthquakes in Turkey and Mexico. We shook it up, she and I. We shake it up.

And when the dust settles it's just her, and me, in the car, shifting lanes and she reaches down to turn the radio on, quietly, just enough to distract me, just enough to warm us up. Streetlights outside, and night. Cars and children.

Wood and nails.”

#nostalgia #90’s #Sabine #navelgazing bullshit

[nancydrewwouldnever]

I just wrote to you again about Lainey Gossip! I cannot find the videos Chris did on ego that I believe was first featured on that evolve by Lindsay blog.

But I swear that existed about Lainey made fun of him for it. It was with his hair cut from Winter Soldier - the blonde shorter hair. No beard. Speaking directly to a computer camera where he read off a list of questions. It was in 2014 or 2015. I wasn’t in the fandom them but I was reading Lainey’s blog.

She DECIMATED him for it. Said it sounding like he was going off on unicorn farts. It was about philosophy and ego and being in one’s head.

It was on YouTube as well but not on the Evolve Chanel. It was uploaded by a random user.

It looks like Lainey Gossip deleted the article as well because I can not find it looking at her site. Interesting! I swear it existed though!

So the first one he did for Lindsey McKeon's defunct blog he did tape while he was filming Civil War in ATL:

This one I like, I think there's lots of info in there. It does get a little repetitive with his personal philosophy.

He also did two short videos with her in LA in 2017, before he went to film Red Sea Diving Resort:

These I only find fun for the near obscene way he holds the beer bottle.

#ask #interview #2015 #2017

[maevesheart]

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪ masochistic desires

series masterlist

note: harlem gage is a completely fictional character, as with cillian, petra, and jane.

summary: prince harry, known for his extensive drug use and lewd band, openly rebels against his birth into the most famous english family in the world. his norm of getting everything he wants is challenged when you, the know-it-all, smug american, rejects his advances. but the prince is never one to turn down a challenge.

WC: 6.4k

TW: swearing, drugs

listen to: babylon - 5 seconds of summer

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the halls of condé nast’s london headquarters were bustling with men and women dressed to the nines in all designer clothes.

you had been expecting this, but not quite to the extent you were experiencing this moment. a flurry of directions were flown at you by the woman giving you directions — bella, maybe? you couldn’t really remember, your focus was trained on keeping up with her long strides.

words flew out of her mouth, before she came to a sudden halt in a large window-lined room filled with cubicles, whiteboards covered in posters and samples, and racks of clothing.

she leads you to one of the cubicles in the front, a man wearing thick black glasses on the opposite end.

“here’s where you’ll be, harlem, the fashion lead of british vogue will be here shortly to speak to you.” she smiles and walks away, leaving with the glasses-clad man, who is now staring at you with wide-child-like eyes.

“hello, i’m y/n,” you smile at him, sticking out your hand.

“cillian, nice to meet you,” his irish accent is thick, and he swallows quickly before placing his hand in yours.

“where’re you from? i mean, that’s a stupid question, i can tell from your accent — god, i’m sorry sometimes i—“

you cut off his awkward rambling, “i’m from new york. you’re irish?”

he nods sharply, turning red and leaning his head down to go back to his work.

okay, awkward…

you pull your computer out of your black goyard tote, but before you have a chance to pick it up, harlem, the fashion lead, is standing above your desk, his famous wide smile across his cheeks.

“y/n l/n? your outfit is amazing,” he examines as you stand, eyes raking down your body, picking at the tan tweed chanel jacket your wearing.

a sewn bow goes across the cropped jacket, tying together in the front. thick black lines the collar, and the matching skirt has small slits on each side, with gold buttons down the middle.

you paired the set with tweed black chanel flats, simple yet elegant, perfect for a first day at a famous magazine house.

“thank you,” you smile, his bright blue eyes still scanning down your body.

“alright, follow me,” he smiles, and you follow closely behind him.

people stop to say hello to him, their eyes following you in a mix of jealousy and admiration.

you didn’t know why he wanted to speak to you, you were just as much confused as everyone else.

he turns the corner and enters the large doorway into a big office with floor-to-ceiling windows, a simple black desk in the middle with a rolling chair.

a white board sits behind his desk, different sample pieces taped up and scribbles in dark ink, the words the masochists are in all caps and underlined three times, you assume that is the issue of the month, even though you’ve barely heard of the group, or person, or whatever it was.

“please, have a seat,” harlem speaks, unbuttoning his jacket as he sits in his chair.

you sit down across from him, folding your hands into your lap, suddenly feeling very nervous.

“you met jane this morning, i’m assuming she gave you the rundown of how things work here?”

jane! that was her name, the secretary who led you to your desk. you nod to him, remembering the directions and few names jane threw at you this morning.

anna wintour, the global head of vogue, roger lynch, the coo, and then a few other names who worked in various departments, like harlem gage as head of fashion and petra taylor as head of design.

he continues, “perfect. i can dive right in,” he opens a drawer, pulling out a folder with your name scribbled on the front.

he flips it open, flicking through a few papers before pulling one out. the same words, the masochists, is printed on the paper in large letters, followed by a few names and a location.

“miss l/n, i’d like to personally give you your first piece.”

you watch as he slides the paper over to you, his demeanor a bit more uncomfortable than it was when you had met him just a few moments earlier.

you were confused. on the paper it says that the masochists is a band, an up-and-coming “punk rock” band that was founded on the basis of rebelling against societal norms.

“i’m sorry, i thought i was writing about fashion?” you question, shaking your head.

you had been hired as a paid intern for vogue’s fashion department. you assumed this would mean going to shows and dissecting the various pieces; not some band you had never heard of.

“that is correct, miss l/n, we, um well i, thought it would be great to put you on with the masochists. they’re a young band with great talents, their members are rather famous,”

you raise an eyebrow. if this band was so famous, wouldn’t you have heard of them? or even have an understanding of who was in the band?

“sorry, but i’m failing to find the connections,” you gave an awkward smile, not wanting to overstep. but this was ridiculous! you didn’t want to write about some random punk band you’ve never heard of.

���it’s custom that we do a background check on each employee, and with you, our data team found some connections, within your family or friends, or whoever you’ve posted on instagram. but they’re there. and they’re hard to miss,” an awkward smile falls on his lips, as if he’s trying to say he’s sorry.

you had worked so hard, trying not to let your fathers last name determine your work or career.

at first, you hoped they recognized your name from mitch y/l/n, your little brother, who plays d1 lacrosse at unc.

but you knew that was way too far fetched.

your father had owned a publishing company, one that held heaps of stock in various other magazine houses.

one of which was condé nast. the building you were sitting in right now.

after his and your mother’s death a few years back, your eldest brother, noah, had been given sole inheritance to the company.

he sold it for a pretty penny, and now the three of you — you and your brothers — were living quite comfortably.

“so you’re implying that i only received this internship because of my late father’s stake in the company?” you wondered, peaking an eyebrow as harlem shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“no, of course not, but it was a key factor.”

he realized soon that he shouldn’t have said that, and scrambled to cover up the mess he was creating.

“miss l/n, your connections are immaculate. as are your talents. we’ve reviewed your portfolio and previous pieces you did at parsons and nyu. but the masochists, this band is a diamond in hiding. i think it could do wonders for your career here. and i like you, as i liked your father. so i’d like to offer the review to you first.” he was composed, almost compassionate.

you found it hard to believe him. but you were selfish by nature, and knew that you wanted to write. you wanted to show your talents, show that you were more than your last name and father’s connections.

“alright.”

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the job was easy enough. you were to attend the masochists gig at some college bar, and write about their outfits. maybe even get an interview with their stylist.

seemed easy enough.

harlem walked you back to your desk, gave you a hasty and awkward hug before waltzing back to his office.

the fellow people in the room gawked at you, shocked to see a brand new intern hugging and whispering with the harlem gage.

if only they knew why. you scoffed, grabbing your tote, ready to head out and start the first day of second term at the imperial college of london.

you were lucky to be one of the few nyu students selected to do a year abroad. you were a senior, majoring in journalism and a minor in fashion design, this would hopefully make a big break in your career.

you hoped it would be as good as harlem was promising.

you were sitting in one of the back rows of your trend forecasting class, having entered a few minutes late, you didn’t think it would be right to interrupt the entire class in order to find a good seat.

so here you were, stowed away in the back of the lecturing hall, your computer propped in front of you, glasses sat atop the bridge of your nose, trying desperately to concentrate.

you lightly tap the end of your pen onto the desk, feeling extremely sleepy listening to your boring professor explain something you had already learned; it was custom that you had to take this class, even though the intro to trend forecasting was required as a freshman at nyu.

a warm hand reached out and slammed your pen onto the desk, you looked behind you, a scowl playing on your lips, eyes meeting the light green you couldn’t seem to escape.

you rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with his royal-pain-in-the-ass, and turned around.

harry was extremely amused. he assumed you’d be more feisty, maybe give him a good lecture, but nope. just an eye roll. he wasn’t willing to settle for that.

“where’s my feisty girl, eh?” he leaned down to your seat, lips brushing your ear.

your body shuddered, and harry didn’t miss the light sigh that left your lips.

“leave me alone.” you growl out. leaning forward, getting some more space between you two.

you didn’t understand how he was everywhere you turned. the bar, and now sitting behind you in class. he was a prince, yes, but that did not mean he deserved your respect.

he had been nothing but an arse. if anything, he should be demanding your respect. not the other way around.

“cmon princess, don’t be like that,” a smirk tugs on his lips as he watches you spin around, not expecting that word to fall from his lips.

“just because you have a title does not mean you can treat me like a piece of meat.” you surge forwards, face inches away from his. you swear there’s steam coming from your ears.

a blond boy sits to harry’s right, letting a chuckle fall through as he watches the two of you argue.

you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. he was handsome, light blond hair scattered across his forehead, a muscle tank hanging loosely on his body, arms crossed against his chest. his silver lip ring glimmering in the dim light.

“and who’re you?” you cross your arms, almost fully turned around in your chair at this point.

harry sends him a side-eye, pissed that nash is at the receiving end of your attention.

“he doesn’t matter,” harry spits out, reclaiming your attention that he so badly craves.

“darling, my title’s never denied me anything. i don’t expect you’ll be an exception, either,” harry smirks, your frown somehow turning deeper.

you huff and turn back around in your seat, refusing to feed his ego or slightly give in… his eyes were too pretty! you weren’t always perfect… your self control lacked sometimes, just like everyone else.

“the glasses are cute. i like them.” he leaned down once again, lips ghosting back over your ear. he pulled away immediately, you gnawing on your bottom lip, trying to stop the red from flushing into your cheeks, ultimately failing.

was he being… nice? giving you a genuine compliment?

no! snap out of it y/n… he doesn’t even know your name! or bothered to ask for that matter…

you ignored him, and the growing heat in your cheeks by tuning in with your stoic professor, hanging onto his words, trying your absolute hardest to block harry out.

this became increasingly difficult, as much as you didn’t want him to get a rise out of you, his continued chuckles and kicks to the back of your chair were driving you mad.

“oh will you just stop it!” you whipped your head around, almost 100% sure that the entire class was watching, as you may have said that a bit too loud to go unnoticed.

harry’s eyes have a gleam in them, nash (you think his name is that, harry said something starting with an n — you aren’t the best with names) is awkward? trying to sink to the bottom of his seat watching you and harry size each other up.

you were far too stressed about your assignment for harlem to worry about harry right now, and he was really pissing you off.

all you wanted was to get the stupid concert over with and write the dumb report, you did not have time to deal with harry on top of all of it.

“miss l/n, could you take it outside please?” your professor asks. you tuck your chin into your chest, immediately feeling extremely self conscious.

“of course. i’m sorry, sir,” you speak out, shocked your voice hadn’t betrayed you yet.

gathering your things, you threw harry one last glare, eyes softening as his face held a look of… pity?

turning back, tears burned into your eyes, but you refused to cry. no, you would not let yourself unravel over something as ridiculous as a prince who needed some serious humbling.

you walked as fast as you possibly could, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and harry as possible.

he had ruined your weekend, now ruining one of your easiest classes. he was a dick and you despised him. how could he sit there and be so smug? so… mean? how could he be so mean to you? all you had done was stick up for yourself, but you assumed he wasn’t used to that. a man like him was used to taking what he wants and not caring who he hurts in the process.

you could see that between he and nash. how nash was timid, lips sealing as soon as harry gave him a look out of the corner of his eye.

yet you found it hard to feel bad for him. anyone who was associated with harry left a sour taste on your tongue, and you usually weren’t the forgiving type either.

once you had made it out of the design building, you sat down on the concrete steps, placing your head in your hands.

you didn’t care about your chanel skirt possibly getting dirty, or how you threw your goyard down onto the pavement.

you wanted to go home. desperately. first semester was fine, you did well in class and landed your internship with condé nast.

but now, here you were, feeling like prey in the eyes of the king of the safari — hunted, stalked. you did not like the feeling whatsoever.

someone dropped down next to you, you saw their dirty black converse through the cracks in your fingers, where your head lay.

lifting your head up, you met harry’s friends blue eyes, filled with a look that simply stated, i’m sorry.

“i’m nash, by the way.” he offered a tight lipped smile, extending his hand.

you looked down to it, before looking back up into his eyes. you took his hand, giving it a weak shake.

“y/n,” you muttered out, resting your elbows on your knees, and then setting your chin atop your palms.

“sorry, about…harry. he’s difficult sometimes. i know firsthand how much of a dick he can be,” nash awkwardly laughed, watching you with careful eyes.

harry had sent him daggers when he dashed out after you. harry wasn’t the type to apologize, he usually let nash do it for him.

“whatever. i don’t feel like dealing with the disrespect today.” you brush off your skirt, chin still resting in one palm.

neither of you say anything, nash’s presence helping the pit in your stomach.

you feel sick. sick with hatred and anger. you hate how much you let harry get to you in there, how you had resorting to yelling at him.

you weren’t loud, or obnoxious, or flashy. he had just proper pissed you off, and you never let people walk all over you.

“harry is difficult sometimes… but he’s not evil. and i don’t know what went down with you two before but he made us move so we could sit behind you in class today. the other boys wouldn’t… so it was me who had to.” go figure.

nash was his puppy dog, eyes soft and genuine, you figured it probably hurt him to speak badly of harry.

but… he made them move? he wanted to sit near you? you couldn’t think of any other reason except to annoy you, adding it to your growing list of cons.

silence created a blanket over top the two of you. while nash’s presence pissed you off (greatly), it was also weirdly comforting.

you were extremely conflicted.

nash left you moments later, his coarse hand lightly pressing into your shoulder, saying goodbye.

back inside, nash slumped in next to harry, who was twisting a tooth pick in his mouth.

“she’s kind of… almost reserved, harry.” nash murmurs out, harry looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“well whatever she is, i know she’ll be a good shag. always love the feisty ones,” he smirks, running a hand through his tousled curls.

nash wanted to rebuttal, to argue with him. he knew it would be no avail, yet he found himself wanting to stick up for you.

in his eyes, you were weak, no match for harry.

harry was… powerful. he had connections, obviously, and his parents were willing to give him anything to keep him docile and submissive. but harry wasn’t either of those things.

harry would tear down everything to get to a person, he was egotistical, and self-important, and nash believed you to be the exact opposite of what you truly were. he thought you’d be easily swayed, and give in to harry. a swipe of harry’s credit card and you’d be on your knees.

but you didn’t need money, and you didn’t want power, or the ego trip of hooking up with a prince, you wanted to make a name for yourself, to have a career.

harry was willing to stand in the way of that. and you were willing to fight back.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

september 28, 2013

you had been staying off the internet for the past day, wanting to be completely surprised at the masochists concert tonight.

you did listen to their album, and while you weren’t a complete fan of their style, you had to admit that it was good.

your favorite song had to either be clouds or only angel, the lead singers voice was mesmerizing, and you found yourself lost in the music.

figuring you could get away with being a little casual tonight, you slipped on your favorite pair of jeans, black and slightly faded, with distressed cuffs at the bottom.

you paired them with your black adidas spezials, a simple vintage fleetwood mac shirt that you had thrifted thrown onto your body, you had rolled up the short sleeves to make it into a makeshift “tank top”.

tucking it into the jeans, you buckled your thick black belt, the buckle in the shape of a silver horseshoe — it was one of your favorites.

you threw your signature black leather jacket on over the outfit, the concert was outside at a college bar, and considering it was october and the weather was changing, you figured warmth was a must.

grabbing your black the row tote bag, you shoved a notebook, a few pencils, your ipad, and other essentials. and your pepper spray — just in case. you could never be too careful.

the walk to the venue from your apartment was short — the outdoor space was just around the block. close to your favorite coffee shop.

you were surprisingly in a good mood. harry had pissed you off once again, and you wished you could’ve kneed him again.

you were shocked he would even come near you after what he pulled outside the bar. you had seen him twice in one day! it was too much — you wanted nothing to do with him.

he was far too self important for you. his ego smeared all over his face, screaming i’m better than you to every person he met.

you also didn’t understand how no one ever seemed to recognize him. his father ruled the country you were in, his sister next in line. he was one of the most famous people in the world — why was he so unrecognizable?

maybe people chose to ignore him. you knew he was violent and irrational, the people of the uk must know the same.

the venue was already packed once you arrived, getting your hand stamped and giving them your ticket — that condé nast was paying for.

your outfit was perfect for the scene, the only colors in the sea of people were black, white, and red, clearly this band had an in-sync fan base.

drums were set on the stage, along with a microphone standing tall in the middle.

teen girls mostly made up the audience, their love struck eyes trained on the stage as they waiting for the boys to come out.

you were stuck in the back, loads of people had shoved their way to the front, filling the entire outside space.

you retired to a small corner, close to the exit. you could still see and hear everything perfectly, the lawn wasn’t that big.

the lights dimmed, a sudden hush falling on the audience. you watched with wide eyes, wanting desperately to put a face to the voice you had been listening to for the past few hours.

a loud guitar strum is heard, lights still pitch black. suddenly the lights blink on, girls screaming as the masochists play the introduction to their song woman — one that you did like.

you watched, a light smile tugging on your lips. the lead singer was turned around, lightly moving his hips to the beat, a melodic sound coming out of his mouth.

it was like sex for the ears, and you were loving every second of it.

you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from his body and the way it was perfectly moving, his back still turned, and shifting your line of sight to the other band members.

one with cropped brown hair and dark brown eyes was on the drums, his arms flexing as he hit the different parts of the instrument, a concentrated look on his face.

you took note of his outfit, all you could see was his tight grey flannel, a few buttons undone, revealing his upper chest.

you shifted to the boy on the right of the lead singer, his black hair sticking straight up and into a million other directions. a piece hung down low over his forehead and eyes, moving as he beat down on his red guitar, eyebrows furrowing in focus.

he was beautiful. dark eyes coated with dark, long lashes, a light stubble and mustache, earrings in his ears, and a simple black t-shirt straining against his muscles as he moved his arm up and down the guitar.

he had a microphone pressed against his mouth, singing along to the song, your eyes trained on his lips. you assumed he was the role of the lead guitar, as well as backup vocals.

there were two boys on the opposite side, the farthest right had light brown hair, flat against his forehead, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes.

a tattoo sat above his right eyebrow, something scribbled that you couldn’t make out because of your distance from the stage.

he was beautiful also, playing the rhythm guitar, smiling out to the crowed, enjoying the attention.

the other boy was shorter, wearing beat up black converse, ripped black skinny jeans, and a loose grey tank.

his blond hair splayed across his face, sweat beading down as he beat against the guitar, obviously on the bass.

your eyes flicked up from the black guitar, taking in all his features.

it was… nash? his eyes were trained down, but you could make out all his features. it was the boy who had chased after you… sticking up for you against harry.

harry! you flicked to the lead singer, his back finally turned, letting the audience get a good view of his toned chest, his shirt completely unbuttoned and flying to the side as he writhed his body along with the strum of the guitars and the beats of the drums.

his green eyes were on yours, a smirk toying at his lips as your mouth dropped into an “o” shape, and your eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

why was he everywhere you turned! and why were you starting to like it…

no! y/n enough!

he was hot, there was no point in denying it, but you’d never tell him that.

you busied yourself with writing down the outfits of choice for each the boys, so that you wouldn’t have to stare into the eyes that you hated so much, yet seemed to be blushing because of.

blushing?! you couldn’t believe yourself.

no boy had ever gotten to you like this before, and you would not let harry be the first.

he was a pompous, arrogant prick who couldn’t tell his arse from his head. you wanted nothing to do with him.

but yet again… here was a free show, with music you did like, and some serious eye candy, all for you… you could stay a little bit longer.

a little bit longer turned into a while longer, and you had stayed for the whole show, swaying along to their covers of my chemical romance and green day. harry’s voice was magnificent. if being a prince didn’t work out, he should seriously continue this path of music.

pretty soon you were hanging off the arm of a cute blond boy named luke, his brunette friend callum cracking a joke, you and luke doubling over in laughter.

them and their other friends michael and ashton had gotten a round of drinks, and you figured why not. luke had approached you after seeing you all alone in the back, his presence was comforting and he seemed genuine.

he was dressed much like the masochists were, skinny black jeans and a metallica graphic tee hanging loosely off him.

ashton had run off to speak to the band, luke had said. they were friends with them, they had told you, they had all started their music journeys together, and luke and his bandmates wanted to be supportive friends.

after thanking luke and callum for their generosity, you told them you had to leave.

“why don’t you come with us to the after party? we’re going down the street to a bar, it’s chill, you’ll like it,” luke encouraged, callum humming in agreement.

“i don’t know, i’ve got work tomorrow and —“

“y/nnnnnn, please?” callum pouted, tugging on your arm.

you caved, not really wanting to go home anyways.

“i guess i’ve got a few spare hours,” you smiled, callum and luke now tugging you away into the streets of london.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

alcohol was coursing through your veins, mind cloudy with thoughts of more beer and getting your ass on the tile floor to dance.

“dance with me!” you shouted over the blaring music, callum and luke shrugging, allowing you to pull them into the dance floor.

now you were grateful for your loose t shirt and jeans, they allowed you to move freely.

your dance moves were all over the place, grinding against thin air, your hips methodically moving along to the addicting song engulfing your senses.

“i want another drink!” you screamed, scurrying away to the bar, ordering a cosmo.

you suddenly found yourself needing to use the restroom, heading down a hallway that you assumed they’d be in.

it was dimly lit, and the music was muted, making the hallway eerie.

your senses were heightened as you turned a corner, your pepper spray clutched tightly in your left hand… you could never be too careful.

“hi.” the silky smooth voice with the accent that you refused to admit turned you on caused you to jump, and you lifted up the pink spray bottle, pressing the button.

harry shrieked, hands coming up to cover his eyes. it was too late now, the damage had been done.

“oh god, oh my god, are you alright?!” you rushed over to him, your hands trying to pry his off his face.

“no i’m not okay! you just assaulted me!” he groaned, slumping against the nearest wall.

“i’m sorry harry, you just startled me,” you trailed off, watching with gentle eyes as he rubbed his, trying to rid off all the spray.

“could you get me some water?” he asks, quietly, gently, possibly the most gentle he’s ever spoke to you.

“of course,” you murmur, rushing into the closest door, running a paper towel underneath the sink.

you brought it back to him, carefully pressing it against his eyes, his head tilting backwards, pressed against the brick wall.

silence surrounds the two of you, his quiet breathing the only noise. though you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel bad. he wasn’t trying to hurt you, he was just saying hello. and you sprayed pepper into his eyes.

“i deserved it,” he lightly laughs, carefully peeling the wet paper off his eyes, his hand around your wrist.

“what?” you question, almost all the alcohol in your system had dissipated once you had sprayed him.

“i deserved it. for how i’ve treated you.” he stared into your eyes, his a little bloodshot and red — likely due to the irritation.

“maybe,” you giggled, looking down at his long fingers still around your wrist.

“but it still wasn’t nice of me,” you whisper, smiling back at him.

“nonetheless. i’m sorry.” you nod at his apology, a silent acceptance.

“you were great, by the way,” you are staring at him, sipping down all of his features, trying to take a photo and remember it forever. he was gorgeous.

he nods, trying to find the right words. “yeah, i was surprised to see you here. y’know, i still don’t know your name,”

you smile as you realize he’s never bothered to ask, and you’ve never cared enough to tell him.

“y/n.” you smile, “and i actually didn’t know you were the singer until i got here. i’m here for work, to do a diagnostic piece on your wardrobe, but i had no idea who i’d be looking at,”

“i hope i didn’t disappoint,”

you go silent, harry’s been quiet, gentle? he’s the most reserved you’ve ever seen it. “i can assure you didn’t,” you say lightly.

you didn’t know what to make of this. sitting on the floor of a dirty bar, harry leaning his back against the wall, you on your knees, pressing into the side of his thigh.

he looked like a painting, big, round green eyes staring up into yours, dark curly hair creating a halo around his head. freckles dot his nose, something you’ve never noticed before.

he has dimples when he chuckles or smiles, and his nose lightly scrunches. his laugh is melodic, you could listen to it forever.

your heart beats faster in your chest, unsure of what is going on. here you are, pressed against the man who tried to have you grope him last night.

yet this harry, he was… well, different. he had apologized, owned up to his actions.

for some reason, your mind betrayed you, a whisper ghosting on your lips, you hoped he hadn’t heard the soft words, “i also know you’re a prince,”

you were afraid to look at him. for whatever reason, you did not know. but all of a sudden you felt small, timid. here you were, sitting with a prince. a prince who was wearing tattered clothing, tattoos peaking out under the long sleeves of his white button down, studs in his ears.

“hmph. that i am,” he shrugged, his hand leaving your wrist. the cool air hit the burning on your wrist, aching for his touch once more.

“i didn’t know you were one last night. if i had… i probably wouldn’t have kneed you.” you sheepishly admit, feeling very small.

he chuckled, his head turned away, his hand on the concrete floor dangerously close to resting on your thigh.

“still better than letting me be a perv.” he turned back, apology swirling in his eyes. maybe he did truly feel sorry.

you nod, flustered.

a heavy silence followed, the both of you refusing to look at each other.

“well, i, um, i better get back. luke will probably be looking for me, i think,” you stumble over your words, clamoring to your feet.

“luke? as in luke hemmings?” harry quirks an eyebrow.

“oh— i don’t know, really. i met him tonight at your show. he was with a guy named callum. they’re real nice. australians, i’m pretty sure.”

“yeah that’d be luke. he’s a cool guy,” harry said while climbing to his feet, brushing off his jeans as he peaked over to you.

he took in your outfit, effortless but you were beautiful. he figured you’d be beautiful in any situation. in his bed, in a cafe, in a fancy restaurant, anywhere he could get you.

“yeah, he’s nice,” you smile at harry, suddenly feeling very awkward as the two of you just stand there and stare at anything but each other.

“okay, well,” you mutter, awkwardly swaying your arms. harry nods, lips in a tight line, neither of you knowing what to do next.

you finally look up to harry, his hair thrown in all different directions, your eyes softening as you drink him in.

he was different alone. he was gentle, nice to you. maybe he wants all that ba—

��y/n!” nash and one of harry’s band members — the name, you weren’t sure of — rush up to you two, eyes widening when they see you two alone.

“and harry.” nash breathes out, nodding to his friend. “hey nash, zev,” harry speaks, nodding to each of them, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“y/n, i was uh - looking for you,” nash smiles, a hand rubbing his cheek.

“oh, okay,” you smile. “well, here i am!” you awkwardly laugh, zev and harry sharing a silent conversation. their eyes bore into each others, harry’s soft and zev’s questioning.

“i’ll see you guys later,” harry coughs out, his body suddenly rigid, cold, distant. if you reached out and touched him, he’d feel like ice, you think.

zev follows after him, placing a hand on his shoulder, the two obviously close.

you walk past nash, wanting to get back to your other friends, and your drink. you didn’t have to use the restroom anymore, the feeling long gone after you saw harry.

nash matches your pace, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he thought you were rather stand-offish, he couldn’t understand why you and harry were alone. the two of you couldn’t even sit next to each other and get along — how were you alone for such a long period of time and no one heard shouting?

all of you made your way back to the bar, harry and zev going straight out the door back into london.

nash went to where the other two boys were — a table in the back. as soon as his back was turned, you rushed outside, wanting to now where harry was going.

somehow he had weaseled his way into your brain and now he would not leave, and for some completely unknown reason to you… you didn’t want him to leave.

you had known him for 24 hours… yet he was all you could think of, whether it was of him up on that stage or slumped against the wall of the hallway.

obviously you weren’t as sneaky as you thought you were, harry and zev both whipping around to see you.

“hi.” you quietly peep, zev’s eyes narrowing. the street was dimly lit by a few lampposts.

“hey, y/n, why aren’t you back there?” harry asked, taking a step towards you.

“dunno. wanted to go home,” you lightly sway and both of the boys rush to your side, neither of them wanting you to face plant into the pavement.

“uh, zev, bro can you call her a cab?”

zev’s shadow moves further away to the edge of the sidewalk, harry’s arms snug around your waist to keep you from falling.

“your hair’s pretty,” you whisper, sticking your pointer finger in his hair and twirling it around.

harry nods, then clears his throat, not knowing what to do with you. should he come with you to make sure you get home safe? or should he just get you in the cab? after all, you weren’t his responsibility. and he didn’t care about you.

….did he?

his thoughts were extremely conflicted. if the paparazzi caught him now it wouldn’t be a good look… he had never been the best son but he was trying now.

“haz, the cabs here.” zev walked over, offering another arm for you to take.

the two boys helped you to the cab, and harry placed you in the seat, you giggled as you hit the harsh leather, hand slipping from harry’s shoulder down into his palm.

“bye,” you smiled, loopy and soft.

“bye,” he echoed back, a tight-lipped smile, much colder than he had been before.

“alright, man, we gotta go,” zev’s voice is rushed and worried, clearly you had interrupted them at not quite the best time.

harry nodded, taking one last glance at you before slamming the cab door shut.

he was feeling things that he really didn’t want to feel.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

#imagine #angst #harry styles au #prince harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #one direction #masochistic desires series #maeve writes 🎀

[darlingdollhousevn]

Helloo, hope your doing well😄😄 could we have more lore about Lowell, pretty please 🥹 i feel like it’s been a while since hearing from the blog (ofc if not then i still hope you have a great day😁😁)

You sure can !! I miss my og blorbo and I'm always so happy to get a chance to talk about lore!

Lowell went to culinary school but ended up having to drop out in the last couple of months due to medical and financial complications- he hates his current job and believes he is overqualified and deserves to work in a much more elevated environment

He has a younger sister that he's kept tabs on over the years, but he hasn't had contact with his family in a long time.

Lowell learned to sew from his mother, who was a seamstress while he was growing up in Massachusetts.

His very first ever collection was frog statues, the kind you'd find in a garden store. They all had names, personalities, and intricate backstories. He kept notes on them in a Lisa Frank notebook, and would rearrange their positions in his room frequently.

He's not a natural redhead!

Lowell was a smoker for a very long time, and while he no longer chainsmokes, he'll still light up a cigarette if he's particularly exhausted, stressed, or needs a little treat.

He can't swim :(

He has pretty poor wound healing, and he scars and bruises really easily.

He met you first through your job! MC will have a position in an art store and he saw you while looking for a specialty fabric dye.

He has killed people before.

Lowell would love a wax museum date!

He's already got all your measurements :) it won't stop him from taking them again when he gets you alone though. He finds it kind of romantic!

He will get mad if you touch/break a lot of his stuff- he's very protective of his collections and has object hyperempathy. it can be genuinely painful to him when things break, go missing, or are touched/displayed "wrong".

His favorite food is soup.

On top of being an insomniac he doesn't really like sleeping in beds- when he sleeps it's usually on the couch or floor or something.

His favorite thing to knit is shawls! He does some pretty interesting things with them, sometimes with intricate lace, beading, colorwork, or other details.

He has a secret petplay kink (recieving). He would deny it to the ends of the earth but being called kitten gives him an instant boner. Extremely unlikely to allow himself to actually submit but he MIGHT be a mean kitty dom, if you convince him hard enough :3c he'd be on high alert to make sure he doesn't end up in subspace though.

He had an intense scene phase. Full on raccoon stripes, under eye liner, hot topic cash carrying, get scared listening ass emo. Still has his well loved busted up ipod nano from when he initially got really into the subculture.

His first crush was on Brent Spiner. Quickly followed by Tilda Swinton.

Has a washi tape collection but has never actually used any of the tape.

He owns a pair of The Chanel Boots™️

Hopefully this is enough to keep yall fed a moment ;-; sorry this project has taken a lapse BUT I'm putting together something to introduce the five whole other characters that will be included in this game, and my schedule just got cleared for a few more days a week so hopefully I'll have some more stuff for you guys soon!

#yandere visual novel #lowell albrecht #darling dollhouse #darling dollhouse vn #yandere male #yandere vn #yandere dating sim #yandere game #*bangs fists on table* #LORE DROP LORE DROP LORE DROP

[pink-ttes]

ℐׅ 핑크 ─ THE PINKETTES : LET’S TALK POPULARITY

a semi-brief overview of the popularity ranking within pinkalicious and the solo activities that each member has. (ib. @/moirtre)

001. ∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪  CHARMEINE YU

Coming in at the most popular member, Charmeine was favored before even debuting. She is one of the wealthy heiress’ of the well-established LEE FAIMLY. She’s also the cousin of already debuted Lee girl, BRIAR LEE, who got her musical start in 2016 under TROUVAILLE. Due to her already having a following before THE PINK TAPE aired, her name being mentioned skyrocketed viewer ratings and anticipation for the show. That popularity only took off even more after seeing her on the show, getting a taste of her many talents. She regularly trended during the survival shows airtime for her dancing skills, vocals, and stage presence—not to mention her variety skills. It was no surprise that she made it into the lineup, winning the entire show and being crowned QUEEN PINK. Following her debut, Charmeine’s popularity failed to fade, only growing.

Over her career, Charmeine has had a plethora of solo endeavors, to the extent that some people may even recognize her as Charmeine Yu rather than Charmeine from The PINKETTES. Being the third member to debut as a solo artist and easily the most successful, she came out with her first solo album in 2022 which was a hit instantly. Her promotions for the solo were incredibly iconic, pushing her further in popularity by miles. She became a global ambassador for CHANEL in 2019. She also went on a number of variety shows solo, her most memorable appearances being: THE MANAGER, AMAZING SATURDAY, and her labelmates podcast/talk show, CHATTY WITH ADDY.

She also went onto model for other brands such as ALEXANDER MCQUEEN, MARC JACOBS DAISY, and UNDER ARMOUR. Aside from brand deals, she’s also earned quite a few musical features from artists like Ravana’s KYRIE. It’s safe to say that Charmeine is booked and busy.

002. ∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪  TANA KANAROT

Majority would thank TANA’S heritage for her popularity, ranking at the second most popular member. Her mother, being a famous model and her father being a well-respected industrial designer with lots of money, her name was already in talks. She is constantly battling with CHARMEINE for most popular but it’s more common for Charmeine to win. A part of her lesser popularity with fans and the general public can be accounted to her likability. She’s had a history with Netizen’s criticizing her attitude, often accusing her of having “Celebrity Sickness.” That isn’t to say that Tana hasn’t had a successful solo career, becoming one of VERSACE’S global ambassador in 2020 and the second member to debut as a soloist in 2021. Her solo was a commercial success, surpassing LONDON’S solo. However, her fans were upset when Charmeine’s solo outperformed hers statistically—charts, streams, and sales.

Taking after her mother, most of Tana’s solo activities, if not all, consist of modeling gigs. She’s posed for brands like NIKE, ARMANI, and HERMÈS BIRKIN.

003. ∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪  BAE YOONA : LONDON

Most known for her likable personality and Girl-Next-Door image, LONDON ranks in at third most popular member. She was quite popular during THE PINK TAPE, even beating TANA in popularity. The general public favored her being “down to earth” and sweet. They also praised her visuals, likening her to an Angel and even giving her the endearing nickname NATIONS ANGEL. However, this popularity seemed to turn against her with a large few of Netizens slandering her for her relationships with male idols. Though she’s never had a public relationship with any, she’s friends with a lot of male idols and they’ve never shied away from showing their appreciation and admiration for her publicly.

Majority of her solo promotions come from her reputation as a TV personality, becoming a beloved MUSIC BANK MC, making appearances on THE RETURN OF SUPERMAN, HOME ALONE, and RUNNING MAN. However, she has dabbled into the pool of sponsorships, officially becoming a global ambassador for CARTIER in 2020 and is frequently receiving gifts from them all the time. London also accumulated deals with the likes of DIOR BEAUTY and INNISFREE.

The first to do so, London debuted as a soloist in 2020 which received high-praise from the general public.

Although not really publicized, a large majority of Pinkalicious’ discography is credited to London. She has a considerable amount of writing and producing credits under her belt, working with a plethora idols that the public wouldn’t even think. She also plans on publishing a book some time in the future. She has her hands in a few things.

004. ∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪  KANG MIKYUNG

Due to a cesspool of attitude scandals, MIKYUNG only sits at the fourth most popular member of the group. From the moment she was revealed on THE PINK TAPE, Netizens bashed the girl for her “narcissism” and labeled her as a diva. What Mikyung viewed as self-confidence, others looked at as unattractive arrogance. The general public went on a witch hunt with her, which continued even after her debut—which only fueled their hatred for her, seeing as she still made the lineup in spite of her personality.

Twitter and fans in general have a ball demonizing her. She still managed to garner fans, mostly praised for her dancing talents, unique visual, and stage presence. Aside from this, she doesn’t have as many solo promotions compared to the members ranked above her, although she still was chosen as an ambassador by MIU MIU in 2020. She has been a loyal ambassador for the brand ever since, regularly sporting Miu Miu purses and attending fashion shows covered from head to toe in Miu Miu. She’s also posed for them countless times, often being named the FACE OF MIU MIU. Additionally, Minkyung teamed up with BLUMARINE, MICHAEL KORS, and JACQUEMUS.

Almost all of her variety show appearances are with a group or another member. The most variety time she has is if she posts a vlog in the groups official YouTube channel, which is usually either about dancing or her trips overseas. Occasionally, she’ll go live either by herself or with a member and stream mediocre but funny gameplay and interact with fans.

005. ∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪  CAI ARNELA : NELLY

Easily the most blatantly disliked member, NELLY is ranked last in popularity. She was never really noticed or given any real attention during THE PINK TAPE from viewers. There were the occasional comments about her being pretty or “they hope she still debuts,” because they just knew she wasn’t making it in the lineup. When she did, however, all hell broke loose. Initially, there was only supposed to be the top four making it into the group. But Nelly, ranking at five to everyone’s surprise, was added to the lineup at the last minute. Everyone already had looked at the top four as THE CORE FOUR, and essentially the best lineup to come out of Pinkalicious. So Nelly’s addition was riddled with comments such as “rigged,” “unnecessary,” and “filler member.”

Safe to say, it’s hard coming across a BFF that doesn’t at least have a little animosity toward Nelly. Especially considering songs were swiped from their debut rollout, allegations about Nelly not being able to keep up with the others labeled as the reason why.

Putting aside all of the controversies, Nelly was still able to bag her title as a global ambassador for CALVIN KLEIN in 2022, becoming the last member to become an ambassador for a brand. She doesn’t attend variety shows without the members and she rarely gets solo CF’s, however, in 2022 she filmed a CF for MCDONALD’S and appeared in a TOYOTA advertisement.

#ℐׅ 핑크 ─ DEVELOPMENT 𝆬 ֪ ࣪ ᰍ #ficnetfairy #fake idol community #fake idol group #fake idol oc #fake kpop addition #fake kpop band #fake kpop company #fake kpop gg #fake kpop girl group #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #fictional idol company #fictional idol group #fictional girl group #fake kpop soloist #fake kpop oc #idol oc #idol au #kpop oc #kpop au #idolverse

[valerianinc]

Our podcast is currently in an active preproduction state. The episodes are being written, the team is being formed, the unbearable animal fear of telling the story to more than two people which feels like holding the whole world on your shoulders like a titan but you are a proud spaghetti-handed fella and are standing on the nails of your own expectations– is being spread slowly... And all the other joys of the creative process! So, to lighten the mood, here's a small list of media we take inspiration from and why:

– Camp here & there

One of our biggest inspirations dialogue-wise. Blue Mayfield once said that one of the hardest things, while creating a podcast, is to make people sound like... people! And we totally agree with that! We look up to Mayfield&Co. and hope to reach the level of writing brilliance which is "Camp here & there".

Art done by @vranart

– La La Land (2016)

"Here's to the fools who dream" – we say. "Road to Moscow" is a lot of things and it is definitely a story about love and dreams, and about how one can harm the other. We could spend hours talking about the artistic genius of "La La Land"! While our budget, unlike the uppermentioned, is an astounding zero of money, it doesn’t stop us from dreaming big.

Art done by @jewishgayrat

– BoJack Horseman

We'd love to be able to talk about serious matters like this show did. Although we also hope to bring more diversity to it. So, BoJack Horseman, but with a lower age rating (note: "Road to Moscow" is aged for audiences sixteen and up) and queer! Like extremely queer! Like.. Everyone Is Queer!

Art done by @valerijworlds

Image description:

1. A digital drawing of Vlas Danchenko depicting him from the waist up. The piece is done in colder, muted colors. Vlas is a tall, broad young man with brown skin, long curly black hair, dark brown eyes, some facial hair, visible body hair, a dark scar on his palm and numerous scars on his wrist and forearm. He is wearing a dark blue t-shirt with the Camp Here and There logo on it: a teal hourglass with white sand, a yellow crescent moon in the top half of it, and a yellow forest landscape in the bottom half. He is looking to the side with a neutral expression and holding up a tape recorder with his left hand, seeming to speak into it. The background is solid grey with a white dotted line circle behind Vlas's head.

2. A stylized ink and pencil drawing of Zhivago Vita Oberon depicting him from the waist up. Zhivago is a thin young person with lilac skin, wavy purple hair that goes slightly past her collarbones, red eyes, fangs and pointy ears. He is wearing an oversized white t-shirt. Zhivago is disheveled and wide-eyed, raising one of her hands, aggravated as he says, "what do you mean you don't like jazz?", the text written in messy cursive handwriting.

3. A cartoonish digital drawing of Chanel Bojko depicting him in side view from the chest up. Chanel is a fat young man with freckled light skin and blond shoulder-length hair cut in layers. He is wearing a light green off-the-shoulder top and silver infinity sign earrings. He is pressing a bottle of space-looking liquid to his lips, throwing his head back with his eyes closed as he drinks from it.

Chanel himself is colored in soft, slightly pinkish hues, while the background is a vivid halo of orange, purple and teal.

#road to moscow #rtm #rtm podcast #valerian inc. #valery worlds #camp here and there #fictional podcast #narrative podcast #queer #queer characters #vlas danchenko #chanel boijko #zhivago vita oberon #bojack horseman #la la land #tw scars #tw alcohol

[august-sysex]

my fav releases of 2023:

realyungphil & gud - victory music

realyungphil & gud - make moves not excuses

realyungphil & boofpaxkmooky - sonder freestyle

7038634357 - neo seven

död mark - död mark 4evigt

ML buch - suntub

earl swearshirt & the alchemist - voir dre

earl sweatshirt - making the band (danity kane)

bar italia - tracey denim

baba stiltz - paid testimony

ichiko aoba - meringue doll

ouri - blueprints of us (prod. oli XL ❤️)

arthur russell - picture of bunny rabbit

laetitia sadier - une autre attente

melody english - the web

björk & rosalía - oral

YS - brutal flowers

dijon - coogie

peso pluma, jasiel nuñez & junior h - bipolar

peso pluma - génesis

junior h & peso pluma - el azul

becky G & peso pluma - chanel

the-dream - stream (V7 demo archive 9.20)

tujiko noriko - crépuscule I & II

sampha - spirit 2.0

PLO man - anonymousmaterial

ESP - amber sun

tinashe - talk to me nice

kode9 & burial - infirmary / unknown summer

astra king - make me cry

tainy - data

osipenko bus stop - corner wax volume 2

lil uzi vert - pink tape

king krule - space heavy

mammo - variable / plate

CoA-A - the end of nduja

2301 - untitled

aphex twin - blackbox life recorder 21f / in a room7 f760

nation & ecco2k - ça va

ingrate - a melody inside

monolake - hongkong (2023 remaster)

vladislav delay - entain (2023 remaster)

holly waxwing - the new pastoral

joanne robertson - blue car

tammo hesselink - beam

tammo hesselink - paint reduce trick

tammo hesselink - sewei

tammo hesselink - work work work

yaeji - with a hammer

pinkpantheress - heaven knows

DJ babatr - las lomas / fuma con los panas + remixes

DJ babatr & arca - mek3fe

bad gyal, tokischa & young miko - chulo pt.2

teruyuki kurihara - parallel

james k & hoodie - 065 (scorpio)

special guest DJ - panoramic deep love story

agilität - unique / untradeable

chuquimamani-condori - DJ E

rabit - tears (elysia’s edit)

jorg kuning - BH007

instupendo & ripsquad - kissout

juno R13 - existens miserabel R13 edit

bambinodj - high as ever still passin’ through (remix)

colleen - le jour et la nuit du réel

kelela - raven

airhead - lightness

juanito - cumbias & reggaetones

DJ manny - control EP

mount eerie - huge fire

cousin - homesoon

[beehindblueeyes]

Time period: Video Cassettes and other home media

This is possibly my last one for a while. Both because I feel like I’m stepping into territory I’ve already mentioned and because I’m fading interests. If you’re new here… these posts are sort of designed for the people who “can’t do time period” I’m basically giving you some cool common facts about the time so hopefully it’s a bit easier. Im a nitpicky person when It comes to my own stuff but I don’t expect you to be the 100% correct fic person either. All posts of this kind are tagged under time period and writing ref so they should be easy to find :)

This seems like a ‘no duh’ but tvs as they are now simply did not exist. No flat screens. They’re CRT or older. They’re HUGE and bulky but also have a relatively small screen at the same time. As we progressed into the 80s the side panel mainly shrank and the screen grew. (Also see, wood! Wood grain. I keep saying it was everywhere. It was everywhere.)

You may hear parents say “oh when I grew up we had three channels” etc which was mainly true. There was a limited number of Chanel’s for YEARS until cable came around and even then it was more a premium service and it was the late 80s , early 90s when it was more widely adopted.

With these big tvs with limited tvs and sometimes faulty service there’s a lot of myths to come with that. Like if you hit it a few times on top stuff with come back, or bending the bunny ears that you still see in some cartoons. Or ‘hey if we flush all the toilets at once…’ (this one’s more of a kid logic thing but the ritual and oh if I stand like this or do that is the same)

Now we come to video cassettes which is the more common spread name for a VHS tape that was still used well into the 90s. I think it’s a much more recent thing that we started just saying VHS, more common names were: Video cassette, video tapes, tapes, home video etc ;

They also do NOT work like dvds. If it’s re wound it should play from the beginning. They’ll be studio logos and a few adds or trailers and then the movie just starts. No menu! This being said movies were also limited to a time so they could fit on tape (this is one of the reasons old movies rarely go over a hour and a half). If they’re two hours or longer there’s double and sometimes triple tapes (once one ends you have to put in the next)

Be kind, rewind. There’s nothing automatic about it you have to manually or stores will fine you— or whoever watches it next in your house will fucking clobber you. It takes forever! (You don’t know the pain of being a kid in the early 2000s waiting for the little mermaid to finish rewinding).

Also this is purely speculatory on my part but I assume the reason renting tapes was a lot more common was because they were pretty expensive at the time. Like $30 (which is half of a video game today, they used to be like $7) someone who was alive at the time please correct me.

Physical media mania, again self explanatory. No streaming. No touch screen. No iPods. You buy records, cassettes, 8tracks, have a machine that plays them. Stereos — big family ones— were usually 3-4 parts (you see the towers or stacked machines in old movies.) there’s personal portable ones like walkmans or big boombox types.

No smart boards in the class. We see it in the movie. Teacher would have to get a projector, wheel it in and show the slides from a slide machine or one where you can place work over it. (Only the image isn’t half as crisp as in the movie) but writing on the chalkboard and pull down maps were more common. If a movie was being shown they’d wheel in a movie projector and place it down the middle isle of students. There’s no Disney + for your encanto kids

#the black phone #black phone #the black phone 2022 #time period post #time period #writing ref #writing reference #70s #80s #90s #physical media #video store #video rental #vhs #casette

[nighttimescribbles2]

Playing with Fire

cw: zeke x reader, gun kink!zeke, modern au, dubcon, choking, talks of kidnapping, gunplay, gunkink, horny panty things, zeke and his bad habit of giving awful names to things, zeke being a dirty animal

wc: 3042

a/n: prompt fill-ish. original post here; ao3 version here

You woke searching for him, sticky and filthy and feeling all the worse for it when you found yourself lying in your own fresh sheets. Across your bed, Agent Zeke Jaeger uncrossed his legs and set down the weapon he’d been wiping.

“Sweetheart,” he lamented, leaning over his knees to peer at you. “I told you to stay home, didn’t I?” 

There was just the slightest bit of chiding in his tone. You squinted at him, eyes puffy and crusty with run mascara. You could feel them dried up in tracks down your cheeks.

He reached for you. You sniffed piteously. Soft leather, still full of that murky burnt smell, rubbed at your skin to try to get it clean. 

“I warned you. My enemies were out and about. It was dangerous for you to keep leaving home.” 

Zeke’s hand was big, and it easily enveloped half of your face. Reflexively, you burrowed into it, sputtering a weak exhalation behind the sticky tape wrapped over the lower half of your face. In spite of everything that had happened - and of the chastisement you were no doubt going to receive for disobeying and inconveniencing him - there was a definite comfort to being home again.

“I hear they took you at high street.” Disapproval coloured his words. He traced the bridge of your nose. “Really, sweetheart. Shopping couldn’t wait? What was it you so desperately had to have that you would risk your safety for it?”

You weren’t sure. A newly released handbag at Chanel, maybe? You couldn’t exactly recall anymore, not after the ordeal you suffered on account of that shopping trip. 

It was foolish anyway, considering that Zeke could have all the new releases you wanted delivered to his door sooner than they could arrive at the high street boutique you frequented. You only insisted on going to flout him.

“Sorry,” you tried to mumble. It came out sounding like a dying cry. 

Zeke looked sympathetically at you, but what was supposed to be a comforting touch grew heavy, and he bore down until he was forcing your face deep into the fine goose down of your bedding. A thumb slipped under your jaw. Powerful fingers flexed and tightened around your throat.

“What are we going to do with you?” he tutted.

You winced. Pressure rose in your head. Zeke continued to stare impassively down at you, his expression frighteningly clear as his grasp dug deeper and deeper still into soft flesh.

“I was extremely worried. Spent the last two days wondering if I would ever see you again.”

You squirmed. Behind the tape, your mouth watered into the rag shoved between your teeth. The heel of Zeke’s palm was beginning to crush into your windpipe. You wanted to cough, but all you could do was choke on your pooling drool and strain against the coarse rope binding your wrists and ankles.

“Many, many times, I wondered whether my precious baby girl ever thought about her Zeke’s poor feelings. I think she never did. I think I may have spoilt her a bit too much.”

Your mind was swiftly clouding over. You thrashed. Balled-up fists thumped on the soft duvet. You kicked, tried to free yourself from his iron grip, and succeeded only in twisting onto your stomach. Zeke was relentless. You tried to inhale and found that you could not taste even a single smudge of air. Tears welled in your eyes.

He let go.

You gasped so fast, so hard, that you choked on your sobs. The rag in your mouth skidded towards your throat. You wailed hysterically and sought solace in your pillow.

“There, there.” He petted you, getting up to sit on the edge of your bed. The gloved hand that had just doled out punishment now skimmed down the bare skin of your back, and carefully slid into place the loose strap of your tattered, sea-green babydoll. He brushed matted hair back from your temples. 

You snivelled, refused to look at him.

“Don’t be upset anymore, sweetheart. You’re home. I didn’t sleep the past two days from scouring the streets to bring you back safe and sound as soon as possible.” He smoothed down your spine, pausing at the small of your back and fisting the material of your chemise.

Cool air blew upon your nether regions. You flinched, suddenly aware that you’d apparently been returned to your keeper sans any underwear. 

Zeke made a distressed noise. Pushing the material of your remaining clothes up around your waist as if wanting to be sure of his eyes, “What have they done to you, baby?”

Nothing, you protested. It was no more than a muffled cry. Nothing you could remember, anyway.

“You know I don’t like you coming home with the traces of another man on you.”

There is no other man, you moaned, violently shaking your head as if the force of it would lend him to understand that you were almost sure of your continuing innocence, and that any remaining uncertainty he had, you would erase by doing anything - absolutely anything - at all that he wished -

Warm leather cupped you between your legs. A moan trickled past your gag.

“If you made any such display to your captors, I would be extremely concerned now.” He pawed you, feeling you up as if he wanted to make personally sure that no one had played with his toy without his permission. 

You made a desperate noise.

His middle finger slipped between your folds. Your cry lengthened and you involuntarily squeezed your thighs tighter together to lock him in place. 

Zeke bent close to you. He smelled so clean that you shrank back in shame. You never felt dirtier than you did then, remembering that you were unwashed and terrified of staining his pristine suit, his crisp shoes, with your filth.

“Let me check, baby girl. It won’t take a minute,” ghosted over the shell of your ear. Tracing along your pussy, he lined himself up at your hole and prodded inside. You weren’t ready. It stung. You whimpered your discomfort.

His mouth twisted. Where they blew on you, his breaths were musky mint. Growling softly, he pushed harder. An alien intrusion burst through you and you yelped. He withdrew an insignificant bit, thrust gently, then rammed down to the last knuckle. You gasped, jerked at the stab of pain, and went limp. Sweat sheened around your collar.

“That’s it,” he cooed, forcibly pumping through the tension of your body. “That’s my honest little girl.” 

And having taken what he wanted, he pulled out and gave your abused pussy an affectionate parting pat. You were still trying to catch your breath. Beside you, Zeke reached anew for the gun he was cleaning. It was a heavy-set brute of a thing, its body dulled in parts with flecks of whatever stain he had been trying to scrub out.

“This is brand new,” he said, lovingly wiping at its body. “A beauty, isn’t she? And she’s already served me so well.” He turned the weapon around, showed it off to you. “I had her with me when we went to retrieve you. She did one hell of a bang-up cleaning job.”

He chuckled at his own pun. 

“Want to hear her?” And without waiting for your response, he grasped the barrel, drew it back in one fluid, effortless motion, aimed over your head, and pulled the trigger. 

The hammer whipped crisply into place.

He took particular amusement from the fright on your face. “It’s empty, baby. What did you think? You’ve seen me clean my guns before. You should know better by now.”

Except you didn’t, not when he was always so unpredictable. The blood of your heart rushed in your ears.

“Here.” He laid the gun’s broad, flat body against your cheek, “Why don’t you two get acquainted?” And Zeke’s mouth spread in a malicious smile. 

Cold metal trailed down your jaw. It caught on your earlobe, scraping the diamond stud earrings your kidnappers miraculously never thought to take from you. You shivered at the ringing sound. The muzzle continued its descent, sketching the side of your neck and skipping down the gentle undulations of your vertebrae.

You shut your eyes and attempted to curl into a ball.

“There’s no need to be scared,” he murmured huskily. Metal shifted, robust and loud, from somewhere in the middle of your back. His gun’s gaping maw drifted to your tailbone and dipped further still between your ass.

“My baby girls are used to guns. You’ll see right away that they’re quite enjoyable pieces of art.”

You didn’t want it, didn’t mean it, but the barrel that poked against your naked sex found it already leaking. The front sight, the thick top of the slide, glided between your wet folds.

You whimpered panic. Zeke made a soothing noise. His free hand, similarly gloved, passed over the back of your neck, stroked your sweaty skin, and clamped down as he masturbated you with his new favourite.

You were ashamed to admit that arousal ignited all over your body. The rear sight caught your clit just right every time, and the gun squelched with each pass. You squirmed, rubbed your legs together and arched your back. It was impossible to get away. The metal grew warm from your body heat and wedged deeper between your pussy lips. The fact that it was splattered with unknowable, unmentionable stains and cleaning solution only made you moan more desperately and, to your obscene horror, begin to rut against it.

“There you go,” Zeke praised. “You’re a quick learner. You’re beginning to understand.”

Sobbing, cheeks burning from embarrassment, you pressed your forehead to his knee. The lewdest noises you had ever heard yourself make slipped past gritted teeth. In your feral hunt for release, you were only vaguely aware that you were smearing your juices all over his bespoke kid leather gloves.

Your throat closed up. A spiralling, breathless whine began to curdle at the bottom of it. 

“That’s it, baby girl.”

Zeke sounded like he was speaking through thick water. He thumbed the base of your nape with short, heavy strokes matching the ones his gun marked across your clit. 

“Fuck yourself out.”

Your hips jerked. Muffled cries spilled from behind your gag and you came so violently you shook all over. Electric sparks raced through your body, urging you through the last embarrassing cants that drained out the final dredges of your relief.

Zeke was remarkably gracious about it. He waited until your cunt had finished fluttering against its toy before withdrawing it. Both his gun and his gloved hand came away sopping wet. He admired both, turned you onto your back and made a point of displaying them to you.

“Feel a bit friendlier towards Betsy now?” 

His satisfied tone was awful. You were too weak to retort.

“I haven’t even shown you what else she can do.” 

Teeth flashed. His expression turned predatory. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he licked a long stripe from the wrist of his soiled glove up to the grip of his gleaming gun, making a point of lapping up the come you anointed all over the vertical grooves of its barrel.

The bound hands at your breasts clenched into fists. Zeke’s triumphant gaze flickered towards them, satisfied at the sight of the twin pebbles of your nipples under your flimsy negligee. You shifted, attempting and failing to hide the lust again pooling between your legs.

“Would you like a taste?”

If not for the bulge growing at his crotch, his unperturbed facade would have been convincing.

The sight of his obvious excitement made you hungry for him, made you long to wrap your lips around his length and to hold all of him in your mouth. In every planet, every lifetime, and every circumstance, you would always want Zeke.

You nodded.

“That’s my girl.” 

He slid an arm under your knees and pushed your legs up. But instead of clambering onto the bed and unzipping his trousers, Zeke picked up his gun. You made a confused sound. Only when the broad grip scraped over your slick cunt did you begin to realise his intentions. 

You shrieked your protests, tried to wriggle out of his grasp. Completely deaf to your cries, Zeke lathed the thick metal with your come. You kicked at him. The edge of your heel brushed harmlessly over his shoulder. He held you down, spread you open, and eased his gun, butt-end first, inside you.

Your defeated moan and telling clench around the intrusion belied all of your outward objections.

Steeped in desire, your pussy sucked its new plaything deeper and deeper into itself. Humming approvingly, Zeke found your clit and lavished love upon it to reward your obedience.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

The stretch burned. You were afraid to move. He thrust gently into you and each tiny motion grazed all of your favourite spots. Before long, the leaden fullness inside you and twinges of pleasure from your clit were making you shiver in anticipation of a climax.

His gaze bore into you. “You need to trust me more, baby,” he rumbled, his tone dropping an octave with every word until it was a little above a gravelly rasp. “Zeke knows best.”

Your mind was slipping beyond comprehension. Between your rapid little gasps, every other empty beat filled with the wet, sucking sounds of sex. You squirmed, fought against your bindings. Coarse rope cut into the tender skin of your ankles.

He stroked your clit faster, fucked you just a little bit harder. Your curled into yourself. Your cunt dripped. 

He was setting you on fire. The suffocating steam of your desperate cries drummed against the bitter adhesive of your gag.

Zeke growled.

You threw your head back and all at once your throat was bare for him. He suddenly longed to sink his teeth into that delicate flesh, to feel your skin break over his tongue so he could taste the rust of your blood on the insides of his cheeks as he worked you to oblivion around his gun.

He pumped deeper. His trousers were growing uncomfortably snug. He rolled your clit between his fingers. Your breaths were catching, coming shorter and shorter. Just a little more and -

“Fuck it,” he snarled. His cock was throbbing and he could endure it no more. Fumbling impatiently, he unzipped his trousers and freed himself, at once fisting his cock and jerking it furiously to relieve the ache. He was dribbling so much pre that his gloves were stained white from it. Beside him, you were still submissively splayed out, legs up to display an overstuffed cunt.

He groaned at the right. Reached up to scratch the duct tape from your face. It refused to come away. Making a frustrated noise, he clawed at it until he exposed your mouth, and then ripped the rest of the gag down and let it fall around your neck. 

You gasped for air. A wet emerald satin-and-lace thing tumbled from your mouth.

He plucked the balled-up material and shook it out, and your eyes widened in mixed mortification and humiliation when you recognized your missing panties. 

Zeke’s cock twitched. 

“Kidnappers but not thieves,” he chuckled, waggling the prize in your face. “If I knew earlier on, I would have showed them a bit more mercy. But there is no use speaking of things long finished. And since we have been provisioned so thoughtfully -”

He wrapped his cock with your spit-drenched panties and closed his hand around them.

“- we should put this gift to good use.”

It brightened his mood considerably, so much so that he smiled fondly at you as he jacked himself off. He caressed your face, your breasts and legs, and even played with your cunt and clit. In time, you found voice and strength enough to mewl, and you began to pant in time with him.

“About to come, baby,” he gasped. You nodded fervently. His engorged cock was gorgeous, full and flushed with urgency. Your mouth fell open unbidden.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasped, all approval. “That’s my good fucking girl.” Then he knelt by your head, closed his fist in the tangle of your hair, and sealed your ready mouth around his cock. The warm pool of spit that met him overflowed from your lips as he crammed himself down your throat and came straight into your belly.

Your distressed choking and coughing was music to his ears.

Zeke stayed buried until he softened. When he pulled out, your face was a beautiful mess. Come and spit and tears streaked down your cheeks all the way to the top of your chest. 

He wiped himself with your chemise, tucked himself back in, and sauntered away to a decorative end table by your favourite bay window. When he returned, it was with a switchblade that he slid under the bindings around your wrists and ankles. The rope frayed like soft butter, and additional feeling flowed back into your limbs. 

Reaching between your still-folded legs, he eased his gun out from your reluctant pussy and, towering above you, thumbed drool from the corner of your lip.

The smell of leather had gone musky with your scent and his. Your empty cunt throbbed.

“Get yourself cleaned up and changed. Then put on that new Al Fahim and those antique Faberges I bought to match. They’re all laid out in your dressing room.”

You stared blankly at him.

He had the capacity to look concerned. Gently patting your cheek, “Sweetheart. I’m speaking to you. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“Good.” Generously, “Is there anything you want to say for yourself?”

Empty gaze flickered, settled adoringly on him. You roused yourself enough to croak past a sore throat, “Please. When I’m clean, will you let me cum?”

He regarded you for a moment. Then his laughter rang out, the sound of it bouncing around your opulent bedroom in his extravagant home. Covering your trembling fists with his hand, Zeke shook his head and in a sick, syrupy tone drawled, “Of course not, baby doll. We have theatre and dinner reservations for tonight. It wouldn’t do to be late.”

#aot zeke #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut #zeke x reader #prompt fill #icymi

[90363462]

Getty Images

Sounds Of Lovemaking: What You Need To Know About Audio Porn

The name of the game is taking your pleasure to new heights sonically. 

Sheriden Chanel

Nov. 03, 2021 01:37PM EST

I can't be the only one who feels a tinge of arousal at the sound of someone's voice. Especially when the intention behind the sultry tone dipped in honey is exactly that -- to arouse. Recently, I had the pleasure of coming across an Instagram ad promoting the female-founded sexual wellness platform, Dipsea. The voice I heard immediately was one I had become familiar with as an avid Insecure fan. That of none other than Sarunas J. Jackson. Funny enough, that was something I admired about him in the series (as well as in Good Trouble). He had a voice that could evoke trickles almost effortlessly.

So that, coupled with the storytelling element that the audio company is all about proved to me in 30 seconds or less that Mr. Jackson had the uncanny ability for taking pleasure to new heights sonically. What I had accidentally stumbled upon was audio porn, and apparently, in terms of sexual pleasure, it is absolutely the wave. Audio porn is defined as adult content that you listen to. Audio porn can be narrated erotic stories (like the aforementioned Jackson's "Off the Record" series), guided masturbation sessions, listening to someone talk dirty to you, or even orgasm sound libraries. 

In the last decade, audio porn has seen a lucrative uptick in popularity. The multi-million dollar industry raised over $8 million in 2019 alone. So, what is it about audio porn erotica that has women so tapped in to auditory stimulation versus visual? I spoke with blogger and speaker on all things sexuality, Tatyannah King to spill the tea on all things audio porn. 

Audio Porn: What Is It & Why Do We Listen To It?

Porn is often a polarizing topic where some women don't often feel the porn that is out there is representative of them or intended for their gaze. Instead, the "traditional" mainstream porn that we come across are conceptualized, filmed, directed, and edited with the typical male viewer in mind. While ethical porn can be a great alternative for those who want to visually consume porn that isn't inherently male-centric, audio porn provides an erotic outlet for those looking for a less male-centric view that is also immersive. "Audio porn allows you to use imagination and make you feel like you're actually part of the scene," Tatyannah explains.

She continues, "For those who enjoy the sound of moaning, audio porn is a great option. As someone who loves to hear men being vocal and expressive during sex, it frustrates me that I typically have to endlessly search through pages on traditional porn to hear the man moaning. With audio porn, I don't have that issue as much because premium sites do a better job at making sure their male performers are there for more than just penetrating and occasionally grunting."

Erotic Intimacy Through Audio Porn

Don't ask me why, but in my younger days, one of my favorite ways to consume porn was either through reading adult fanfiction or by listening to porn through audio recordings I made with a tape recorder. Without realizing it, the latter was my first taste of the power of audio porn. There was a mental element being tapped into that made the act of consuming erotic content that much more enticing and tantalizing to me.

To this day, a voice note of a partner moaning or even listening to myself in previous sessions can elicit arousal in a way that even the best rough sex compliation I can find on the internet can't. It's the raw erotic intimacy for me. Tatyannah explains, "Some people prefer to have the visuals laid out in front of them, but audio attracts people who enjoy using their imagination and visualizing what they want the scene to be like while listening to the audio."

"Audio porn encourages you to think about your desires in a deeper sense."

Getty Images

The Science Behind the Pleasure Found in Audio Porn

If you're a fan of verbal expression or confirmation during your lovemaking, it should come as no surprise that audio porn taps into an aspect of us that gets off on hearing others experience pleasure. There's a reason why moans can get you more aroused. According to Tatyannah, that reason is Autonomous Sensory Response, aka ASMR. She explains it as "the tingling sensation along the scalp, neck, or back that people feel when exposed to certain auditory stimuli." 

She adds, "Aside from biological and physical responses, it is possible for people to have an auralism fetish, which is a sexual fetish in which one is sexually aroused or excited by sound. These sounds can include music, a particular tone of voice, the actual sounds of sex itself, or simply listening to others have sex."

The Best Places to Find Audio Porn

Dipsea

Quin

Audiodesires

Vibease Chat

Featured image by Getty Images

Ever heard of Audio Porn? Here's everything you need to know ... ›

What If Porn Had No Pictures? - The New York Times ›

[hudgenssource]

daniellepriano:  #VANESSAHUDGENS

🌟 @vanessahudgens

👗 @jasonbolden

Assisted by @johnmumblo

💄 @thetonyabrewer

💇‍♀️ @daniellepriano

Assisted by @marianabull74

💅🏼 @nailsbyzola

@SexyHair @t3micro #GreatLengthsUSAPartner #HowIWearMyGL #Ad

Our inspiration was a galactic ballerina — as an homage to Karl tonight, we modeled the structure of Vanessa’s hair on the iconic Chanel camelia flower.

👇 CHECK THE BREAKDOWN BELOW 👇

First, I prepped her hair by applying SEXYHAIR Big Altitude Bodifying Blow Dry Mousse from the midshaft of her hair to her ends, leaving the roots bare. I used T3’s FEATHERWEIGHT STYLEMAX to blow out her hair to lock the product in and create shine.

As we wanted her final style to resemble a full flower with many petals, I used GREAT LENGTHS hair extensions to add length and more body and have more hair to shape. We went with 22” length, tape-ins and blended two shades: 1B (Espresso) and 02 (Cocoa Rich), for dimension. Section off very clean, 1/8” sections of hair. Section by section, place one tape-in extension adhesive side up and pull one section of natural hair on top of the adhesive. Then, take another tape-in piece and secure the hair by placing it on top of this joined unit.

Once applied, I pulled her hair into a ponytail then split this into two sections. I braided each section and started wrapping each braid around itself, pinning as I went. I delicately pulled a little bit of hair from the braids to create the look of flower petals, applying SEXYHAIR POWDER PLAY LITE texture powder gently into each petal. I pinned the resulting ends to the side of her head and fanned out the ends for a geometric finish. I sprayed her hair generously with SEXYHAIR SPRAY & PLAY HARDER hairspray or SEXYHAIR SPRITZ & STAY hairspray to ensure everything stayed in place.

As a final step, I used T3’s SINGLEPASS STYLEMAX flat iron to press the ends of her hair into a glassy leaf structure to resemble leaves of a flower.

#vanessa hudgens #instagram #met gala #met gala 2023 #video

[lilja4ever]

im still gonna buy september us vogue but ill just tape naomi walking chanel ss 93 over the cover i guess