Rock Star Gif Novels & Stories

Gina gave a wicked smile of acknowledgement, nodding slowly continuously. "And do you know after that happened, I thought it was the end of Rock Presley in my life. But the dude kept bugging me with shity songs on my Timeline. I hate every inch of his lyrics. It doesn't make sense, you see. How can someone sing about hamburger? Is that like a nursery rhymes? These days we need the real deal from these artist. If you don't sing about getting the bag or crazy about love. Fuck it! Ain't gonna download hamburger jam" I puffed. "Fuck it. We want some diss track yo!" Gina added.

“Shhh! Don’t let them hear you! GGS stands for Garuda Steel Gang, not some soap opera. You need to memorize each of them. That guy sitting at the end? That’s Rocky. Everyone calls him Iky. Sure, he’s got a cute smile, but his mouth? Super annoying!” I instinctively glanced at Rocky, studying him more closely. His smile really was sweet, and his school uniform made him look approachable. But judging from what Arum had just said, I figured I’d better stay cautious around this guy. Still, for some reason, that cute smile only made me more curious. “Heh, I just realized… this guy’s way too cute to be in a biker gang!” I grinned at Arum. Arum stifled a laugh and shot a quick glance toward Rocky.

And amidst the twisting shapes were individual symbols that appeared like paintings hung in a gallery. A red hot chili pepper for… you guessed it. A dollar bill on a hook for Nirvana. The Rolling Stones’ famous lips. A Union Jack for The Who. An elaborate Celtic Cross with flowers and revolvers for… yes… Guns ‘n Roses. A black-inked portrait of Jim Morrison – the famous shot of him that everybody knows – that was done startlingly well, in minute artistic detail. And all over, woven into the fabric of the design, were quotes from some of the most famous rock ‘n roll songs of all time.

he greeted and kissed me on my forehead. "Good evening, Lucien." "Lucien..." My attention was shortly drawn to the man who called Lucien's attention. It's the Alpha of Crimson Pack, Drago Alessandrei Lestat. I can't help but stare at him. This is actually the first that I see him this close and Einah was right, the man screams danger. The smile he wears is not enough to mask the danger lurking behind his orbs. I wonder what made him like this? The Alpha eyed me with his cobalt orbs but I see no animosity in it. I gave him a smile and a nod to show my greetings. His lips then formed into a lopsided smirk.

The stage has been set, as the crowd built up, it moved toward the stage, a pale mist cover the stage, the light went dark without the warning, the inconspicuous sound of music could be heard just over the chatter of the crowd, the adrenaline went through the roof, and the crowd becomes crazy, a live concert was started, a man looking around twenty-eight with a guitar entered into the stage, the atmosphere becomes phenomenal when he starts the performance, and the crowd started to chant or said screams out of the throat, “Rockstar…Rockstar…” “Rockstar!!!…”, a puzzled expression appeared on Tara's face, she didn't understand Why the crowd drove so crazy…?... and Who is the Rockstar…?... Tar

“It’s more fun this way.” We ate in tense silence for a minute before he spoke again, softer this time. “You know… it’s not easy, this life. Everybody wants a piece of you. The label, the fans, the media. They suck you dry until there’s nothing real left. Some nights I’m surrounded by hundreds of people and still feel completely fucking alone.” I looked up, surprised by the sudden honesty. His green eyes held mine for a moment, something raw flashing there. Then he blinked and the cocky mask returned. “But hey, at least the money’s good and the pussy’s endless. Right?”

Her fangs descended, watching the four prominent men walk on stage. The lead singer, held piercings, black leather bracelets, his hair spiked with blonde tips holding a microphone as he held up his arm and parted his fingers in the traditional rock-and-roll style hand gestures. The drummer, donning a leather vest, pants, and thick silver-looking chains around his neck, began beating on his instruments.

Brian Sinclair, the renowned guitarist. Brian “Master” Sinclair, guitar hero, rock god, perfect specimen of a man, was passed out in her hotel room! He’d kissed her. God, how he’d kissed her. If she didn’t have rules about when she allowed herself to have sex with a new acquaintance, he’d probably be making love to her right now. She seriously needed to amend her rules. Her body ached with wanting him. The man was too sexy for his own good.

This life's go no escape, Go hard until I can't see straight, Sunlight burn in' my eyes, How the fuck am I still alive? (Oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa)

The two online suck. GinnyWolf: I like the guy singing Rocking the Boat. He’s hilarious. He’s a classmate of Grace’s, right? I wonder if he’s a friend. XXKKOO234: Link to videos of Grace, pls. Ballareeena: Rockin’ the Boat has stage presence, that’s for sure. MyHelperz: You’re perving off some firstlevel, creep. GinnyWolf: @MyHelperz, can you go two minutes without saying something nasty?