#and his weird dark sculpted brows

[eff-plays]

I hate when I open the stupid game and am immediately greeted by that stupid bitch's stupid Dreamworks face cuz this is the only stupid thing I ever think of when I fucking see it

[illubean]

UndergroundFighter!Geto

wrote this late at night and on my phone so excuse any mistakes or weird formatting... i dont think this necessarily needs a pt 2 but if u guys want one lmk ^^

This place really wasn't your scene.

Seriously, even you yourself didn't know how you ended up here. You were a college student with fairly good grades that was generally a law abiding citizen, so how the hell did you end up in an illegal underground fighting ring.

Despite not knowing how you ended up here in the first place, for the past few weeks you continued to show up every weekend in the late hours of the night to watch. And the one thing that kept you coming back every time was the undefeated champion, Suguru Geto.

Maybe you'd developed a teeny tiny crush on the fighter, which was what kept you coming back to watch him. There was no doubt the guy was attractive, but maybe dating a guy who illegally brawls other guys in an abandoned warehouse wasn't the best idea.

One night, your roommate (and friend) insisted that you show her wherever it is you run off to every saturday. You were reluctant to bring her, not wanting to get her into any trouble but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So now, you were pushing your way to the front of the barrier on the second floor overlooking the fighting grounds with Shoko Ieiri in tow.

"So this is where you sneak off to when you don't have class? I never took you as the type," Shoko says lazily, a cigarette hanging from her lips as she leans against the railing, looking down towards the empty first floor of the building.

Before you could respond, the booming voice of an announcer sounded and echoed through the warehouse. You didn't care enough to actually pay attention to what he was saying, all you could do was stare longingly as the inky haired man who caught your attention enters the ring.

Shoko's eyes widen at the sight of him, doing a double take to make sure she was seeing this right.

"He's the guy you insist on watching?"

You lean against the railing next to your companion, resting your head on your hands with a dreamy sigh.

"Yeah...isn't he cute?"

"I went to high school with the guy."

You perked up at this and shifted your attention to the brunette. Her initial surprise at seeing the man had dissipated as she was now taking a lazy drag of her cigarette.

"No way- you know him!?"

"Used to be close friends. Then there was a falling out in the group and we went our separate ways. I had no clue this was what he was doing now-a-days."

The both of you guys turned your attention back towards the fight going on below you. Geto was fighting a man about twice his size; realistically he should probably be losing but he took the guy down so effortlessly.

Another flawless win for Suguru Geto.

You never really payed much attention to the details of the fight. Instead, you focused on the man himself. He tended to fight in a tight black shirt that left little to the imagination paired with a pair of baggy sweats, but some days (like today) he would ditch the shirt.

And oh, what a sight he was.

You took in every detail of his sculpted abs, wondering what it would be like to rest your hands on his pecs. Deciding it was too early in the night to be thinking about that, you tear your eyes away from his muscles and opt to scan his face as you've done time and time before.

Your eyes trailed from the loose strands of hair that framed his face down to his sharp jaw. Your shameless gaze moved towards his lips that looked oh so kissable, to his perfect nose and to his eyes-Oh.

His dark eyes that where already staring back at you.

This wasn't the first time Geto had noticed you. He's seen you a couple times, but he'd never really gotten a good look until today. At first, he was looking at Shoko, surprised to see her with a raised brow. But then his gaze shifted to you and he realized you must've been the one to bring her. What a small world, huh?

The man chuckled silently at the way you seemed to get embarrassed by getting caught gawking at him so openly. Hurriedly, you turned away and grabbed Shoko by the arm, rushing her out of the building.

For the next week, Geto couldn't help but think about you. He longed on the couch in his small apartment, recalling all of the times he had spotted you before.

The first time you had showed up was about a month ago, and without fail you would continue to come back and stand in the same spot, watching him. You always had the same spacey look on your face, it was no secret you'd taken a liking to him. How cute.

Eventually, the next fight rolled around and there you were in your usual spot, once again alone as Shoko decided to stay in for the night. Though his opponent wasn't much of a threat, he fought especially hard, showing off for you just a little.

The match ended fairly quickly. Geto couldn't care less about the roaring cheers of spectators at the moment, opting to focus solely on your reactions. Your smile was beaming as always, but you seemed to shrink away shyly when you noticed him looking back at you again. This time, you offered him a sheepish wave instead of immediately turning to run.

A smirk made it's way across the ravenette's features as he nodded towards the exit of the building before turning to walk away. Your brain short circuited as you tried to comprehend what just happened.

Is he asking you to meet him outside?

After standing there stunned for a moment, you pushed your way past the crowd and down the stairs through one of the doors. You looked around a couple times, walking around to the other side of the abandoned warehouse and spotted him leaning against the wall.

Meeting a random man behind an abandoned building after he just beat someone up in the middle of the night probably wasn't the smartest idea on your end, but you just couldn't help yourself. You nervously made your way a little closer, settling to lean against the wall about a foot or two from him.

"Hey.."

"Hey. What's a pretty thing like you doing at fights like these?"

Geto turned his head to look at you, awaiting your answer.

"I don't know the answer to that myself."

He still wore his attire from his match, which in this case, was just shoes and a pair of black sweatpants. The flickering yellow light overhead emphasized the contours of his face and muscles. The cool night air nipped at your guys' skin, working to cool Geto off as sweat from his previous fight rolled down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.

You flicked your eyes away from him, deciding that looking forward while speaking to him would be the best option to not make an utter fool out of yourself.

He was so attractive it made you nervous.

"Don't get shy on me now, angel. I've seen how you look at me."

He leaned closer to you, his long black locks that were once tied up now draped over his shoulder loosely, creating a curtain around the both of you. He was so close you could feel his breath fan against your face. You gulped nervously as his piercing eyes were locked onto yours.

He chuckled lightly before pulling away and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"You're so easy to fluster, it's cute. Give me a call some time, yeah?"

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand before turning and making his way back inside the building. You unfolded it to reveal ten neatly written digits. His phone number.

Wait a minute.

Does this guy just carry his own number around?

[hxltic]

can you do capt price with an s/o who used to have braces (the reader has glasses) and proce found this out cause like he was going through all photo albums and stumbled upon readers old pics when the reader was like in middle school (OH AND ALSO IMAGINE THE READER BEING A METALHEAD IN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND UNTIL NOW AND PRICE IS JUST SO SUPRISED HAHAHAH)

I am so sleepy so this may be bad or short but i find this hilarious

One of the reasons Price loved you was because you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair complimented your eyes, and the jewelry you wore sat glistening on your skin. Your figure gave him something to grab onto, all his favorite parts of your body on display when you wore those tight fitting dresses for the summer.

When you brought the man home to your parent’s house, you’d expected him to be downstairs helping out for dinner despite how much you tell him to rest. It’s the sweet, traditional side of him.

Not in your childhood room, silently looking through things that aren’t technically hidden, so you can’t get upset with him for noticing.

And it wasn’t the records plastered on your wall with a protective glass over them, or the stickers permanently stuck to the sides of your mirror—it was the pictures. All in relatively small frames that didn’t have the best quality, but good quality enough for him to see the worst of you. You stroll out the bathroom and close the door to the man holding one and chuckling to himself. His brow was turned up in amusement.

“Put. That. Down.”

He turns to you with the frame still in hand, his face never wavering even though you looked like you were about to combust with embarrassment. Cheeks red, eyes blown wide darting anywhere else but him, and hands coming up to cover your face.

The worst part was, you knew exactly which picture he was holding. It was you and two other girls, one of which you don’t speak to anymore. Anyway, your teeth were dark with black braces to match the atrocious personality you’d invented for yourself at the time, and your haircut was one you try your best to forget about. You really wish you would’ve thrown that away.

It doesn’t help your features look the exact same.

The only difference was you were wearing your prescription glasses, the ones you brought into adulthood, but they were somewhere tucked in a drawer as your contacts held their spot.

“Why? You look adorable.” He teases. You looked far from that. You were a menace.

His perfectly sculpted beard moves as he tips his head back in laughter, genuinely taken aback by young you. You somehow are still the same, just more tolerable, with a snappy attitude on top but a lovey dovey mess underneath.

“Oh my god.” You wanted to roll yourself up in a ditch and never escape. The only reason you kept that picture was because the other girl has the same one. The date was written on the back in marker, but you didn’t have to look to know it was during your darkest days.

You finally calm yourself and blink up to your spouse, who seemed to be in thought. His mouth opened to ask, then it closed, and it took everything in you to pretend you didn’t see it. You just knew it would be something else by the taunting half-smile on his face.

Instead, you asked him what he was about to say. You shouldn’t have.

“I searched up the band on the wall. They still around?” He asked.

And while the question seemed purely genuine, you did not take it as such. One side of you wanted to tell him, “No, they stopped making music a while ago,” and the other half is saying, “Kill me now.”

Now he knows you used to listen to metal, but not just the regular kind; the barely coherent, head-bopping, voice-ripping kind. If the man wasn’t older, and this was Gaz, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you emo.

“No,” you mustered up. You tried your best to not return to the previous state of embarrassment, but knowing your husband, he’d now look into it and try to get you printed shirts for your birthday and whatnot.

He didn’t openly tell you how weird or concerning it was, but this was worse. When someone won’t tell you something directly, but you just know what they’re thinking anyway.

“I didn’t think a pretty lady like you would listen to that.”

. .

The entire way to the dinner table he was on and off laughing. It even got the point he had to temporarily excuse himself, just somehow unable to rid the image from his mind. Even though that’s far from what he wanted.

This late in the relationship and your mother still has horror stories to tell.

[blooming-water-roses]

Fuck it, ShiIta ArtCollege!AU

This is unfinished but I re-read it today and kinda like the banter, so I may write more disasters like this continuing the storyline.

Relevant tags: Crack, Comedy, Adult Humor

Pairings: ShiIta, KakaObi, feat HashiMada

Warnings: Shisui and Itachi are cousins who date in this, kindly don’t like don’t read!

Summary: Konan, Itachi, and Genma are songwriting majors at Konoha Arts, Sasori, Hashirama, and Yamato are wood sculpting art majors, Madara is an audio engineering major, Shisui is a music production major, Kakashi is a creative writing major, Obito is an acting major, Deidara is a clay artist (ofc) and Gaara is glass sculptor.

They all are friends one way or the other, around the same ages, and engage in their usual shenanigans at lunch. Here is their conversation:

“Ya know, it would pay for you and Itachi to quit being so serious all the time.”

As if on cue, the two turn their expressionless gazes to Shisui, who raises his brows. In front of them, Genma and Kakashi snicker.

“Sorry. I don’t have a magical button to change my default mood from ‘neutral constipated’,” Konan says dryly. Genma laughs around the sucker in his mouth.

“Heh, at least you still have a sense of humor.”

“Hey, my ‘Tachi does have a sense of humor. He just doesn’t show it most of the time,” Shisui insists, dramatically rubbing his cheek against Itachi’s own. The younger Uchiha flushes.

“Whose side are you on?” Asks Genma, but the question goes unanswered.

“Shisui, you’re smothering me,” his voice is soft with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re gonna give him a heart attack with your PDA,” Kakashi points out.

“But I want the whole world to know Itachi has my heart.”

“Trust me, the world already knows. Pretty sure you’d be on your third kid together by now if Itachi had a uterus.”

Said man finally widens his eyes as a horrible blush overtakes his cheeks and ears. Shisui even turns red.

“Ope, double homicide. You bulls-eyed the breeding kink.”

That was Genma.

“Why do we even hang out with you?” Itachi is exasperated.

“Entertainment.”

Genma smirks at Konan. “We should date.”

“I’m actually insufferable, gloomy, and weird as fuck. So for your sake I’ll decline.”

He sighs. “You sound like my younger brother rejecting his nineteenth girl of the week.”

As if on cue, Sasori plunks down beside him and looks up at them through his unruly mop of cherry red-dyed hair. His honey eyes are rimmed with a thin line of smoky black, as usual. It’s an aesthetic choice, partly, but also to hide his dark circles. The damn insomniac never sleeps.

“It’s twenty now.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Matsuri, that undeclared first year.”

“I thought she liked Gaara?”

“Seems she has a type.”

Genma blinks. “What, insane edgelord sentient candy apples?”

“Only you could come up with such an abomination of a sentence,” Konan tells him with the hint of a grin.

“I’m not a lyricist for nothin’, baby.”

“Baby? You two finally dating?” Sasori asks with mild interest.

“Nope. She rejected me again.”

“Ouch. I’d give you my period-three sculpture as a consolation gift but Deidara put air bubbles in his and blew up the kiln again.”

“I thought he only did that if no one else was using it.”

“He claims he forgot mine was in there since I never use clay.”

“Hmm. Could be. Sorry about your art.”

“I’ll just stick to wood pieces,” Sasori shrugs. “Sleep will be last priority to get my project done on time. I’d hate to make the professor wait.”

“You already do that though. Not sleep, that is. You’re painfully on time. We all know you’re impatient as fuck,” Obito laments the times where Sasori has rushed everyone in order to be on time.

“Guess things are according to plan then.”

“Ah, there he is! My dummy-husband!”

They all look to see Obito just before he plops down beside Kakashi, planting a kiss on his face mask and smiling happily.

“Hey, idiot,” is Kakashi’s fond greeting.

“If it isn’t Grandpa Obito,” Genma wise-cracks, and Obito makes a face.

“We’re the same age as you, Shiranui.”

“And? Maybe if you guys didn’t act like such geezers you’d have been designated better roles in our dysfunctional friend-family.”

“Is that what we are?” Asks Kakashi as Obito interlaces their fingers.

“Yup,” Shisui answers. “We talked about it the other day working the radio station. You and Obito are Grandma and Grandpa. ‘Tachi and I are Mom and Dad. Konan over here is the exhausted yet supremely talented older sister, and Genma and Sasori are the two neighbor kids who are in a love triangle with Konan.”

Konan sighs exasperatedly, and at the same time, she and Sasori say. “There is no love triangle.”

Obito blinks. “You guys are insane.”

“Says the guy who eloped with his boyfriend a week before his junior year.”

“We got the idea from Hashirama and Madara.”

Konan raises a brow. “They’re married?”

“Yeah! They eloped last year. You haven’t noticed their rings?”

“I don’t really pay attention,” she shrugs.

“Madara wears a shit ton of rings and Hashirama wears his on his neck ‘cause he sculpts,” Shisui adds as a further explanation.

“Hashirama’s a damn genius at wood sculpting,” Sasori muses, “His cousin Yamato is talented as hell too. I need to work harder.”

“Can’t punch the gas if it’s already floored,” Itachi reminds, trying to be helpful. Shisui beams at him as if he just wrote a Bible that makes sense and actually solves all of the world’s problems.

“You’re so smart.”

“Or just really neurodivergent.”

“Same thing in my book.”

“He has a point,” Kakashi shrugs.

“Say, what was eloping like?” Shisui asks, arm around Itachi’s waist tightening. “You think me and ‘Tachi could do it?”

“It was great,” Obito grins. “Why not? You two act married anyway.”

Itachi sighs. “Has everyone forgotten we’re cousins? My family would never approve.”

“Eh, what’s the big deal? If you wanna ‘sweet home Alabama’ each other to the Moon and back, you go right ahead,” Genma winks for good measure. “It’s no sweat off my balls.”

Itachi stares, blinking slowly at his fellow songwriter.

“Couldn’t you just have said it doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“Like a normal person?” Sasori adds in, not hiding his disgust.

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Genma grins wolfishly, elbowing his brother in the ribs. “None of us are normal at all.”

“Yup. We wouldn’t be wackos who decided to get art degrees otherwise,” Shisui grins broadly. No one misses the rather lovesick, gentle expression Itachi bestows upon his face, but everyone ignores it. It’s as far as Itachi goes with PDA, but damn if it isn’t more potent than an actual physical gesture towards Shisui at making everyone avert their eyes at the display of intimacy.

Except Genma.

“Or wackos in love with their own cousins.”

Itachi’s eyes shift from their warmth to fix Genma with an only half-venomous glare.

“Shut up.”

The Shiranui raises his hands in defense. “We’re all wackos, this is a safe-space. Completely judgement-free zone.”

Despite his tendency to joke, those words are entirely sincere.

[deanwithscissors]

Dream Come True - Part 1

Pairing: Jensen X Scottish!Reader (ofc), Richard Madden X Reader

Word Count: 3589

Warnings: Swearing, Scottish slang, alcohol consumption, tiny bit of dirty talk, slight bit of anxiety

Summary: When [Y/N]’s long term partner offers her a once in a lifetime opportunity to sleep with the man of her dreams, she has to take it

A/N: idk if you guys will understand the scots language lol, i toned it down (a lot🙄) this was also weird to write because my partner is called richard, who also has dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and is scottish🥲 — this is a one shot that is already over 5k and isn’t near finished, so i decided to split it up so i can actually post something :’) *all mistakes are mine* feedback is really appreciated, but be kind<3

The melody, rhythm and beats from the live band filled the enormous and elegant room, reaching to the top of the high ceilings, bouncing off the sculpted walls and marble flooring, infecting everyone there with a buzz — although the alcohol probably helped with that too.

The deep bass vibrated through the speakers, causing glasses on the table closest to clink together and forcing [Y/N]’s stomach to churn as an invisible current ripped through her.  

“Hey c’mere,” Richard, the stunning blue-eyed, dark-haired, Scotsman said, gently grabbing her forearm and guiding her to the edge of the bustling ballroom.  

Her enchanting green sequin dress, tight to her body and showing off her glorious small frame, glistened in the light like the stars in the night sky, as he twisted her tightly to his chest. His wandering hands settling modestly around her waist, but inching lower.  

Tucked tight to the outskirts against a wall, the Scottish couple had no visual privacy, but no one was in earshot, which was good enough for Richard.  

“So, y’know how we had that chat aboot oor dream shag?” His voice was deep and whispered, eyes darting back and forth, switching between hers and the strangers surrounding them.

[Y/N]’s brow cocked as she hurriedly looked around, not saying a word until she was sure no one could eavesdrop. “Yeah…”

“If ye really could, would ye?” His piercing blue eyes penetrated her soul as he watched her intently, searching for her answer.  

“No obviously, I’m wi you,” she smiled, placing her hand over his heart.

“So you’re tellin’ me, if thee Jensen Ackles offered ti take you upstairs tonight, you’d say no?”

“Why’re ye askin’ me this?” She asked, her feet danced on the immaculate floor as smoldering anxiety bubbled under the surface at this impromptu interrogation.

A brush of cool air washed over her skin, reminding her just how exposing the green sparkly dress was as she pulled at the skirt.  

“Just tell me.” He insisted, his eyes darkening and fingers digging into the flesh of her waist.

“I’d say no,” she confirmed. “I mean, I’d cry about it for days, but—”

“What if ye had ma permission?” He interrupted.  

“To sleep wi someone else?” Her voice came out as a squeak, eyes bulging and heart rate increasing.  

“Only Jensen.”

“Rich, why are ye askin’ me this? Here? Now?” Once again, her head whipped around making sure no one was around as she fought to control the sickening bile rising up her esophagus.  

“Just tell me the truth, would ye?”

“I— I don’t know, but honestly how could’a turn that offer doon,” she confessed, cheeks flushing.  

“I told ye she’d say yes,” Richard said, talking over her small stature, eyes locked on a target behind her.  

[Y/N] spun around, searching for answers to the millions of questions flashing through her mind. Who was he talking to? Rich knew there was someone there this whole time? Did they hear their full conversation? How embarrassed was she going to be?

Her legs buckled as she collapsed into Richard’s chest when a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out from the shadows of a doorway.

His eyes a sea of green, face painted with a sprinkling of freckles, lips so juicy and plump they begged to be kissed.

A pathetic whimper spilled between her lips, her knees giving out and a lump forming in her throat as her dream man Jensen Ackles stepped closer, stopping only a few feet in front of her.

Essentially, she was sandwiched between Richard Madden and Jensen Ackles, leaving no room to breathe.

“[Y/N], Richard’s told me so much ‘bout you, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jensen,” he said gracefully, holding out his hand.

Richard’s fingernails dug into her shoulders pulling her from the abyss.

Her trembling hand was completely engulfed by Jensen’s massive one as they shook vigorously.

“H-hi,” she muttered, utterly stunned by his beauty.

Never had she thought she’d see this man in person, it was just a dream, a fantasy, let alone have his hand in hers, his warmth flowing from him to her.

“Yer real,” she said, aloud, involuntarily.

Jensen’s canines flashed as he burst into a gentle laugh, his shoulders jerking and hands curling over his stomach as his top half inched backwards.

Did she just make him do the unicorn laugh? Oh gosh. Giddiness fired through her veins, pumping her muscles and stealing the oxygen from the air.  

The exuberant stench of his cologne assaulted her nostrils, fresh and citrusy with a healthy dose of saddle wood and earth, she repeatedly inhaled, determined to lock this scent in her memory box for all of time.  

“Surprise,” Richard whispered in her ear.

In her own little fantasy bubble, she’d forgotten Richard was there too, for a moment her whole world only consisted of this huge room, her and Jensen, but Richard’s voice pulled her back to full reality as she spun around to face him.  

His facial features were so much harsher than Jensen’s, his jaw a hundred times more square and filled out. His eyes were just as bright as Jensen’s, although a deep-sea blue instead of a serine forest green.

“Y’know I don’t like surprises,” she hissed, her index finger prodding Richard’s chest.

“Ye’ll be thankin’ me for this one, a promise,” he gave a cheeky wink and showed no shame.  

“Rich this isn’t funny, it’s embarrassin’!”  

Her hands cradled her biceps, anxiously nipping at the skin as she wished and prayed to a God she didn’t believe in to grant her the power to turn invisible, or eliminate her entire being completely.

“No need to be embarrassed sweetheart,” Jensen said.  

Her heart hammered and pussy fluttered as his southern drawl filled her chest.  

A sudden wave of nausea hitting her as she spun around to face Jensen once more, astonished when he truly was standing there.  

“I’m flattered, really,” he added with a sly grin that probably got him in trouble, more often than not.  

“He thinks yer pretty,” Richard said over her shoulder.

“Actually, I think you’re absolutely astoundin’,” Jensen corrected.  

“Fuck me, I need a drink,” [Y/N] muttered, squishing her temples with pressured fingertips unable to comprehend the situation she found herself in.

“Both can be arranged,” Richard said, pressing his groin into her lower back letting her know he already had a semi. “Care to join us Jensen?”

“If [Y/N] is okay with it,” Jensen answered, his full attention captivated by her curled orange locks and minty green eyes.

Gosh he really was the gentleman she’d read about.

“Yeah of course— after a drink, or four,” she confirmed before tearing away from the two men.

Stealthily brushing past people to reach the bar, she swallowed down the humiliation that must have her cheeks beetroot and with all her might, she willed herself to walk straight and not crumble in front of hundreds of onlookers.   Avoiding the barman’s eyes, she ordered two Jack Daniels on the rocks. The fit, long-haired man was efficient and quick with his delivery, she thanked him and downed the first drink.  

Barely a second had passed since [Y/N] turned the upside-down glass onto the bar, when she jumped a foot off the barstool as a hand cradled her lower back.

For a split second she hoped it was Jensen, but blue-eyed Richard settled onto the barstool to her left. Her head automatically swivelled like an owl’s in search for the green-eyed actor.

“Jensen bumped inti someone, said he’d be over in a few,” Richard told her.

“What the fuck are ye playin’ at?!” She wanted to scream, but managed to keep her voice hushed.

When he remained silent, she continued, “You told him a fancy him?”

“A told him mare than that,” Richard said, his shoulders rattling.

“Why? Why would ye dae that? Couldn’t ye just introduce us the normal way?”

“Don’t ye want yer dream ti come true?”

“Ma dream wasn’t ti meet the man at a public gatherin’ and be humiliated Rich.”

“No, yer dream is for him to fuck ye and that’s what am offerin’.”

“You can’t offer that.”

“He can, and a can give permission,” he insisted.

“Rich if yer takin’ the piss this isn’t fuckin’ funny,” she sighed.  

“He’s not. The offer is on the table, from me,” Jensen said, casually sliding onto the barstool to her right. Once again, she was sandwiched between the two men.

“But why?”

“Imagine you’re a single bachelor and a guy comes up to you, offers you a night with his captivating petite redheaded girlfriend, who happens to have a Scottish accent, what would you say?”

“Thur’s only one rule,” Richard said.

It took all her strength to tear her eyes from Jensen’s beauty and stare into the eyes of her long-term boyfriend.

“I watch.”

Finishing her drink in one swift gulp, she instantly ordered another.

“W-what can— how far—” She attempts to question, subconsciously crushing her thighs together trying her darnedest to ignore the pooling in her pants as she swallowed the anticipation creeping up her esophagus.

“Nothin’s off limits, go wild,” Richard said.

“And yer okay wi this? Like truly?” she questioned him with a cocked brow.

“As long as a can watch,” he confirmed.

“And you’re okay wi this?” she asked, twisting round to face Jensen.

“I am,” he confirmed, “Are you?”

She was taken aback at his question, surprised that at every step he’d been seeking her consent.

“Yeah, but I— need another drink, and answers.”

“What d’ya wanna know sweetheart?” Jensen asked.

“How long have — has this been planned?”

“Richard messaged me on Instagram a week or so ago, a friendly hi, noticed we’d both be here this evening and said his girlfriend was a big fan and would love to me meet me. He made sure to send a photo.” Her eyes widened and brows furrowed. “Just a photo of the two of you sweetheart, nothin’ lude.”

“And then what?” She pushed, unsatisfied.  

“A made sure ti find Jensen when ye nipped ti the toilet and explained ma proposal,” Richard said.

She was tossed back and forth like a tennis ball by their extremely thick and unique accents. The whirlwind of blue and green drowning her soul. Richards dark hair to Jensen’s lighter.  

“I didn’t need any convincin’,” Jensen added, rolling the small glass in his giant hand.

[Y/N] tried to deny his minuscule action wasn’t making her cunt clench around nothing, but her thong was soaked through. With an unintentional hair flip that caught Jensen’s cheek, she glared at Richard.

“That’s so— so— reckless.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t yer dream man.”

“Stop sayin’ that!” She sighed, blushing again.

“Can ye be mad with me later? Let’s just enjoy the time we have wi each other right now,” Richard said, performing with his biggest puppy dog eyes.  

“Fine,” [Y/N] huffed. “But we’ll be talkin’ aboot this later.”

“Aye, okay, we will, but— now that that’s dealt wi, you two get to know each other, I’ll find somewhere that’ll accommodate oor needs,” Richard said stepping off the stool.

[Y/N]’s hand wrapped around his forearm, eyes bulging, silently asking him not leave.

“Ye’ll be fine babe, al be back,” he told her before merging into the sea of guests.

Without missing a beat, Jensen filled the lulled silence, “So you’ve been with Richard for ten years?”

His husky voice rippled over her skin, his southern drawl tickling her insides and his kindness capturing her heart.

It wasn’t courage that made her turn around to face her dream man — great now she’s saying it — it was lust, and anxiety that she was losing her marbles. Jensen wasn’t actually real, was he? Like really here, by her side real, obviously he was a real human being.

“Yeah,” was all she could say as she counted the freckles on his face.  

“He said you were eighteen, he was seventeen, little bit of a cougar huh?”

“Am gonna kill him,” she said as her posture stiffened. The cougar thing was a running gag, one that she only escaped for a few months after his birthday, when they were the same age for a short time.  

“I wasn’t gone that long; how much was he able ti say?” [Y/N] hissed.

“He’s a fast talker, all you Scots are.”

A wide smile spread across her face, that was true, and it was funny because [Y/N] and Rich didn’t speak in public how they normally would in private, or back home in Scotland, otherwise all the actors and directors, writers, down to the wardrobe department wouldn’t be able to understand them. She could fire out a full sentence now with full slang, speed and accent and Jensen would be clueless. Hell, there were times [Y/N] and Rich couldn’t understand each other and their home towns were only a couple of hours apart.  

“He said you had a thing for Dean Winchester— and I’m curious, is it Dean you want, or is it me?” He leaned in as he asked, wanting so badly to take her hand in his, but knowing no displays of affection could be exchanged between them in the public eye, especially as photographers littered the event.

“Dean’s not real—”

“Oh sweetheart, Dean is plenty real, I can assure you,” he said making sure to lower his voice to mimic Deans.  

Despite the beautifully fitted suit that Dean wouldn’t typically wear, for a flash of a second [Y/N] was with Dean and not Jensen.

“I love Dean I do, but he belongs to Cas,” she said honestly.

“You really are a sweetheart,” he replied with a juicy smile that flashed his pearly whites.  

[Y/N] blushed into her glass, slowly drowning the liquid to keep from having to look at Jensen again.

“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.

[Y/N] couldn’t stop a scoff, “Yes, it’s just— weird. I haven’t slept wi anyone other than Rich in ten years, it feels like cheatin’.”

“But you have his permission, and honestly I’m pretty sure he’s more eager than the two of us combined,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I know and it’s kinda weirding me out.”

“Why?”

“This situation reversed is my worst nightmare, I’d feel sick ti my stomach if a had to watch him shag another girl, what if he regrets it?”

“Then you did nothin’ wrong, you had his permission.” Jensen leaned in, “[Y/N] I need you to know I will only go through with this if you’re one hundred percent on board, I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I’d never fuckin’ regret it,” she said harshly as if he’d insulted her.

“It seems your mind is made up.”

“It was made up from the moment ye stepped in front of me, a just needed to toss back a few drinks before a have the best shag of ma life—” Her eyes widened and mouth fell open, “Don’t tell Rich a said that.”

Jensen’s cheeks flushed, his white teeth teasing his bottom lip and hers.

“Wow, did’a just make Jensen Ackles blush? This really must be a dream.”

“Would you like me to fuck you so hard you’ll know it’s not a dream?” he asked, eyes locked on hers, unable to not place his hand on her arm this time. The sweet, heartwarming smile was gone, now a wicked devilish grin painted his face and darkened his eyes.  

Nauseating ripples of hunger ravaged her body, his scent so thick and lustful her mouth watered religiously, her heart hammering and pussy twitching. Despite being in an impressive-sized hall with hundreds of people, all that existed was her and him and the stools they sat on.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her mind playing a clear as day video of her; legs split, tits bouncing while being railed by him.

“You’re picturing it, aren’t ya?” Jensen accused.

“It’s hard not to,” she admitted.  

“It’s hard alright sweetheart, trust me.”

With that comment [Y/N]’s eyes flew to his crotch. She’d been on tumblr and was aware of his legendary status, she’d seen the pictures from the Smallville photoshoot, gifs of him from Dark Angel in sweatpants, the infamous dick flop of doom moment caught on camera, but in this moment, his clear arousal was right in front of her, close enough to touch, begging to be touched.  

Her breath was ripped from her lungs when she caught sight of the thick and sturdy bulge lining his black pants, thank God his jacket was long because it’ll be a challenge hiding the beast between his legs as they leave.  

A small buzz from her cell rocked her world, anxiety bubbling and swirling as she pulled it out. The screen flashed bright, displaying a photo of her and Rich on holiday a few months back, a single notification waiting to be read.  

Rich: Jackpot. Meet me outside, car’s waiting x

“A think Rich found a place,” her voice squeaked, not looking up to catch his gaze, the weight of the situation resting on her shoulders as her brain was occupied with thoughts of Jensen. “We’ve ti meet him outside.”

Jensen stepped off the bar stool, holding out his arm like a gentleman. Her fingers curled around his hand as she tried to elegantly repeat his step off the stool, however he was a whole foot taller and not wearing a dress and heels, and more than likely didn’t consume nearly as much as alcohol as her.  

She knew she was falling before it happened, her thin stiletto heel caught on the foot rest and her heart fell out her ass. As if tonight hadn’t been embarrassing enough, she was about to face plant right in front of Jensen-fucking-Ackles.

As she toppled, bracing for a harsh impact, Jensen’s arm twisted around her waist, like a lifeline halting her mid-air then pulling her taught against his body.  

Her butt rutted up against his crotch, his wide, striking hard-on sat sweetly between her cheeks, making her gasp and stiffen straight.  

“You alright?” he asked, his mouth so close to her ear that his breath tickled her skin.

Inhaling sharply and clutching his forearm, she mumbled, “Yeah am okay, thanks.”

“You hurt?” he persisted, arm still cradling her waist, hard dick now prodding her back.

“No, no, am okay, just— mortified,” she said, her breath quickening, legs trembling and pussy throbbing as in scent enveloped her.  

“It’s fine, no one seen,” Jensen reassured her as he guided her frame straight, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting her hand go completely.  

“But you did!”

“Yeah, and I loved it,” he said, eyes thin slits and focused on their prey. “My dick pressed into you in front of alllll these people, Richard nowhere in sight. Don’t be embarrassed sweetheart, it was fuckin’ thrillin’ on my part.”

[Y/N] could do nothing but stare into the actor's eyes while attempting to swallow the saliva gathering in her mouth like a fountain.

“Should we go find Richard?” Jensen asked after a moment of eye fucking in the very public and overstuffed room.  

“Ye might have ti carry me,” she half joked while her jelly legs wobbled under her skirt.

Jensen hooked his arm through hers, “C’mon, I got you,” he assured her.

Elegantly and as only a gentleman would, he escorted her through the trenches of black ties and over-the-top ball gowns, politely declining drinks and offers to chat.  

His presence was enchanting, captivating and fierce, people moved out of his way as he approached, half smiles gracing their faces as he glided through the waves of celebrities and CEO’s.

[Y/N] felt claustrophobic, unable to see above the many heads surrounding her, all those eyes on her as she passed through the split in the sea, Moses on her arm.  

An invisible force punched her chest, crushing her lungs, making her gasp for air and clutch at Jensen’s forearm.

Peering down to the redhead due to her tightening grasp, she was even paler than before, a slight shade of green tainting her face and not from the eye makeup or the green dress she wore.

“You alright?”  

“Yeah, just a lot— people,” she stuttered, eyes glitching as she scanned the room.  

“Hang on, we’re almost there.”  

His hand engulfed her, a tight squeeze letting her know he was there. Within seconds the pair burst free from the tsunami, the storm passed leaving nothing but fresh air and room to breathe, but before she could even inhale, Richard was by their side like a tornado.  

“Where ye guys been?” he huffed, oblivious to the panic dancing across [Y/N]’s face.

“A tripped, and then gettin’ oot— there was so many people,” she said, flashes of faces blinding her.  

“Well, the car’s over here, c’mon,” Richard said, his dress shoes clip-clopping across the prestige driveway.

“You good?” Jensen asked.

“Yeah, am okay.”

“You promise?”

His care for her brought a smile to her face and serenity to curl her into a soft blanket and cradle her until the woes faded.  

“Yes Jensen, I promise I’m okay.”

His frown eased, a soft smile taking its place.

“C’mon,” Richard insisted from the car like an impatient kid.  

As the panic of being surrounded died a quiet death the closer the pair got to the white Limo, God fearing lust burst to the surface, attacking every fibre of her being and threatening to send her to the devil.  

And after the sins she’d be committing tonight, to Hell and the Devil was precisely where she would be going.

[florelia12]

I posted 165 times in 2022

53 posts created (32%)

112 posts reblogged (68%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@floralovebot

@stars-heal

@redemptionarcsucker

@stellasolaris

@bernard-the-rabbit

I tagged 118 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#winx club - 14 posts

#winx helia - 11 posts

#winx flora - 9 posts

#winx musa - 4 posts

#omg - 3 posts

#winx bloom - 3 posts

#florelia - 3 posts

#fanfic writing - 3 posts

#yes - 3 posts

#winx tecna - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#did i watch john green’s big bang crash course just to figure out spacetime so i can rewrite the history of the magical dimension accurately

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Idk why this made me think of Saladin officiating their wedding

29 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

#4

I- wha- what was that? What was that?????

29 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#3

I know no one requested this but a short fic/drabble from the prompt list I reblogged a while ago

27. You’re so beautiful

“You’re so beautiful.”

The words slipped out in a whisper before she could stop herself, and she froze in shock at her own actions.

Helia looked up from his sketchbook that he’d been scribbling in to meet her eyes, his pale and sharp cheeks tinted red.

Flora gaped, cursing herself for blurting those words out. She had been silently watching him draw as they sat across one another on the floor of the library between the shelves.

The light shining through the tall windows reflected against his dark hair so perfectly and the shadows that cast over his features made them appear sharper than usual, as though they were hand-sculpted. His blue eyes had narrowed in concentration as he slaved over the tiniest details in whatever he was drawing, and it seemed that he was unaware that he had been biting his lower lip slightly.

The book she held in her hands had laid open and forgotten as she lost herself in watching Helia, wondering how someone could be so beautiful that the simple action of them sitting in front of her left her feeling warm all over. Until she had to ruin her own moment by speaking her thoughts out loud.

“Flora?”

“Huh?” Was he talking? She had completely gone blank the past few seconds after putting her own foot in her mouth.

“You okay?” Helia leaned forward, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Flora was definitely not okay, and despite her attempts to control her breathing so she wouldn’t give away her racing heart, she was sure her flushed face betrayed her.

“Mmhm!” She hummed, and quickly averted her eyes back to her book to avoid his gaze.

God, this was so embarrassing! What was he going to think of her? He was going to think she was too much. She’d already embarrassed herself by confessing her feelings for him by yelling at him. She’d even gifted him flowers like some crazy schoolgirl. She’d been so forward, and what if he finds that weird? Guys prefer to initiate don’t they? He probably thinks she’s obsessed with him and now he-

“Flora.” Helia whispered, and she looked up to find him smiling shyly at her, his eyes shining in what she hoped wasn’t amusement. He slid a piece of folded paper across the floor where it halted near her thigh. Flora picked it up curiously, and unfolded it slowly.

She gasped when it unfolded to reveal a drawing of her as she read her book sitting across him. Helia had somehow managed to catch the way the sunlight shone through the windows and brought out the highlights in her hair with just pencil and paper. And, there wasn’t a single detail that he seemed to have left out, from the freckles on her nose to the slight furrow of her brows as she read.

You are absolutely, maddeningly beautiful. He’d written at the bottom in his usual cursive handwriting.

Flora looked up at him, blushing furiously as her heart fluttered. Helia looked pleased by her reaction. He tapped his pencil at the top of his book impatiently, before his head darted left and right as though he was looking for someone. But, their aisle was empty which left her wondering what he was doing before Helia got on his knees and leaned forward to softly press his lips against hers.

Flora melted against his mouth. But, Helia broke the kiss and pulled away much too soon. He settled back into his old seat with a smug look on his face while she sat there trying to figure out how to breathe again.

If this was what she got for saying her feelings out loud, then she’ll never keep her thoughts to herself ever again, especially when it came to Helia.

33 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

#2

See the full post

35 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’m sorry

65 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[you-show-me-love]

Gallavich Kinktober 2022 Day 6 - exhibitionism / voyeurism X “I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later.”

For @gallavichthings and those who did weird shit in college for some extra cash

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Ostentatious, opulent, ornate, oversized, overindulgent; Mickey could think of half a dozen more O words to describe the place he had driven to. The house was more like a palace smack dab in the middle of Chicago's North Side. These big, grandiose buildings were something Mickey was still getting used to, but he'd only spent a few months at U of C and there were bound to be plenty more buildings like these. Especially if they were willing to pay some South Side trash a thousand bucks.

Now there were other ways Mickey could make a grand easy, jobs he's pulled off since he was a kid, but he was straight now, now that he'd gotten into college, now that he could be something besides a good for nothing Milkovich.

Still, there was tuition to pay, food and books and supplies and all that shit and he'd be damned if he signed up for another case study. He set his kickstand, pulled his leg over his refurbished motorcycle and trekked up the long driveway to the front door. It was open, the foyer packed with what Mickey assumed was other students based on age and the sea of U of C apparel. He bit his lip, worried he wouldn't make some arbitrary cut and end up wasting a few hours of his life for nothing. Looking around it didn't seem like there was any line to stand in or place to sign in so Mickey grabbed a cigarette from his pack and loitered just outside the door.

He was halfway through his smoke and when a tall redhead bounded up the driveway and instead of entering the mansion he stopped before Mickey and held out his fingers.

"You fuckin' kidding me?" Mickey let out an incredulous chuckle, smoke escaping through his nose.

"Come on man I had to jog here from the L. Let me get a hit before Ned sees."

Mickey passed over the smoking stub, how brows furrowed.

"Ned?"

The redhead took a long drag, then a shorter one before attempting to pass it back to Mickey, but he shook his head and let the man have the last few puffs.

"Ned Lishman. He owns this place and likes to own the young and beautiful for a few hours every couple months. What's your name?"

"Mickey. So you've done this before?" Mickey asked and Ian only shrugged, peaking into the house.

"It's easy money." He said simply, flicking the butt into the lavishly sculpted bushes. "Come on, it's about to start."

The next hour was one of the most chaotic experiences Mickey had endured sober and legally. Ned, as the redhead called him, had split the awaiting students into male and female then waded through each group with a critical eye, occasionally clasping a shoulder and guiding them out the door. Mickey swallowed as he watched the other group dwindle down and wondered if his fear of wasting his time would come true.

"Don't worry he'll like you."

Mickey turned to find the redhead at his side, looking at him up and down in a way that couldn't be construed as anything but checking Mickey out. He wanted to get angry, stifle any flirtation before people thought he was into that kind of thing, but he reminded himself he was out now and the need to hide was no longer necessary. Instead Mickey let out a nervous breath and did the same.

The redhead's shoes made him snort, big and red and obnoxious: exactly how the redhead had come off so far but without the sex appeal. His dark jeans were slightly baggy only affording Mickey a slight curve at his ass. His shirt was tight, tight enough for Mickey to admire a flat stomach and bulging biceps covered in freckles. Looking up Mickey indulged in a crooked jaw, pillowy lips stretched into a smile, and green eyes giving him a knowing look behind a floppy piece of ginger hair.

Even if Mickey wasn't chosen he decided he wasn't going to leave without getting Red's number.

"I hope we get put together."

Again Mickey was left in the dark but before he could inquire about the redhead's meaning Ned stood before them. Mickey held his breath as Ned's eyes roamed his body, not feeling quite as good about it as he did when Red was looking at him.

"Ian, glad you could join me."

Red, Ian, nodded and gave Ned a tight smile. Mickey shifted a half step closer to him, the desire to protect was reflexive in the face of Ian's discomfort. Ned's eyes slid over to him in interest for a moment before giving Ian a polite nod and moved on. Beside him Ian let out a slow breath.

"You good?"

Ian only nodded and before Mickey could press him Ned was back before the now smaller group addressing them with the next steps.

Mickey definitely needed glasses to read the fine print on what he had just signed up for. Ned was dropping a G per person to be nude statues for a dinner party. That's right, this rich geezer wanted a bunch of tight young bodies to stand bare ass naked for party guests to oggle and ignore as they drank champagne and ate caviar and talked about luxury and wealth for a few hours. Mickey watched a handful of people back out who had also skipped over the fine print, wondering if he should do the same.

"It's worth it." Ian whispered, sensing Mickey's hesitation. "Ned usually gives you more the more people leave but if you want to go…"

Mickey took another step closer to Ian, his shoulder against the taller man's arm. He grinned openly as Ian's head tilted down to shadow his flushed cheeks.

From there Ned merged the group of men and women then separated them into smaller groups, taking them further into the house. A large group, including Ian and Mickey, were left in the foyer when Ned returned and began posing and positioning. Placed to the side Mickey stood with Ian, watching with morbid fascination as the rest of the models was sent to the floor, limbs in an artful tangle.

"He some sort of artist?" Mickey asked, since Ian seemed to have a history with their host.

"Nah, surgeon. He just appreciates beauty."

"This is fuckin' weird."

Ian nodded in agreement and elbowed Mickey playfully.

"At least we'll be together." He said, making Mickey smile so hard he had to hide it behind his hand.

Eventually Ned decided the mass of bodies on the foyer was artfully arranged and turned to the remaining two bodies. He looked at Ian with a warm gaze that set Mickey's teeth on edge.

"I know just where to put you two."

The pair followed Ned up the staircase branching from the foyer, looking over the railing Mickey could see the group below coming to a stand. Ned ushered them to the end of the well-lit hallway.

"My endpiece." Ned said with a flourishing gesture to the wall.

"To be seen by my closest friends only."

Ian nodded, looking relieved, which in turn made Mickey relaxed enough to be manhandled by Ned into the position he desired. It was a weird one, he was just facing the wall with his legs a little wider than his hips.

"Now Ian I want you down here."

Mickey turned his head to watch Ian kneel behind him only to turn and studiously face the wall when Ned took Ian's hand and placed it palm open on Mickey's ass.

"Perfect, perfect. And put your head here, Ian. Perfect."

Mickey could feel the weight of Ian's head against the opposite cheek his head was placed on. Clearing his throat he lowered his pitch, hoping that would counteract any squeak in his voice.

"A-and we'll be naked like this?"

"Oh yes, yes. It will be beautiful. Ian, I trust you'll ease your friend here into this? I'd hate to lose one half of my star piece."

Ian stood so Mickey felt safe to turn around. Ned was looking at Ian again in a familiar, burning way that made Mickey's heart lurch in jealousy. He cleared his throat to break the undesired tension.

"So, when does this start? And when do we get paid."

The look Ned sent him told Mickey the man knew exactly what he had done, he looked between the two young men and frowned.

"In an hour. You'll need to shower and get into position in that time. As for payment it will be left in your locker where you'll store your clothes for the duration of the party."

"What's his deal with you?" Mickey couldn't help but ask after Ned left them to join the fifteen or so other models in a gym style locker room on the other side of the house.

"His son dated my sister." Ian explained, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"We kinda had a thing at the same time. His son, Steve, found out. It all went to shit. Ned's wife left him and Steve dropped my sister."

"Shiiit." Was the only way Mickey could think to respond with. Eloquent? No, but Mickey's English degree wasn't even close to being handed to him so he'd let himself slide.

"So…you like old guys?" Mickey asked in what he hoped was a casual way. Ian's smile told him he wasn't successful.

"Not anymore."

They heard the locked room before they reached it, the many voices talking over running water echoing off the tiled walls. They walked in to see more than half the group already showed and hanging around in white robes they'd have to discard once they left the room. Ian and Mickey grabbed a pair of empty lockers side by side and began to disrobe.

Mickey tried not to watch Ian as he undressed, focusing on removing his own shoes followed by his pants and shirt. He toyed with the waistband of his boxers nervously and let his eyes land on the naked ginger next to him.

Even soft Mickey could tell Ian was big. He swallowed and fixed his gaze to his open locker, hoping Ian didn't catch him looking and if he did that he didn't think Mickey was some pervert. Ian was naked, his locker was closed, yet he made no move toward the showers. Mickey wondered if he was waiting for him, if he was waiting to see all of him too. Looking behind him at the robe-clad strangers paying them no mind he took a steely breath and shed his boxers, shoving them into the locker, closing it with a metallic bang, and stomping over to the showers.

"Holy fuck." He heard Ian exclaim from behind him, the slap of his bare feet letting Mickey know he was being followed by the tall ginger with the big dick.

"I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later."

Mickey practically sprinted into a shower stall and pulled the curtain roughly across the bar, hoping the flimsy sheet of plastic could keep him and Ian's separated long enough to not fuck this up.

But God did Mickey want to fuck this up.

They could hear the party downstairs, well Mickey could, Ian at least could see a bit of the ground floor from his position on Mickey's ass. No one had come up the stairs so far except Ned to make sure they were in their places, but Mickey refused to turn and look at the old pervert.

Ian's hand was warm and unmoving on his ass except the occasional flex of his hand. His cheek was warm too, but it was the brush of his eyelashes against Mickey's skin that made the shorter man restless.

"Do we really have to stay like this?" Mickey grumbled, shifting his feet in boredom.

"We should."

"What if we didn't and say we did?"

Ian chuckled and turned his face into Mickey's flesh making him gasp. He thanked his lucky stars he and his hard on were facing the wall.

"We could move around a bit." Ian yielded in the face of Mickey's discomfort, proving it by rubbing the full of Mickey's ass cheek with the palm meant to simply rest there.

"Ian." He said it in a breath, unbidden and vulnerable, rising onto the balls of his feet to keep them from moving.

"The second I saw you I wanted you." Ian confessed as he glided his jaw along Mickey's skin, his lips brushing occasionally as his mouth formed the words.

"And the second I saw this ass I wanted to-"

Instead of finishing his sentence Ian sunk his teeth into the full flesh - right where his cheek was supposed to innocently lay. Mickey's breath was instantly ragged with arousal. He glanced behind him, to the spot on the stairs where anyone coming up would see them.

"Worried we'll get caught?"

Mickey looked down behind him to see Ian's green eyes looking into his, his chin resting next to a shiny fresh indent of teeth.

"Get caught doing what?"

Ian grinned and pushed Mickey's cheek aside with his roaming hand, marking a trail of light kisses across his lower back to the space above his crack.

"Oh, fuck yes." Mickey groaned, one hand flying to his dick and the other to Ian's head to drag him closer.

Ian went easily, burying his face between Mickey's cheeks and running his tongue along his recently washed hole. His movements were slow and indulgent as he discovered what made Mickey shiver and moan, what made his hand move faster along his hard cock.

Mickey felt hot all over, but especially where's Ian's skin met his: his tongue on his hole, the hand kneading his ass cheek, what Mickey was sure was Ian's hard and leaking cock against his calf. Mickey's ears perked at the sudden harsh gasp behind them, but Ian didn't stop and Mickey didn't care. The whole party could come up and watch Ian eat his ass until they both came.

Two stiff fingers put pressure on Mickey's perineum bringing a rush of heat to his groin as it struggled to hold out against all the sensations. Beyond that Mickey could feel Ian's knuckles brushing his calf at a rhythm that couldn't be anything but Ian jerking himself off. The knowledge that Ian was getting off to eating him out and wasn't going to stop no matter who saw sent Mickey to his tipping point.

"Oh fuck, Ian. Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" He rose onto his tiptoes as his body tightened into glorious release. Still shaking he smiled as Ian bathed his backside in kisses as his knuckles practically punched Mickey's calf at an unrelenting pace. With a grunt and a splatter of warmth Ian came and rested his cheek back on Mickey's ass the way he was posed to lay for the party.

"Think someone saw us." Ian panted. Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's sweaty hair and chuckled lowly.

"Lucky them."

[writteninkat]

"I don't get why some women can't seem to move the day after sex. It isn't that tiring." You shake your head, pouring yourself a cup of tea as Katsuki raises a brow at you.

"Is that a challenge?" He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, still not turning around to meet his face. The sounds of his muffled footsteps on the carpet fills the kitchen and before you know it, his arms are loosely draped around your waist while his lips attach themselves to your neck.

With his bedroom voice, he whispers in your ear. "I'll take it as a challenge."

Katsuki spins you around by your waist, knocking the air out of your lungs before pressing his soft pinks on your lips. The kiss is passionate, hot, and it's the kind that gives you an idea of what you'll be doing for the night.

His calloused palms slowly snake down your ass, squeezing them so tightly you jump a little. Without another words from him, you jump, wrapping your legs around his strong waist.

Physical touch has always been a given between the two of you; ever since Katsuki dropped on one knee and asked you the question, there has never been a day where you don't have your hands on him.

You run your hand down his strong arms, loving the way your fingertips dip with every muscle. His tongue is hot and wet against yours and you can't help your cunt from mirroring it.

You don't feel him turn around, not even when he's walking to the bedroom. You're too absorbed in him—in this form of love that you can't get enough of. The next thing you know, Katsuki is breaking the kiss and throwing you onto the bed, prying your arms and legs off of him.

You watch as he quickly takes off his shirt, your gaze immediately dropping to his chiseled chest and hard abs. You sit up and immediately begin to reach for him—to have his sculpted body underneath your fingertips once more, but he's much faster.

Grabbing your hand, he takes the other and pins them both above your head, pushing you back down on the bed. "Stop moving," He grumbles, hand cupping your dampening clothed cunt. "So I can wreck this pussy until you pass out."

He lowers his head, taking your boob in his mouth. It feels weird with how his saliva soaks your shirt. Katsuki sucks on your hard nipple, fingers pressing circles against your cunt.

Your moans sound absolutely heavenly to him—an angel's call or a mermaid's siren are put to shame next to your whines and soft gasps.

He brings his hand from your clothed cunt and joins it with the other, pressing your wrists on the soft pillows. "Move them and I'm tying you on the bed." His threat comes off useless to you; it only made you pressing your thighs together and wine.

He raises a brow, "You wanna be tied to the bed? Hmm?" You bite your lip at the question and a pleading look appears in your eyes. Katsuki chuckles darkly, "Stay." He orders before pushing off of you and walking to your shared walk-in closet. He comes out moments later with a red-wine tie.

You recognized it; he never used it for work or any occasions. It was meant for you, and only you. "You look excited." He smirks, "Like a dog wanting to go for a walk and seeing a leash."

He kneels on the bed, planting both his knees on either side of your body. "Pretty suitable, metaphor don't you think?" Katsuki pulls your wrists near the bedframe, tying the tie around your wrists as well as the bed. "You'll be my little bitch tonight."

In a second, he's pulling your shorts as well as your panties down your legs, flinging them to the side before dipping his head down. He keeps his eyes on you, dark, lustful, hungry vermilion eyes erupting butterflies in your stomach.

He blows raspberries at your cunt, causing you to wiggle your hips alittle. His hands clamp down on your thighs, opening them up to expose your wet cunt. His tongue feels the same as it did in your mouth, maybe even better. He laps you up as if he's the dog before pressing kisses all over your pussy.

Katsuki takes his tongue out and presses it right against your cunt, taking one long lick at your sex making a shiver run down your spine. You let your head fall on the pillows with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

When his mouth begins to work, soft huffs and pants and breathy moans slip from your lips; music to your husband's ears.

The coiling in your lower stomach goes undone and all of a sudden, your walls are clamping down at his tongue. Katsuki takes as much of your slick as he can, as if your an oasis in a desert and he's desperate enough to drink as much water as he can before it evaporates.

Your muscles relax and your chest rises and falls greatly. Your eyes flicker down at your husband again to see him shimmying his shorts down. His cock stands—pulsing veins prominent on the sides and the angry red tip causes you to open your mouth instinctively, lolling your tongue out.

Katsuki snickers before pushing inside you, once more knocking the breath out of your lungs. "Take it all in, bitch." He huffs, allowing your cunt to slowly swallow his cock inch by inch until you're so full you can feel him poking at your stomach.

"Hah! You see that?" His booming voice makes you look down, your eyes widening at the bump riding from your stomach. "Is... Is that..." Your eyes are wide, perplexed.

"That's right," Katsuki's voice is coarse, gruff and gruttal. "That's my cock. If I'm not careful I might tear you open."

And without warning, he begins slamming into you just like how he does when he's reaching his high. The bed rocks and shakes, his rough movement not only rearranging your insides but also the furniture around you.

The picture frames fall off, the lights shaking as the shade of the lamps shake vigorously. Within a minute you're clamping down inside him once again, a loud moan escaping from your throat. Katsuki doesn't stop, he doesn't slow down, nor does he falter. He keeps slamming inside you, again, and again, and again, and again, and—

"Fuck! Katsuki!" You cry out, another orgasm ripping form you and Katsuki stops this time. For a second. He pulls your leg over your shoulder and he pushes the other even further, as if testing your flexibility. And once again, he's ramming inside you like you've deprived him of sex for years.

"That's right. Cum all you want but I'm not stopping until I'm satisfied." Katsuki barks before taking his free hand to pinch your clit, causing your back to arch. Tears form at the corners of your eyes—the overstimulation is getting to you.

"Cum for me again. For the fourth time. Be a good little bitch and cum. for. me." His thrusts were even rougher with every last word. It's as if your body is voice activated and is responding to ever command he says.

Your body shakes with the orgasm and you can hear your heart beat in your ears. You weren't running, you weren't fighting villains. This type of reaction only ever happened when you were exercising. But you weren't. You came. And you cam hard. Four times.

Katsuki pulls out and relief wash over your body for a moment. That is, until he feel his fingers on your wet cunt. "What was that Cardi B line you kept singing in the car?" He asks, amusement glowing in his eyes the second he sees your eyes widen.

"Ah, right. I play with this kitty like you play with your guitar?" He begins slow but the build up is fast. He's not rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, instead his fingers are moving from side to side, the stimulation even more and it doesn't take you long until you cum for the fifth time.

You see stars. Fuck it, the entire fucking universe. As if your soul is being ripped out of your body and for a second, everything around stops. Darkness wraps around you like a warm blanket during a cold winter day.

Your eyes flutter open to a bare chest. You move your head to the side, seeing Katsuki's sweater on your torso instead of your shirt. You drop your hands to your legs and your brows raise at the feeling of familiar soft cotton sweatpants as well as your favorite cotton undies underneath.

Your body isn't sticky with sweat and nor does your cunt feel uncomfortable. At first you think it was all a dream, an amazing, horny dream, until you push yourself up to sit only for the pain in your hips to prove your hypothesis wrong.

A strong arm pulls you back down onto the bed, "Your body might be sore today. Let me take care of everything. Just go back to sleep, love." Katsuki presses a sleepy kiss on the side of your head before getting up, presumably to make breakfast.

"What happened last night?" You ask, brows furrowed.

Katsuki turns around, a smug smirk on his lips. "You passed out. During sex."

You look at him quietly for a moment, just blinking.

"I don't know why you passed out during sex." Katsuki's mocking tone causes you to glare at him. "It isn't that tiring."

[peachyysugaa]

scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

shiver, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader mentions of jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

summary: Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin set you up after vain attempts to cure your, what they call, chronic high-strung workaholic tendencies. Bleh. As if a date with Min Yoongi is going to help the situation. You aren't going on this date and, even if you did, you wouldn't take him home and fuck him all night. Or admit he was giving you that shiver.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, slight crack (you tweezed a hair off Jimin's dick); mentions of previous partners and implied smut; smut (fem reader, mild bondage, f-receiving oral, lil bit of a praise kink, doggy); non-idol!AU - music producer!Yoongi x pansexual, softdom!reader, ft best friend and ex-bf!Namjoon, (maybe too) close friend!Jimin, friend!Taehyung

--

“Look, I like dick, okay? The gender attached to it doesn’t bother me. A dick’s a dick and if you want to put it in me, I’m down, and if you don’t and wanna do other stuff, that’s cool too, I’m just letting you know I like dick–”

“Who are you talking to?”

You exploded, rocketing your desk chair backwards, nearly dropping your phone, gawking at the tall, dark, handsome man with the baritone voice standing in your bedroom door, blinking at you slowly with his brown doe eyes and long lashes, black-brown curls framing his tanned cheekbones and strong brows.

“T-Taehyung?!”

Kim Taehyung raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Why were you practicing a speech about dick?”

You clutched your phone, flapping your jaw loosely, pointing to it, to him, to yourself, rambling nonsense.

“There’s this app and I was writing a message to someone and they were worried about – but I wasn’t sure if it sounded right – and what, why are you here…?”

He raised the other eyebrow. “I want to talk to Jimin about something. He said he was going to stop by later so he gave me your key.” He raised his hand and, there it was, your house key. “Said it was fine if I just walked in.”

Park Jimin… said it was fine… to walk into your apartment? Without asking you first.

Who raised this child?!

To be fair, it was fine. You weren’t upset at Taehyung specifically. You didn’t know him as well as Jimin, who was one of your closest friends, but he was Jimin’s best friend. You trusted Jimin’s choice in friends, but, jeez, he really was lackadaisical when it came down to your personal space. He acted like it didn’t exist.

“Ah… okay,” you said, clearing your throat and placing your phone, screen down, on your desk.

“Why is Jimin hanging out here? You guys dating?” Taehyung asked off-handedly.

You nearly choked on air.

“No, we are not,” you snorted, walking up to him. He looked nice. Taehyung always did. He was casually sexy in his green sweater and dark gray pants. He was the kind of guy who could wear anything and look great simply because he walked around with such calm confidence. “I don’t know exactly; he said we should hang out and watch movies because I’m, how did he put it, a chronic high-strung workaholic who needs divine intervention.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips. “True.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped.

He ignored your outburst. “I suppose he considers himself the divine intervention?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess, I didn’t think of it like that–”

“You’ve never thought about his dick?”

You blinked rapidly. “What.”

Taehyung shrugged. “I mean, you guys hang out a lot. And you like dick,” he added, gesturing to your phone, to which you abruptly jerked to stand in front of it so it was no longer in his vision. “You might want to consider seeing his dick.”

“I’ve seen his dick.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blink rapidly. “What.”

You raised your hands in innocence. “He had a hair on his dick.”

“… What.”

You scratched the back of your head. “Well, he had a hair growing on the underside of his dick and he couldn’t get to it so he asked me to help, but you can’t exactly pluck a hair when the dick is limp so I helped him get hard and then I tweezed it off and he was very upset, even though he was the one who asked me to do it so I don’t know why he was so sobby about it, but I ended up putting it in my–”

Taehyung was staring at you, slack-jawed.

You stopped speaking, realizing what you were saying.

Your front door opened.

“Hey, Taehyung! Thanks for leaving the door open for me. Where are you guys? Oh, there you are. What are you guys doing?”

You both turned to look at the cheerful, oblivious face of Park Jimin, his previously blond hair freshly dyed black. He must have been at a hair appointment running late. He sent you both a big, beaming smile.

“Eh?”

-

"I need you to do something."

"What?"

Once again, someone needing you to do something. Who would have guessed? Just an endless cycle of people asking you to do things. When is someone ever going to ask you what you want to do? Hm?

Hmph.

He shoved another spoonful of red bean ice cream in your mouth and you continued listening because of it.

"I need you to sleep with Min Yoongi."

You choked and had a mild brainfreeze.

"Just kidding, I only need you to go on a date with him."

Not much better.

You gawked at Park Jimin, who continued calmly scooping out another spoonful of ice cream to feed you. As if this was normal behavior. You missed the blond hair on him. Blond-haired Jimin didn't suggest this kind of random bullshit. Black-haired Jimin was evil. His hair was full of secrets.

You know, that kind of person.

Jimin lifted the spoon and opened his plump lips as if he was instructing a child how to eat. You gave him an indignant scowl and he shoved the spoon in the crack of your open lips. That got him a disgruntled tut.

"Jimin, I'm not library book, you can’t let your friends borrow me when they need to look taken."

He rolled his eyes, all the sass and lacking in class. "That was one time, and you know Taehyungie's ex was a persistent bitch."

"Yeah, I had to slap her, remember?"

Jimin's hair has been black then too, when he asked you to help him. Mmmhmm. Help.

"She deserved that slap!"

"But why did I have to do it?" you grumbled. "You can slap a ho. You don't need me."

"I shouldn't hit a girl no matter how much of a lying, cheating scumbag she is," Jimin puffed, angrily jabbing at the ice cream and shoving it into your mouth. You glared at him. Why was he taking it out on you? He was lucky you loved this brand, otherwise he'd be getting slapped right now.

"Oh, but I should, okay, cool."

"You'd slap anything and call it your bitch."

You were about to retort but then you lowered your hand, frowning. "Okay, true, but that doesn't explain why you're pawning me off to Yoongi now."

"Because you need it."

And you snapped your head around to see Kim Namjoon, your ex-boyfriend, now best friend, waltz into your bedroom like he owned the damn place. You did, in fact, give him your key and you were expecting him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but you complained anyway, because that’s what humans do. Complain.

"Is nothing sacred in my home?" you muttered as Namjoon grabbed your desk chair and rolled it over to the bed, sitting down in front of you and Jimin. You were wearing black pajamas with little cats on them and Jimin was wearing the yellow ones with little dogs on them. Button-up shirt and long pants. Same brand and style, different print. Namjoon, however, was wearing a white graphic t-shirt and loose brown trousers with thin tortoise-shell and gold framed glasses that didn't have any lenses in them.

You were very tempted to poke him in the eye but, alas, you had some self-restraint.

"I thought you were going to talk about this last night," Namjoon mused, raising an eyebrow at Jimin.

Jimin suddenly seemed incredibly interested in getting the perfect spoonful of ice cream. "I got distracted."

"Horny. He means he got horny."

A violently large chunk of red bean ice cream was shoved in your mouth.

Namjoon laughed at your near-death expression.

"Don't tell him," Jimin hissed. "That's fucking weird. He's your ex."

"Then why would you do it?" Namjoon chuckled. "For the record, the relationship is no longer romantic, so I would no longer have a say even if it did bother me."

"I... well..." The younger man sputtered awkwardly.

You coughed and beat your sternum, glaring at Jimin. "The hell was that for? I rode your dick!"

Namjoon seemed highly amused and suddenly invested. "Ah, yes, and then?"

"Well, maybe it would have helped the situation..." Jimin said shiftily, eyes darting about as he turned bright red.

"Helped what?" you grunted, rubbing your throat at the uncomfortable sensation of a half-frozen esophagus.

"Doesn't seem like it helped," Namjoon remarked, placing a hand on his chin, still smiling.

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you talking about? All Jimin was going on about last night was how he hadn't had a good fuck in years–"

Namjoon snorted. "Years? Huh, that's odd, I seem to recall you getting laid four months ago at that party."

"That was four months ago and it was terrible!" Jimin whined, shaking the spoon. "And why are you talking about this with her, ahhhh!"

You and Namjoon shared a confused look as Jimin freaked out and snarfed down the rest of the ice cream, completely forgetting that he was using it as leverage to convince you of his grand master plan.

"Was it nice?" Namjoon inquired, diverting his attention from Jimin’s panic.

"Yeah, it was nice to have a partner who wasn't a complete idiot for once."

"That's good. I'm surprised you didn't ask before, honestly. You two are always hanging out."

"Never thought about it. What about you?"

"Ah, I fucked that girl who works at that coffee shop."

"Oh, yeah, the one with the nice tits?"

"Mmm, unfortunately that's about as much good as you can say about that one."

"That's sad. I'm sorry."

"Heh, no big deal, it'll happen when it happens. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that."

"Can you guys stop doing that thing?" Jimin grumbled from his spot on the bed, clutching the ice cream container and surrounding himself with your copious amount of cat plushies, including your one-meter-long giant calico cat. His ears were still red.

"What thing?" Namjoon asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, what thing?" you echoed, raising your brows.

Jimin rolled his eyes. "I don't get why you guys broke up."

"Pretty simple reason, really."

"I think it's obvious," you agreed.

Jimin looked from you to Namjoon, frowning.

"Well?' he demanded.

You looked at Namjoon and he caught your eye, trying not to smile. "Oh, he wants us to tell him."

"Huh, kinda seems like it, yeah. A little invasive, don't you think?" Namjoon pretended to think, rubbing his chin.

"He is a little bit of a, how to say this, nosy little brat."

"Hello, I am right here?!"

"That's a little harsh. Perhaps more akin to the local neighborhood bird that's always flying around, intruding on conversations with their loud chirping."

"You are very kind."

Jimin looked livid. He chucked one of your cat plushies at your head and you cracked up, falling to the bed laughing. Namjoon shook his head, laughing with you in that rich, full tone with low depth, a little goofy and with a lot of dimple.

"It's a dumb reason, but basically we weren’t feeling that spark," you explained, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. "Sure, we could fuck just fine, but it was too obvious that something was missing. We're better as friends."

"You wanna get married if we're both eighty and single?" Namjoon joked.

"Yikes, if I'm eighty and single, fuck, might as well."

"Perfect, always wanted to know how much libido I would have at that age."

"Anyway," Jimin scowled. "Back to the matter at hand."

"Oh, right, what do you think about Yoongi-hyung? He's single and he’s nice."

You rubbed your nose. “Ah, I don’t know him very well. He’s quiet, isn’t he? I get the impression that he’s a chill and lazy guy. Doesn’t talk much.”

Namjoon nodded. “Maybe you need that.”

You made a face. “Why?”

“You are kind of a chronic high-strung workaholic,” Jimin cut in.

You twitched. “No, I’m not.”

Namjoon nodded sagely. “You kind of are. I would know.”

“Ah, don’t do me like that,” you sighed, admitting defeat.

“Did sleeping with Jimin help?” he prompted.

“Why would that help?”

“Wow, that’s really rude,” Jimin snapped.

“But why would that help me be less of a workaholic?” you retorted, frowning. “I’m not following your logic.”

Namjoon rubbed his chin. “Maybe just a date then. With a calm guy. It will be a change of pace and you can get to know Yoongi-hyung better at the same time.”

You twisted your lips. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I think you’ll like him if you knew him better.”

You frowned.

“I don’t want to be passed around your entire friend group like a hot potato, Namjoon. I’m not going on a date with him.”

-

“Wow, Namjoon, you look a lot like your ex-girlfriend. Is it that new diet?”

Why are you standing here? Why did you agree to this? Why is did people ask you to do things and you do them? Because you were nice, that’s why. Deep, deep down in that frozen glacier canyon you called a heart. Shit. Why couldn’t you just be a bitch? That would make life a whole that easier.

“New diet and a lot of plastic surgery, modelled after the hottest woman I know,” you said sarcastically, turning around to face the deep voice.

“Mmm, I agree.”

You froze a little, seeing Min Yoongi standing there nonchalantly. Black hat with two silver rings punched into it, black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, black jeans with rips at the knees. Nice black boots. Silver hoop earrings and an assortment of silver rings. Yoongi had always dressed well, but it felt strange knowing he still dressed like this even though it was to meet you.

Well, maybe it was just because he was out being seen by people and not you specifically.

“I didn’t know you liked rap,” Yoongi commented, holding up his ticket.

You held up yours. “I like all music. And who doesn’t like Epik High?” You laughed a little. “Funny that you also printed out the ticket. Does that make us old?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I like having a physical copy. For memories.”

“Mmm. Sentimental.”

He looked to the direction of the venue. Then he looked back to you. There was something different in his expression now. You tilted your head. Then you saw his dark brown orbs slide up and down. A strange shiver went up your spine.

Yoongi was checking you out.

And he wasn’t hiding it.

“You look nice.”

You didn’t miss the way the side of his lips curved upwards, giving his words little bit of a dangerous edge.

You looked down at yourself, at the black denim jacket layered over a long black-and-white striped shirtdress. Thick-soled knee-high black boots, because you were going to a concert and wanted to be comfortable. Your mesh silver choker cut into your neck a little from looking downwards. You wore a single ring on your left hand, middle finger.

A silver raven’s skull.

“Ah… should have put forth more effort. You look neater than I do,” you mused, starting to walk.

“Hm.”

You almost didn’t hear his next words.

“If you had put forth more effort, it might have been too risky for me.”

You ticked you head back and found Yoongi smirking at you under his hat, flashing a bit of his white teeth.

“You gonna drink?”

-

“I told you, I gotta drive.”

“I’m not pressuring you. I’m just confused why you would buy overpriced water.”

You clicked you tongue. “Well, they don’t exactly let you bring your own.”

Yoongi chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.

“And besides, you’re buying even more overpriced alcohol, so you’re worse.”

His eyes slid to yours. “I need it.”

You unscrewed the cap and drank the cold water, feeling it ice your veins. “And I need hydration.”

“You don’t drink because you lose control, huh? Control of what, exactly?”

You shifted on your heels. “I get too oppressive. It’s no good for anybody.”

You usually arrived early to these things, so there was time to kill. There were lots of people around, but for some reason it felt like the only person you could hear was Yoongi standing right next to you. The other people around you were only white noise.

“Namjoon and Jimin say you work too much.”

You clicked your tongue. “Namjoon and Jimin need to mind their own business.”

Yoongi chuckled. There was a dry rasp to it, low and sexy. “You still work at that hospital?”

“Yeah. I work on their software. There’s always something wrong with that outdated piece of shit,” you muttered. “Should really just tear it up and overhaul it, but the superiors won’t do it because it’s expensive. Like it isn’t expensive fixing it every five seconds, but okay.”

“Heh, that’s how that generation is. Outdated.”

You huffed. “Mmm, you can say that again.” You cocked your water bottle to him. “You work at the same music company as Namjoon, right? Producer?”

Yoongi nodded. “Mhm.”

You sensed a little bit of embarrassment for some reason. Then you noticed he was looking at your ring.

“You wondering about this?” You turned your wrist and held it up, water swishing behind it.

“You always wear it. Namjoon give it to you?” he asked, taking another sip of his beer.

You shook your head, laughing a little. “Nah. Different ex.” You looked down at it. “And they didn’t give it to me. They said something to me and it stuck with me. When I saw this ring, I decided to buy it.”

You recalled the quote like it was yesterday.

“Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.”

Yoongi blinked at you.

You translated the English from Korean and he raised his eyebrows.

“Edgar Allan Poe?”

You dropped your hand, clicking your tongue. “Basically saying I was a lingering poison of a human being and they wanted to break up with me.”

Yoongi tutted. “Interesting. How creative.”

You rolled your eyes. “What I get for fucking literature majors during university, I guess.”

“But you brought the ring anyway.”

You paused, looking down at the silver raven skull.

“To remind myself to stop fucking literature majors.”

You looked up at Yoongi and his eyes searching your expression. It was suddenly a weird moment, his eyes so solidly on you, as if he could see everything, but that was impossible. Your skin tingled all over, even under your clothes.

“They were insecure, huh?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “Made me question every fucking interaction I've ever had, wondering if I left the wrong impression or could be misinterpreted or some shit. Everything was so messed up.” You frowned, adjusting your shoulder slightly, sighing out the thoughts of the past. “Ah, it was a long time ago anyway. I’ve already erased them.”

“Is that why you broke up with Namjoon?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why does everybody think there’s some big drama between Namjoon and I? Would we still be friends if there was something that serious?”

Yoongi took another sip. “I think I speak for everyone when I say it seemed like you suited each other.”

“Hah, it’s not that we don’t have similarities. Kind of the opposite, really.” You waved a hand. “You know, two people have certain preferences and one of us was always on the bottom and neither of us liked that. Maybe it was him or me, and I love the guy, but not like that. We could fuck and it would be great, but we both agreed there wasn’t that… feeling. That shiver you get with that person. Sometimes I think we only got together because everyone kept pressuring us, saying we should, and not because we actually wanted to.”

“Hmm.”

The lights dimmed and you turned to face the stage.

“What about Jimin?”

“What about him?”

“Heard you plucked a hair off his dick.”

You twitched. “Let me guess, Taehyung told you.”

“Taehyung told everyone. He was a bit drunk.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Jimin’s a great friend, but he’s a bit clingy with me. Always wants to be near someone. It can be good for some people, but I don’t think I could take it twenty-four-seven if we were actually dating. Not my type.”

“Do you have a type?”

You shot Yoongi a look as the crowd began to hum with excitement. “Do you?”

Those cat-like eyes gleamed in the impeding darkness, a flash of white from his open-mouthed smirk.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this date if I didn’t.”

-

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yeah, it was great. Never seen you excited like that, eh, Yoongi?” You smacked him lightly in the arm, smirking. “That’s the most energy I’ve ever seen you have.”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. His cheeks were lightly pink, although he didn’t seem drunk. “I have energy. I’m just not wasting it.”

“Hmm.”

A short silence as the crowd filtered out around you, but again, even though you were surrounded by people, the only one that seemed to be heard was the man in front of you, peering down at you from underneath his black cap, a small smirk on his lips, tiny flash of pink tongue as he moved it inside his mouth.

“You driving home, yes?”

“Yeah.” You stared into his brown eyes. “Want a ride?”

An eyebrow lifted. “Inviting me to fuck?”

Blunt.

You scoffed. “Nah. I already told Namjoon and Jimin I’m not gonna be passed around their friend group like a hot potato. This was nice though. I enjoyed it.”

He looked you up and down again. That strange shiver went up and down your spine again. He stared you down. You stared back, unrelenting. The world was loud, but this moment was your eyes and his eyes, electricity between them.

Yoongi’s smirk widened.

-

"I always wanted a beautiful woman to tie me up."

Men. Women. Nonbinary. Agender. Gender neutral. Gender fluid. Didn't fucking matter, people were people, and they always wanted shit from you. Always. It was always about what they could get from you and how they could pretend to be what you wanted to get what they wanted. Everyone always looking out for themselves.

You could respect that.

Just, for once, it would be nice if someone wanted to give you what you wanted.

You cracked your neck and looked down at his dark eyes covered in messy black hair, his pale cheeks less pink now, his head on your pillows and sandwiched in between your plethora of cat plushies, pink lower lip in his teeth.

Smirking.

Wasn't hiding a damn thing.

"Who knew you could be a bad boy, Min Yoongi?"

His smirk widened, tongue between his teeth.

"I'm good when I'm good. When I'm bad, I'm better."

His black cap with the two silver rings was somewhere on your bedroom floor and so was his leather jacket, his shirt, his jeans, and his socks. His pale wrists were tied together with red bondage rope. Yours. You were straddling his chest, missing only one article of clothing.

Alright, you were missing socks too.

No one fucked with socks on. If you did, maybe it was time to reevaluate your life.

“You don’t mind being tied up, hm?” you taunted, sliding out of your jacket, tossing it aside.

Everyone wanted something.

What did Min Yoongi want?

Yoongi let his tongue slide out, dancing in the air. Taunting you back before replying.

“Just because you’re tied up doesn’t mean you’re not in control.”

Your hand paused in front of the button placket of your shirtdress. You traced a button with your thumb, slowly, watching his face. Spread your legs more, lowering yourself, hovering over him. You could feel him breathe under you, patient, humming with energy. He flitted the wet pink muscle, skimming his lower lip, waiting. Dark brown orbs hazed with lust under strands of black.

“You wanna stop after sitting on my face, that’s fine, but you have to at least sit on my face.”

You chuckled. “Yeah?”

You sat down on his torso and he sucked in a breath, eyes flicking down to the darkness still covered by your shirt, then back up to your face. You shifted your hips slowly, smearing the hot, dripping softness on his skin.

“Could just… stop here.”

You scooted upward, drawing a fat line of your juices up his chest and to his neck. You knew how much pressure to apply. Didn’t seem to matter though, because Yoongi didn’t seem to give a fuck. He tipped his head back, pressing his Adam’s apple into your throbbing heat and shuddering in pleasure. His gaze found yours and you stopped, suddenly trapped, a moment of his eyes and your eyes, electricity flaring between them.

“I’m glad Namjoon asked me to take you on a date,” Yoongi drawled, deep voice vibrating your heated, wet core from his throat. “Made me feel less guilty about wanting to fuck you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Got some weird bro code rules or something?”

He smirked. “Oh, I respect him.” He swallowed and you felt a shiver slide up your spine, feeling the action from your throbbing pussy faster than you heard it. “I just want you more.” Exhale, and you felt the warmth against your shirt, making it flutter. You unbuttoned it slowly, one by one. “Want to see the satisfaction on your face when I make you cum.” Slowly, not parting the shirt yet, letting him see the line of exposed skin. His eyes travelled up and down shamelessly, not hiding anything. He noticed you observing him and grinned.

That open-mouthed smirk, teeth and hint of tongue.

“Come on. Give it to me.”

Voice so deep it seemed to be shimmering through you, dark eyes flashing in the darkness.

Teasing you.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll untie me and beg me to fuck you.”

You cocked a brow.

“Let’s see.”

You sat on his face.

You felt Yoongi’s smirk against your soaked folds for a second before his tongue slid in, instantly making your thighs tense at the sensation. Hot to hot, wet to wet, no, wetter, your hands on your headboard as his tongue curled inside you, thrusting upwards, drinking the wetness from you, low moan vibrating through your torso and you felt his eyes on you, on your shirt slowly opening, one shoulder gliding down, and you shrugged out of it, suddenly boiling, skin pricking from the heat of his gaze, tossing it aside, leaving you in your black bra.

He tipped his chin up and you gasped, feeling his tongue swipe upward, fuck, a smooth, deft motion, circling your clit. You clicked your tongue and rolled your hips into his face. Yoongi chuckled before latching onto it and sending a burning wave of pleasure through you.

Your nails dug into the headboard, making a loud scrape.

He purred your name against your packed nerves and you drenched his chin, glaring down at him.

Yoongi had the audacity to bounce his eyebrow in response.

Alright, you could admit it.

Going on a date with Min Yoongi was not a waste of time.

You grinded against his face and he sucked and licked your clit at the same time, fuck, moans in his throat, not unaffected by you humping his face, but resolute, focused on his task of pleasuring you, shivering as your hand fitted around his head, fingers tangling in his already messy black hair, roughly fucking his face as his tongue assaulted you, somehow the perfect mix of demanding and servitude, hot exhale on your skin, your juices covering his chin and cheeks, your soft thighs pressed against his face, teetering between suffocating and barely enough breath, closer, closer, the tightness rising within you, looking down as you felt your opening flexing against his chin and his eyes flickered up to you instantly, imprinting the memory of his dark brown orbs overtaken by black pupils staring into yours, lips wrapped around your clit, in the midst of pushing you to the edge.

“Fucking shit,” you hissed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Something flitted in his eyes and he looked back down immediately, increasing his pace and you moaned, closed fist against the headboard, but not missing his reaction. A slow smile grew on your lips, hand in his hair relaxing, massaging his scalp.

“You like being praised?” you purred, sweet octave to your voice.

The quickest flick of his gaze before licking your clit furiously as a reply.

Hot sparks igniting your veins, drawing in a tight breath, staring down, putting a little more weight on him, but Yoongi didn’t say anything, not even looking at you anymore, so close. You knew it would only take a little more. You could tell from the viscous slickness that was coating his skin that you had maybe seconds left.

“A handsome face and talented tongue,” you breathed. “No wonder I couldn’t resist you, Yoongi.”

His whimper made you tremble in delight, eyes to eyes, addicted to it, him to you and you to him, and you gasped his name, biting your lip and throwing your head back as your hips rocked into his mouth and spilled onto his face with a wet squelch, fuck, so much even you could smell it, hearing Yoongi groan as it filled his mouth, his tongue shoving into your folds and lapping up the rapid pulses, your throbbing clit on the back of his tongue, pressing into you, his nose in your crotch, one of your hands in his hair and one on the headboard, muscles flexing and quivering with the ecstasy, eyelids closing, immersed in it. Savoring the feeling coursing through your body, from your core to your limbs to your head, filling you with shivers that were unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You removed some pressure from his face, letting go of his head, but Yoongi followed, hungrily licking you all over, nipping at your inner thighs, flinches of pleasure extending your high before going back to your pussy, up, down, side to side, drenching you in his saliva and drinking your cum like it was his fucking life force.

Well, shit.

You opened your eyes, panting.

Damn.

You had a whole speech prepared for Namjoon and Jimin about how setting you up with their friends was a bad idea and how they should mind their own fucking business and now you had to prepare a speech about how you needed your house keys back because you were going to fuck Min Yoongi every second of every day and you hadn’t even had his dick yet.

You looked down at him.

Yoongi’s eyes were slightly unfocused, exhaling heavily against your crotch, staring at it.

“Fuck me, you have a pretty pussy,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck.”

Half of your cat plushies were on the bed and the other half were on the floor.

“You have an excellent tongue,” you chuckled. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

He blinked once and his gaze was on you, half-shyness, half-cockiness, wholly sexy as fuck.

“Didn’t want to make Namjoon feel bad,” he snickered, pink lips shiny with your juices. “You would have left him a lot sooner if you knew.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Something about his tone make you think Yoongi meant it on some level.

You wouldn’t have tried to find out, but now that you experienced it…

Maybe.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

Yoongi gave you that smirk you were beginning to become addicted to seeing. “That all you want from me?”

You laughed, sly and full.

“No, Yoongi, I’m gonna need your dick.”

-

“I don’t beg, so I’m not untying you.”

“Damn, what a terrible result.”

Yoongi didn’t seem the least bit worried about it.

He sank his nails into your ass and pushed himself in, your hand snaked below to guide him. You weren’t unreasonable, after all. You helped him put on the condom and shoved your tits in his face, rubbing your nipples all over his cheeks, his pink tongue stretching from side to side, eyes on you the entire time, getting harder and harder with the way you manhandled him, moaning into your skin.

Not hiding anything.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, gritting his teeth, gripping your ass, wrists still bound. He violently smacked his hips into your ass and you grinned, hands now on the bed.

“Mmm, what a nice…” You pulsed, making Yoongi groan. “Hard.” Again, hearing his ecstasy. “Cock.” He scraped your ass and up your back, gasping for breath, desperation in his touch. You turned your head, giving him the reflection of his own smirk. He gazed back, eyes glazed over, torso shuddering from the repeated massaging of his length buried in you, all from your muscle control.

“Hold on, Yoongi.”

Something between teasing and adoration, and you visibly saw Yoongi tremble in excitement.

“You got it.”

You turned back and sank your hands into your pillows, sliding on his stiffness and ramming yourself back onto it, making both him and you groan in unison, rough, deep strokes of visceral fucking, you commanding the pace. Didn’t matter if you were the one on your hands and knees, you used him and he wanted to be used, barely able to grip your waist, moaning your name and fucking you back, loud, sloppy smacks of ass to crotch, flexing your shoulder blades akin to a lioness on the prowl chasing their prey, and you heard Yoongi chuckle, breathing swallow and euphoric.

“Look at this back view, fuck, you are the sexiest woman alive.”

Breathless with desire, smug at having you, in awe of your prowess, all at once, clutching the small of your waist as you clenched around him, the shudders of your walls closing in, painting his crotch and balls with you, his quivering moan trapped in his chest because he could barely get it out. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, feeling him fill you as you pushed back, the rush immeasurable, unfathomable, anchoring your palms into your mattress and growling his name, the smacking of hips to hips, desperation to desperation, a brief reprieve as you snatched a cat plush and jammed it under your chest before you reached back and felt for the end of the rope, unlacing the knot with ease, and Yoongi yanked his wrists free with a swift hiss of satisfaction, grabbing your ass and fiercely fucking you, harder, rougher, just as much for him as it was for you, your name falling from his lips, unable to hide his lust, chasing it, chasing you, and you didn’t let up.

“Yoongi, fuck, yes, your cock feels so fucking good, fuck!”

Deep, intense, powerful, everything you were and everything he was, and it all crashed down, stealing your breath, pleasure clawing up your spine and taking over, lungs suddenly emptied with the force of each hard pulse of pleasure snaking upwards to fill the void, squeezing him so hard that you weren’t sure if that was voluntary or not, your joined inner thighs trembling and dripping, sweet slickness sliding down, drenching you and Yoongi, his groan piercing the air and cutting through your thoughts. His cock twitched and jerked, pumping thick gushes of cum and swelling the condom inside you.

Fucking shit, did you hold your breath? Everything lightheaded and hazy, reaching up and slapping your hand against the headboard, sucking in a lungful of air and rocking your hips back, riding the wave. Your felt Yoongi’s grip on your waist tighten, his pants so heavy you could feel the weight of his exhale on your back, heating your skin.

Snarl in your throat, definitive.

“I need this cock, Yoongi, need you and this perfect cock and I’m going to use it until I’m done.”

Rolling your hips, listening to his wanton moan at your words and the sensation, the messy squish of your movement, clenching around the sensitive head, slow, tight, your fingers curling to a fist, his name on your lips, low and seductive, and he responded in kind, your name in the same tone, drunk on the moment, the feeling, the power you had over him.

His nails in your back, creating long lines down your spine, and the shiver you got with that person, dancing up and down your vertebrate, unmistakable.

Yoongi gave it to you.

-

“Hey, so how’d it go–whoa!”

You popped your head out of your mountain of cat plushies and glared at the offender who burst into your bedroom. Who the fuck was that?

Guess.

“Jimin, do you know what personal space is?” Yoongi muttered from beside you, lifting himself on his elbows to peer disapprovingly over your naked shoulder.

“He doesn’t,” you mumbled, flopping back down.

“So… went well?” came Jimin’s cheerful and teasing voice from the doorframe.

You heard a cat plush get thrown like a cannonball.

“Ow, fuck, okay, I get it, hyung!” Jimin cackled, stumbling down your hallway. “I’ll come back later!”

“Don’t,” Yoongi snapped back, grumbling as he slid back down on the bed.

“You better pick him back up later,” you warned, referring to the plush.

“You dumped half of them on the ground so we could sleep.”

“No, they fell because we were fucking.”

You opened your eyes to see Yoongi smirking at you. There was a cat plush next to his head. One of your favorites. You picked it up and bonked him in the head with it. He made a disgruntled grunt and flinched away from it, ending up closer to your face. Eyes to eyes, electricity between them. You smirked, matching him, leaning in, arm curving around his head.

Tapping the tuxedo cat plush on his shoulder.

His breath against your lips, lust and fondness, not hiding anything.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

“Hm?”

Playing along, a willing participant in your games, one eye open, as if he was winking at you.

“I like you. You’re mine.”

He chuckled, a little raspy, a little embarrassed, and a lot amused.

“Sit on my shoulder, my raven. I’ll never ask you to leave.”

--

masterpost

[gentlemancrow]

14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚

Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;

“I’m screwed…”

Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.

From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.

By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.

“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.

“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.

“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”

Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.

“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he… Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”

“Thanks…”

“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”

“Y-Yeah but-“

“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”

Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”

“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”

Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.

“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“

“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”

He closed the door behind him

“Oh, uh… about wh-“

“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.

He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.

“…You?”

That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.

“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”

Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.

“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”

The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.

“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.

Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.

“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.

Jon’s brow creased again.

“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”

“I’d much rather give them to you.”

The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.

“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.

“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”

“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”

“Well I don’t know about all that, but-” Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”

Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.

“You’re welcome…”

Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.

“You uh, said you had a file for me?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”

“I’d like that very much, actually.”

Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 20 || Next ➡

Kirishima stays behind in the gym most evenings. This is not news to anyone, nor is it uncommon.

He usually outstays everyone actually. His stamina seems to be endless, and his quirk relies on his physical health and his ability to increase and extend his limits. So, Kirishima stays, and he trains, and he smiles the whole time. He pumps iron like a madman but makes sure to stay (barely) within his limits.

Tokoyami is aware of Kirishima’s gym habits, so he isn’t surprised when he backtracks one day to pick up a towel he’d left on one of the stands, only to find Kirishima in the room even though it’s late evening. It isn’t anything worth noting.

What is weird though is seeing him sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors, his face almost glued to his reflection. He’s leaning with his hands on his knees, and Tokoyami’s sure his forehead is touching the mirror.

The red head just stares at his reflection, and Tokoyami realizes that Kirishima is so absorbed in whatever it is that he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize the beaked hero is in the room. Tokoyami cocks his head to the side and decides to wait a minute before making his presence known.

Moments later, Kirishima hardens himself. More specifically, he hardens himself from the neck up, his arms and legs still soft and unchanged. It’s still nothing too out of the ordinary, except the face-plastered-to-the-mirror-while-on-the-floor bit.

7 seconds later, Kirishima takes a deep breath and grunts, hardening further. Layers and layers of hardening stack up like a deck of cards, and Tokoyami swallows back a chirp of amazement as he witnesses Kirishima go into Unbreakable form, his face and neck jagged and sharp. It’s mesmerizing almost, his diamond like appearance, the way it makes the vertebrae on the back of his neck jut out like a protective armor, the way even his hair hardens, though he’s left it in a pony right now.

And his eyes. Kirishima’s eyes look fierce, fiery, and so menacing. Tokoyami watches him in awe.

Kirishima continues to stay on the floor, staring at his reflection in Unbreakable. Reading his expressions might be difficult when his face is literally like a slab of well sculpted marble, not soft or malleable enough to form expressions and convey emotions, but Tokoyami can tell he’s furrowing his brow. He can see the frustration dancing in his brown-red eyes, and a few more seconds later Kirishima drops his quirk entirely. His vertebrae melt back into his neck, his cheeks are soft and fluffy, his hair puffy, and his eyes-

Sad. Thoughtful. Frustrated.

Tokoyami clears his throat. ‘Excuse me.’

Kirishima whips his head around with a surprised look on his face. He breaks into a grin when he sees Tokoyami.

‘What’s up man?’

Tokoyami points at the stands near Kirishima, slowly making his way towards it. ‘I seem to have left my towel here, I wish to pick it up so I may wash it before our next sessions.’

Kirishima looks at the stand and nods in understanding. ‘Gotcha! Please go ahead.’ He gives him a thumbs up.

Tokoyami picks up the familiar black towel with its deep purple border. The material is familiar and deceptively soft, and it smells like him. He hugs it to his chest and takes a step back before turning to look at Kirishima. The redhead catches his stare in the mirror and looks up, throwing him a quizzical smile.

‘Pardon the intrusion,’ Tokoyami starts softly, fidgeting with the towel. ‘I happened to walk in while you engaged your quirk, and I am unable to understand your intentions.’

Kirishima’s face pales instantly. ‘Oh shit, you saw that? I swear, I’m not using my quirk for anything weird, I know we aren’t supposed to use it outside of hero stuff yet but please don’t tell anyone, I really don-‘

‘Ah, you misunderstand,’ Tokoyami interrupts. ‘I do not believe you’re doing anything improper or unsafe. I merely wish to inquire about your intentions as I could not decipher them for myself. That is, of course, if you wish to speak about it. With me. If not, I understand completely and will gladly drop the subject.’

Kirishima immediately deflates with a relieved sigh. He looks away from Tokoyami and watches his own face in the mirror. Tokoyami moves his gaze to Kirishima’s face, and they look at each other through the reflective surface. Kirishima gives him a small smile, tentative and uncertain and very un-Kirishima like.

‘I don’t like talking about it cause it sounds super dumb but it’s not like I don’t want to talk about it. Um. Just. Don’t laugh? I guess?’

Tokoyami nods. ‘I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I am honored that you would trust me enough to open up about whatever it is that seems to plague your mind.’

Kirishima laughs softly. ‘I don’t think it’s anything quite so dramatic. It’s just, I’ve been doing some quirk training, I guess? Not the kind I can do during our Hero course though. This is more personal?’

Tokoyami nods in understanding, silently urging him to continue.

‘I’ve read so many things about my Unbreakable form. Most people love it. And I love it! I mean, it’s definitely a work in progress, and I know I can develop it more and get better and stronger and everything, but it’s a good move for sure. So, like, I know we all get our criticisms about our quirks, that’s normal and that’s ok.’

Kirishima clenches the fists in his lap, eyes dropping down to watch them. ‘I’ve read that my Unbreakable form is scary. Ugly. Menacing. Frightening.’ He purses his lips. ‘I don’t think those are bad things, not at all. And I don’t really mind what it looks like, it gets the job done!’

Kirishima looks back up, twisting to catch Tokoyami’s eyes with his own, omitting the mirror altogether. ‘But I wonder if my face is too scary for the kids, you know? And when I’m in the middle of a rescue in the future, I don’t want to add to their stress. I don’t want to scare them anymore than they already probably will be. But I can’t really drop Unbreakable all the time either.’

Tokoyami nods again, understanding Kirishima’s problems and feeling it ache in his core.

‘So, I wondered if there’s any way for me to make Unbreakable just a little more humane while preserving its functionality. I was thinking about softening just my eyes, so they’re not quite so jagged and scary.’

Kirishima’s eyes move back to the mirror, and he punches his thigh roughly, mouth twisting into a grimace. ‘Fine control over small portions of my body is hard though. I have a tough enough time maintaining Unbreakable on its own. To fine tune that even more seems impossible. And like, I’m not even sure it’ll work. I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing Tokoyami. Not a damned clue.’

Tokoyami trills in thought, his hand moving up to support his chin.

‘While I do not wish to move the subject away from you, I would like to convey my empathy for I too face similar challenges.’ He gently prods Dark Shadow from within before continuing, ‘I do not have a conventional appearance. I do not look scary either, but Dark Shadow is, I have been told, a formidable presence.’

Dark Shadow peeks over Tokoyami’s shoulder and waves enthusiastically at Kirishima. The redhead breaks into a huge grin and returns the gesture with gusto, more than used to Dark Shadow’s appearance and antics. He really likes the guy.

‘I appreciate that our classmates have gotten used to us, and to him, but I also question how many civilians would like to be rescued by an individual with an ability like mine. I too would not like to add to their distress.’

Kirishima nods in understanding, the look in his eyes softening immeasurably.

‘I am unsure of how to help, but I would be happy to provide you with any moral support or even some simple company while you embark on this quest.’

Kirishima pats the spot next to him. ‘Sure thing Tokoyami, I really appreciate it man!’

Tokoyami nods and takes a seat on the floor. The two boys move to face each other, and Tokoyami spends the next half hour watching Kirishima engage his quirk, engage Unbreakable, and then struggle to soften his eyes.

He watches as Kirishima softens a cheek instead sometimes, watches as his forehead ripples uncertainly, watches his neck pulse with his quirk, and watches as his eyes sometimes go soft and warm. He encourages the best he can, celebrating the victories and pushing Kirishima to try once more when he fails. They burst into laughter more often than not, and it’s honestly a lot of fun.

Even Dark Shadow hangs around, somehow procuring pom-poms to celebrate and cheer.

When Kirishima finally calls it an evening, they get to their feet and start heading to the dorms.

‘If you require company, please do not hesitate to approach me. If I am able, it would be an honor to cheer you on and watch you succeed in this endeavor.’

Kirishima places a large, warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this Tokoyami! I don’t practice it every day, but I’ll shoot you a text whenever I get the time to practice, and we can try to coordinate and make it work!’ He gives him his big sunshine smile. ‘Thank you for talking to me about it by the way, I really do feel a lot better.’

Tokoyami gives him another nod, and the boys walk back, enjoying the evening breeze and some light banter.

In the following weeks, Tokoyami and Kirishima swap messages and meet a lot more often. Tokoyami keeps tabs of his progress and gently pushes him to do better, and Kirishima laughs around with Dark Shadow when they take breaks. Sometimes they meet, decide they’re too lazy to quirk train and just watch old horror movies that leave Kirishima hiding behind Dark Shadow instead. Sometimes they listen to alt rock or do bicep curls. It’s a refreshing change of pace for both of them.

All their training does pay off though, sooner than they could’ve anticipated.

Aizawa brings Eri with him to hero training one day, and the young girl sits on a chair out of the way, watching with wide, amazed eyes. Aizawa stays close to her, watching over training with keen, knowing eyes. When he sees Kirishima doing some resistance training in Unbreakable form, he thinks of some pointers.

‘Riot!’

The redhead whips around to look at his teacher. Aizawa makes a come over here gesture with his hand, and Kirishima drops his quirk as he starts walking.

‘Come over here with your quirk engaged,’ Aizawa says. ‘You need to keep working on how long you can maintain your Unbreakable form, so don’t drop it right now.’

Immediately Kirishima engages his quirk and walks over to Aizawa, and every step is filled with the sharp sound of friction. Tokoyami watches as they talk, and he sees Eri looking at Red Riot with big wonderous eyes.

When they’re done chatting, Kirishima looks over at Eri. She flinches slightly, though no one can blame that on Kirishima’s appearance- Eri still flinches with most people.

Still, Tokoyami watches as Kirishima gets on his knees in front of her, still in Unbreakable form, and he sees Kirishima soften his eyes. They become liquid ruby, and he can feel the warmth almost from halfway across the gym.

He can’t hear what they say, but he sees Eri smile bright and even giggle, and he sees Aizawa appraising the situation with raised brows and an impressed sort of half smile.

Tokoyami gives Kirishima a pat on the back in his mind and bumps fists with Dark Shadow.

They all definitely have to celebrate later with some old horror movies and popcorn.

[tamakissimp]

senario- selfhate comfort

request: @uhhh-i-like-yaoi​ : Hihiiiii! I loved your last comfort post! Could I have the same bois comforting a female reader who is crying because she doesn’t feel pretty? Tysm!

a/n: ahhh yes. I love writing comfort pieces. I added in some other boys because I ✨felt like it✨

warnings: body issues, insecurity, lack of self confidence

BAKUGOU:

wordcount: 544

The image in the mirror is almost mocking you. The way your own body seems to taunt your mind and pull you into its darkest corners is scary. Scratch that, it's terrifying. You know that the healthy thing to do is to look away. But you can't. Your eyes are fixated on all your flaws. You're so busy with pulling yourself apart from that you don't notice the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

People often talked about how Bakugou was out of your league. You knew that being with someone as handsome as him you quickly learn that, and most of the times their harmful words don't phase you. But maybe you are a little bit more tired today. Maybe you're feeling a bit more down. You don't know what it is, but those mean words seem to get past your defence and straight into your heart today.

You clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of your crying. Even now, with shaking shoulder and blurry vision, all you can think about is how ugly you like while crying. "Idiot!".

Normally you would whisp your head around at the gruff voice but not today. "Are you there?" Bakugou asks. A set of knocks on your door follows. Normally you would welcome him with open arms but not today. What if he saw you like this? He would think you're weak. Weak. Pathetic. Ugly. Awful. Disgusting.

Another sob wrecks through your body. Bakugou's body stiffens at the sound. His blood runs cold. Without a second thought, he rips the door open. The sight of you, standing in front of the mirror while sobbing makes his heart ache. "Teddybear?". His voice is softer.

You hold your arms open for him. He takes the note and walks over to you before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. He pets your hair as you sobs seem to get worst. Bakugou mumbles sweet nothings in your ear. All you can do is cling onto him. "What's going on, teddy bear?" he asks.

it takes you a moment before you can reply. Every time you open your mouth to speak another sob wrecks through your body. "I'm ugly," you finally manage to speak. You can feel Bakugou shake his head against your shoulder.

"I-I'm ugly and disgusting and you shouldn't b-be with me," you say. You expect Bakugou to agree with you. You expect him to pull away from you, laugh at you before walking out of your room. But he doesn't.

His arms stay wrapped around you, his grip becoming even tighter as he nuzzles into your neck. "No," he says. You want to disagree but he beats you to speak. "You're pretty. Gorgeous even. And I don't say that to everyone, idiot. You're too good for me.".

"I'll show you," Bakugou says. "I'll show you how pretty you are. I'll teach you how to love yourself....Idiot.". You smile softly. His heart does summersaults as he feels you smile against his shoulder. You nod.

"Okay," you mumble. "Okay. T-teach me how to l-love myself.".

SHOTO:

wordcount: 506

You hate yourself for feeling so down. You hate yourself for not being able to be there for Shouto. You know he needs you. He has more reasons to be self-conscious. Though his face looks like it's sculpted by the gods, the scar that taints his skin is one of his most prominent features.

"Are you alright?" Shouto's calm voice asks. You nod your head. Wrong. You feel bad for lying to him but you don't want to burden him with your problems. Shouto nods. On the outside, he looks fine but he is beating himself up mentally.

He has noticed your distance and he can only fear for the worse. Maybe his biggest fear is becoming reality. That you're planning on breaking up with him, that you're done with dealing with someone as broken as him.

All Shouto does is wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as you both lay in his bed. You stiffen under his touch. The feeling of his hands running up and down your skin only makes you more self-conscious. Shouto's brows furrow at your action.

"Spit it out," he says. You don't know what it is about his voice, but all of a sudden your eyes fill up with tears. Shouto remains silent until he feels something wet hitting his shirt. He looks down at you only to find you silently crying. He immediately pulls you tighter against him.

"I'm sorry,” you say in between silent sobs. "Fuck, I'm sorry.". Shouto shakes his head as he sits up a bit straighter. He rocks the two of you slightly in an attempt to comfort you.

He's still socially awkward but you're teaching him how to deal with emotions, which includes how to comfort someone. He uses your tips as he searches his mind for anything he did that might upset you. He rubs his hands up and down your back, strokes your hair while sushing you softly.

"Do you...want to break up with me?". His voice cracks at the end of the sentences. He can't imagine a world without but he would rather break up than be in an unhappy relationship. Relief washes through him as you shake your head.  

"No, never," you say. You stay silent for a moment. It's best to just rip the bandaid off quickly. "I'm ugly.". The moment the words leave your lips, violent sobs wreck through your body. Shouto stays quiet which you take as he agrees with you.

You pry yourself out of his arms and beeline towards the door. Shouto stops you, though. His hand wraps around your wrist before he spins you around, pulling you into his chest. You fight against him but to no avail.

"Never, ever, say that again," he says. His voice isn't cold like it normally is. "You're beautiful. Inside and out. I know you won't believe me but please do.". All you do is nod against his chest as you run a hand through his two coloured hair. "Please believe me,".

TOKOYAMI:

wordcount: 360

You and Fumikage often talk about your insecurities. Being with someone who's quirk affects their body as much as Fumikage's quirk does, conversations like that start easily. Normally, the two of you will lay on his bed, limbs intertwined while venting out your feelings. So this time is no exception.

Dark shadow lays on the feet end of the bed, his cold fingers running up and down your calves while Fumikage's warm arms encircle your body. Your fingers run over his feathers. You have no clue what he does to them but they always feel like satin between your fingers. "I'm ugly," you blurt out.

The comforting circles Fumikage was once rubbing on your skin now stop. Dark shadows grip on your calves tightens a little. Sure, these sort of thoughts aren't weird to be shared but that didn't make them any easier to hear. "How come?". 

You shrug. You push your face even further against his chest prompting him to resume rubbing your skin. "Look at my face. Look at my body. I'm ugly," you say. It hurts Fumikage how easily you say those words.

In his eyes, you're an angel. Everything you do is a gift from the gods. Yet you have no problem with tearing yourself down. Though he can't judge since he has the same habits. "You are not," he says. You take a deep breath while waiting for him to continue.

"You're beautiful," Fumikage says. "While my words might not affect you now, I do hope that you can one day see yourself through my eyes. I hope that you will see how beautiful you are, my love.". A soft smile spreads against your lips. 

Dark shadow removes its hands from your calf and nuzzles his cheek against it instead. "You talk like an old man.". Even though your tone is happy, Fumikage can sense the sadness laced through it. 

"You love how I talk," he says. You nod. You lean up and press a hast kiss against his beak. Behind his feathers, a blush warms his cheeks. 

"Thank you," you say. "I hope one day you see how handsome you are too, birdman.".

KIRISHIMA:

wordcount: 787

Normally, you didn't feel like this. Being in a relationship with Kirishima meant that he became your personal hypeman. He took any opportunity he got to compliment you and boost your confidence. Lately, however, the UA has been dishing out heaps of homework and training got more intense. This left little time for you two to spend together. You didn't mind, of course not. You support Kirishima's dream of becoming a hero and you knew it would be like this eventually. You just haven't gotten used to it.

For the umpteenth time this week, you find yourself standing in front of your mirror. A rational person would walk away from the mirror. You aren't a rational person though. Instead, you try on every piece of clothing you own that is even remotely tight fitting. Seeing how the fabric clings to your body, extenuating every lump, dent and curve.

You sigh as you run your hands over your body. Feeling your thighs, arms, stomach. All disgust you to a degree you didn't know was possible. A voice in the back of your head is screaming all your imperfections at you. Your face isn't symmetrical enough. Your stomach isn't flat enough. Your collarbones aren't prominent enough. Everything is wrong.

Tears well up in your eyes as you keep hyper-focusing on every flaw. You want to stop, god you do. To smash the mirror to pieces and spit on it. But you can't. Instead, you can only think about Kirishima's friends.

They're kind, sweet, helpful, hero's in training. The only thing bad about them is how perfect you are. It's hard to not compare yourself to them when they're all models. Momo has legs for days, Bakugou has muscles that you could never have, Iida is as smart as they come, Mina can make every outfit look good, Denki has enough charisma for ten people.

Sobs slowly wreck trough your body. You clasp a hand over your mouth. You stare at your own face in the mirror. Red eyes, wobbling chin, swollen cheeks. Even your crying has flaws.

"Pebble," you hear a voice behind your call. Your blood runs cold as you wipe around. You were too busy with pulling yourself apart that you didn't notice Kirishima entering your room. His eyes are drooping and his smile slowly falling. he holds a small bag in his hand. You can see the feet of a teddy bear and your favourite snacks sticking out of it. A surprise date, how sweet.

You shake your head as you make grabby hands towards him. Kirishima drops the bag and runs over to you, pulling you tightly against him. Your sobs grow tenfold now that you're in his arms. He pushes you as he softly pats your hair. "Let it all out, baby," he whispers.

His strong arms envelop you like a blanket. His cinnamony scent brings you comfort. You always thought he smelt like chai tea. After you told him that, he started drinking chai more. You smile at the memory. Your smile drops, however, once you feel his hands travelling over your body.

"Please talk to me," he says. "What's going on?". Kirishima's heart is breaking. Seeing you in this state makes him rack through his mind to find anything he could have done wrong.

"I'm ugly," you croak out before another sob wrecks through you. He stiffens. He curses at himself for not noticing your insecurities sooner. Normally, he was there to brighten your mood and build your confidence up. Normally. But he hasn't seen you as much as normally.

You push yourself further into his chest, hoping to disappear. "I'm ugly, and- and I'm gross," you say. "And I don't k-know why you're with me. B-Because you're handsome a-and kind and sweet and I-I'm none of that. You s-should just break-".

"No," he says sternly. He doesn't let you finish that sentence. He doesn't want you to. "No, I won't. Don't ever think I will.". Kirishima pulls you off him slightly so that he can look into your eyes. He cups your cheeks while brushing away your tears with his thumbs.

You sniffle but melt into his touch. "You aren't ugly, okay? Say it for me. Come on, say it," he urges you. You nod.

"I'm not-I'm not ugly," you say softly. He nods before puling your to him again and places a kiss on your crone. "I'm not ugly," you say again before silent sobs shake your shoulders.

"I'm just going to have to show you, yeah, pebble?" Kirishima says. You nod against him. Your hand travels up and laces through his hair. Even now, when you're crying your eyes out, you're still trying to comfort him. "I'll show you.".

TAMAKI:

wordcount: 774

Tamaki is invisible. It's something he learned to do over the years and now he can't stop doing it. Hiding in the shadows, his presence unknown to people. People tend to look over him and that's the way he likes it. Being in the big three, however, makes him seen. It makes him stand out like a sore thumb and his shyness draws ever more attention towards him.

Due to this, your relationship has become quite known around the school. And with that people tend to talk about you, gossip about you. You tuned it out most of the time. But when people gossip about you, it's hard not to listen to it.

"I mean, yeah, Tamaki is a total cutie," you hear some girl say. You don't even bother looking at her. You just try extra hard to focus on the homework your working on.

"Right?" her friend chimes in. "I don't know why he's with Y/n. Probably out of pitty. He's sweet like that.".

No. Don't listen to them. Tamaki loves you, you know that. He tells you that every day. He might not be physically affectionate but-

"I don't know. Y/n is just kind of...ugly?". Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. Fucking fuck. "I didn't think they would ever be with someone.".

With that, you stand up. You don't even bother taking your stuff along with you. You doubt that anyone would be interested in stealing your homework or stationary. You can't even look at the gossiping students as you walk past them. Just get to your dorm, that's the plan. If you walk fast you can be there on less than three minutes.

You keep your gaze down as you fight back the tears. You can't cry in the hallways. That weird and ugly. "Bunny?". You lookup. Tamaki is standing at the end of the hallway, next to Mirio. He waves shyly at you. His goofy smile drops as he sees your pained expression. You strud over to him.

Are you breaking up with him? Did he do something wrong? Did you finally realize how much of a useless ball of shyness he is? His thoughts are running wild and worse case scenarios are popping up in his head.

His mind stops when your arms wrap around him. You two never hug in public. It's too scary for Tamaki, too stressful. But now that he feels your shoulders shake and your breath hitch all he can do is pull yours against him. Your hand travels up and plays with his hair while his arms wrap tightly around your middle.

"Am I ugly?" you ask, breaking the silence. Tamaki shakes his head against you, his hair tickling your neck. "’Cuz it feels like it.". His heartbreaks. You're always there to comfort him, to help him when he's on the brink of a panic attack. Now he has to be there for you.

"No, b-bunny," he says softly. His voice soothes you in a way you didn't imagine it would. "You're so p-pretty.". His words are few but you don't care. You know it's already bold that you come to him like this in public. Normally, you would only cling onto him in the comfort of his own dorm.

While he says little, he does comfort you. His touch ground you. The way his strong arms encircle you and warm you up. You press your nose into his neck. His hair feels silky smooth between your fingers. "I'm not," you say.

You feel awful for dropping your feelings onto him like this but you don't know what else to do. Tamaki is the person you go to for comfort, for love. "Who m-made you feel l-like this?" he asks.

You just shake your head as another sob wrecks to you. You muffle the sound by pressing into him. To bystanders, it just looks like a longlasting hug and not like your crying your eyes out.

Tamaki already knows the answer. He would be lying to say that he didn't hear the rumours as well. He hates it. Not just the attention but the bad things being said about you. That you're only with him because he's in the big three. That you aren't pretty enough for him, strong enough for him. He hears them all.

"W-wanna go... to...um..y-your room?" Tamaki asks. You nod. He places a kiss onto your forehead. Your heart warms up at the bold move. You swift so that one of his arms is now swung over your shoulder while the other is holding your hand. You hum softly at the comforting touch. "I-I think that...you're pretty," Tamaki says.

SHINSO:

wordcount: 435

While Shinso tends to be grumpy to others, he never is to you. He treats you with an unknown kindness. He touches you like your made of glass. And you do the same with him. You lean into his touch. You aren't afraid to answer his questions and you never saw him as a villain.

Due to your close bond, you two share your insecurities. It's normal for one of you to barge into the others dorm and just rant out their feelings. Which is how you find yourself here, walking through the halls with pathetic desperation. You don't even bother knocking once you reach Shinso's room. You just rip the door open.

Shinso can immediately tell that you're feeling down. Maybe it's the way your drag your feet more. Maybe it's the way you don't give him a 'hey nice to see you again' kiss. Or maybe it's the fat tears dripping down your cheeks. "I'm gonna talk," you say.

Shinso just nods. He pushes his chair away from his desk. You get the hint and walk over to him, plopping into his lap. His fingers immediately start rubbing circles on your arms.

"I'm ugly," you say. Shinso's heart stops for a second. This was going to be painful for him to hear. "I'm ugly and disgusting. And I-I'm sick of pretending I'm not. Y-You always say I'm p-pretty but I know y-you're lying. I'm not. And-And that's okay.".

You drop your head to let it rest against Shino's shoulder. He just shakes his head. He waits a minute for you to speak again and when you don't he does.

"You aren't ugly, kitty cat," Shinso says. You smile at the pet name. "You're as pretty as they come. Fuck everyone who tells you you're not. Fuck. Them.".

"You're out of my league," you say. Shinso shakes his head. One of his hands moves up to pet your head softly.

"Bullshit. I'm a fucking piece of shit villi-" he says. You lay a finger of his mouth to stop the word from being said. You lift your head and look at him. Even though your crying and your vision is blurry, you cup his face.

You shake your head. "Don't," you say. "Don't so that.". Shinso leans into your touch. It's selfish to treasure your touch in a situation like this but he can't help himself.

"Then you can't say that you're ugly," he says. You close your eyes before leaning your forehead against his. He feels you nod against him. A soft smile spreads over his normally stoic lips.

"Deal," you whisper out.

[deadboyswalking]

How I Did Shigaraki's Makeup

This is a very half-assed tutorial because I didn't photograph each little step. I have a strong background in theatrical makeup so it didn't even occur to me that there would be many steps in the middle that need extra explanation. I will try my best to explain the process.

Notice the words I use over and over: GENTLY, LIGHTLY, and SLOWLY. Liquid latex is a delicate product and if you want the skin to wrinkle and not peel too much, you need to be gentle in every step of the process. It is also dangerous if you get it in your eyes, so if you think you can't be gentle and careful, DO NOT do this tutorial until you have practiced working around your eyes with a safer product of a similar consistency like liquid foundation. I have been doing SFX makeup on and off as a hobby for like 10 years and even I am extra careful with anything around my eyes. This makeup job is safe if you know what you're doing, but be cautious.

1. The beginning. In this photo, my face is washed and my moisturizer is settling in. Liquid latex sucks the moisture out of your skin and my face is hurting today after doing this makeup for two days, so remember to moisturize and let it sink in. My eyebrows are slicked down with an Elmer's purple glue stick. This is for smoothness but primarily, it is how you'll protect your brows from being ripped out by the latex. For your eyebrows, you can also add a thin layer of orange concealer to cancel out the dark color and set it with powder (if I had orange concealer I would have done so since I think they show even through the latex and foundation).

My red contacts are in because they're prescription and I need to see to be able to do the makeup (plus, I always do contacts first). You can put them in at the end if that's your preference.

2. Sculpting wax (Spirit Halloween) for Tomura's scars. I dabbed on Pros-Aide cream adhesive to help it stuck, then applied and smoothed it out with a metal tool. Honestly, I hate it. I don't know if I just need more practice with scar wax, if it's a bad product for my skin type, or if the product was shit, but the stuff would NOT stay in place or fully set. Next time I'll just paint the scars on and add dimension with makeup.

Before you ask, YES, everything is on the correct side (I just think my face looks better in mirrored images). If this was just a photoshoot look, I'd do it in reverse so it flips correctly. Shigaraki's eye scar and mole are on his right side and his mouth scar is on the left. Reference panel for scar placement and the cosplay's hairstyle.

3. Base layer (liquid latex). Daub it on with a makeup sponge, all over the area you want to cover. I chose to stop mine at my natural cheekbone to give my face lift, but you can go higher or lower, include the nose bridge like I did or don't. I have a prominent nose and while I'm not actually trying to flatten the bridge (because I don't believe in trying to make yourself look like a different race when you're in costume), I was concerned that it would break up the line of the wrinkles in a weird way so the top of the bridge got included in the latex too. I don't like how thick the bottom edge at my cheekbone is (Friday's was better in that aspect), so i would do a thinner edge next time to help it blend into my skin better. I also sealed the edges of the mouth scar with a thin layer of the product. Liquid latex is buildable, so slowly add thin layers until you get to your preferred consistency. Latex also shrinks by 3% as it dries, so the more layers you add, the tighter your skin will feel and the more it will hurt your face. I did many layers for 2 days in a row and need time for my skin to recover.

Be SUPER CAREFUL around your eyes and take that part slowly and gently. Notice that I left almost my entire upper eyelid and a ring around my lower uncovered as a safety precaution.

4. Dimensional liquid latex. Using the tip of your sponge, stamp thicker lines around where you want the wrinkles to be. It helps to do things like scrunch your face and raise your eyebrows so the wrinkles line up with your skin's natural creases. I laid it thick on my brows to both make my browbone a little thicker (to help with the gender illusion) and to cover the color of my brows. Let that firmly set and try to hold your face in the weird positions as it does to help with the texture.

5. Base layer and contour. I used Ben Nye Ultralite cream highlight because it was something I already owned as a highlight foundation, but you can use any foundation you want, I just wanted paler skin. You can brush it on the parts of your exposed skin, but daub it over the latex, making sure to get into all the little cracks (rubbing to blend will pull off the latex, which is why all of the coloring will be done with powders. You CAN do creams to color before setting the makeup, but use a dab blending technique with a clean sponge and don't rub. I frankly did not have the time to dab blend when I did this. If you have time, this is a great place to add cream highlights to the wrinkles.

On my real skin, I contoured my cheeks and jawline with my normal cream foundation (BN Cine Light Beige) and gently blended with a sponge. Then, I set the whole thing with setting powder and brushed off the excess. This was a new addition, I didn't do contour the first day and I looked like an actual moon-faced potato in all of the pics I took with/for people that asked me (terrible con lighting). My face is a little chubby so anything to make it look less so in pics is great.

Also, as a precaution, get anything that goes tightly over your head on or off before foundation so there are no mishaps. Even setting spray is not a miracle worker and the theatre gods will curse you and have your clothing touch the ONE PLACE that isn't set. Mine is the magical tit-disappearing device, not shifted into place just yet.

6. Coloring. This is where it gets complicated, so bear with me. Using a fluffy, big angled brush, I tapped on a reddish/bronze countour powder all over the wrinkled skin. You can use a redder shade if you want but this was what I had. Don't worry about getting it totally even but don't dab too hard in any area as you cannot blend it out if you get too much powder over the latex. Like the latex, build the color slowly.

Next, the part that really adds complexity of color and makes the skin look like his. I brushed Ben Nye Contour Brown cream in the creases of the wrinkles, then patted it in with my finger to LIGHTLY smooth the edges. Then I powdered over the whole thing again with setting powder, then went back over the new lines with a taupe shade of contour powder and lightly softened the edges with a fluffy brush. Every makeup artist will tell you that adding layers of cream and powder together like this will make you look cakey and will cause creases and flaking, but that's the effect we're going for. He has a super forgiving face that easily hides tiny errors in technique.

I used that same taupe shade for my cheek and jaw contour, then blended that out. I didn't really use highlight for this look because I didn't know what to use (my normal highlight shade was my foundation) but having experimented with white eyeshadow as highlight for a different look last night, I think that could be a winner. I'd highlight the chin, cheekbones, jawline, nose tip, and a few wrinkles around the brow.

Lips: covered in foundation. Cracks made with the BN cream contour, highlights added with a water-activated white face paint I have. Barely blended, then powdered over. It makes your real lips dry and flaky as hell, but the stuff will not budge when you eat or drink. I bought the shittiest brown liner that broke immediately or I would've used it for the lip cracks and some of the wrinkle detail. I don't love the lips and am going to experiment with a better technique.

At this stage, I also added contour and highlight to my neck, sternum, and collar bones.

7. Details! I tried to do a trace with a metal tool to create a divot in the sculpting wax, but it just rubbed off 🙄. I ended up removing the scar wax from the upper lip as it kept moving and wouldn't survive me talking. I used the water-activated white paint to do the base of the scars, then set it with a couple of shades of pink eyeshadow and a little white for some highlights. Next time I do this, if the scar wax doesn't work right, I'll also trace the outside with contour brown to add dimension.

The neck scars were a last minute addition and I wasn't that careful with their placement or the technique on them. They're okay, I guess, but I can do better. I can texturize them with a base of latex or just be more careful with the placement so it looks less random

Contour brown was traced around the eyes to make them pop and hide the edge where the latex stopped for eye safety.

The white lashes are the water-activated white paint on a spoolie. Just buy white mascara, I couldn't find it anywhere in town and I was running low on time so I couldn't order it.

Finally, a dot of black liquid eyeliner for the Shimura mole to finish the look!

Everything was set with setting spray.

8. Enjoy your makeup! Excuse the wig, I hadn't finished styling for the day when I snapped the pic.

Final look:

Bonus: Removal.

Be delicate with removal and rub the latex, don't rip (if you can lightly pull your skin taut, it hurts less). You should use a makeup remover or oil cleanser (I prefer Pond's Dry Skin Cream as I have sensitive skin and I know it works for me), emulsify and remove with warm water and a wash cloth, then use a gentle cleanser to get it all out of your pores. Finish with a thick layer of moisturizer and if you really feel like shit, you can slug over that too. My skin is still very red and sensitive today around my eyes and cheekbones (the skin is thin and delicate there), so I'm gonna moisturize again.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to go the SFX route for Shigaraki's makeup and not just cosmetics. I will continue to improve the process and may post a video tutorial a while down the road once I get the scar wax situation figured out.

[florelia12]

I know no one requested this but a short fic/drabble from the prompt list I reblogged a while ago

27. You’re so beautiful

“You’re so beautiful.”

The words slipped out in a whisper before she could stop herself, and she froze in shock at her own actions.

Helia looked up from his sketchbook that he’d been scribbling in to meet her eyes, his pale and sharp cheeks tinted red.

Flora gaped, cursing herself for blurting those words out. She had been silently watching him draw as they sat across one another on the floor of the library between the shelves.

The light shining through the tall windows reflected against his dark hair so perfectly and the shadows that cast over his features made them appear sharper than usual, as though they were hand-sculpted. His blue eyes had narrowed in concentration as he slaved over the tiniest details in whatever he was drawing, and it seemed that he was unaware that he had been biting his lower lip slightly.

The book she held in her hands had laid open and forgotten as she lost herself in watching Helia, wondering how someone could be so beautiful that the simple action of them sitting in front of her left her feeling warm all over. Until she had to ruin her own moment by speaking her thoughts out loud.

“Flora?”

“Huh?” Was he talking? She had completely gone blank the past few seconds after putting her own foot in her mouth.

“You okay?” Helia leaned forward, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Flora was definitely not okay, and despite her attempts to control her breathing so she wouldn’t give away her racing heart, she was sure her flushed face betrayed her.

“Mmhm!” She hummed, and quickly averted her eyes back to her book to avoid his gaze.

God, this was so embarrassing! What was he going to think of her? He was going to think she was too much. She’d already embarrassed herself by confessing her feelings for him by yelling at him. She’d even gifted him flowers like some crazy schoolgirl. She’d been so forward, and what if he finds that weird? Guys prefer to initiate don’t they? He probably thinks she’s obsessed with him and now he-

“Flora.” Helia whispered, and she looked up to find him smiling shyly at her, his eyes shining in what she hoped wasn’t amusement. He slid a piece of folded paper across the floor where it halted near her thigh. Flora picked it up curiously, and unfolded it slowly.

She gasped when it unfolded to reveal a drawing of her as she read her book sitting across him. Helia had somehow managed to catch the way the sunlight shone through the windows and brought out the highlights in her hair with just pencil and paper. And, there wasn’t a single detail that he seemed to have left out, from the freckles on her nose to the slight furrow of her brows as she read.

You are absolutely, maddeningly beautiful. He’d written at the bottom in his usual cursive handwriting.

Flora looked up at him, blushing furiously as her heart fluttered. Helia looked pleased by her reaction. He tapped his pencil at the top of his book impatiently, before his head darted left and right as though he was looking for someone. But, their aisle was empty which left her wondering what he was doing before Helia got on his knees and leaned forward to softly press his lips against hers.

Flora melted against his mouth. But, Helia broke the kiss and pulled away much too soon. He settled back into his old seat with a smug look on his face while she sat there trying to figure out how to breathe again.

If this was what she got for saying her feelings out loud, then she’ll never keep her thoughts to herself ever again, especially when it came to Helia.

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 2

TW: Mentions of bruises, scars etc

Words Count: 1.3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 3

The sun feels very blinding on your face. Trying to move your muscle one by one, pain suddenly rips through your body making you whimper.

“Careful.” A voice in the room says which you somehow immediately know belongs to Mr. Park.

Your eyes fling open to search for him and you find him in no time as he is seated on the bedside, watching you carefully. It’s almost unfair how illegally good looking he is.

You try to sit up but ends up groaning in pain. Your whole body hurt, every muscle is aching and screaming in pain.

“Your body’s still recovering. You need to take it slow.” He says impassively, not a hint of warmth.

“Where.. am I..?” Your voice hoarse.

“My house.” He simply says.

His house??? How- why-

Wincing and grunting, you eventually manage to sit up. You finally realize that you’re in a large and spacious bedroom with sleek beige furnitures and interiors decorating it.

You then allow yourself to stare at your saviour. Now that it’s morning, you can clearly see him and all his features. His gaze bores into you but you can’t deny how beautiful they are, his nose although not high but is sharp enough, his cheeks high and his lips.. he has a pair of very pretty pink plump lips, you note. Almost reluctantly, you drop your gaze to avoid being called lunatic or pervert for staring unashamedly.

Your gaze flickers back up when he stands, one hand in his pocket.

“I placed the painkillers there.” He juts his chin towards the bedside table and only now you notice the medicine and a glass of empty water there. “Feel free to leave once you’re capable enough to do so.” He frowns slightly, then turns.

You reach forward almost immediately, wincing at the throbbing pain on your ribs especially due to sudden movement. Without thinking, you reach for his free hand, gripping it desperately.

“Please-“ you croak and he turns, still frowning at your daringness to touch him. “Please- take me in. I’ll- I’ll.. do anything, I’ll work for you- anything. Just.. just please don’t-“ You trail off, because you don’t exactly know what you wish for.

For several moments, he just regards you. And for the briefest second, you think he would smile, takes your hand and mutters softly that he’s going to help you.

But nothing of the sort happens.

He just continues to stare at you impassively, clearly not impressed. The way he stares at you makes you feel small so you withdraw your hand, flustered and embarrassed for coming to this point in your life.

He sighs then. “Just rest.” Is all he says before he turns and leaves you alone, feeling even more helpless than ever.

Your shoulders slump back down and suddenly the realization that you really are going to be in the streets with no one to help brings fresh tears to your eyes. So you cry. For hours until you’re exhausted enough to fall asleep again.

The dark must’ve just set when you find yourself awake again, body aching even more now though there’s a lesser pain in your chest since you’ve let it all out from all the crying session.

You struggle to sit up when you feel your throat burning. You’re very thirsty. Letting out small squeaks with each muscle and limb you’re moving, you manage to sit yourself on the edge of the bed.

There’s a faint knock on the door that you think if you’re asleep you wouldn’t have heard them at all. Before you could react, the door opens and an elderly woman with her hair tied up in a bun appears. She smiles kindly as she calls your name.

“Miss..?” She hovers near the doorframe. “I brought you some fresh clothes, you can change into them. The bathroom is just beside you and if you’re done you can come outside and I’ll show you to Mr. Park’s study. He wants to see you.”

Your stomach lurches in response. He couldn’t possibly want to sue me.. or worse, kill me, right? Flashes of images of him beating your brother makes you shudder. One thing you know for sure is that he’s not someone to be messed with.

You stand though staggering slightly as your legs wobble. The elderly woman who introduces herself as Mrs. Lee immediately steps in and asks with a concern look whether you need help. You shake your head, telling you just need to take it slow and Mrs. Lee leaves you at your own devices after that.

Though not without numerous wincing and grunting, you somehow manage to shower as well, or more like wiping your body here and there. You briefly think that if you’re well enough, you’d be basking in the warm water the hot tub offers and appreciates the lavish interior of the bathroom.

You flinch when you see your own reflection in the mirror. You couldn’t have been in a worse state than this throughout your whole life. Bruises littering your body everywhere, it’s all marks of blue and purple, wounds and scratches from being thrown to the ground and your lips are slightly torn at the edge. There is also a cut above your right brow. You couldn’t really recognise yourself.

Sure, you had plenty experiences of being beaten by your abusive brother but last night, your brother seemed determine to beat you half dead. You sigh, tears almost threatening but you quickly brush it off. You have to be strong.

Outside the bathroom, there’s a white medium dress laid on the bed together with matching undergarments. You pick the dress up, eyes litting up at the beauty of it. You’ve never worn a dress before, simply because you can’t afford to be dressing up when you’re burdened with financial debts your whole life.

Still, you’re grateful since wearing a dress is still an easier task than having to fit through a jeans or leggings.

There’s a knock on the door again and Mrs. Lee appears again. Wow, she really has a knack of figuring your timing. She approaches you as you stand awkwardly on the dressing table.

“Would you sit down, Miss? Let me brush your hair.”

“Y- you don’t have to.” She doesn’t listen though, instead placing firm hands on your shoulder and putting slight pressure to make you sit in front of the dressing table. It somehow feels weird to be staring at your own reflection.

Mrs. Lee brushes your hair tenderly like a mother would her daughter. She then braids your hair slightly and tie it up in a bun, letting a few strands fall freely on each side of your head.

You feel weird. For once.. you think you look decent. Though bruises are still apparent on most of the surface of your skin and no makeup to cover your face, you don’t look so tired like always.

“Miss..?” Mrs. Lee interrupts your reverie as she taps your shoulder lightly. “I’ll show you to Mr. Park’s study. He’s waiting for you.”

And there goes your stomach churning again at the mention of Mr. Park. You’ve no idea what to expect and that makes your stomach churns further, anxiety almost swallowing you whole.

Mrs. Lee leads you out of the bedroom into the hall filled with arts and paintings on the wall and only coming to a stop when you almost reach the end of the hallway in front of a double mahogany door. She knocks on them and you don’t miss the escalating heart beat of yours as your anxiety heightens as she announces your arrival to whoever’s waiting on the other side of the door.

She doesn’t wait for an answer but opens the door and urges you to enter. Filled with trepidation as if you’re entering a lion’s den, you step inside.

If you thought the bedroom you were in just now was huge, it doesn’t compare to this study room. It’s vast, with bookshelves surrounding it and rows and rows of books, old or new filling it. Across the room, there’s a table by the window and you finally see the man sitting behind it. He doesn’t look up when you enter so you stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

There’s also another man standing across the table, facing Mr. Park.

He turns at the sound of you entering and your jaw almost drop at the visual of this man. He’s tall, skin slightly tanned but above all, the features of his face are almost out of this world. Eyes sculpted to perfection, tall nose and sharp jaw, he stares at you making you stop short in your tracks. The corner of his lips tugs very lightly as he addresses your presence.

“Ah, Miss Y/N.” His voice is very, very low without him having to make the effort. “Please, come here and have a seat.”

He gestures towards your right and you notice a seating area with plush white sofa and modern table. You don’t move until the guy who was speaking just now moves towards the sofa followed by Mr. Park. You chance a glance at Mr. Park as he takes confident strikes across the room and you marvel at the way even his walking exudes charisma. He takes his seat gracefully, sitting cross legged and you miss the way he eyes you from top to bottom as you walk over while the tanner guy remains standing beside him and only now you notice he’s holding several papers in his hands.

He looks at you and gestures you to take a seat once more which you do. You almost buckle in nervousness as the two’s gaze land on you.

“So, Miss Y/N,” the guy standing starts. “My name is Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you.”

If your senses aren’t tingling all the time and you aren’t fidgeting so much in anxiety, you’d probably have half the brain to answer to his sentence but right now you’re trying very hard to do as much as breathing that you end up mumbling incoherent reply, much to the guy named Taehyung’s amusement though Mr. Park’s expression remains impassive.

“I understand that your family had been a tenant of one of Park Corporations housing area for more than twenty years now. You also have a history of late payment since five years ago and currently has a backlog of payment for one year, amounting 4 million KRW. Is that correct?”

You feel beads of sweat starting to appear on your forehead but you still nod nevertheless.

“You failed to pay for the past year which resulted to the house being seized and you’d be homeless but.. here you are..”

You try to hide the grimace as Taehyung addresses the obvious situation.

“And you still owe Mr. Park here 4 million KRW and may I ask if you have any means to settle them within this month?”

You swallow. You want to ask for another chance, to give more time but you know even if they do give you a chance, there’s no way you can rake millions just like that. Unless you sell yourself, perhaps. And that still might not make up the amount of money. So naturally, you just shake your head slightly.

“So, Miss Y/N, since you’re owing such huge amount to Mr. Park and you have no means to pay.. that means you’re technically..” Taehyung continues but was cut off by Mr. Park.

“Mine.” He says and the word echoes in your mind a million time. You’re.. what? You look up at him and see the corner of his mouth slightly quirks up like he’s smirking. Your gaze flickers to Taehyung too and he’s doing the same as well making a shiver run down your spine. Why do you feel like you’re being sold to the devil..

“So I have a proposition for you.” This time it’s Mr. Park speaking. “A marriage contract.”

A WHAT?

Link to Chapter 3

Posted on 210325 9:00PM