#him confident and flirty

[frojdh-art]

”Then again, he was a pirate, and not only that, but a captain. And he was a lot older than her. This was probably all par for the course for him—a new port, and a new girl smitten out of her wits. It wasn't like he was oblivious to the effect he had on people.”

Inspired by @missmungoe’s story Heed the Siren's Call

[evelynpr]

"rizz master" my ass, he's a pining loser-

[astrobei]

hey :) so i was wondering if you could incorporate 3, 12 and 50 into a single one shot ? bc that would be Amazing but if you don't want you you can just pick whichever haha

challenge accepted !! this was super fun to write thank you !! :^)

3, 12, and 50 for touch prompts: hiding face in neck + pushing a strand of hair behind their ear + putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

If you’d asked Mike, a few years ago, how he thought he’d end up dying, he’d have a few different guesses. Clawed to death by monsters, maybe, was up at the top of his list for a while there. Shot to death by government agents also made the top five more than once, which was kind of worrying. And it was probably very concerning that getting stomped on, impaled, or eaten by an alien supermonster hivemind was on there at all.

Suffice it to say that he didn’t die in any of those ways, since Mike is currently, in the present moment, alive. But probably not for long. He’s seen some shit, and he hasn’t even graduated college, and maybe it’s a little bit pathetic that after all of that– the monsters and the Russians and the end of the world– that this is how he really dies: backed up against the wall at some completely questionable house party, being flirted with by Will Byers.

At least, that’s what Mike thinks is going on here. If he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t have all that much experience in the flirting department, considering that the one person he’d ever dated hadn’t done much flirting and the one person he had maybe wanted to flirt with hadn’t–

Well, it doesn’t matter. Said person is doing it now, and for all of Mike’s past reminiscence and speculation on the topic, he didn’t think it would be happening like this.

“You look nice tonight,” Will is saying, barely audible over the low thrum of music in the background. They’re not even somewhere particularly loud– the hallway is a blessed reprieve from the chaos of whatever is happening in the living room, but Will’s voice has dropped into something low and intentional. He smiles. “You should wear more green.”

Oh, god. Mike is going to die.

“Uh. Really?” he says, in what’s definitely not a squeak. It comes out assured and confident and–

Oh, who is he kidding? Will’s smile grows, surely delighted at the unfortunate crack in Mike’s voice. He leans in a bit closer, and it’s barely a few inches, but he might as well have just pushed Mike up against the wall and–

“Yeah,” Will whispers, so soft that Mike has to lean in another inch to hear him. He reaches a hand out and runs a thumb along the hem of Mike’s sweater, the side of his wrist brushing softly against Mike’s collarbone. Mike’s heart stops dead, still and unmoving and seized up, right there in his chest cavity. “It’s definitely your color.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes, and yeah.

So Will might be flirting with him, is the bottom line here, and the issue isn’t so much that it’s unwelcome– the opposite, in fact. Mike feels a little bit like if he weren’t caged in by Will’s arm on one side of his chest and the adjacent wall on the other, then his soul might be just flying right out of his body altogether. It feels like maybe it’s already halfway there, because Will’s gaze is steady, eyes sparkling with amusement even in the dim light of the hallway, and wow, are his hands shaking?

For his own sake, he hopes not. 

And the issue isn’t that it’s unwelcome, but more so that in all his years of existence and all the crazy shit he’s seen, somehow, being flirted with by Will Byers was lower on the list of things Mike thought might happen to him someday than interdimensional portals or his telekinetically gifted ex-girlfriend.

“You look nice too,” Mike gets out, in a surprisingly even voice. Will does look nice, so this isn’t a difficult sentiment to portray by any means. He’s swapped out one of his usual sweaters, big and worn comfortably around the edges and all down the seams, for something a little more fitted. It’s a soft cream color, and Mike doesn’t know where Will got this, because he’s been shopping at the same stores the entire time since they moved here for school and none of them carry clothes like this. Mature, a little grown up, and really, really attractive.

Will lets out a small, pleased noise. “Yeah?”

“How many drinks have you had?” Mike peers suspiciously down at him, because it’s not like Will is an idiot, per se, or super uptight about these sorts of things, but he’s not usually this– this bold. If Mike is going to be blunt about it, Will has never been this bold before and maybe it’s about time, but that doesn’t mean Mike is any more ready for it.

Not that he’s complaining. Oh, god.

“One,” Will grins. “Why? How many have you had?”

Christ. Mike swallows, and says, “Like, half. It was nasty so I just– um. Left it there. Heads up, by the way, don’t drink the jungle juice.”

“Noted,” Will laughs. It does something to Mike’s stomach, watching the way his shoulders relax, like he’s comfortable and at ease here, standing in front of Mike all up close and personal in a dark corner of a dark hallway with– oh, god– no one around.

“Yeah,” Mike says, kind of lamely, and notices belatedly that his gaze has settled somewhere around the general vicinity of Will’s mouth sometime in the last forty seconds or so. Maybe longer, if he’s being totally honest, but who’s counting, right?

(Mike. Mike is counting.)

“So anyway,” Will continues, without missing a beat. “You look really good in green. I don’t know why you never wear colors.”

“It’s not on purpose,” Mike insists, even though it kind of is, because it’s a lot harder to accidentally look like an idiot if all of your clothes match by default. “I don’t know, I just– I don’t have a reason to?”

“Okay, well,” Will starts, and then he moves forward until their chests are almost flush against each other, and Mike is seriously, seriously backed into a corner, even more than he was before. Both metaphorically and extremely literally. “It looks nice with your hair,” Will murmurs, and reaches a hand up to tug lightly at a strand falling loose around Mike’s face.

Will smells really nice, actually, like the good cologne he wears on special occasions, and Mike doesn’t know why he dressed up so nice to go to a party where you have to scoop your drinks out of a bowl with a red plastic cup, but hey. Again, he’s not complaining.

“My– my hair?” Mike asks faintly, because it’s just his hair, and he hasn’t ever given it much thought before now, because it’s only hair. Black and just long enough to land on this side of inconvenient, but suddenly Will has one hand in it and it’s not just hair anymore, but maybe the best thing to ever happen to him.

Will nods. He looks a little pink, which is quite possibly the most endearing thing Mike has ever seen, and it’s also more of a confidence booster than it probably should be, that Will hasn’t turned into a total smooth-talking Casanova out of literally nowhere. That maybe he’s losing his shit just as much as Mike is right now.

“Yeah,” Will says, and yeah, his voice catches just a little bit on the single syllable, and Mike bites back a pleased smile. “It looks really good with your hair,” he says again, then tucks the loose strand carefully behind Mike’s ear. “So that’s one reason.”

“I hardly think that’s good enough reason to redo my entire wardrobe,” Mike says, egged on just a little bit by the way Will is definitely turning more pink by the second.

“It brings out your eyes too,” Will murmurs, looking steadily up at him. It’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking– half his face is drowned out in shadow and the proximity is rendering Mike kind of useless altogether– but Mike thinks maybe he has a guess.

He blinks. “My eyes?”

“Mhm.” Will strokes the pad of one thumb over the skin there, just over his cheekbone. Mike instantly forgets how to breathe. Christ. “They’re pretty.”

“I– are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Stone-cold sober,” Will assures him. “Why? Who’s asking?”

Me, Mike thinks, me, me, me. What he says is, “Um. Someone.”

Will raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his hand right where it is– resting on Mike’s cheek, thumb under his eye, and oh, god. Mike is going to die. 

“Someone?”

“You don’t know him?” Mike tries.

“Shame,” Will says noncommittally, and it sounds like he might be on the verge of laughing again. He steps back, the vacuum-seal proximity between their bodies vanishing in an instant as the air of the room rushes in all at once– stifling, stuffy, a little warm and sweaty and immediately, it’s like the noise in the place has been cranked up to ten.

Was it this loud in here all along?

Mike is going to scream. He’s going to die, right here in the hallway, and then he’s going to scream some more. “Where are you going?” he asks, and it comes out a bit petulant and a bit needy and way, way too thrown off-guard for his liking, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The lingering warmth of Will’s palm against his cheek is something he’s already missing like it’s a physical thing.

“Who’s asking?” Will says again, and dear god, if Mike had known before what it would have been like to be flirted with Will Byers, he would have, like, grabbed a couple witnesses and signed off an early copy of his last will and testament, bequeathed his meager belongings to whomever they may concern, then laid himself down to die in peace.

“Me,” Mike blurts out this time, taking a step forward from the wall and grabbing Will’s wrist. “I’m asking because I think you shouldn’t go and you should just stay here with me and– and flirt with me some more, because, um. That was nice, and I liked that, even if I thought I was going to die for a minute there, and if you go then– um. You can’t flirt with me anymore?”

Will smiles for real this time, wide and shocked and pleased. “Yeah?” And it’s a little shy when he says it, like maybe he didn’t actually expect this to go anywhere, like he didn’t expect Mike to grow a fucking pair and stop melting into the floor long enough to reciprocate.

“Yeah,” Mike whispers, and he’s just started to pull Will back towards him, Will already stumbling a little with the motion, when he hears a voice from around the doorframe they’re currently maybe ten feet away from.

“Mike? Will?”

“Shit,” Will mutters, eyes wide. “What the hell is Max doing here? I thought she was upstairs.”

Mike opens his mouth to answer when a second voice responds, “I swear I saw them go through here,” and it might be Dustin and it might be Lucas but all that’s really important is that whoever it is is close, and Mike doesn’t know if he has the cardiac strength in him to go through all of this again later, and all of his brainpower is currently being used to not pass out on the spot, and–

Lucky for him, Will has his shit marginally more together. “Here,” he’s saying, then there are fingers wrapping around Mike’s forearm and before he can fully process what’s happening, he’s being dragged in the opposite direction. Will throws open a door, then shoves Mike inside.

Mike wrinkles his nose. “It smells like feet in here,” he says, and he can’t see Will’s face because it’s pitch black in– wherever they are– but he’s willing to bet real money that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Coat closet,” Will says simply, “now shut up.”

Okay, yeah, makes sense. There’s something heavy and soft brushing up against Mike’s side, and he takes a couple steps backwards until he can feel the wall behind him. God, okay. This is fine. This is fine. This is–

“You know,” Mike says, as if this will distract him from his unnecessarily sweaty palms, “you didn’t have to ambush–”

Quick as lightning, Will claps a hand over Mike’s mouth. “If you want to kiss me,” Will hisses, and, okay, he’s pressed up against Mike again, which is fine, it’s great, actually– “I’m going to need you to shut up.”

The footsteps come closer. Mike holds his breath. He thinks maybe Will is too because he can’t hear him breathe, and he’s gone tense and still where he’s pressed up against Mike. A voice that’s definitely Dustin’s is grumbling, “Man, if I find them and the taco place down the street is already closed, I’m going to kill him.”

Mike bites back a laugh. The taco place closed twenty minutes ago, which he knows, because he’d been on his way to find Dustin when he’d– when he’d run into Will in the hallway.

Oh, god.

“Are they gone?” Will whispers, as if his hand is not currently over Mike’s mouth. He clears his throat like hello, and Will drops his hand. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Who said I wanted to kiss you,” Mike says hoarsely, and Will’s hand pauses somewhere between his collarbone and sternum.

“Well,” he hears Will say, still entirely invisible in the dark save for a few dots of faint light coming in through the slats in the door. “You don’t have to kiss me. If you don’t want to.”

For the first time all evening, Will sounds a little hesitant. No, Mike thinks. He can’t have that. He shakes his head, even though Will can’t see him. “Let’s not be too hasty here, okay, I didn’t say that.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Will says, a little shy, almost. “You want to kiss me?”

Screw it. 

“I do,” Mike says, as earnestly as he can find in himself to muster up, and he hears Will breathe in sharply somewhere in front of him. “I really, really want to–”

To Will’s credit, kissing in the dark probably wouldn’t work out for anybody. Mike is a few inches taller and the angle is a bit off, and it’s pretty impressive, if he’s being honest, that Will’s mouth lands mostly on his. Which should also not be rendering Mike as totally speechless as it is– being kissed on the corner of his lips in an awkward, clumsily endearing sort of way– but Will has always surprised him. “Shit,” Will says, pulling back slightly, “sorry, I was trying to guess where you were, and I–”

“It’s cool,” Mike hears himself say, and he didn’t mean to say it, but it seems that his brain has sort of kicked itself into autopilot mode, because he’s reaching out before he can really think about what he’s doing. His hand brushes Will’s shoulder, and he moves it up against the side of his neck, and says, hesitating, “Here– let’s try this.”

“Okay,” Will says softly, not even a whisper with how quiet it comes out. Mike drags a hand into Will’s hair, brings the other one to cup his cheek, and slowly, slowly moves forward.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Mike murmurs, tracing a thumb over the curve of Will’s lower lip, grounding himself. “Um. Just so you know that I’m, like, coming in.”

“Okay,” Will says again, and then Mike kisses him.

It’s instantly better this time– so much better, Mike thinks, immediately going lightheaded with the sensation of it. It’s like every other sense is dialed up to eleven in the dark– Will’s hair soft against his hand, the scent of his cologne, the faint taste of orange soda on his lips. The soft, startled noise Will makes in the back of his throat, cut off like it escaped him before he could stop himself, and that thought is enough to make Mike’s stomach swoop in a dizzying sort of way, that Will really wanted to kiss him so badly that he just couldn’t help himself, that maybe he thought about it in all the same ways Mike had. That maybe he came up with a hundred and one ways it might happen and maybe this was a possibility, in Will’s mind– a coat closet in the dark, barely one drink in.

“I can’t see you,” Will says, pulling back so that their lips are just barely brushing against each other. He’s got his hands on either side of Mike’s neck, like he’s anchoring himself lest he drift away entirely in the dark.

Mike lowers his hands, pulls Will in by the waist– the solid planes of his back, the soft fabric of this sweater, this goddamn sweater– and says, “You’re the one that kissed me in the dark, you idiot.”

Will makes a small noise of affront. “You’re the one that asked me to,” he says, a little smugly, which technically isn’t the most true statement, but Mike supposes that he had kind of set himself up to be kissed, so maybe he should let this one slide. And then Will runs a thumb along to his chin, tilts his face down, slowly, slowly, and kisses him again– and Mike can’t remember what exactly it was he was protesting.

Maybe Will had been onto something, because Mike is pretty chuffed about not being able to actually see the person he’s kissing, especially when that person is Will, who Mike spent a disproportionate amount of time wanting to look at even before this whole thing went down, but this is pretty nice for now, he thinks, as Will presses him a little more firmly into the wall. And that’s also nice, because Mike thinks he might be dying, and the solid parallel weights of the wall behind him and Will in front of him might be the only thing keeping him from keeling over entirely.

“Okay,” Mike says, pulling back, which is nowhere close to his top ten most intelligent moments of all time. Or even twenty, maybe. “You–”

The rest of the sentence gets lost to the sands of time, because the door is flying open so fast that Will flinches, and Mike tightens his grip around his waist on instinct. “What–”

“Oh,” Max Mayfield is saying, arms crossed. “This is where you two disappeared to.”

Mike closes his eyes, and prays to whichever higher power might be listening for a rapid, painless death.

Nothing happens. Figures.

“Come on, man,” he hears Dustin say, “we were looking for you guys!”

“We know,” Mike says, and then immediately wants to sink through the floor and disappear at the way his voice cracks, just a little. It’s barely noticeable, really, but his friends are like sharks in blood-infested waters. Lucas’ smug grin grows so wide that Mike considers just leaning over and smacking it off his face.

“Oh,” he says, far too gleefully for Mike’s liking, “so is this what you meant by I’m going to go look for Dustin, Mike?”

“Didn’t realize I took up residence near Will’s tonsils,” Dustin grumbles.

Will groans, dropping his head to Mike’s shoulder. “Never talk about my tonsils again,” he mumbles against Mike’s collarbone, but he’s smiling. Mike can tell, even if he can’t see him.

“Not even if they’re inflamed?”

Will doesn’t pull away, just shakes his head and tightens his arms where they’re wrapped around Mike’s neck. Despite himself, despite the way his face feels about a million degrees warm right now, Mike smiles. “No,” Will says simply. “All of you go away.”

“Yeah, I bet you want us to,” Max says, “but I’m serious. We gotta go. Someone just threw up on the couch and it’s nasty in there.”

Mike wrinkles his nose. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Mission accomplished,” Max says, and wiggles her car keys in the air. “I’m leaving in five, with or without you.”

“I don’t want to stay here with the puke sofa,” Mike admits, pulling away with no small amount of reluctance. “So we should probably–”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Now come on. I want to be able to see you when I kiss you this time.”

It’s a good thing the hallway is still dark, because Mike goes very, very red.

[ploompkin]

Idk whether I’ll have time to finish this, but…! Here- just a teaser of what could maybe-in-future be a full fic. Based on @ohsayit ‘s scenario I reblogged earlier 🤭

Summary: You steal Zevlor’s shirt. He wants it back. …And he’s willing to fight for it.

Pairing: (gender neutral) Zevlor/Reader ; Zevlor/Tav

Rating: T

Cw(s): Suggestive!! General sauciness, but nothing explicit.

—————————————————

“Tav.” Zevlor reaches out his hand, stance firm. “I need it. Give it here. Now, please.”

You prop your chin up on your knuckles, elbows on your knees, smug, because despite the irritation in his voice you can tell by his face that the sight of the oversized sleeves swallowing up your hands has him smitten.

With the most obnoxious smirk you can manage, you issue the challenge. “Come take it off me yourself.”

He sets his jaw, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’re sure want to play this game?”

As an answer, you just lean back and undo another button— the shirt now gaping so wide it’s just short of exposing a nipple— and stick the tip of your tongue out. His reaction is priceless, body stiffening as his expression flits between aroused and annoyed too many times to count, until it settles on… neither. He looks at you blankly, and just when you’re wondering whether you’ve finally broken him, he lunges for you. You both fall backwards into your tent as you collide, landing in an awkward heap among the cushions. His initiative is better than yours though, and before you can even think what your next move will be, he has you pinned beneath him by the wrists. Both of your breaths mix, along with your gazes, heated. Then, you brace one foot on his thigh and lock your arms around his shoulder, throwing him off effortlessly- but he’s prepared for that, and immediately breaks into a roll to escape a counter attack, pushing himself up into a crouch. You mimic his stance (not like there’s room to stand in the tent anyway), and eye him warily. His tail swishes from side to side, a playful, but confident smile on his face.

“The shirt, Tav.”

But this is about more than the shirt now. This is about pride.

You lift your chin in defiance. “I’m starting to get attached to it, actually. Think I’ll keep it.”

He growls. “That wasn’t a request.”

“And that wasn’t a surrender.”

“Torm’s tears, you’re so…!—“ He grinds his teeth— “stubborn…!”

You just wink at him. “I am. And that’s why you love me.”

He huffs, but you see the lines of his face soften. Unfortunately though, although he calls you stubborn he’s much the same, and this fight is far from over. He stalks over to you, but before he can get close enough for whatever he has planned, you rush to tackle him at the waist. That proves to be a mistake. You might be agile and have a solid technique, but he has all of that and a set of infuriatingly strong muscles. So, you find yourself underneath him. Again. It’s enough to make your blood boil, irritating you as much as it is very rapidly turning you on— but when his teeth graze against your neck, your body quickly decides to favour the latter. A sigh falls from your lips as he kisses along the sensitive skin, followed by a shiver as he drags his tongue over your pulse, torturously slowly. His body feels so pleasantly firm against yours, and you’re suddenly desperate to have more of him, arching your hips up into his with what you’ll deny is a quiet whine. The adrenaline from the fight transforms into something else entirely, your head spinning with want as he encourages you, rocking against you.

Then, you feel it. Fingers creeping between you two, presumably trying to be stealthy, and moving to undo the rest of the shirt buttons.

Bastard!

Now he’s not expecting your resistance you’re more easily able to reverse your positions, pinning him in place with your thighs, doing your best to ignore the longing ache between them.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you trying to steal it? Really?”

“Steal!” Zevlor scoffs, “I’m just taking back what is mine.”

“By seducing me.” You lean in closer, smiling sweetly. “What an underhanded technique for such an honourable soldier.”

He scowls at you. “If I remember correctly- and I most certainly do- you flashing me is the whole reason we’re in this mess.”

“Ahh, so it did get you hot and bothered. That’s good to know.”

“I’m only a man, Tav.” He grumbles. “I can hardly be blamed for it.”

“No.” Your smile widens, “but you can be for your actions. Tackling me into the tent?” You tsk. “Really, Zev. I took you for a gentleman.”

His lips twitch up at the corner, eyes hooded as he watches you. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”

Your mouths are only a hairs width apart now, and you can feel each heavy breath he takes as if it were your own. Just for a moment you forget yourself, and swallow thickly. He spots the bob of your throat and chuckles, hand sliding up the back of your neck and threading into your hair.

“One last chance,” he murmurs against your ear. “Return what you stole, and I’ll go easy on you. If not…”

He knows he doesn’t even need to finish the thought; your imagination will do the rest.

“You’re expecting me to beg for your mercy, rider?” He shudders as your lips brush, and your tongue darts out to kiss his lower lip. “Dream on.”

You groan lowly as his hands grab onto your hips, claws sinking in just shy of drawing blood.

“Mrag, your insolence knows no bounds.” A dark laugh tickles your cheek. “Very well. But don’t blame me if come tomorrow morning you regret it.”

[nyxie-e-e]

GAVIN QUOTES THAT I HAVE ROTTING IN MY NOTES APP BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

S/N: He (along with Milo and Guy ofcc<33) is the reason why I know what healthy love looks like

- [ ] “How should I fuck you tonight?”

- [🥺 ] “What I want right now is for you to be happy”

- [ ] “You can do anything you want to me, Deviant”

- [😍 ] “Call it arrogance but i know my appeal just as i am”

- [ ] “I don’t want easy. I want to be a person. My own person”

- [🥺] “Being alive and living are two different things”

- [ ] “I might not check the box for every single person out there but I don’t want to”

- [ ] “You get to decide which parts of yourself you get to share with other people”

- [ ] “I don’t take that trust lightly and it is reciprocated”

- [ ] Thank you for trusting me… and for letting me know that I’m fucking another guy’s charge”

- [🥺😭♥️] “You can set the world down now. That doesn’t make you a failure that doesnt make you weak there isn’t a finish line you didn’t get to, there is just your life stretched out ahead of you. There are people in your life who care about you”

- [🥺😭♥️ ] “We’re here for you. I’m here for you” *hugs* it’s gonna be okay you’re okay. You don’t have to be everything for everyone. You matter to and it is not selfish to admit that”

- [ ] “This is not you breaking this is you taking control. This is you redefining your circumstances instead of letting them control you”

- [ ] “It’s time to start living”

- [ ] “I know I’m awful but would you want me if I was anything else”

- [🥺 ] “You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this alone anymore”

- [😭 ] “You honor me by letting me see this side of you”

- [😭😭 ] “Because i don’t want the words the impact you’ve had on my life to go unheard”

- [☺️] “You know all of these things but i like saying them”

- [*crying cat meme*] “Cherished words that carry my love to you and hold you in blissful rest”

- [🥺] I want you to have peace, so my words bring you peace. It’s that simple and it’s nice for something to be simple for a change

- [🥺 ] But you held on. You made space. You asked me to step into that space.. no one ever asks me for that

- [🥺♥️ ] “You are loved and loving and what you do matters so very much”

My love🥺

[schnaf]

Parallel Contents | 🕵️‍♂️The Accomplice

[warlordfelwinter]

i love the ability in reth's romance to exchange just the worst pickup lines you've ever heard with him like. yeah. that is the kind of couple him and yaz are isn't it. they are in constant competition to come up with the stupidest pickup line ever heard by man or majiri

[rainbowratsstuff]

Misto is ready for a hot boy summer! (And to fluster Munk as much as possible XD)

[pensive-and-cringey]

Do q!jaiden and q!Roier have a duo name? They should. I'm used to calling them the familoier but that includes bobby and mostly frames them as Roier's family rather then a pair of characters as a duo in their own right.

[sleepykas]

Okay but I love it when Sun is the flirtatious one and Moon is just awkwardly affectionate. Such good vibes

[softquietsteadylove]

Thenamesh Actor AU: a thirst trap for us and Thena 👀

There is an event for actors for a special award and both of them are there. Gil arriving after Thena and he unintentionally (*cough* mhm *cough*) has a very nice suit on but a very tight suit shirt, emphasizes his nice body and muscles.

Rest is up to you 👀❤️

"Thena! Thena, look this way! Thena!"

Thena resisted her every urge to roll her eyes as she walked the red carpet at a snail's pace. This was what awards season took, though--lots of press, lots of red carpets, lots of long nights clapping and smiling.

At least Gil was with her, this time.

It had been a packed year for both of them and their schedules, but their latest work, with all of its stunts and refusal to rely on editing, was up for a few different accolades. And of course, the leads were there to be the face of the project.

Thena took another few steps, the skirt of her dress moving with her. Its billowing sheer overlay gave it a windswept - almost tattered - look as she moved, befitting of her action-heavy performance.

Gilgamesh was apparently running a little late, stuck in a separate car from hers, arriving with Kingo and a few of the producers.

Thena had been waiting for him the entire evening thus far. Although, at least she didn't have to make conversation with Eros tonight. He was here, but he wasn't on this film with them, which meant that she wasn't technically obliged to talk to him directly.

"Gilgamesh!"

Thena looked over, her hair fanning out around her in a display that made it a little too obvious for her tastes that she was looking for him. But she could spot him easily, even the distance from her that he was. He walked casually, with one hand in his pocket as he waved to the audience for their little catwalk.

He looked...good.

Kingo was walking in with him, soaking up the attention and camera flashes and screams happily. He was dressed in a fine, purple silk number himself, as stylish as always. He was answering a few questions, certainly about himself and how he had recently become the stylist for Gil after being Thena's stylist for years already.

Gil was in a black suit, which was nothing out of the ordinary. But rather than a suit shirt underneath it seemed to just be a white linen shirt. Or maybe it wasn't linen, but it was so tight and so thin, and showed so much of him. Was he wearing tissue paper?!

Thena could only stare as he made his way over to her. They had been dressed to match each other, as Kingo had started doing at every opportunity. It was good for branding, he claimed, both in his own field and career and for the films they were headlining. She was trying to seem like she wasn't checking him out explicitly.

Thena cleared her throat, putting on a smile as Gil and Kingo finally arrived at her side. She received Gil beside her, both of them posing for pictures passively while they spoke. She looked at Kingo. "This isn't the met gala; feeling risque?"

Kingo shrugged from just outside the frame of their shot, though. "Hey, it's like, breaking down gender stuff. How many times have we seen women dressed in shit so sheer that it's basically like a body stocking?"

Thena sighed, accepting the answer because there was nothing to do about it now. She looked at Gil, whose arm she was holding onto picturesquely. "Are you comfortable?"

"A little chillier than I thought I'd be," he whispered, making her laugh faintly in his ear. He pulled her a little closer to his side, "but it's not so bad. A little tight, I guess."

Yes, that was one hell of an understatement. Thena's eyes travelled over Gil, able to see so much more now that he was so much closer. She could see the shape of his pectoral muscles and the way the shirt caressed them. He either was still shaved from re-shoots or had shaved his chest in preparation for this particular outfit. She could see the bump of his highest abs that made his 'barrel chested' look so impactful.

Kingo snuck in behind them, arranging Thena's dress behind her more properly. He stood, brushing his hand against her shoulder, "unless you want the headlines to be about you thirsting over your co-star tomorrow, put your eyes back in your head, T."

Thena kicked backwards, nailing Kingo in the shin under the guise of kicking out the train of her dress for effect.

"You look good," she settled on saying, physically moving Gil's hand away from pulling at himself self-consciously and to her hip instead.

"Hey, speak for yourself," he grinned at her, letting his eyes do a quick up-and-down over her. "You look gorgeous. But you already knew that."

"Oh, did I?"

"How could you not?" he raised a cool (flirty) eyebrow at her. He eyed the exposed shoulder of hers, her hair having been curled and twisted over the other one. "Kingo do that on purpose?"

Thena sighed, immediately knowing what he was talking about. "He said that this way he would know right away if I was playing with it."

"We all have our habits," Gil said easily, even sparing her from calling it a nervous habit. He leaned his head down to leave a light peck on the freckle over her clavicle, "nothing to be nervous about."

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi there! If someone were to do something with Kross, as a gift for you, what scenario would you like to see?

honesly?? i would like anything tbh!

but- if i had to choose...maybe something sweet and fluffy (and cross HAS to be smiling please please i just need this man to be genuinely enjoying the other's presence hhh xD)

it could be anything silly really- something adorable and nice that would make you 'awwe- these dumbasses<3 (affectionate)'

you can tell i thought about this before but man i just want them to be happy

(bonus if killer is just goofy and ->

very specific mood of stupid and precious<3333)

[lawfullyandlovely]

It's been implied many times in this blog, but I will say it directly this time

If Haruka Sakurai had a little more confidence, he'd make for one of, if not, the best boyfriend

I won't even apologize for spamming the Haruka tag, that man owns my heart

[iwaasfairy]

I want some attention from mommy 😘😘😘😘

Free horny daydream: oikawa the expensive stripper who wears a nipple chain. 🥵🥵🥵

PJFJJRRJIRKFKDKD YEAAAAA???? He scARES ME THATS TOO INTENSE CONFIDENT N HOT BYYEYRYURUR I WOuld meLT On the spot

[llycaons]

also wwx pov can be really fun but the autism in good lwjs pov is delicious. he is too full of feelings to know what to do with and he's very awkward with other people and it rules he's so endearing

[gaytaikawaititi]

oh man oh man just saw an au so wildly ooc that i almost had a coughing fit