draslan

[seveneyesoup]

google search considerate ways to work on a handstand as an upstairs neighbor

[softyoongiionly]

chapstick

based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on.

Or 

Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. 

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship, jungkook has a man bun idk what else I could possibly want

Warnings: language, explicit smut (18+ only plz), oral (male receiving)

A/N: Hello yes, I am mess. I wrote this in like four hours and it’s unedited but wow wow wow wow I am GOING THROUGH it for Jungkook. Anywayz, I love u. here u go

Jungkook is in a bad mood today.

He’s been awake since 6am, he hasn’t eaten since mid-morning and, he’s been practicing for over 12 hours.

Worst of all, everyone else seems to be in a good mood.  

It’s not that he hates when his hyung's are happy, it’s just that when you’re in a bad mood-  sometimes the shriek of someone’s laughter can feel intrusive.  

“Alright!” Hoseok’s voice hits the practice mirrors and with Jungkook feeling oversensitive, he cringes at the sound of it, “Let’s go again from the top!”

Jungkook sighs through his nose, stretching his sore back for a moment before getting back into formation.

“Jungkook-ah! Push a little harder in the second half ok?!”  

Hoseok is in dance-mode and therefore he has no idea how loud he’s being.

Jungkook purses his lips and nods, taking a deep breath before shaking out his hands.

“Yah! Jungkook?” Hoseok calls, facing the mirror, his eyes searching for Jungkook at the back of the practice room.

“Yeh.” He grunts, barely looking up from the floor.

“Did you hear me?”

He nods, his hands fumbling around in the pockets of his sweatpants, “Push harder in the second half...”

The rest of the boys seem unphased by his uninterested demeanor. They are no stranger to exhaustion.  

“Alright- let’s go.”

For what feels like the 100th time today, Jungkook moves through the routine as if it were second nature. The movements feel robotic and the muscles in his arms are beginning to turn to Jell-O. The strands of his hair are covered with sweat and, he’s thankful for his newly procured undercut for lessening the amount of heat he’d normally feel after working out this long.  

He feels gross though.  

Normally, he enjoys working this hard but today he isn’t feeling it. In fact, the strain between his brows is getting a little painful as he really tries his best not to frown.

The new choreography is intense and as much he likes the challenge- after the 100th time of running through it, he’s starting to get frustrated.

Panting through his nose, he holds his position at the end of the routine before Hoseok finally calls it.

“Yahhhh! That was a lot better huh? You guys did good.” He praises, clapping his hands, “Now go get some water and then we’ll run it again...”

Jungkook sighs hopelessly, letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He cringes at the feeling of sweat collecting on his skin, wanting nothing more than to make it back home to his shower.

Amongst other things...

Grabbing a bottle of water off of the table, Jungkook has to work very hard not to crush the bottle in his hands as he eagerly gulps down what he can. He finishes the bottle in record time and as he reaches for a second one, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check it.  

Tweety: hiii I hope you’re having a good day! Do you want to takeout tonight? I got caught up at the school and, I didn’t pull anything out.

Jungkook feels his tight chest loosen up a bit as he sees your text come through.

You made a comment one day that he ‘gives off bugs bunny vibes’ and he responded by comparing you to Tweety bird.  

Needless to say, the nicknames are dumb but you guys think they’re cute.  

Bugs: takeout sounds good. I’ll be there late tonight though :/ I hope you had a good day too. Miss u.

Jungkook has just enough time to respond to you before he is wincing at the sound of Hoseok corralling everyone back to the practice floor.

Again, again, again, again, and again...

He’s so tired by the end of the circuit that he’s starting to feel throbbing in his temples. Headaches are a common side effect of over-exertion and just as he is getting ready to beg to go home, they are calling it.

“Ok ok- good job! You’ve worked hard everyone. Let’s rest for a day and then resume on Sunday.”

Jungkook feels his entire body deflate with relief at the last words parading out of Hoseok’s mouth.  

His day is finally over.

He reminds himself to never wear new boots to rehearsal again because he can’t feel the tips of his toes and his fairly certain there are blisters on the of his ankles.  

“Are you riding with me?” Jimin asks him on the way out of the practice room, his voice decorated with exhaustion.

Jungkook doesn’t fully pay attention to his question, his eyes already trained on his phone.

“No, I’m getting my own car.”

Jimin looks confused for a moment before a small smirk comes over his face.

“Are going to see her?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond quick enough, his mouth parted slightly as he types out his message to you.

“Aren’t you worried what people are going to think? You’re over there a lot...”

Jimin isn’t being judgmental with his questioning and Jungkook knows this. He can hear the genuine concern in his voice and understands that his hyung is merely looking out for him.

“I don’t really care what people think anymore.” He answers honestly, ensuring that he keeps his tone as polite as possible.  

Jungkook’s had to worry about the opinions of others since he was 15. As grateful as he is for his career, he is growing tired of being unable to make his own decisions. His gaze hones in on the tattoos covering his fingers and forearms and remembers a time not too long ago where he was required to hide them. Putting a band aids on his own self-expression didn’t feel good and he sort of promised himself that he wouldn’t allow the expectations of others to stop him from doing what he wanted.  

Or seeing who he wanted...

“You’re getting bolder with age.” Jimin notes, somewhat proudly as his eyes flicker over to him, “You really like her, don’t you?”

Tweety: miss u toooooo. I ordered ramen

Bugs: I just got out. I should be there in 20 minutes. I’m so hungry

Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at Jimin’s question and rather than answer him, he just kind of shrugs, his mouth turned up in a small smirk.  

“Yah, don’t hold out on me-”Jimin bumps his shoulder, tilting his head in an attempt to get him to look his way, “We’ve known each other for how long?”

Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I think the answer is obvious hyung.”

Jimin rolls his eyes playfully, “If it’s so obvious then why don’t you just say it.”

The two of them lean against the wall of the lobby, waiting on a notification from their drivers that they are outside.

Jungkook bites his lip, in an attempt to reign in the grin that threatens his face.

“I like her.”

Laughter trickles out of Jimin’s lips as he bumps his shoulder, “Why are you shy all of the sudden? Is there something else I don’t know?”

Yes.

There was something else Jimin didn’t know.  

Jungkook hasn’t told a single soul since it happened.  

He’s so incredibly private and after meeting you, he only has more of an urge to keep things to himself.  

“There’s nothing.” Jungkook mutters, his eyes eagerly looking checking his phone for the driver notification.

“You’re lying to me.” Jimin calls him out, “What is it?”

Jungkook shakes his head, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. He licks over his lips and immediately regrets the fact that he forgot his Chapstick.

How’s he supposed to kiss you, if his lips are chapped?

“Jungkook-ah, tell me-” Jimin whines, tugging on his sleeve.

He merely snickers finally and shrugs him off, shaking his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I’m hiding something from you?”

“Because I’ve known you for almost ten years and I-” Jimin begins before a knowing smirk comes over his face, “Wait- you’ve slept with her haven’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by his bold statement, “Someone’s going to hear you, why are you asking questions like this?”

His hyung giggles, deeply satisfied with his discovery, “You have, haven't you?”

Jungkook feels the threat of a smile come over his face again, “Why do you want to know? It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters-” He shoots him a pointed look, “Because we’re best friends? And I want to know. When did it happen?”

Jungkook is feeling a little bit bolder, unable to help the pride he feels that he was finally able to experience an intimate relationship, “Which time?”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he slaps Jungkook on the arm, “Which time??? You’ve done it more than once?”

“Shhh-” Jungkook whisper yells, his brow furrowing, “We’ve been seeing eachother for 6 months. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jimin chuckles this time, glancing behind him, “I just- I don’t know...it was your first time, wasn’t it? I just thought you’d make a bigger deal of it.”

He shrugs again, a smirk still lingering, “It was a big deal- to us. I thought you guys would just figure it out eventually.”

Ever the nosy one, Jimin slinks a little closer to him, a bit of mischief in his eyes, “It’s fun huh?”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, brushing him off playfully, “I thought I was supposed to be the youngest.”

Jimin ignores his comment and just looks at him expectantly.

Giving up on holding out, Jungkook finally gives him what he wants and replies.

“It was fun.”

Jimin offers his signature bit of laughter again but before he’s able to interrogate him any further, Jungkook finally gets the notification that his driver is here.

“I’ll see you Sunday, hyung.” Jungkook gives him a short wave before adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Jimin smirks and flutters his fingers in his direction, “Have fun.”

Jungkook just shakes his head, groaning to himself as he finally leaves the building.

Slumping into his seat, he shuts his eyes for a moment and tries his best not to fall asleep. Thankfully, his desire to eat his weight in ramen paired with his desire to see you keeps him from passing out.  

You and Jungkook have been together for a while now and although the initial nerves surrounding seeing him have lessened slightly, you still want to look good for him. Thankfully for you, when it comes to impressing your boyfriend- less is more.  

Slowly but surely, he has revealed his preferences to you but they have slipped out casually. He doesn’t ever want you to feel like you have to look a certain way for him.  

But you do know he likes black.

And you do know he likes when you wear oversized pieces.

The harsh bit of winter also makes dressing in gigantic hoodies and thick socks a lot easier anyhow.  

So you opt for something along the lines of cute but comfy and tend to your hair the easiest way you know how.  

Jungkook also loves it when you don’t wear any makeup. But he’s never told you directly, you’ve just figured out based on the way he gets all starry eyed every time you wash your face at night.  

The ramen is all set up in the living room and you’ve got one of the Christmas movies the two of you started the other day, ready to play.  

By the time you hear a knock at your door, everything is ready for a cozy Friday night with your boyfriend.

Upon opening your door, you are met with the sight of Jungkook- sweaty, soft and slightly sleepy standing there in all of his glory. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a big white t-shirt, his hair tied up messily atop his head. Along with the smell of sweat, you can faintly make out the remnants of his cologne and it stirs something deep inside of you.  

Jungkook’s eyes scan over you briefly, offering a small smile as he leans in to peck your cheek, “Hiiii...”

He sings the greeting, patting your hips as he quickly steps into your apartment.  

“Hello,” You sing back, giggling a bit, “Did you guys just now finish up practicing? Didn’t you start at like 7?”

Jungkook winces as he begins slipping off his big clunky boots, leaning back against your front door, “Yeah. I really thought they were trying to kill me- I did the new dance so many times, I lost count.”

Pouting your lips, you take his bag off his shoulder and hang it up on your coat rack.  

“I’m so sorry.” You murmur, shaking your head, “Did they give you tomorrow off at least?”

At this, Jungkook grins, nodding as he does, “Yeah, I was going to ask you what you were doing tomorrow cause I thought maybe you’d want to hang out. Our night was supposed to start a lot earlier...”

He looks regretful and even slightly annoyed.

He’s been having this issue a lot lately where his prior obligations and engagements seem to mean nothing to his directors, which never used to be a big deal but, now that he has you in his life- he never wants to let you down.

“I’m free all day-” You reply happily, before narrowing your eyes at him, “I have one condition though-”

Jungkook looks intrigued, cocking his head as he steps forward, “What’s your condition?”

“I need one of these...” Pointing to your lips, you pucker them and make grabby hands at your boyfriend.

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he closes the space between you, “I just got here and you’re already using kisses as collateral now huh?” His voice gets a little lower and before you can reply, his gently places his lips on yours, sighing out through his nose as his flutter shut.

Once he starts kissing you, you aren’t really able to think of a coherent response. Leaning into him, you hum lightly in your throat, tucking your lips between his.  

However, when you attempt to slide your hand up the exposed skin of his arm, he winces and pulls away.

Groaning, you can’t help but giggle, “I know- I know... ‘babe, I’m too sweaty. Let me just shower really quick and then I’ll promise, I'll kiss you so much better’...”

At your attempt to imitate his voice, Jungkook starts laughing- cute nose scrunched up with delight.

He kisses his teeth, “You know me too well. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook leans in again and kisses you on the cheek before disappearing into your bathroom moments later

After his showering, he comes out in a baggy t-shirt and some sweats, his hair freshly blow dried and piled up on his head in a messy bun.  

He scarfs down his dinner in record time before the two of you settle back against the couch.  

You can feel him looking at you as you giggle at the TV but he doesn’t let his eyes linger very long. He just kind of stares for a moment before simply tightening his grip around your shoulders. He feels so warm beside you that you seriously wonder how long you’ll be able to stay awake with him being the human equivalent of a weighted blanket.  

When your laughter erupts again, Jungkook leans in to pop a kiss on your check, which broadens your smile that much more. It’s only for a moment before he turns back to the TV, seemingly satisfied with his actions. However, you decide to return the favor and smoosh your lips against his face, eliciting a snicker from his throat.  

You snuggle into him more, grabbing his arm that’s resting on the couch beside you and wrapping it around so that his hand is resting your lap. Leaning your head against his chest, you slowly began tracing over the markings on his skin lightly brushing your nails against each unique line. Jungkook’s eyes are trained on the TV and despite his blank expression, you can see the goosebumps forming on his skin.  

Regardless, you just keep going, allowing your fingertips to trace over the letters adorning his hand. Using your nails, you trace between each of his fingers, before interlocking them your own. Once you’re holding hands, Jungkook squeezes slightly, brushing his thumb along your skin which then prompts you to finally to turn to the side and look at him.  

He grins softly, still not glancing your way but choosing to offer a playful comment instead, “You’re not watching the movie...”

You laugh softly, reaching out with your free hand and tilting his face towards you.

“We’ve watched this movie four times-” You retort, “Besides I’m pretty sure I remember you promising me that you’d kiss me properly once you were out of the shower.”

Jungkook’s grin broadens, his doe-eyes alight with defiance, “I’m pretty sure you promised yourself that for me- I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

You scoff in mock offense, “Damn ok. So it’s like that huh? I buy you ramen and yet this is how I’m treated. I’m calling the UN...”

Jungkook laughs a little harder now, the sound a little sharp but intensely endearing, “It’s that serious for you?”

Pouting, you nod, “It is that serious.” You’re about to say something else before you brush your thumb over his lips and notice the dryness there, “Did you remember to bring your chapstick today?”

He immediately sucks his lips between his teeth and given that his ability to speak is no compromsied he simply nods, his eyes wide with false innocence.

“Mhmmm.” He lies

“No you didn’t!” You exclaim, laughing a bit as you press your thumb against the thin line of his mouth, “Babe, it’s so cold outside- your lips are going to start cracking.”

Unfurling his lips, he lets his head fall back on his shoulders, “I know, I know-” He whines playfully before his head snaps back up to yours, the same glint remaining in his gaze, “You have some right?”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I do.”

He snickers, quickly leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Can I have some then?”

Playfully shoving him off, you rise from the couch and shake your head, “I’m giving you one to keep in your rehearsal bag,” You shuffle over to your bathroom, “You better use it!”

He laughs as he hears your demand echo down the hallway before calling back, “Hurry jagi! They are so dry- I can feel them! They are so close to cracking!”

Seconds later, your hurling one of your many lip balms into his lap which he catches just before it hits him.

“Put it on...” You demand pointedly and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can-” He sighs dramatically, holding the lip balm out to you, “You have to do it- all of the moisture in my body is slowly fading away...my lips are trying to suck it all up.”

Giggling, you cross your arms, shaking your head, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Y/N! Please!” Jungkook chokes out, “Before I waste away...the winter-” His eyes bug out of his head, as his hand clutches his chest, “the winter jagi- it's going to dry me out completely.”

Finally snapping, you grab the Chapstick out of his hands before asserting yourself into his lap. He laughs, resting his head against the couch cushions whilst his hands sneakily find their way to your hips.

“You’re so annoying...” You grumble, still giggling yourself as he puckers his lips dramatically.

“I’m only following your recommendations.” He insists, making kissy noises at you, “Balm me up baby.”

Uncapping the chapstick, you press your chest against his before starting to drag it over his lips. As you get to work on helping him, his mischievous gaze slowly softens until he’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes. Carefully, you make sure every inch of his mouth is covered with balm, paying special attention to the corners and his lower lip. As you finish up, you put the cap back on set on the couch cushion.

He rubs his lips together, humming in satisfaction.

You smirk, “Better?”

Jungkook nods his Adams’ apple bobbing in his throat as he feels you shift on his hips.  

“Make sure.” He murmurs, puckering his lips, his eyes starting to swim with arousal.

You lean in, unable to refuse him before capturing his mouth in a kiss. Rotating your head, you slowly deepen the connection between your lips, drawing a sigh from the boy beneath you. You can feel his thumbs rub ever so gently against the back of your hips as he leans fully back so that your chest is resting on his.

He nudges your nose, allowing his tongue to brush against the bottom of your top lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. You accept him, licking along his tongue, a shiver running up your spine as he sucks slightly on the top of you.  

Jungkook really is a filthy kisser but you’d never guess by just looking at him.  

He’s quite sure his face is growing numb, his only focus on the way you’re making him feel and a somewhat annoying pain on the back of his head. His ponytail is digging against the wall, causing unnecessary discomfort to wash over him. Still kissing you, he reaches behind his head to pull the hair tie out, allowing his hair to fall freely around his face. You take the opportunity to slide your fingers between the strands, scratching gently at his scalp and causing a slightly shaky breath to leave his lips.  

He loves when you play with his hair.  

You use both hands now to tuck it behind his ear before using them to slide down the length of his arms. Finding his hands on your hips, you lace your fingers with his and bring them back up so they are pinned against either side of his head.  

The making out didn’t get him fully hard but as soon as he feels his hands pinned against the head of the couch, he feels his dick twitch almost painfully in his sweatpants.  

Smirking into his mouth, you delight in the sudden halt to his breathing. Subtly, he pushes his hips up a bit when you start kissing your way down his chin and throat. Jungkook summons all the resolve he has and goes perfectly still when you start placing soft kisses along the expanse of his throat. You feel the ache between your legs worsen when you feel his fingers tightening against yours. Jungkook is a very sensitive person, both emotionally and physically. Over the time you’ve become intimate, you’ve slowly uncovered all the little spots that drive him crazy.  

And you’re determined to kiss every single one.  

“You had a hard day huh?” You murmur sweetly, kissing up the right side of his neck.

All he does is nod, his eyes falling shut as he feels your lips getting closer to his earlobe.  

Placing another kiss at his hairline, you slowly kiss along the bottom half of his ear before capturing it between your teeth.

His breath immediately leaves his lips in a shaky mess, his eyes squeezing together as the grip on your hands tightens.

“I think I should help you relax after you’ve worked so hard don’t you?”

He has no idea what you plan to do to him but, he honestly couldn’t give a fuck.  

He’s too hard, too wound up and too into to you to ask any meaningful questions.  

Jungkook merely nods, not trusting his vocal abilities at the moment as he waits for your next move.  

A smirk comes across your face as you suckle lightly on his earlobe, knowing how much he likes it before using your lips to descend back down his neck.  

You lean away from him to get a closer look at his expression. Smoothed out in pure pleasure but also tightening slightly at the discomfort brought on by his throbbing dick.  

His eyes are still closed as you release your grip on his hands and he keeps them that way even as you move to grip the hem of his t-shirt.  

“Are you falling asleep on me?” You tease and he merely grins, shaking his head.

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

He doesn’t open them and instead allows a breathless bit of laughter to leave his lips, sound almost exasperated.

“I feel dizzy.”

His simple responses elicits another desire within you that intensifies your goal to make him feel good.  

“In a good way?” You check, playfully pinching his stomach as you slowly pull up his t-shirt.

He goes back to nodding, his hands coming down to assist you with your task. His hair flops haphazardly as the material of his shirt messes with it. You take a moment to admire how incredibly beautiful he is when he settles back against the couch, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. Flushed face, pouted lips, defined muscles and hardened nipples lay before you, and you are a little unsure of where to put your lips first.

Although it doesn’t really matter, your destination is the same regardless.  

Deciding on another spot that drives him crazy, you allow your fingers to brush along his ribs before leaning in to kiss over his defined chest. Jungkook’s hands are laying limp against the couch but when he feels your lips nearing his nipple, he turns them so they are able to grip the edge of the couch. Sucking his nipple into your mouth, you let you tongue rub against the peak of it. Jungkook sighs loudly from above you and you can’t help but smirk as he still doesn’t allow himself to moan.  

It’s a quirk you’ve noticed and you feel like it’s likely left over from the long-discarded idea that Jungkook has regarding his masculinity. No matter how often you tell him that making noise is perfectly ok (and really hot) he still waits till he can’t help himself.  

And to be honest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy pushing him towards that point.  

After you finish kissing his chest, you begin trailing your wet lips down the middle of torso, taking a moment to suck over the soft skin of his not so softly defined stomach.

“All those hours in the gym are really paying off-” You mumble against his skin, brushing your fingers over his abs, “You look so strong...”

At your compliment, his lips part, one side of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“I wanna look good for you.”

It’s quite a ridiculous statement really.  

Jungkook would look good no matter how many visible abs he had but you know he likes the praise none the less.  

So you shower him with it.

“You always look good for me.” You assure him, kissing along the band of his sweatpants now, “I’m proud of you for working so hard.”

He grins a little more, leaving his eyes mostly close but allowing them to peak open a bit to watch you sink to your knees.  

“Thank you.”

He swallows back the threat of hyperventilation as he feels you spread his legs, his eyes closing completely once again.  

If you weren’t able to make out the sound of his breath picking up, the movement of us chest certainly would have given it away, his pecks heaving a bit as he tries to relax.  

But as you begin gently massaging up his legs, Jungkook realizes relaxing might not be possible.  

At least not at the moment...

He’s stained the seam of his sweatpants with precum which would upset him if it were any other substance but with his dick being so hard, he really can’t find himself to care about anything else.

Tucking your fingers beneath his sweatpants, you begin tugging them off of his hips, relieved that he isn’t wearing any underwear.

Jungkook takes another deep and shaky breath through his nose, tilting his head back again as he tries to center his thinking.

But you’re kind of driving him insane.  

Starting at his knee, you kiss all the way up his inner thigh, taking in the scent of his body- indescribable and mouthwatering, just like him. You stop just before his dick before repeating your actions along the other leg.  

Jungkook’s stomach is caving in at the teasing but he does absolutely nothing to urge you further.  

He likes the torture.  

“Is there anything you want me to do while I'm down here?”  

Jungkook bites his bottom lip at your question, knowing that you’re going to make him ask for it but feeling shy regardless.

“Yes.” He breathes  

You brush your fingertips over his balls, his hips only slightly twitching at the sensation.

He’s trying to stay calm, not wanting to get so ahead of himself he blows his load before you’ve even started.  

“What is it that you want me to do?” You murmur, leaning in to breathe against his length.

You’re expecting him to stall and use every other word to ask for what he wants but instead, he surprises you.

“Suck on it...” He whispers, taking a deep breath before exhaling on the word, “...please.”

Smirking to yourself, you wrap a hand around him- feeling him throb within your grip before kitten licking over the tip of him. After ridding his dick of all the precum, you decide to end his descent into madness and suck him into your mouth.  

You start slow, licking up and down the length of him, your core aching at the taste. Jungkook’s nails are digging into the couch cushions as he feels your movements, his teeth starting to chew on the inside of his bottom lip.

Bringing your hand into the mix, you guide a flexible grip up and down up, using your lips to suck on the tip of him, your tongue tracing the curves of his frenulum.  

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he feels the combination of moves on his dick, his toes curling against the shag carpet. He knows that his vision will be swimming but he wants to watch you so badly, he decides to finally open his eyes.  

As he predicted, his vision is spotty and the dizziness he felt earlier is nothing compared to the way he feels now.  

It all becomes irrelevant though when he locks eyes with you. Your boyfriends normally innocent gaze is completely glossed over with lust, his mouth hanging open as he stares down at you, the same smirk slowly returning to his lips.  

Sucking off of him, you use your hand to jerk him off as you address him, “Does it feel good?”

He bites his lip, his face and chest decorated with the flush of arousal as he nods.

“Why are you so quiet then?”  

For whatever reason, your question tickles him and drunken giggle bubbles up past his lips,

“’ss too good.” He explains, shaking his head at you, “I don’t know how to say anything...”

Logically, he understands that you aren’t talking about him necessarily saying anything but more so referring to the lack of noise he’s making. However, he knows very well that he’s going to be moaning for you soon, especially when your mouth returns to his dick a second time.  

When he feels you palm his balls, his eyes fall shut again, his hips twitching all over the place when you resume both sucking and jerking him off.  

Jungkook knows he’s biting his lip really hard when he starts to taste a bit of blood but he doesn’t care, the pleasure he’s experiencing overpowering any semblance of pain.  

“Y/N” He whispers, “I’m getting really close.”

His warning makes you swoon because he sounds so desperate and yet he’s being considerate, not wanting to intrude your mouth with the taste of him.  

Despite the fact that, that’s all you want.  

You merely moan against his length, signaling for him to let go whenever he wants, your speed increasing all the while.  

“Fuck...” He whispers again but the word sounds like it got caught in his throat, “Fuck...fuck...fuck.”

Hearing him swear makes the wet disaster in your shorts much worse but you wanna make him cum so badly, you ignore it completely. The sound of him nearing the edge is enough to take him all the way in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him harder.

Finally, he breaks- a whimpering skipping past his lips, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth. As much as you want him to moan for you, you don’t want to stop your motions long enough to tell him.  

He throws his head back against the headrest, his eyes opening wide as he stares up at the ceiling in amazement. His body jerks as the first wave of his release hits your tongue and rope after rope, you swallow everything he gives you, sucking him through his orgasm and until the sensitivity becomes too much and he starts squirming beneath you.  

You suck off of him, allowing his softening length to rest against his lower stomach, which is now trembling with his heavy breath.

Jungkook pants, still staring him at the ceiling and while he’s coming down, you kiss along his hips, letting him take his time. Whilst you’re kissing up his happy trail, one of his hands reaches out to brush over your face. Its then you notice that it’s clammy and a bit shaky so, you take a moment to press a kiss over his knuckles, trying to encourage him to look at you.

“You’re shaking.” You whisper and before you know it, you can hear that same drunken giggle coming from his lips again.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, a deep sense of amazement in his eyes as he laughs still, a bit delirious.

“Yeah well-” He shakes his head, still trying to get his wits about him, “You should have a talk with your mouth about that...”

You giggle now, resting your chin on your hand as you admire how fucked-out he looks. His hair is a mess and he is covered in a light layer of sweat and if you’re being honest, you really want to jump his bones all over again. But you know he needs a minute.

“I just wanted to help you relax.” You claim innocently to which he just shakes his head, gesturing for you to get on the couch.

“Come here.”

You scramble up towards him, sitting beside his exhausted body and before you know it, he’s pulling in for a kiss, his smile creeping back when he feels your lips.

“You’re amazing.”

He sounds silly but sincere all at once, kissing softly at your lips before nudging your nose.

You smile back into the kiss, mumbling something of the same nature to him.  

The two of you kiss one another for a moment until Jungkook is pulling back, allowing his dark gaze to scan over your face, eyes suddenly full of determination.

“I think it’s time you relax too now, don’t you think?”

[xmint-conditionx]

⊹ lava cake ⊹ birthday sex | myg

✜ pairing: yoongi x reader; yoongi x fem!reader; dom!yoongi x brat!reader ✜ word count: 3.4K ✜ summary: your friend dragged you to this huge house birthday party for some guy you don’t even know, and she disappears with her boyfriend, leaving you alone in the crowd. while trying to find her, you lock eyes with a handsome stranger across the room who looks like he could use some company. ✜ warnings: 18+ only, light slapping, casual sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex w/ a stranger, unprotected sex (pls be safe y’all), rough dom, slight public sex?? (idk y’all are behind closed doors but at a party so?????), oral (f), slight degradation. ✜ a/n: hiya! bringing this gem back a day late for the best boy's birthday! wrote this for his birthday a year ago, and one day it will get the sequel it deserves. yoongi w mint hair is my inspiration for my name, so this holds a special place in my heart.

i really hope you like it! thanks, luvs, enjoy!

<3 minty ✧

The crunch of ice in your mouth from your now empty drink is a welcome distraction from the overall din of the loud party guests and even louder music. You scan the large open living room of the house again for your friend and her boyfriend, but they’re nowhere to be found. “Wait right here, we’ll be back in a minute” Micha had said as Taehyung took her over to another part of the house, presumably to meet with another friend of his. That was half an hour ago. You impatiently begin searching the room once more for any sign of Micha’s bright pink hair, furrowing your brows in frustration as you come up with nothing.

As your eyes are rapidly moving from face to face, your search is halted by a minty haired man who is staring directly at you from the other side of the room.

He’s nestled in by the foot of the staircase, back leaning against the railing, red solo cup in his hand. The ends of his hair caress his tiny ears, which are decorated with long and dangly silver earrings, alive in the colored lights of the party. By the time you’ve assessed the man in full and return to his eyes, his eyes are still locked on yours. Unwavering, like a challenge.

You hold his gaze almost threateningly, but he doesn’t flinch away from your heavy eyes. While maintaining eye contact, he gently sips out of the red solo cup before brazenly eyeing you up and down and raising one of his brows in response. After he finishes his sip, he again makes deliberate eye contact with you and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, collecting the drops of drink that was left there.

Your friend is nowhere to be found, so you might as well go and make a new one.

You break away from his lingering stare to fill your cup, and then you make your way through the crowd to the challenger on the other side of the room. You expect him to be looking at you when you return into his line of sight, but are shocked to discover the opposite.

Where his gaze was full of intention, it is now lackluster. Where it had been on you, it now seems to be looking at nothing at all. The empty space in the middle of the room. You walk up and say the only thing you can think of that will get a conversation going.

“Lame party, huh?” you say, taking a sip of your drink and leaning into his direction.

“Yeah,” he says, still looking out into the distance, “I’m not really enjoying it either.”

“I don’t really know anyone here. I’ll be honest with you; I don’t even know the birthday boy. My friend’s boyfriend is a friend of his or something and she dragged me along so she ‘wouldn’t have to go alone’ or whatever.”

“Why aren’t you with her, then? You’d probably be having more fun.” he says as he finishes another sip.

“If she hadn’t disappeared on me an hour ago, I would be! This place is huge and I don’t want to go wandering around some strange man’s house. You’d think with all the money he has he’d at least be able to have better taste,” you say as you point to a bookshelf by the fireplace. “I mean look at that lava lamp! The 80’s called and want their aesthetic back, right?”

The man next to you just shrugs, “I don’t know. Some people like them I guess.”

You move your pointer finger to another corner of the room next to the bar. “That piano too? It looks so beat up! It doesn’t make sense with the rest of the decor at all. I wonder if this guy is alright. His head can’t be right.” you say and the man next to you snickers a little. You turn to him and meet his gaze again. It’s playful and a little dark; it makes you want to continue. “He could literally just buy a much better looking piano.”

His expression darkens further to a playfully scrutinizing one. “You’re awfully bold, insulting the host while you’re still at his party. If I were you, I’d watch that pretty little mouth before it gets you into trouble.”

This is going to be good.

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t?” you fire back, staring up at him through your lashes. “Doesn’t seem like anyone is trying to stop me.”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, you’re right. And what a shame that is. I’ve got about a million ideas about what you could be doing instead of running that mouth. More… productive things.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Who says I’d actually take you up on your little ideas, hmm?” you tease.

His eyes darken further, and you know you’ve got him.

“Well, it would be your loss,” he says.

You dramatically roll your eyes for maximum sass, “Yeah right, I’m sure.”

“Is that a challenge, little miss?” he asks, his gaze narrowing and his body closing in on you, trapping you against the railing of the staircase. You begin to feel like prey, a sensation that only dampens your panties further. At this close distance, you can just begin to smell his aftershave. His free hand brushes up your exposed thigh and starts to slowly ascend up past the hem of your short skirt. Your heart begins to pound and your legs start to tingle as you hesitantly meet his gaze again. He leans in closer.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” he sings in your ear, making you bite your lip. You can feel the heat flushing your cheeks. He can likely feel the warmth that is spreading to other places, because his hand stops just outside of the cloth of your underwear.

“Mmm, let’s see if you can stay this quiet when my tongue is in your slit. Now, be a good girl and follow me.” he says, suddenly backing off and walking up the stairs. You wince slightly at the lack of warmth, but don’t hesitate to grab his hand as he leads you up.

He brings you to a set of double doors to the immediate right of the top of the stairs. The light is already on and you can see that the ensuite bathroom’s lights are on as well. He turns back to shut both of the doors and you hear the faint click of the lock.

“Is this the master?” you ask, taking in the details of the room. “I don’t think the birthday boy will want people fucking in his bedroom.”

He’s back on you in an instant, arm around your waist, pulling you up against his chest. “I guess you had better keep quiet then.”

Your lips are suddenly being pressed against his. He immediately deepens the kiss, receiving your tongue into his mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. He starts backing you up towards the side of the bed. Once you get there, you’re shoved down onto the mattress, bouncing slightly as you recover from his kiss. You watch dumbly as he deftly strips off his leather jacket and yanks off his plain t-shirt. Once his stomach is exposed, you find your mouth open and watering at the sight of the little happy trail under his abdominal muscles. You don’t have time to process any of it though, because in another instant he’s on top of you, straddling your hips.

He hooks his thumb into your gawking mouth, holding it open and says, “I’m going to rip you to shreds, little girl. If it becomes too much, say genius. Do you understand me?”

You nod sheepishly and swallow hard.

“Let’s hear you say it then.” he demands, removing his thumb from your mouth.

“Genius?” you say in almost a whisper and he begins to grin.

“Good girl. Remember, stay quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the party,” he says, removing his weight from on top of you while shifting you up the bed so that he can situate your hips under his face. He doesn’t bother taking off your skirt; he just forces the fabric up, exposing your already soaked panties.

“All this for me? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he teases.

You huff in frustration. “Yeah, you should probably get to that already.”

He responds with a smart little smack on your still covered clit. You clench and moan at the sensation, looking down at him with your best puppy dog eyes. He is unimpressed.

“What did I say about watching your mouth, brat?” he says as he hovers right over your heat, just close enough that you can feel his breath when he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you groan out as your legs begin wiggling in hopes of getting his lips to make contact.

“That’s better,” he says, teasing your entrance outside of your panties with his thumb, sending sparks up your spine. “I just don’t know if you want it badly enough, princess.”

“Ugh,” you scoff, “I don’t know what else I can do! Pleeeeease?”

“Please, what?” he asks with a smirk, sending you a look that is filled with fire. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“Please taste me,” you beg with fistfulls of the comforter, and in that instant, he rips off your panties and is busy sucking on your clit. You let out a silent scream at the new sensation, hands pulling even harder on the blanket. He licks down your slit and then into it, sending another wave of pleasure through you. You’re already so wound up that you’re close to the brink, almost teetering over the edge when you grab his hair and start to buck your hips into his mouth, chasing your release.

He pulls away, much to your distaste, earning a whimper from you.

“Whyyyyy did you stooooppppp?” you whine, and he shoots you another dark look right before he slaps your clit again, this time much harder. You let out a yipe as you involuntarily clench around nothing. “I was about to come…” you say in the most adorable voice you can muster, poking out your bottom lip for full effect.

“Who says you get to come?” the man replies, your slick coating his lips. He plunges two fingers into you and starts a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Please, move faster, I–” your voice is cut off when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit, bringing you dangerously close. You know better than to tell on yourself, and you clench in anticipation of your orgasm… but he quickly stops everything and leaves you to come back down slowly, agonizingly.

You’re desperate and dizzy with desire, on the verge of tears with how badly you want to come. He’s kissing your inner thighs, leaving little marks here and there where he sucks and bites. It’s like he’s comforting you through the torture, by somehow making it worse.

“Ple– Please just let me come. I’ve tried to be good,” you plead, consumed with want.

He stops his little kisses and looks up at you. He says, “One more, you can do one more. I know you can. Then I’ll give you what you want. I think you might have learned your lesson.”

He takes the fingers that were just inside of you and puts them in his mouth, drinking up every bit of your wetness that he can. There’s no resistance when he reinserts them. He sets a menacing pace, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spot, his lips fixed on your clit and his clouded gaze fixed on you. Before long, your release starts to build again, and you try to hold it back as best as you can. He comes off your clit with a wet popping sound and says, “Not yet. Don’t you dare come,” his fingers still pushing you ever closer.

His gravelly command makes you clench and that does it. You’re rocketing through your high and he fingerfucks you all the way through it. He pulls his fingers out and gets off the bed, leaving you to come down from your climax with closed eyes and labored breath.

Before you’ve fully recovered, you’re suddenly being hoisted up. He’s got your back up against the headboard, that much you can tell. When you open your eyes, you can’t believe what’s in front of you.

The mint haired man’s lips are mere inches away from yours, and he has pinned your arms down at your sides. You’re straddling his lap, which is now only covered by a pair of black boxer briefs that aren’t doing much to hide his erection. The outline of his dick with it’s tiny wet spot at the head makes you swallow, hard.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you not to come, princess,” he teases. “It seems you need a different approach to learning your lesson. Since you wanted to come so bad, you’re not leaving this room until you’ve done it three more times.”

Your mouth hangs open; your eyebrows shoot up. You don’t even know if that’ll be possible.

“But this time,” he says lowly in your ear, “you’re going to come on my cock.”

He takes your hands and puts them on his waistband, indicating for you to remove them. As you do and his cock springs free, you can’t help but to lick your lips at how utterly delicious it looks. If he didn’t have other plans, you would have gladly taken it in your mouth that instant.

He takes his member in his own hand and teases your entrance with the head, mixing his precum with your leftover wetness from before. Just that touch has you ready to go again. You take matters into your own hands, literally, by taking his shaft and lining him up with you. As you sink down onto his cock, his breath hitches and you’re glad that you’re not the only one who is being tortured tonight.

His hands are tight on your hips, your skirt having rode all the way up a long time ago. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and before he allows you to start, you see his eyes dart to your cleavage and back up.

“Take off your shirt for me,” he says.

“Why should I?” you snark back.

He quickly pulls out and thrusts all the way up into you, filling you completely up, sending a cry past your lips that was likely too loud. You’re suddenly more keenly aware of the ongoing party right outside those doors. You comply with his request, and he seems pleased that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your blouse.

“Number one,” he says and unleashes a cruel pace. The lewd sounds of your bodies slapping together only heighten your arousal, and you’re not surprised when you get close to your next orgasm. Sensing this, he grabs your jaw in his hand and directs your gaze to meet his.

“I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Come for me, brat.”

Your second one of the evening shoots fireworks all throughout your body and you clench all over, relishing in being able to fully ride it out. You can’t hold all of your noise in this time, but neither of you seem to mind. As you come down from this one, you notice that he hasn’t slowed his pace at all. What was once the most pleasurable thing has now crossed over into being a little too much, but in a good way. Your sensitivity was almost painful, but this new sensation had enraptured you. You were ready to try for another.

There’s a banging at the door, and you both freeze. A voice comes through the other side.

“Yoongi, was that you in there? We’re about to light your cake. Come out so we can sing to you!” the voice says over the din.

“Give me 5 more minutes, Namjoon-ah! I’m in the middle of something,” the man, apparently named Yoongi, apparently the birthday boy, apparently the one who you’ve been insulting all night, yells back.

You stare up at him in shock, and try to figure out what to say to apologize. He wants none of it, because he covers your mouth with his hand and flips you down onto the mattress. He resumes his unrelenting pace this time with more force behind his thrusts, all while his hand is fast against your mouth.

“That lava lamp,” Yoongi said, “that was the first thing my mother bought when she got her first apartment. She passed it down to me when I got mine.”

You’re moaning against his hand, the embarrassment you feel fueling your arousal even more. He really was out to punish you.

“Number two.”

He grabs your hip with his free hand and digs his fingers into you so firmly, you’ll know there will be bruises there the next day. Yoongi is glistening with sweat, his eyes staring straight through you. All it takes to send you over the edge again is for a smart nip on your nipple.

You scream out into his hand, thankful you can at least be a little more vocal. He still has kept up his pace, and as you come down, it starts to become too much. You’re so wet and sensitive that it’s borderline unbearable. You start to tear up at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your mouth. Without stopping, he leans into your ear and tells you how beautiful you look taking his cock. He tells you how good you’ve been for him, and how he loves the way you taste. He tells you about how he knew he had to have you when he saw you across the room, looking like sin in that short skirt and revealing top. He says he knows you can take one more, because after all, it’s his birthday.

“This time, I want to hear you say my name,” Yoongi says sweetly before taking his thumb and pressing it against your overly sensitive bud. You cry out and then stop yourself, afraid of who can hear.

“Don’t hold back on me; be as loud as you need to,” he says, “this is my fucking house.”

You begin to let yourself whine out, the overstimulation reaching a breaking point. Your mascara is definitely a mess, but the way he was looking at you made you not care.

“Number three. Last one. You can do it.”

He increases the pressure on your clit and deepens his thrusts. He takes his hand from your hip and traces your bottom lip with the thumb before he plants a kiss. The kiss deepens and you allow him to lightly graze his tongue over yours, which he follows up with a little bite on your lower lip. You’re groaning up into him, feeling your next release sneak up. He locks eyes with you, and you can tell he’s holding himself back from his own release.

“Come, beautiful. So I can fill you up.”

At that, the coil snaps and you’re sent reeling into easily the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. As his name spills from your lips, he too meets his own end and you both ride out your climaxes together.

_____________

After you’ve cleaned yourself up a little in the ensuite, you deem it safe to return back downstairs. It’s been long enough that you’ve just heard them sing, so you’ll likely go unnoticed with all eyes on Yoongi as he blows out his candles. You walk down the stairs towards the crowd of people surrounding the birthday boy and his giant chocolate cake. He’s smiling and hugging some of his friends who are encouraging him to cut it open. Once he does, chocolate sauce oozes out and everyone cheers. It’s a lava cake.

He laughs and hugs one of his tall friends wearing an apron, whose laugh sounds like windshield wipers. Yoongi scans the crowd and meets your gaze. He scoops up a bit of chocolate sauce on the two fingers that had been inside you only moments ago and smirks at you as he licks them clean.

Why do you feel like he isn’t done with you yet?

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

[bokutoslittlebird]

Mommy

Sub!Kuroo x Dom!fem!reader

Warnings: cumshots, boobjob, thighjob/thigh fucking, idk how jva works, creampie(s), mommy kink, dubcon/noncon (no previous communication implied), somnophilia, cunnilingus, dirty talk/praise, dash of nipple play, use of ‘baby boy’ and ‘good boy’ for Kuroo

Working for the Japanese Volleyball Association wasn’t all glory and glam, but it paid well. Each day was another day to sift through paperwork and prepare for the National Team lineup members, with the next Olympics only two years away. Some members, like Hinata and Kageyama had already been informed of their eligibility and were a definite member, though they didn’t know of that yet. There would be someone going around to overview the Division 1 Leagues to see who seemed to be in the best shape to perform, which is why Kuroo was currently still at his office. Paper after paper of different members his employees had gone through and chosen, he got exhausted after going through just a few. Looking over credentials, he knew a few would have to make it — like Ushijima, who has been on the team before, or Bokuto and Sakusa of the MSBY Black Jackal team, with their power and technique. All of the candidates were possible, making Kuroo’s job harder as he had to choose which ones to send to the higher-ups. He was the checkpoint; who would pass this roadblock and continue and who’s dreams would crumble before they even began?

An alarm going off told Kuroo it was time to go home. He had gotten halfway through the stack, but he needed his rest. Movements were sluggish, muscles aching and sore from sitting in one position for a good chunk of the day. Glancing at his phone, the time read 1:37, making him sigh as he realized you’d probably be asleep when he got home.

The train ride home is quiet, almost gloomy as the dark rolling clouds move by, muffling the light of the moon shining down. Walking the rest of the way home, Kuroo can feel the weight in his shoulders getting heavier. Footsteps aren’t as fast, his head is held down, movements are numb as he enters the house, as silent as everything else. A sigh breaks that silence, his theory of you being asleep confirmed.

Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to see an expected sight — the covers bunches around your waist as you hug the pillow close to your face, legs spread out with one bent. The night air is warm, which explains the lack of pants; only items on you are some panties and a loose tank top, but the position you’re in with those seem to have given him some newly found energy. Carefully entering the room and taking off his suit, making sure to be as silent as possible, he looms over your sleeping form. A disgusting thought overcomes him, a deranged desire to indulge in your body before joining you in sleep.

He’s concerned of how upset you’ll be if you find out or wake up, but he’s needy and you’re all his, aren’t you? He should be able to indulge in your body when he wants to, even if you’re too out of it to know. Prying sheets off your body, the clouds allow moonlight to seep through the curtains and silver beams give light to the previously darkened room. Your eyes are firmly closed, lips slightly open as puffs of breath escape them, head turned to the side. Once the covers are off and discarded, he’s rolling you on your back to admire your features more closely. The loosened fabric of the shirt makes it easy to droop, his fingers pulling the neckline down and hooking them under your breasts.

The material brushed over your nipples, the buds hardening under the fabric and encouraging Kuroo’s tired mind to continue. Straddling you, he’s discarded all of his clothes as he situates his cock in between your boobs. Letting his spit drip onto the flesh, he massages them and gently thrusts his hips as he cock slides between the wetness of your boobs. A breathy moan escapes his lips as he feels the spit and your soft breasts against his aching cock, his desperation for release having his hips moving faster and faster. A stutter of his hips and then he pulls away, letting his cum spill all over your clothed pussy, some of it splattering against your thighs.

Seeing his seed coat your thighs, some slipping in between your legs as they abide the laws of gravity, it gives him even more energy to continue. Moving off of you completely, he’s picking up your legs and keeping your knees together, resting his head atop them as he looks down. More breathy moans escape his lips, watching his cock peek out from between your thighs and feeling his own cum lubricate the makeshift cocksleeve. It’s nice and warm, slick enough for his cock to slide easily between them and the meat of your thighs give him the soft feeling that he really craves — even if it’s not the same. His tip peeks out from your thighs, red and pulsing as he tries to hold back his moans to a sensible volume at 2 in the morning. A few more thrusts between your sticky thighs and he’s letting out a low groan, spilling his cum all over your shirt and a bit of your panties.

Panting heavily, he looks down at the mess he’s made of you. With your breasts still spilling out, white splatters of his cum against your skin and clothing, an overwhelming possessiveness latches onto him, making him desperate to claim you inside as he has on the outside. Hands move to pull your panties out of the way, his shaky and hesitant movements showing his eagerness and his morals, but his eagerness wins out in the end when he sees how your own slick clings to your panties, making invisible strands. Licking his lips, he moves down to lap at the wetness you created, the salty taste of his own mingling with yours. His eyes flicker between you and closing, wanting to make sure you stay awake and desperate to revel in the feeling of lapping at your folds. Lips secure around your clit, him sucking on the nerves as you moan, a dreamy sigh almost, making him freeze.

Pulling back, he sees how wet you are now, still oozing with slick coating your folds along with his own saliva. His eagerness has him pulling your panties to the side with a thumb and his other hand lining himself up with your entrance before he can think to stop. A moan comes from him, biting his lip to hold them back as he sinks into your cunt, walls fluttering around him from the ministrations he gave to your clit. Burying himself all the way in is a challenge, but once he succeeds, he’s leaning over your unconscious body to kiss slightly part lips, short moans from them. His thrusts are slow, easing open your walls and preventing you from waking up so quickly, but he finds his hands on either side of your head as he picks up his pace. The room is loud now, squelch noises from where he disappears into you and from your coated thighs sticking to his own hips, adding to the sound of his skin slapping against yours. He rolls his head back at one particular thrust, a mewl coming from you as your back arches, him chuckling as he licks at his lips, enjoying the feeling.

That feeling is short lived.

Looking back down to your sleeping face, he’s shocked to see your eyes wide open, tired. He immediately stops, panicking as to what you’ll say to him, heart pumping wildly. But you smile at him, pulling him down to your lips by his shoulders, letting your mouth let him know you’re not upset. Legs hook around his waist as you break from him, running your thumb over his bottom lip. “What’s got you so tense, baby?” When he doesn’t answer, or rather he doesn’t know how to properly answer, you frown at him. “Tell Mommy what’s wrong,”

“I- I wanted to relieve some stress, that’s- that’s all,” he gulps, seeing you look at him with that face. The face that doesn’t let him know what you’re thinking, the one that usually means a punishment is coming soon. “I’m sorry for being bad, I just—”

“Bad? Oh no, sweetie. You’re still my good boy, aren’t you? If you wanted a treat, all you had to do was ask, you know?” Your words ease his worry, sweetness dripping off of each syllable. He grins, moving to kiss you once more as he begins to thrust into you again, nothing holding him back. “That’s a good boy,” you mumble against his lips, trailing your lips down from his lips to his jawline, down his neck as he moans, letting you have full access to his skin. A moan comes from him, feeling your mouth suck on his flesh to create a red mark, marking him in a way he did to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he can feel his cum against his chest and abdomen, cold and sticky. Hips keep a steady rhythm, but they begin to lose said rhythm as he gets closer to his next release, puffs of air and soft moans escaping his lips as he feels his end come.

“Can I- Can I do it inside, pretty please?” He begs, moving his lips to yours as you nod, feeling his arms hold you down as he forces all of inside you, painting your gummy walls in a similar fashion to the rest of your body. He moans at the feeling, mouth hanging open as his cock throbs with sensitivity. You move up to kiss him, sucking on his tongue as he moans into your mouth, desperate for your touch.

He wants more.

His sensitive doesn’t hold him back, eager for more as he rubs his cock against your walls once more. “Baby boy, aren’t you tired? You finished inside,” you coo at him. He just looks down at you, eyes covered with lust as his mind is fuzzy in a haze.

“I wan’- I want more of you, Mommy. Please, I want you to fuck me, I want you to feel good, too, please,” he pleas, lips brushing over yours as he talks. You chuckle, flipping him over so he’s situated against the pillows.

“You should’ve asked for that in the first place, baby.” Taking off your tank top, you finally notice how hardened and sticky some of it is, an eyebrow raised but no questions his way. Pushing down on his chest, you smirk at him before rolling your hips, eliciting moan from him. “That was nice.. Can you give me another one?” You coo once more, moving your hips back and forth with his cock still inside of you. It’s enough to have his hands grasping at your hips tongue killing out as he lets moans freely pour from his lips, no matter the volume. “Someone’s sensitive, aren’t you sweet boy?”

He rapidly nods his head, biting on his lower lip as he moans again, feeling another orgasm coming as you keep rocking on his cock. Using one of your hands, you lean back to play with your clit, letting him have a full view of the show. You don’t speak, but Kuroo knows he isn’t supposed to look away, watching as your fingers rub and pinch at your clit, feeling the way your walls spasm around his cock that make him whine with need. Your other hand moves up to play with your nipples, teasing and rolling the hardened buds as you moan, eyes fluttering to meet his gaze as he drinks in every inch of your skin, every movement your hands make against your own sensitive areas. It isn’t until you’re mewling, using one hand to steady yourself while the other rubs at your clit does he break eye contact, rolling his eyes back as you cream on his cock, making him spill every last bit of his seed inside you.

When you both stop panting, getting your bearings, you rock your hips once more as he whines, tears in his eyes. “Oh, you thought we were done? Baby boy, I’m just getting started. This is your punishment,” you smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Even as your hips move, he doesn’t complain and he doesn’t voice his overstimulation, his nerves burning and begging to rest, he lets it happen. This is how it is for him.

In the office, he commands his employees and overlooks their work ethic, but he lets go of the dominating presence in the bedroom when he’s with you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Author’s Note: sorry if the dom/sub dynamics didn’t come into play until close to the end and sorry for this being released so late

[jackrrabbit]

be a little bad /// Hawks x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: College AU 🍺 Frat boy Keigo pours you your first drink and decides he’s going to help himself to more of your firsts.

A/N: Hawks just makes so much sense as a frat bro 🤧 @koiibito​ thank you for working through ideas w/ me…& remember when I told you this was going to be short?? whoops 🤡

Tags/warnings: dubcon/coercion, inexperienced reader, fuckboy Hawks, overstimulation, alcohol, inebriated sex, problematic frat culture stuff, idk what to call it but peer pressure? to drink etc., all characters are adults

How long have you been sitting here?

You feel like there’s some kind of immense weight holding you down, making it impossible for you to stand up off this ugly couch that’s been crammed into the corner of the room to make space for the dance floor. You and this couch have become good friends over what you think has been the past hour—at first you occupied yourself by looking at the people playing beer pong, but after the fourth time you had to decline one of the players’ offers to join, you decided to stop making eye contact. So you sit on the couch, you stare at your phone, and you wish you were back at your dorm—or, better yet, back in your hometown with all your high school friends.

But you’re not. You’re here, multiple time zones away from anywhere you can call home, and all of your high school friends are asleep. And the one person—the one person you’ve managed to make friends with since orientation is the one who dragged you to this freaking frat party and then proceeded to abandon you. Apparently he didn’t feel the need to tell you that as a new pledge of this frat, he’s going to be on “door duty” checking ratios and giving sardonic responsibility talks for the next two hours.

Which leaves you here, sitting on the couch and trying to avoid the more questionable stains that you can barely make out in the seizure-inducing strobe lights. There’s a can of beer icing down your palms and you adjust your grip so it doesn’t leave a damp spot of condensation in your lap. It was your friend who gave it to you before he disappeared (“you don’t even have to drink it,” he’d said, “just hold it and no one else will pressure you to get another drink”).

It smells foul. You’ve had sips of beer before, and you can never understand why people drink it voluntarily. But maybe…maybe now that you’re in college, maybe now that you’re an adult, you’ll enjoy the taste. You raise the can to your lips and chug down a heavy gulp.

Ugh. Still gross. You wince and wipe your mouth.

“Not a fan of natty, huh? Good taste.” A hand appears out of nowhere to pluck the can away from you and you jump, nearly smacking your forehead against the stranger’s chin. He pulls back. “Whoa! Careful there.”

“…That’s mine,” you say half-heartedly as the guy tilts up the beer—your beer, your decoy drink—and takes a long draught.

“You’re not missing out. This stuff is piss,” he says, grinning down at you.

He’s not the first guy to hit on you at this party (what is it about lost-looking girls that draws frat boys in like moths to a flame?), but he is the best-looking. Long, swept-back blond hair; equally long eyelashes; a hint of scruff on his chin—he’s pretty and masculine at the same time. You let him take the seat next to you and lure you into a conversation, and he’s nice, too—laughing with you about how bad the beer tastes and sympathizing with your criticisms of your first experience at a frat party. You fall over yourself apologizing when he lets slip that he’s a brother (“social chair, actually, so if the party sucks it’s on me”) but he tells you it’s okay, that no one likes going to parties alone, not at first.

His name is Keigo Takami. He’s a junior, a marketing major, and he joined the frat in his first semester. According to him, the fraternity is a great group of guys (“I mean, they’re a bunch of jackasses, sure, but they’re well-meaning jackasses for the most part”) and all the rumors about frat parties are overblown.

“Seriously, you’d be having fun if you were drinking,” Keigo tells you. “These parties aren’t intended for a sober audience.”

“Sure,” you scoff, but it’s not serious. You are having fun, talking to him.

He gasps, mock-offended. “Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it to you. Stay right here, okay—don’t move a muscle.”

When he gets up, the dense crowd on the makeshift dance floor parts to let him through to the stairs leading into the upper floors. It’s kind of amazing. Everyone else (yourself included) has to wade through, pushing and shoving past the teeming throng to get anywhere, but for Keigo it’s effortless.

He’s back in just a few minutes, holding—oh god, how typical—a red plastic cup filled with a kool-aid red liquid that smells sickly sweet. Is it actually kool-aid? You take a whiff and can’t detect the tell-tale bitter alcohol fumes. “Is this…?”

“Mm, that’s jungle juice. The frat’s secret recipe. It’s good, try it.”

You raise the cup but hesitate. Is this really a good idea? You’ve been warned about stuff like this so many times. You don’t have to do it just because everyone else is.

Keigo catches your hesitation and frowns. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, I just…haven’t…”

“Hm? Don’t tell me this is your first drink? Aww, little freshman baby.” He’s mocking you, looking down on you, and you hate it. You’re not a baby. You can play with the boys.

You make eye contact with him before you tip back the cup and gulp down the juice, letting the full contents slosh down your throat. It’s syrupy-sweet and tastes like fruit punch and oranges so it goes down easy, a lot easier than you thought it would. A drop slides out of the corner of your mouth but you lick it up when it runs over your lip.

Keigo whistles. “Damn, down the hatch. That was…that was kinda hot.”

If you’re blushing, you hope he thinks it’s because of the drink.

He’s faster when he gets you the second cup. It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. Keigo won’t tell you what’s in it or how much (“secret recipe’s gotta stay a secret, y’know? It’s in the bylaws”). Halfway into the second cup you start to feel dizzy, which Keigo says means it’s working. He pulls you up off what you’ve semi-affectionately begun to think of as your couch and guides you onto the dance floor. The music is heavy and blaring loud, thudding through the speakers and making the walls shake, making you shake as it travels through the sticky floor up into your body. You sway haphazardly but Keigo’s got you by the arms, pulling you out of the way of the crowd, pulling you into him.

“Looking a little unsteady there, baby,” he says, and—and, you hear him, you do, but he’s talking to you from underwater (or, no, that’s just what it sounds like? or—) um. Beaming his voice into your brain or something?

Keigo laughs and you giggle and it feels good. “Better finish that or you’re gonna spill it,” he says, putting his warm hot hand over yours, guiding the cup back up to your face so you can finish off.

You’re in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by writhing bodies so it shouldn’t surprise you when someone’s elbow smacks into your back and jostles you so the jungle juice spills, spills out of your mouth dripping down your chin onto the dress. You process the interruption a second too late and the sticky red liquid is already staining your skin. …Feels good, you think first, because the drink is cool and refreshing and it’s so hot in here, steamy warm, everyone pressed up against everyone else like you’re pressed into Keigo, and then oh no—oh no your dress—but at least it’s a dark color, at least the stain won’t show—

“What did I tell you about spilling?” you sort of  hear Keigo say, and then you sort of feel the weight of his hand wiping away the juice from your mouth, and then he sticks his face up close to yours and oh my god oh my god he’s kissing you.

There’s something indescribably weird about it, his tongue thrashing over yours like he’s trying to lick the juice out of your mouth while you try not to flinch back from the taste of the beer he was drinking earlier. But he’s so solid, so steady, the only still thing in a room full of movement—when your eyes move away from him into the twisting mass of bodies and flashing lights you feel dizzy, so you keep your gaze locked firmly on him. He wraps his arm around your back and you instantly feel better and lean into him, lean into the kiss.

You’re drooling by the time he stops kissing you. “So sweet,” Keigo says, wiping a pearl of saliva off his mouth. “Little sloppy, but I can work with that.”

You don’t get it. You don’t even know if you would get it if you were sober. What you do get is Keigo’s hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you through the crowd to the staircase. Once again the people move aside for him, like the Red Sea for Moses, you think with a little laugh and he looks back at you and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

You stop, halting at the base of the stairs and squinting up at the bright yellow light in the stairwell, so invasive and clinical after the strobing darkness of the bottom floor. There’s something hard pressing into your side when you try to lean on the wall. There’s a name for that thing, isn’t there? B…ban…bannister, right? You grip the bannister with one hand to hold yourself still and resist Keigo tugging you higher up the stairs.

“W-Where’re we going?” you ask. It’s weird—your voice doesn’t sound like drunk people in movies. It’s not slurred or unintelligible. To your own ears, it just sounds high, and fast, and…nervous.

“Going upstairs,” Keigo says patiently, still pulling gently at your arm. “Gonna get some air, ‘kay? I’ll show you something cool.”

“O-Okay…” Something cool? You want to see something cool, even if you’re practically tripping over the stairs trying to stumble up them.

One of the brothers is guarding the entrance to the upper floors (no doubt ensuring that wayward attendees don’t try to take the party upstairs into the personal bedrooms). He nods at Keigo when he passes, but when he catches sight of you—you with your hair mussed, lipstick smeared, flushed cheeks and wobbly steps—his eyes narrow. “She good?”

Even in your boozy haze, it doesn’t escape you that the question isn’t directed toward you. He’s asking Keigo.

“Her? She’s fine, she’s fine.” Keigo throws his arm over your shoulders like you��re old buddies. “I’m taking her to my room, it’s so fucking hot down there I can’t breathe.”

“Yeah…” the other guy says, gaze still focused on you, but he doesn’t move to the side to let you through.

“Oh, come on.” Keigo steps up onto the same stair as him so he can look him in the eye. “I said she’s fine, didn’t I? She’s having fun. Aren’t you? Tell him you’re having fun, (Y/N).”

His tone isn’t any less sociable than before, but—are you imagining it?—he’s not really asking, is he? “Um, I’m having—having fun?”

Oh. Oh no. Why did that sound like a question?

The brother waits a moment, and then shrugs and steps aside. “Whatever, bro.”

Keigo’s bedroom is on the third and highest floor of the sprawling mansion where the fraternity makes its home. Flags are pinned to the walls—one with the colors of your university and one with the fraternity crest—and on top of his desk there are trophies lined up in meticulous rows: track and field, swimming, cross country, fencing. The bedroom is a rare single, one of only a few in the crowded house, which Keigo explains is because he earned it as a member of leadership when he was elected social chair (“it was unanimous—well, almost, a couple of the douchebags voted for themselves but—“)

You’re trying to listen, you really are. But your head is spinning. Now that you’re out of the feverish swampy heat of the dance floor downstairs, you feel marginally more sober—and also more aware that you’re inebriated. Keigo’s voice is steady and soothing like the rest of him. The timbre, the intonations, the casual lilt and dip of his speaking make more sense to you than the words themselves.

“Here, have this. It’s rum. Tell me what it smells like…” Keigo puts something in your hand—a tiny little cup, a plastic shot glass—and you have to use all your concentration to hold it still enough to let him fill it with red-brown liquid out of an unlabeled bottle.

When you carefully lift it up to your face, you can smell the alcohol. It smells sweet, too—like vanilla, vanilla and something fruity and heavy. Bananas?

But mostly it smells like alcohol.

“It smells like banana bread, doesn’t it?” Keigo asks, pouring himself a shot too. “Try it.”

You take a tentative sip but even that meager amount is sickeningly bitter in your mouth. You hold it on your tongue for a second trying to taste the ‘banana bread’ and then swallow a few moments too late, hoping you don’t look as disgusted as you feel.

“Not like that,” Keigo laughs, tipping his own shot back and downing it in a single go. “Like this. Your turn.”

“…Keigo…” You’re not sure what you want to say. You don’t want the shot, it tastes bad and you’re already drunk. You’re a smart girl, a careful girl. You should know better. You do know better. But it feels like��it feels like, even though he’s not making you do anything, somehow it’s too late to say no.

“C’mon, (Y/N). It’s just a little shot.” He taps his empty glass against your almost-full one. “And look, if you don’t want to, I’ll just take you back downstairs…is that what you want?”

Back downstairs. Back to sitting by yourself and waiting for your friend and turning down offers. Is that what you want?

Keigo’s gaze dips down to the ground and he shifts a step forward. “Now…maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think you want that. ‘Cause when I saw you sitting on that couch, you didn’t look like you were having such a good time, hm? Am I right?”

“…um, I guess?”

“Yeah…you looked so sad and lost and lonely I couldn’t leave you alone. Admit it...” He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. “You were waiting for someone to catch your interest. You were wishing a guy like me would come rescue you. If I’m wrong, I’ll take you right back downstairs and leave you by yourself for the rest of the night, okay? But if I’m right…”

You can smell his hot breath on your face—vanilla and sugar and bananas and rum.

“…take the shot.”

It’s not so bad the second time. You’re quicker and you don’t bother holding it in your mouth. The liquor sears your throat clean and when you get over the unpleasantness, it really does taste kind of like banana bread.

“Ohhhh… Not so bad, is it?” Keigo takes the glass from you. “God, you—you complain, but you really take it down like a champ.”

“Alcohol tastes nasty,” you reply, wrinkling your nose. “Why’d people do this for fun?”

“It’s not about the taste, not at first,” Keigo laughs. Weird. It’s like he’s always laughing.

“Then what?” At your next exhale, you squeeze your eyes shut and reopen them. Ah. Ah. The room is moving again, spinning, contracting and dilating. There’s something relaxing about it, like you’re being rocked on gentle waves in the ocean. You feel floaty, comfortable, pleased.

“Well…it’s nice, isn’t it? Isn’t this nice? Helps you not think so much, not worry about the consequences.” Keigo’s arms are wrapping around you again, anchoring you in place. His torso is warm and hard against yours. “Lets you be bad.”

“Mmm…” You blink up at Keigo, admire his jawline and his lashes and his pretty gold eyes. He looks like a boy you would’ve had a crush on in high school, an older boy who never would’ve given you the time of day.

His hand is rubbing circles over your back, shifting the fabric of your dress along with his palm. “So what do you say?” he murmurs. “Wanna be a little bad?”

You do. You want to be bad and naughty and reckless. You want to make dumb, drunken decisions that you’ll laugh about with your friends in a few years. You want to do things you’ll regret, because you’d rather regret the things you had the guts to do than the ones you were too scared to try.

You inch your arms up past Keigo’s shoulders and tangle them in his fluffy hair, tugging gently at the different strands until you work up the nerve to pull his head to your level and kiss him. Even though you initiated it, he immediately takes the lead and the force of his mouth writhing against yours has your neck twisting back to accommodate. His tongue pushes against yours again but you don’t mind it this time. Your spine is arched and you’d probably be falling backward if his hand wasn’t bracing your lower back before sliding down to grab your ass.

“God—“ he breaks the kiss— “goddamn, look at you.” He’s gripping your dress, lifting it, pulling the fabric up over your hips and up to your waist at the same time as he showers kisses over your cheeks and your jawline and your neck.

You lift your chin (how strange that you’ve never done this before and still it feels so natural) to let him bite and suck scarlet marks onto the thin skin of your throat. “Keigo—“

“Baby,” he sighs, his breath stirring the hair falling over your neck. “You’re gonna be a killer, I can tell… You’re sweet now, but fuck, you’ve got no idea.” His hands are under the hem of your dress giving your ass another squeeze before he pulls the skirt up.

“Killer? What do you...” He’s backing you onto the bed, kicking off his shoes, and you do the same.

“Shh, that’s for me to know and you to find out. Arms up,” he tells you, and you slowly comply, letting him take the dress off your shivering body to leave you in your panties—no bra, not in this dress. Keigo holds the dress in his hands for a second before he drops it to the floor. “This—you know what, this is how I knew you were a virgin, this little dress, who the hell wears a dress to a frat party—“

“A virgin?” Hearing him say the word hits some kind of trigger in you and your eyes go wide. Without thinking, you fold your arms over your breasts and pull your legs up to your chest.

“Not a virgin virgin, it’s just what we call freshie girls who’ve never been to a party before—“ Keigo starts to clarify, but when he catches your reaction (your overreaction), his eyes narrow and he sits on the bed over you, knees straddling your legs. “Wait. Are you—you’re not actually a virgin, are you?”

You look to the side, cheeks hot, wanting to deny it but knowing there’s no way you’ve got the mental fortitude to really convince him.

“Fuuuck,” Keigo breathes, leaning over you and framing your face with his hands. “Baby. You just keep getting sweeter, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “’s embarrassing…”

“You should be glad I asked, or you’d be…like crying and bleeding and stuff, right? God, it’s been a while since I had a virgin.” He scratches his forehead and then his hand comes down to absently stroke the soft inside of your thigh.

It tickles. It tickles and you feel goosebumps rising to attention on your leg and a silly little laugh bubbles out of your throat. An involuntary shiver passes through you.

Keigo smirks and ducks down to kiss the skin of your inner thigh. It’s light—it’s nothing—but the rough stubble on his chin scratches over your skin and you giggle again. He nudges up higher on your body, so close you can feel the heat of his breath through your panties, and his hands grip around your waist to keep you in place.

Everything’s moving so quickly. You wonder in the back of your mind, the tiny part that still has a decent grasp on sobriety, if you’re ready for all of this. Then you wonder if anyone’s ever ready. How are you supposed to know? When it’s the right time, are you not supposed to be nervous? You are nervous, but the liquor is taking the edge off, making you more comfortable, maybe even keeping your mouth shut when the sober version of you would’ve stopped this a long time ago. You don’t know.

But what you do know—what you do know is that Keigo is easing your panties down off your legs and then nosing back in to kiss up your thighs and latch his mouth over your pussy.

“Mm—oh, fuck—“ What are you saying? You’re not a moaner, you don’t even say ‘fuck’. You’ve always been able to keep quiet when you’re by yourself. It’s like Keigo’s tongue flicking over your clit is pulling the voice out of you.

He wriggles the tip of his tongue over that sweet spot and the breath falls out of your lungs in what is undeniably a whimper. You feel so tense with the effort of keeping still, blood rushing to your pussy, and your thigh spasms where it’s nestled next to Keigo’s cheek. “You ever done this before?” he hums between licks.

“N-No…ah!”

“Ever cum?” His tongue returns, licking you up and down in lazy strokes, spreading your juices all over your dripping cunt.

“…hahhh, yesss…” Yes, you’ve had an orgasm before, in your own bed on your own fingers. When you do it to yourself it’s detached and methodical, a means to an end. You keep your mouth closed and you barely move and you get it over with. It’s not like this, wet and sloppy and out of your control, teasing, giving you almost exactly what you want but not quite.

You’re moaning. You’re moaning. You can still hear the throbbing music of the party downstairs, and you’re moaning your little heart out, whimpering, crying with little ah-ah-ah’s that anyone who can hear would recognize immediately.

When you do it yourself, it’s not like this. It’s never like this. Keigo moves from slow to quick unpredictably, always pulling you down right when you feel that pressure building in your core. It feels good enough that you’re annoyed—no, not annoyed, downright pissed when he sits back up on his heels and licks the wetness off his own lips.

“What’re you—I was, I was gonna—“ you start, trying to organize your thoughts. It had felt good. You’d wanted it, wanted more, and now your pussy feels all warm and wet and needy, pulsating with the lust he stirred up in you.

“Gonna cum?” Keigo leans down and kisses you, long and slow. “Sorry…but I’m selfish. When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

His arms flex in the yellow lamplight as he pulls the collar of his shirt over his head. You’re sprawled over the sheets on your back, not sure what you can say so you just watch. It helps that there’s plenty to look at—the hard planes of his abdomen forming the tell-tale dips of a six-pack, perfectly-formed lean muscle (all those sports trophies, you think to yourself), and the V of his hipbones disappearing under the hem of his pants…which he’s currently taking off as well. There’s something to be said for the benefits of spending more time at the gym than you do at the library.

Every part of Keigo Takami is impressive—he’s a work of art in human form. And when he pulls down his boxer briefs and his cock springs out to bob against his stomach, you’ve gotta admit that that is pretty impressive too.

Impressive…and intimidating. You bite your lip looking at it. Keigo pumps himself up and down, and every time his fist moves down to expose the thick pink head, you wonder the same thing: how is that supposed to fit!?

Keigo must see the sudden anxiety on your face, because he smiles (reassuringly? arrogantly? or is he just delighting in your discomfort?) and lifts you like a kitten with his hands under your armpits. “Up, up, on your knees, legs together—perfect. Now turn and put your hands on the wall.”

It’s so much easier to follow his instructions than try to consider what would happen if you said no. His callused hands petting over your waist make you feel like you’re doing the right thing. But—still—the nagging anxiety of having something so big in your pussy doesn’t go away.

You hear a drawer opening, and you turn away from the wall to see Keigo squeezing a clear liquid from a bottle in his hand and spreading it meticulously down the shaft of his cock. Lube? That’s good, you’ve heard from your more experienced female friends that it’s good to be extra wet the first time…but there’s something else, something you’re missing, isn’t there?

You try to think, try to ground yourself and understand, really understand what’s happening to you. What are you missing? The bed is squishy and soft under your knees, the air is windy somehow (is there a fan on? you hadn’t noticed), and the music downstairs is so loud you can feel the vibrations through the wall you’re pushed up against. And. And. You try to think. What are you forgetting that you’re not allowed to forget?

You can feel his cock, too. Keigo’s hands grip the flesh of your hips and he leans his chest into your back, brushing your hair over your shoulders so the two of you can touch skin to skin. The head of his cock bumps against your mound, raw and hard and heavy. Skin to skin.

Skin to skin.

It hits you in a wave of panic and you whip your head around and push desperately back at Keigo’s solid shoulder. “Wait! Wait, Keigo—the condom? Are you wearing a condom?”

His hand wraps around your wrist and pins it back against the wall, and he bows down to nip a a little spot on the crook of your neck. “Calm down, we don’t need one.”

“No, we—we need it, I need it!” you squeak out, trying to push away from Keigo but he’s got you sandwiched between him and the wall and those perfect muscles you were admiring earlier are definitely not just for show.

“I said calm down. I’m not gonna go inside.”

“…What?”

He rocks his hips forward and his dick bumps up under your pussy again. “Ever heard of thighfucking?”

No, you’ve never heard of thighfucking, but you’re an intelligent girl and you might be drunk but you’re not so drunk that you can’t piece together what he means. Your interpretation is reinforced when you feel Keigo slathering liquid—lubricant—over the lips of your pussy and between the tops of your thighs. It feels cold and weird—slippery slick, like lotion—but even the barest second of his fingers brushing over your clit reignites the need from when he ate you out and you shudder.

“Keep those knees together for me, baby,” Keigo says, and with no further delay he pushes his cock in between your thighs, aiming it perfectly to slide between your pussy lips so the head will bump up on your clit.

“…ahh, Keigo, wait—oh!” The full weight of Keigo’s body shoves against your back every time he thrusts. You’re too weak for this, too delicate to stay in position. Your elbows buckle under the pressure and your face is about to smack directly into the wall until Keigo laces his fingers in your loose hair and yanks you back from it.

He’s got no trouble holding you down, keeping you perfectly posed with your soft thighs molded tightly around the cock driving between them. Your head is craned back from his hold on your hair and he lays hungry kisses over your mouth, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. He’s right—he is selfish, and you know that this position is about him, not you, so it takes you by surprise that the longer he fucks his cock between your thighs and your dripping slit, the more heat you feel rising up in your cunt.

It’s not right. It’s not supposed to be like this. Your first time doing anything with a boy isn’t supposed to end up with him using you like he’s humping a pillow, thrusting his slippery cock into your thighs and groaning in your ear. It’s all wrong, and it’s definitely wrong that you’re getting off to it.

But now you know why he ate you out and left you high and dry (well, not dry) without making you cum—because the heat and the friction and the feeling of every ridged vein sliding over your clit, his hips smacking with a wet slap against yours, the smooth head grinding over your pussy—all of it is making your thoughts swirl like your brains are sloshing around in your head, and not just because of the alcohol.

“Fuck,” Keigo purrs, ducking forward to bite the shell of your ear and then running a soothing tongue over it. “Fuck, baby, you like that? Is that virgin pussy getting all wet on my dick? You’re twitching, I can feel you…”

“…Mmph, ah, I, I—please—” You can’t really talk, not when he’s knocking the breath out of you with every thrust. But you need more. It’s not fair, having to make do with the uncontrolled jerks of his cock over your upper thighs and the outside of your pussy. He’s fucking you like he couldn’t care less about whether you get to cum—which, if you had the ability to think about it, he probably doesn’t. Certainly not as much as he cares about your soft, lubed-up skin squeezing so deliciously on his cock.

You grind your hips down a little, sticking your ass back toward him to get a better angle and—ugh, ugh it works, the pressure on your clit increases, and you keen desperately, begging him to fuck your thighs faster harder deeper. He yanks on your hair, snapping your head back so your whimper chokes up into a squeal, and—god, are you imagining it?—but you swear you feel the stiff length of his cock throb in between your legs with the head nudging on your belly.

“Uhnn…baby, baby, baby,” Keigo chants in your ear. His voice is heavier and jagged with the puffs of breath that are coming out in time with the roll of his hips into yours. It sounds…needy, almost. “G-Good girl, keep those legs tight, just—just like that…my good little sweetheart, angel, virgin. Gonna make me cum? Yeah? Make me cum with these pretty fucking thighs?”

“—Keigo, I’m—mm!” You can’t say it, even the thought of announcing you’re cumming like some kind of pornstar makes you cringe, but even if you don’t say it, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the electric shock that passes through you, sending tremors through your body.

You’re crying out, loud, louder than the music downstairs maybe (or at least it feels like it). There’s nothing you can grip for purchase so one hand just scrabbles against the bare expanse of the wall while you curl the other into a fist and dig your fingernails into your palms.

Fuck, is it the alcohol? Is it the liquor that’s making it feel like this, so overwhelming and heady you don’t even know where you are? You vaguely try to remember how you got here (something about blond hair, an easy laugh, and sugar-sweet liquid coating your tongue), but it’s not important, who fucking cares when the cock pistoning between your thighs is still rubbing up on your clit, still stimulating you, still sending sparks of heat up through your spine and making it impossible for you to breathe without moaning, much less think.

“Keigo…Keigo I came, please ahh—it, it hurts,” you whimper, trying to shift your hips up off his cock to relieve the pressure on your sensitive clit—but he won’t let you.

Keigo’s grip on your ass digs in deeper, harder so he’s probably leaving bruises, and the hand in your hair pulls your head back toward his. His voice is a growl, so low and scratchy that it sends a chill up through your body. “Don’t move. Don’t you—don’t you fucking move. Stay right fucking there.”

It scares you.

It scares you, but his dick is rocking over your pussy, making you crazy, making you lose your grip on whatever other physical sensations you can still feel. You’re limp except for your thighs pressed into one another as tightly as you can manage, letting Keigo hold you up. It doesn’t hurt, not really—but it’s horrible, it’s too much, it’s like you’re trapped on the edge, cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming while you squeal like you’re being tortured, and you are, you are, you are, you are—

—it's torture.

But not pain. It doesn’t hurt. It’s mind-bending, oppressive, awful, you want it to stop but—oh god oh god—you’re helpless and you don’t get to make it stop, you don’t get to make that decision, it’s up to him. He decides, Keigo decides, and Keigo decides to keep fucking into your thighs, keep spreading your pussy lips apart and teasing your clit, so you just roll your head back and stop trying to convince yourself it doesn’t feel incredible.

You barely notice him speeding up—you probably wouldn’t notice at all if you couldn’t hear the beat of your moans, paced in time with his body slamming yours against the wall, increasing in frequency. He releases your hair (you swear you can feel blood rush back into your head when you’re finally able to lean forward) and his hands go back to your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back on him so his last few rabid thrusts finish with the head of his cock rubbing firmly against your stomach.

“Ugh, goddamnit fuck, baby, yesss, stay still, stay right there,” Keigo groans, and you’re so blissed out from the overstimulation that you barely even feel the twitching of his cock between your legs and the spurt of thick, hot liquid on your stomach.

Oh.

Oh god.

When Keigo finally picks his hands off their bruising grip on your ass, you drop directly onto the bed, barely remembering at the last second to roll over onto your back so his semen (his semen, which is spread over your lower belly like a Jackson Pollock painting) doesn’t stain his sheets.

You stare at the ceiling and what do you know, there is a ceiling fan, blades spinning in lazy circles that make you sick when you try to follow them. So you close your eyes.

What are you feeling? What are you supposed to be feeling?

Anger, probably. Fear? Well, you won’t deny that there are hints of both of those emotions swimming underneath the hazy surface of your drunken psyche, but they’re overshadowed by what you’re really feeling, which is relief, relief that the stimulation is over, relief that it felt good, relief. And—since you’re too out of it to stop yourself from admitting it—satisfaction.

There’s a rustling, paper slipping against paper, and then you can feel Keigo wiping his cum off your bare stomach with a tissue and then dabbing at the smears of wetness between your legs. When he’s satisfied that you’re clean, the bed creaks as he lays down next to you. He’s panting.

Reluctantly you open your eyes and roll onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow so you can look down at him: golden hair spread out in a halo around his head, pale lashes and brows, a healthy glow of sweat over his forehead. You hadn’t seen it before, but there’s a tattoo curling over his biceps from where it must originate on his back—red feathers, wings, inked permanently into his skin.

Angel, Keigo called you earlier. But really, between the two of you…he’s the angel. In appearance, if nothing else.

His eyes drift open and the corner of his mouth tilts up, pleased to see you inspecting him. “How was that? Did you have fun being naughty?”

You and him both know exactly how much fun you had, and if you said it you’d just be stroking his ego. “You’re not a good guy, are you,” you say instead.

“Never said I was.”

“Then why didn’t you…have sex with me? For real?” you ask after a beat. The question’s been weighing on you.

“Don’t tell me you’re complaining.” A hand comes up to comb through your mussed hair unhurriedly.

“I’m not…” You still want to know, though.

“Mmm…baby. You didn’t want this to be your first time. Believe me, you’re not supposed to lose your virginity to a guy like me. No—don’t pout, come on. Your first time is supposed to be, like, soft and special and romantic, right?”

The girl you were one month ago, before you moved away from your hometown to come to college, she would have agreed. But you’re not that girl. You’ve been to your first college frat party, you’ve had your first drink and your first shot, you’ve kissed a stranger and you’ve done…sexual things with a man for the first time. And you’re okay with it. So you roll your eyes. “I’m not some fourteen-year-old drawing hearts in my notebook. I don’t need soft,” you tell him, hoping you sound bold and sarcastic.

Keigo chuckles and pats you on the head. “Don’t knock soft fucking, it’s got a time and a place like everything. I just couldn’t do it. Not when I saw you sitting there looking so lonely—you were like, hmm…like a rabbit in a den of wolves. You looked delicious.”

Oh god, you’re blushing again. This isn’t good for the nonchalant cool girl persona you’re trying to cultivate for yourself.

He cups your chin and runs his thumb over your lower lip. “I don’t think I could’ve been soft with you if I tried.”

A sharp rap on the door has both of you tensing, and Keigo only has a second to yank a blanket up from the foot of the bed over your naked bodies before the door is slammed open so hard that it bangs against the adjacent wall. “Jesus, get the fuck out!” he barks to the intruder, and it’s weird to hear the authoritative note in his voice reminding you that within this house, he’s someone who commands respect.

You tuck your face into Keigo’s chest and hope wildly that the person who just walked in 1) didn’t see anything and 2) isn’t the friend who brought you to the party, because if word gets around that you’re the girl who ‘slept’ with an older frat boy at the first party of freshman year, you’ll never live it down. Regardless of your own sexual liberation or whatever, you’re well aware that this isn’t the kind of reputation you want to start your college career out with.

“Sorry Kei! But we need you downstairs, we’re out of alc and the music stopped and no one knows how to fix the speakers!” the brother says, shielding his eyes with his hand, but he doesn’t leave the room. At least it’s not your friend—you breathe a sigh of relief and Keigo automatically smooths a hand down the back of your head in response.

“I’m kind of busy,” he seethes, and—you’ve gotta admit, there’s something marginally funny about seeing him caught off guard like this. You bite down on a laugh and he looks at you curiously, one thick eyebrow quirked.

“I’m really sorry, man, but the President said you’ll be on puke clean-up duty tomorrow if you don’t get your ass down there. His words, not mine.”

“Tomura, of-fucking-course…shitty incel has it out for me…” Keigo curses under his breath. “Give me five minutes.”

As soon as the door is closed, you’ve got your feet on the floor, groping around the discarded articles of clothing for your dress. You smooth down your hair with your hands and hope you look like any other tipsy freshman instead of a girl who just got pseudo-fucked. Keigo winks at you and taps his cheeks under his eyes; you take the hint and wipe away the smudges of mascara and eyeliner that migrated out of place during your…activities.

Your phone is safely in the pocket of your dress and you’re all but ready to leave the room (hopefully there won’t be anyone in the hallway to see you) when Keigo, still pulling on his pants, tugs you back by your wrist.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply uncertainly.

“Aren’t you going to give me your number?”

What? Really? You’ve heard plenty about how frat guys like him operate, and nothing Keigo’s done (except the whole ‘no penetrative sex’ thing) has led you to believe he doesn’t fit the stereotype. And the stereotype doesn’t involve sleeping with the same girl twice, especially if that girl is an awkward freshman who is apparently too innocent for him to get his dick wet with. “What do you want my number for?” you ask.

“Do I have to spell it out to you?” Keigo’s fingers lace with yours and you stumble forward into him so he can kiss you.

It’s light, chaste even, but it’s not fair because he knows, of course he knows—a kiss like that is going to leave you wanting more. “Yes,” you tell him, just to be contrary.

Keigo laughs again, and you do your best to memorize the sound of it. “It’s so the next time you decide you want to be a bad girl…you know where to find me.”

[seijorhi]

Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness. 

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in. 

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t. 

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess? 

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good. 

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that. 

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time. 

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious. 

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes. 

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety? 

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore. 

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time. 

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives. 

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect. 

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable. 

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly. 

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion. 

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone. 

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in. 

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair. 

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least. 

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does. 

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries. 

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you. 

He needs this.

[the-ghost-king]

what are your headcanons for nico and will’s appearances? like height, facial features, hair, body type, etc. i sometimes struggle to describe them in writing and i would love to hear how you visualize them! you have great descriptions

I'm going to use a mixture of text, reference images, and previous posts I've made to put this together so buckle up anon, and towards the end I talk a bit about how I describe Will and why:

A post I made which talks about all the canonical times Will's looks were discussed, canonically we know Will resembles his mother, and that he has an "athletic build"

And I'd like to start off with some photos for facial reference purposes (quick thing, you might have to click on the photos to view them properly lol) :

I would say Will probably has a more square or oval shaped face, probably a combination type. Although Niels Schneider's facial features aren't how I would describe Will's facial features, the actual shape of his face/head is about what I would say Will's face looked like. (Photo above on the left)

Max Barczak is also commonly used in face claims for Will and I see why, again Barczak has a more squared off face although he holds less "weight" in his face than Schneider. (Photo above on the right)

I don't think that either of their facial features really fit Will's face entirely, and to be honest I can't be like "he has this exact nose" but I often explain him to people as "girl next door pretty- but a boy" and I regularly use Penny from "The Big Bang Theory" (Kaley Cuoco) as a reference to explain what "girl next door pretty" is.

I think his facial features would be more like Charles Vandervaart, or Justin Barnhill... They all have something similiar about their faces, also maybe it's a bit weird to say but Will having something very "Harry Styles" about his face kind of makes sense to me....

Will definitley has curly or at least wavey hair, I know being told "shaggy hair" doesn't mean curly, but I also don't want to think about Zac Efrons early 2000s shaggy hair on Will- so Will has curly hair because it's 2021 and love wins. I don't know exactly what cut he would have, but something a little bit athletic but also a bit overgrown I'm sure.

I like the style below for Will, but I don't know how the "modern mullet" would look with Wills face shape... It's a thought though

As for the use of the word "athletic" and "sporty" when describing Will's build, I don't think this means he's super buff- he's a himbo but he's built slightly more for track and field than football if you can understand. I don't think his body is like ripped, but he probably has some slightly defined muscle... I can't find anything without the guy not being weird about having his shirt off, or any with their shirts on so I don't think I care to put a photo of that in...

I did find a reference image for drawing that works, but after trying to reverse image search it multiple times, I can't figure out where it came from and I feel a little iffy about using it, so here's a link to it on pintrest. I think the guy in the center is probably closest to Will's body type but it's a drawing so of course it's slightly exaggerated in some places... I can't really find any decent reference photos for this, but yeah he's dorito shaped... Small hipped, big shouldered himbo, no thoughts boyfriend cute.

Whenever I'm describing Will I usually say he has "honey blonde hair" or refer to his hair (and sometimes skin) in comparison to "gold" this is because honey was considered divine by the greeks, they mixed it with wine for their gods (Apollo was known to be fond). Also, if you've ever used honey and pulled it out of the jar, when it looks a little thin dripping of your utensil it looks like amber. Gold is a reference to the fact that they also thought gold was divine. On top of that historically speaking may ancient cultures and religions believed gold belonged to the sun god of their religion, so it's a quick nod to Apollo as well. I mentioned amber above in reference to honey, and amber is a substance related to Apollo and Hielos and the sun ;)

I'd reference to Will with Golden/Copper/Bronze skin tones (yellows, oranges, reds) just because all of those things tie back into his godly parenthood.

Although I would reference his looks in relation to his mom more, we don't know much about her other than she also has slightly curly hair and Will shares some facial features with her. It doesn't make sense to compare Will to his mom in a story where she's not present, or other characters don't know her- the only exception I could see to this would be Nico thinking Will reminds him of Naomi, but this only works if Nico has met Naomi (and it works better if the reader of your fic has too). Obviously rules in writing are made to be broken, so do as you wish if it sounds good and feels right, but I just personally avoid Naomi comparisons for a reason.

On the topic of Will's eyes, "sky blue" obviously works because of the connection to Apollo, but "sapphire" might also be an okay word to use although blue eyes aren''t usually so dark. (fun fact: Sapphires used to be called hyacinths! Priests of Apollo had to wear them!)

I generally tend to think of Will as quite tall, but to be entirely honest I have like 3 different versions of Will in my head and I never specify which one I'm talking about. All of them are basically the same with small differences except for their universe, but height is a debated topic between me and Will's design.

Sometimes I'm like "yes he's like 6"5 and bonks his head on doorways" but other times I'm like "he's only like 5"9 which is fairly average" so idk. I do generally try to keep him at or above the American average for white males because it just feels right? There's some weird connection between the sun and height via symbolism but I can't put it in words...

Also when writing Will I take time to compare him to sunlight, plants, music, and "meter" (like in poetry). This could be a gesture he makes, or the movement of a muscle when he smiles, the way the scene around him works, or I've referenced his heartbeat to pentameter and his voice to the flow of poetry.

It's also important to note how you'll describe him in relation to others. For example I take time to compare Austin and Will to warmth, and light, and growth, while I'm more likely to say words like burning, heat, and intense, when talking about Kayla. In reference to Naomi I use words like steady, true, even, kind, measured, and use these for Will as well. I do take time to play off the light/dark aspect with Solangelo a little bit, but not entirely, there's more to them than that- Solangelo tends to be compare:contrasted in my writing.

This is good character writing and design even for oc's, compare them to the people aorund them and figure out what words they have in common and which ones they don't? It works for me and it helps keep your symbolism and references consistent.

Alright anon, one last thing, the best drawing of Will I have ever found was done by @/tanjatoons here, I have yet to find any art that get's how I picture Will to that close besides this one.

[kakakakashi]

Your writing has totally made me fall in love with Shisui 💕 like aside from Itachi, usually the uchihas just kinda rub me wrong (no pun intended lol they are just so... angry) can I maybe get some SFW and NSFW general kinda head snobs for Shisui? Maybe what he looks for in a partner if you wanna add that in? 😘

THANK YOU! I didn’t get the whole Uchiha thing AT ALL until I discovered Shisui. I am literally such a sucker for his personality. He’s noble with a goofy side, and he’s got a wicked sense of humor. Also, he’s the cutest Uchiha with his wavy hair, thick eyelashes, huge smile, and lil dimple. He’s a bit of a himbo, but it’s in a very endearing way. Plus, he’s actually brilliant when it comes down to business. I’m really soft for him rn, but I’m also really thirsty for him rn.

He’s the reason I instantly swooned for Kagami too. Man, I just really fucking love Shisui. My crush on him is just very giddy and blushy which is very unusual for me. Anyway, talk to me about Shisui… or Kakashi… or Yamato.

Btw, this is gonna be a bit long.

SFW

Okay why does everyone hc this boy as a flirt? Like, sure he’s good with people, but I don’t think he’s a flirt.

I feel like he doesn’t know how to flirt, and if he tried, it would be a cringey disaster.

He’s really sweet, though, and he’s really genuine about it all.

He will tease you a little, though, but it’s just friendly teasing.

He would never imply that you were anything but perfect, even if it was jokingly.

If he likes you, he’s gonna try to make you laugh or at least smile every chance he gets.

And if you blush when he teases you, oh god, the boy will be giddy.

Your smile makes him smile, and he feels fuzzy inside.

This is also because he’s a goof, and he needs someone who’s just as dorky as he is. Someone who will laugh when he makes funny faces behind Itachi while you’re talking to him.

If they’re also funny, this man’s already gonna be down on one knee.

A quick wit is his kryptonite.

He likes someone who can hold their own too. He doesn’t want to have to deal with protecting you 24/7.

He does like when you let him protect you, though. Don’t push him away or get upset when he wants to care for you.

If you two are both Shinobi, and he takes a blow to protect you… If you bandage him up while scolding him, he’ll be in love.

And he’s also in love if you take a blow for him. And he’s scolding you while bandaging you up.

He likes someone with their own interests that they can teach him about.

I think he likes someone who lights up when they talk about something they love too.

I feel like he’s very attracted to someone with hair that’s tempting to play with. Like, if it’s curly or crazy or long or short, he doesn’t care, but he wants to twirl it.

He’ll also ruffle your hair all the time.

Although, if he messes it up, he’ll help fix it.

He also likes a person who can understand when it’s appropriate to joke and when it’s appropriate to be serious.

He needs someone who won’t shy away from important matters like village politics.

I also think that he needs someone who actually knows what they’re talking about when it comes to said matters. He’ll get bored of someone who doesn’t understand the practices in place, the system, why things aren’t as easy as people make them out to be, etc.

Tbh, he really does need someone as smart as he is.

That also means philosophical and scientific conversations about the universe, human nature, morality, etc.

Anyway, he also likes someone with warm eyes. Like, not necessarily a warm color, but eyes that show kindness and love despite life being so unkind and unloving. They don’t always have to be warm, but look at him like that, and he’ll swoon.

He prefers someone who’s shorter, but that’s more of “he prefers to have more ammo to tease you with by resting his elbow on your head.”

He also just likes someone who he feels like he can protect by wrapping himself around you.

If you’re not small, though, he’ll have to come up with new material, and he’ll probably ask Itachi for help.

*NSFW under the cut*

I really can’t decide if he’s a tits or ass guy.

Mostly, he likes a nice set of thighs to squish his head.

Does prefer an s/o that is toned. Like, he doesn’t care about weight or shape, but he likes if you’ve got a little muscle to keep up with him.

He also enjoys gripping onto you.

And he sounds so pretty, like… his voice gets so raspy, and it’s really just…

Also pull and play with his hair.

Read: I want to pull and play with his hair.

If you scratch his scalp just right while he’s inside you, his eyes will roll back.

He likes to nip at your skin a lot, and if you gasp when he does, he’ll smirk like the devil.

He likes someone who’s flexible in the bedroom, not necessarily physically, but he likes to switch it up.

Sometimes, he wants to tickle you and laugh and have you smiling while he makes love to you, but other times, he’s serious and quiet.

He has days where he wants to take it slow and just drag it out for hours, but he’s also a fan of desperate quickies.

He’ll tease you and make you beg for it, but he also wants to worship you and shower you in sweet nothings.

He really just wants someone who’s up for anything, and who trusts him as much as he trusts them.

He also definitely wants someone who will sit on his face.

Preferably on a regular basis.

I volunteer! I volunteer! I VOLUNTEER!!!

He loves to make you beg, and he is a total tease.

Moan his name. If you don’t, he’ll make you.

IF YOU STILL DON’T, I WILL!

He also thinks it’s cute if you get shy.

He’s got a filthy mouth, and has probably whispered something less than appropriate while out in public before when he’s sure nobody will see.

I kind of want to fuck him on the Uchiha training grounds, but idk if he’d be into that tbh.

Although, I feel like he’d kind of dig it if he knew you wouldn’t get caught.

Anyway, I’m just gonna end this here because I’m getting distracted.

Fuck, I love Shisui.

[abbystanaccount]

Abby/Owen St. Mary's set fic "II"

A sexy time fic, anything I wrote in here just pretend I didn't 😳😅. This was done so I figure I should post it for the shipping squad, everyone else keep scrolling pls... I have unfinished fics set before and after but I figure I can just put this one here for now until those are finished, then maybe put the whole thing on ao3... or nah idk.

It was such fun having a secret lover. Ever since Abby had arrived at St Mary’s two months ago, she’d had her eye on Owen, and he the same back. He made her warm and giggly and everything just fell into place a few weeks ago when he kissed her. Just the other day, Owen told her he’d never felt this way about anyone before or even had a real girlfriend.

She never had sex before, and Owen only had a couple of times years prior. But four days ago they did it for the first time in one of the empty rooms, and it’d been amazing. Abby couldn’t help but think about him and the way he felt in her since. Now beyond just him always making her smile, her mouth watered when she saw him. Owen was all she could think about. But she still had her duties to attend to as a Firefly and no one else could know, especially not her dad.

Abby’s shift finally ended and she knew Owen’s did at the same time. As planned, he was going to wait for her by the south exit and meet up with her.

“Psst” she heard him call. Abby spotted him and grinned, half jogging up to him.

“Hey!” she greeted before being pulled in close for a kiss. Owen gripped her body tight, one hand moved to the front of her shirt and held her breast. Abby blushed at his forwardness, he normally kept it cool.

Owen leaned his head down, exhaling hard, “I kept thinking about you all day.”

“Me too,” Abby admitted. Just being near him and holding him was starting to make her wet.

Owen gave her a light squeeze on her side, and then dropped his hand down to hold hers for a second.

“Let’s find a room.”

They went down the halls, peeking in the rooms for a good one. Finding a largely intact and cleanish looking one, Abby pulled Owen by the hand inside. The tall teen shut the door with his other hand and turned to kiss Abby fiercely, holding her close and kissing her as if he’d been starved for it. Abby did her best to keep up, opening her mouth to let in his tongue and pawing at his shirt.

AN: ok I figure by now the people not interested in this aren't reading so if you want to have a premium reading experience, I based this fic off a risque set of renders made a few months ago. Warning graphic 18+ PLS don't click unless you want a good time lmao link

Owen leaned his head to the side to stop and guided her to a chair in the room. He sat down with a plop and wiped the dust off it. Abby glanced around, she supposed it was better than the old hospital bed.

“Sit on my lap, babe,” Owen offered, and with a shy smile Abby obeyed and went over to sit on him. She hoped it wasn’t uncomfortable for him, that she wasn’t too boney or heavy, but Owen seemed happy and leaned in to kiss her again. It was turning her on so much how he was leading the way.

Their makeout seemed to spice up a bit as Owen moved his hand to the crotch of her pants, rubbing her over the fabric. Abby hummed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. After a moment his other hand wandered to her shirt and Owen pulled it up revealing her tummy and lacy red bra. Owen paused to look and admire her.

“You were wearing something so sexy this whole time? You’re such a bad girl, Abigail.”

Abby felt a tinge of self consciousness, “How am I bad if I’m doing it just for you?” She played with the collar of his shirt. “Shouldn’t that make me good?”

Owen gazed intently at her, “Yeah, you’re right. You’re a good girl. But good or bad,” he began rubbing her crotch again over the pants in circles. ”I’ll take either one.”

Abby bit her lip and kissed Owen again, desperate for more feeling. She then brought back her hands and undid her belt, then struggled to pull her pants over her thighs and ass which were thickening with muscles from the tireless training she’d been doing.

Abby then pulled up and over her shirt leaving her in just her red, silky underwear. She remembered finding this set at an abandoned store on the way to Salt Lake. She’d discreetly tucked them in her bag, hoping no one noticed. Abby always did kinda of like pretty or girly clothes, it’s just she was never in the environment to wear them. She always had to be ready to be down and dirty, though sometimes she’d dream what it’d be like in the old world, hanging out in something flowy and soft at the park with her friends.

Abby’s daydreams were interrupted by Owen’s strong fingers now rubbing her crotch over her thin panties, she could feel the warmth of his hand over the thin layer of fabric. When Owen had done that during their first time, he’d driven her crazy with anticipation. It seemed they were both at a point though that the teasing needed to go further.

“Take them off,” she told him.

His amber eyes looked black as they met hers and Abby squeaked as Owen pulled off her panties with one hand and pushed in two fingers with the other.

“You’re so wet.” He murmured and Abby inhaled sharply.

“Because I want you so bad.” Abby responded and bit her lip. Owen moved his hand in and out, and her slick pussy squelched. Abby groaned and gripped his shoulder ducking her head. His fingers were thick and he curled them in her as she moaned.

“Fuck….” Abby whimpered, she made eye contact with Owen and it was almost intimidating, he seemed so dominant.

Then he pulled out his fingers and Abby opened her mouth in protest. Owen responded by sticking the digit he’d had in her into her mouth. Abby began to suck them as she figured that’s what he wanted. She tasted sweet on his skin.

“Damn, you are such a good girl,” Owen hummed, his pupils were wide. He pulled out his hand and began to shimmy down his pants. His cock, Abby thought, pressing her thighs together. She wanted it.

Owen pulled out his thick member and rubbed it vertically against her pussy. Abby adjusted herself on his lap. “Where’d you learn all this, Goober?” She asked, putting a hand on his face.

Owen tilted his head. “Porno DVD’s. That and Manny telling me shit in great detail. It’s way better in real life though.”

“Are you gonna fuck me hard?” Abby teased. He’d been gentle the first time but she could handle it. She was almost trembling next to his cock.

“You want that, don’t you?” He purred, putting a hand on around her jaw.

His cock was hot and grew rock hard as she could feel it pulse next to her. She was getting so wet.

“Yes… please put it in me,” she whispered to him. “I want it.”

“Hmm,” hummed Owen, giving her a confident smirk. He hooked a thumb through the back of Abby’s bra and gave it a tug, undoing the clasp. Abby gasped as it came loose and Owen leaned forward to give her chest and nipple kisses.

Abby moaned and held the back of his head as he kissed her. He was teasing her so much it was torture, Abby grasped at his cock, craving at least some friction. Owen growled and Abby pressed herself up against him. “Put it in me,” she practically begged.

Owen shifted them both and leaned back to align himself up with Abby’s entrance. Abby lifted herself up and could feel the head pushing to get into her. Her nails dug into Owen’s shoulder and she gasped as the slickness of her pussy allowed his dick to slide in. Abby scrunched her face and toes as he slid in deeper and deeper until Abby was sat all the way down in her lover’s lap, him pressed against her. Abby let out a dangerously loud noise and threw back her head. Owen brought his hand around her thin waist to her clit, and Abby began to shift her hips around in circles with him in her.

“Happy now, baby?” Owen asked her in a low voice, and Abby moaned a “Yes!” and nodded.

It felt so good, Abby wanted to cum already. She was really enjoying this sex thing, it beat just sticking her fingers in herself and wishing they were someone else’s.

Abby got the urge to move around a bit more and adjust her weight to her limbs, moving her hips a bit more. Owen moved his grip to help her, the smack of their skin reverberating throughout the room.

Abby gripped the arm of the chair and used her legs to push herself up and down. Owen’s cock went in her deep as she bounced up and down in her lover’s lap.

“Fuck, fuck…” Abby moaned.

Owen held her hips as she moved, but her moved one up to grab her breast as he thrust.

“Your tits are bouncing as much as your braid,” he kneaded it, “I love your beautiful little tits.”

“Mmmm,” Abby hummed, appreciating the dirty talk. He just turned so possessive when he had sex, and she was loving it. Abby was also happy he found her attractive and it made her feel wanted. She found him very attractive as well, so handsome and tall. The sound of the bodies hitting together filled the room, Abby wasn’t well versed in having penises in her, but his felt really good.

Abby leaned back into the seat and looked at Owen. He lifted up her leg and brought it in, moving his hips. This angle felt even better and Abby moaned needingly as she stared at him.

“You like how my cock feels?” Owen asked, his eyes full of lust.

“Yes!” Abby mewled with a gasp, she figured he’d like dirty talk back. “It’s so big. It feels so fucking good, Owen.”

Owen leaned in and kissed her ferociously. He then gripped her tight and started thrust up rapidly and Abby squeaked against his mouth as she struggled to keep steady. She was getting close and moaning as it built.

Owen could tell and brought a hand to her clit, going in circles, the pressure was just what she needed.

“Fuck! Owen I’m gonna cum!” Abby buried her face into his neck, his pace was merciless as his balls slapped up against her and his length moved in and out. “Owen! Oh my god, fuck! Owennnn!” She dug her nails into his shoulder.

He shouldn’t cum in me. Dad would be so mad if I got pregnant! But for some reason Abby didn’t care, and felt her orgasm take her over the edge as Owen thrust up in her rapidly. Abby squeezed her eyes shut and held onto him for stability and moaned as she felt the pleasure hit her in waves, the pressure from his hand and his cock stretching her magnifying the feeling.

“Owen… cum in me,” Abby groaned, her pussy was extremely sensitive from the orgasm, but it was what she wanted to feel. He’d pulled out the first time, shot his warm loads all over her tummy. But now Abby wanted him in her so bad.

“I want to cum in you too, goober,” Owen responded, but he seemed a little hesitant.

“Do it, please!” Abby begged, burying her head into his neck and squeezing her nails again into his shoulder.

Her boyfriend grunted and clenched Abby’s hip hard as he moved her body to his liking. His cock twitched in her and was deep in her as it came its multiple loads.

Owen cursed and groaned loudly and Abby felt him grip her tightly onto him as his hot cum began to fill her and then bubble out.

“Oh my god,” Abby gasped, unable to keep her thoughts straight. She could hardly believe she was in this position with someone. Three months ago she’d have never have guessed. But three months ago she wasn’t in love.

They stayed there for a minute, breathing hard. Eventually, Abby knew she had to get up and gingerly pushed herself off of Owen gasping as she felt him leave her body. Everything was so sensitive. Owen had gone semi-limp and watched her as she stood up naked, cum beginning to run down her leg.

Abby swore and took an old cloth to wipe it off. In her peripheral she saw Owen sit up.

“The way your ass jiggles, Abs… maybe there is a god.”

Abby snorted and gave him a look of disbelief. She tossed him the cloth as he looked like he needed it.

They put back on their underwear, but when Abby reached for her shirt, Owen grasped her forearm and guided her back to the chair. She let him pull her into his lap again, despite knowing they had to go soon or people would notice.

She put her legs up and Owen wrapped his arm around her bare legs and torso almost as if she were a baby.

“Hey, goober,” Abby murmured to him with a smile.

Owen’s face was relaxed but confident, “I love you,” he told her. “Sorry if that’s too early to say. I wanted to say it weeks ago, though.”

Abby felt her stomach flutter, she almost felt like she was in one of those teen romances she used to read. In this hard world she lived in, maybe this was the closest thing she’d ever get to that. She was good with that.

“I love you, too.”

[f-nodragonart]

Vertebrate Wings, PART 2: Membranes and Feathers

Return to main post + TOC >>HERE<<

Membranes and Feathers TOC

  Membranes

  Feather Arrangement

  Feather Layering

  Feather Shape

  Combinations

Membranes

A common question I see in relation to bat-like (and sometimes pterosaur-like) wings: Can a creature fly if the wing membrane only attaches to the armpit of the wing? Can massive wings make up for the lack of membrane?

Short answer: No.

Long answer in the form of a numbered list of problems with these sorts of wings:

 1)      Wing membranes (and feathers) need to SUPPORT and STABILIZE the whole animal’s body in the air. Without membrane attached along the length of the body, the torso is left to dangle limply and awkwardly below the wing shoulders. This couldn’t work because:

    a.      As I explain in more detail in the Full-body Integration section, flight is a ~primarily~ horizontal affair (the obvious exception being hoverers, but I cover this in the Flight section). A limply-hanging body would increase drag and air resistance to an absurd degree compared to the typical streamlined body position of a flying bird or bat. While flight is primarily driven by the wings, it really is a full-body affair.

    b.      The weight of the ENTIRE creature would be localized to the wing shoulder, which would make for excruciatingly painful flight at the VERY least. The membrane helps distribute the weight of the body over a wider surface area so that no one centralized point is pulling too much weight. (again, hovering flight is an exception to this, but this is largely due to the tiny body weight of a typical hoverer)

 2)      ~Generally~ evolution is lazy. The theoretical length of the wings necessary to make up for the lack of membrane would use up a ridiculous amount of energy—energy that evolution isn’t likely to waste. Especially considering that the length of these theoretical wings would have to be accomplished through lengthened fingers, which are more complicated and use up more developmental energy than simple membrane extension.

 3)      These lengthened wings would theoretically be freakin’ MASSIVE to make up for the lack of membrane. I can only imagine they’d be too heavy and/or too long to realistically function. They’d more likely drag uselessly along the ground as the animal attempted to use too-long muscles and tendons to lift them up.

 4)      “The creature wouldn’t be able to flap their wings when flying. Wings act like a lever; the less wing membrane you have close to the body, the further out lift and air resistance act on them and the more force you need for each wingbeat. If you attach wing membrane at the armpit, then so much force would be needed that the dragon would have difficulty moving them on ground, never mind during flight. Adding more arm strength to overcome it is not an option because there’s only so much muscle you can add without running into many more problems,” thank you Rahjital~

This all applies to feathered wings as well—bodies need support during flight, and these sorts of feathered wings aren’t gonna provide any.

The back edge isn’t the only important part of the membrane—the front edge is highly important as well! This section of the membrane is known as the propatagium.

It provides a smooth, sloping curvature to the front edge of the wing (something the bare arms could not provide on their own), and helps stabilize the position of the wing through the tendon connecting the shoulder and wrist (or thumb/pteroid, depending on the wing).

This structure is present in ALL vertebrate wings—bats, pterosaurs, and yes, even birds.

It’s simply not very apparent in birds because this membrane is covered by feathers. Remember kids, bird arms aren’t rounded noodles—it’s the propatagium that gives bird wings their smooth outline!

Bats wings have hair-thin muscles across their membranes to help tense and otherwise manipulate the wing shape as needed. I actually had a hard time finding good diagrams of these muscles, sans this one EXCELLENT reference for the muscles and major veins (+skeleton) via edited versions SammyTorres drew of photo of a museum reference.

(had to cut it off to preserve image quality, but u can see the original reference photo at the link)

As for pterosaur wings, there’s still debate over how exactly the membranes were structured, but there is at least agreement on the existence of multiple layers of actinofibrils embedded in the membrane. As quoted from exdraghunt, “Pterosaur wings were stiffened with unique fibers called “actinofibrals”. These fibers can be thought of as being like the wooden battens of a paper fan, or the quills of bird’s feathers. They allowed the wing to spread out to full span, or to fold up tightly against the body, while keeping the membrane stiff enough for flight. These fibers became shorter and less regular closer to the body, so that the membrane closer to the body of the animal had more flexibility compared to the parts out at the wingtip. The fibers start out perpendicular to the arm, and shift to parallel with the wing finger out at the wingtip.”

(via)

This made pterosaur membranes much stiffer than bat membranes, but still more flexible than bird feathers in terms of delicate maneuvering and camber-control.

Also, here’s a cool diagram dissecting the layers of pterosaur membrane~

Feather Arrangement

The first thing we need to get straight here is that the main flight feathers of a wing—the remiges (singular: remex)—sprout EXCLUSIVELY from the “hand” and lower arm sections of the skeleton.

The shoulder may be the source of thrust in the wing, but the “hand” and lower arm are the actual “paddle” used to beat against the air. As we can see in the below diagram, the tertiaries (which are embedded in the FLESH of the upper arm, NOT the bone) simply fill in the space left between the remiges and the main body.

In my own research (of Googling reference photos), I’ve found that the secondary remiges tend to gradually decrease in length closer to the elbow, tapering down until the tertials are able to fill in the gaps. This may not necessarily be true for all wings, but this is the trend I’ve picked up on.

idk what the deal is, but there are almost zero references for the underside of a bird wing, so I took the liberty of making my own reference, traced/edited from these photos of crow wings. (“edited” in that I emphasized a few feather bits that aren’t quite as “pronounced” on actual crow wings, but were drawn in for the sake of illustrating their general position. the axillaries, for example, were referenced from plovers.)

The coverts (when it comes to flight) exist to smooth out the transition from arm to remex, covering the entire arm/hand section and then some.

It’s important to note that the lesser/median primary coverts DO EXIST on the dorsal side of the wing, they’re just reduced compared to the much longer greater primary coverts, so the lesser/median coverts are usually covered by the alula (this is another detail I emphasized/edited in the above ref—the lesser/median primary dorsal-side coverts aren’t actually visible with the current position of the alula on a crow wing). I don’t have references for why the feathers in this section are sized/arranged in this manner, but I think it may be due to the presence of the alula. Either way, you can usually get away with not including the lesser/median primary coverts in most wings/positions, but it is important to know they exist for those special occasions they do make an appearance.

(via^)

The alula is the section of feathers that sprouts from the “thumb” of the underlying skeleton (this can be seen in the remex skeletal of the wing I posted higher up), and helps to increase lift by smoothing out air flow over the primaries. The feathers of the alula are situated on the topside on the wing, over the primary coverts and under the secondary coverts.

As a side note, the wing reference I drew is just a BASIC guide to feather arrangement. Depending on the shape and flight style of the wing, the feather “sections” can vary quite a lot, as can be seen below.

The reference I drew is just a guide to help you identify these sections of feathers in other wings more easily, even if they look quite a bit different than the wing I drew.

Feather Layering

Now for the information I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for—the detail that artists the world over struggle desperately with: feather layering.

I could just tell you all that the LEADING edge of the remiges is seen on the TOPSIDE/DORSAL view, while the TRAILING edge of the remiges is seen on the UNDERSIDE/VENTRAL view, and that will be correct.

(via^)

HOWEVER, I find that I much more easily retain design information if I know WHY a particular structure is designed that way in the first place. So, here I leave you a very informative analysis of remex arrangement and how it effects flight.

While I do highly suggest watching the whole video—especially for the helpful animations—I understand that it's a long sit with dry delivery, so the main takeaway is this:

Remiges are arranged as they are in order to minimize drag on the upstroke by allowing air to filter through the feathers and under the body, thereby pushing the body up in the process.

If the remiges were theoretically arranged opposite from this, they would filter air AWAY from the body on the upstroke, thereby sucking the body down and rendering the thrust on the downstroke null.

Now, it’s important to keep in mind that this reasoning applies more strictly to the remiges compared to the other feathers. While it’s incredibly important for the remiges to be in proper arrangement, the coverts are a little more lenient, considering they just smooth out the wing. The median/greater coverts do follow the arrangement of the remiges per which side of the wing they sprout from (and lesser coverts are layered in a more-or-less “shingles” pattern), but real-life coverts tend to be a lot messier than “ideal” coverts.

Covert arrangement (particularly that of lesser/medians) can be “goofed” a little without too much problem; It’s remex arrangement that can make or break flight.

Also note how this feather layering effects the layering of wing “sections” when the wing folds up (which will be discussed in more detail in the Positions section).

Feather Shape

Feather shape is also a critical factor in wing design (and even full-body design), BUT to tackle shape, we must first understand some basic feather anatomy.

There are quite a few bits here that I’m not rly gonna get into (mostly because I myself understand feathers more in the greater scheme of a wing/body than individually), but it is important to note a few specific features, here.

The shaft is the base upon which the barbs sprout from, and where the feather itself connects to the body via the calamus(quill). Note that the barbs (at least in the pennaceous portion) ALWAYS sprout from the shaft at an outward angle. They do NOT point at a 90 degree angle straight out from the shaft, nor point backwards towards the quill, but FORWARDS towards the feather tip. This is most likely a mechanism for both reducing drag and creating a more stable interlocking of barbs.

The pennaceous portion is what’s visible to the open air, so the barbs must be designed to handle what is required, such as a relative stability/stiffness for the remiges of the wings, a drag-resistant design for feathers of the body, etc. etc.

The plumaceous portion is typically hidden beneath other feathers, so isn’t necessary to draw in most designs. It’s just important to know about the fluffy plumaceous bits that exist underneath for those occasions that the feathers are lifted apart.

*note-- not all feathers have an afterfeather/shaft as shown in the first diagram-- this is most common to grouse, and is kind of like having extra down.

This is just a basic rundown of feather anatomy I’d reason to be useful to artists, but if you’d like a more in-depth discussion of feathers, I suggest this page.

Now knowing this basic feather anatomy, we can look at the diverse shapes and forms feathers can take. As has been shown in the feather types above, feathers can vary quite a lot depending on their purpose. The primary remiges, in fact, have a unique set of anatomical terms to help describe the shapes they can take.

(via^)

It’s important to note, here, that at least part of the reason that the primary remiges in particular are so diversely shaped is due their being the “flight manipulation” feathers of the wings. While coverts smooth out the wing and secondary remiges provide ample surface area, it’s the primary remiges that really determine a bird’s particular style of flight (I’ll get into some of these basic flight types more in the Flight section).

It’s also important to note that the “drag direction” for any feather—remex or otherwise—is essential in planning their shape (it’s just much easier to identify in remiges). See how the barbs on the leading side of these primary remiges is much shorter than the barbs on the trailing side?

(via^)

This is because the leading side, as can be assumed, must meet air resistance head-on, so the shorter barbs provide a stiffer, more stable surface to push against oncoming air currents. The trailing side, on the other hand, provides the main surface area of the feather, so the barbs can be longer.

This asymmetrical balance of barb length changes depending on where the feather is on the wing, so it’s no surprise that the primary remex barb lengths are much more asymmetrical compared to the secondary remex barb lengths, since these barbs don’t directly push against the air on either side of the feather.

(via^)

Though keep in mind that the shafts still “lean” more towards the leading edge here, so as to properly tilt against the air on the upstroke.

This feather diversity doesn’t just apply to different feather types—even the exact same feathers of the exact same basic type can vary DRASTICALLY when compared between different species. Just look at the differences between the above wood duck primary remiges and the primary remiges of a sharp-skinned hawk below.

(via^)

Thus, when designing the feathers (particularly the remiges/rectrices) of a creature, you need to understand the creature’s specific form of flight, and the purpose of certain sets of feathers.

(The USFWS Feather Atlas provides EXCELLENT scans of the remiges and rectrices (main tail feathers) of TONS of different bird species, if you’d like to see more scans like these.)

Combinations

Combination feather/membrane wings are somewhat popular, and while they’re improbable I wouldn’t say they’re impossible. Improbable, because evolution would likely choose one or the other for a full wing (taking into account the energy available during development, as we’ve discussed). Or, at the very least, make the feather bits more fur-like than the rounded, complicated designs of typical coverts.

The only impossible combo-wings I could think of are webbed wings that have ALL the wing feathers—remiges included. Remiges are meant EXCLUSIVELY for flight—if the wing already has a membrane (a membrane which takes up much more energy to build than feathers), then there’s no need for additional remiges. In fact, these lengthy feathers would detract from what makes the bat wing so practical—its ability to “collapse” and otherwise bend and stretch in precise movements. Remiges would only block the bat wings’ ability to properly bend.

Not to mention, these feathers would break up the smooth/streamlined quality of these wings if they were to reach that far out over the membrane. Think about it—bird wings only have one layer of remiges, creating one smooth surface, and bats only have one layer of webbing, also creating a single smooth surface. Webbed wings with remiges on BOTH sides (or even on ONE side) would create multiple surfaces that would somehow need to lay flat against each other (but likely wouldn’t due to their nature). And that isn’t even to mention that remiges need a stable bone base to properly attach to, which the bat wrist/hand couldn’t provide, considering it already must support the fingers themselves, let alone primary remiges.

Covert feathers, on the other hand, are mainly there to create a smooth transition from the front edge of the wing to the remiges (and are embedded in flesh rather than bone). Thus, I could see their potential use in bat-like wings for the same reason, so long as they aren’t large enough to interfere with membrane/finger flexibility.

-Mod Spiral

[adorablele]

what would your moots be like if they were an aesthetic?

ANON I FINALLY DID IT. yes, I sat on this ask for a million years because I didn’t know any aesthetics and I still don’t know many aesthetics but I managed to get help (this is all thanks to leyna who gave me a whole bunch). so when I originally did this, I had a scenario in mind because I wanted to do it like how those people on uquiz do (like choose an aesthetic and it’s a scenario filled with imagery) but I don’t think the scenario captured the aesthetic well so feel free to skip over it an just go to my bulleted explanation lol. however, I’d like to mention that the explanation may not be the best as to why I gave that moot that aesthetic. ANYWAYS I DID IT AND NOW I HAVE THREE OTHER ASKS ABOUT MY MOOTS THAT I WILL SIT ON FOR LIKE TWO MORE MONTHS.

this was very long and has details no one asked for. and I didn’t proofread this so if there are spelling errors or just errors in general, sorry.

@nzeeten allie - minimalist 

A sneeze echoed against the walls of your attic. You brushed away the dust on the box, smiling faintly at the little scribbles on top of the lid. Opening it caused memories to roll down your cheek. A lump lodged its way in your throat and you couldn’t help the melancholy swell in your heart. Your phone rang. There were unfinished papers littered on your desk. Your laptop screen started to fade to sleep, work not saved. It didn’t matter to you. You didn’t pay attention to the weight of adult responsibilities, not when your younger self smiled at you.

ngl allie gives me these really mature vibes, and who knows, maybe it stems from the fact that she wants a be a ‘kickas*’ lawyer. the overall mood of this scenario is nostalgia but in no way shape or form do I feel nostalgic when I’m with allie. she’s very fun and chill and amazing and outstanding and i love her- anyways, somehow the nostalgic vibe fit with minimalistic aesthetic? like I pictured an apartment with very simplistic features but you can tell what that person cares about through the pictures or the items that they keep. hmm I’d see some polaroids in her moodboard if she had one; maybe a single rose (in the middle) surrounded by different thorns that have little memories in each one? 

@sleepingrenjun cherry - baddie (new moot that I hope she considers me a moot too dkslaf)

Even after everything, you still went back to business. There wasn’t a care in the world as you glanced back down at your screen, files scattered on your desk and fingers tapping away at the keyboard. There wasn’t a care in the world as a pack of cigarettes were thrown back onto your desk and loud slam of the door. There wasn’t a care in the world when you returned to an empty bed, one meal, and one toothbrush. You sat out on your balcony and stared at the unlit cigarette in your hand. You felt no urge breathe in its toxic fumes, a voice in the back of your head scolding you for even touching the death stick. Tears streamed down your face and you raised one brow, smiling slightly. ‘what a shame,’ you whispered, looking up at the stars. maybe there was a little care in the world. 

so maybe this is based off of my most recent tag. it popped into my mind when I thought of cherry. this most likely stemmed from breathe me and idk if it quite fits with the baddie aesthetic...anywayssss I was aiming for a heartbreaker vibe! because cherry breaking hearts out here with her fics 🤧 kind of a lonely lifestyle of a very successful business person who doesn’t care about anything but their business (they actually do care a lot which [spoiler alert] is why mc doesn’t smoke in the end). heartbreaker gave me a baddie aesthetic. 

@passionfruithyuck clarie- soft grunge, dark academia

No one visited the library. You didn’t understand why. This age old building was still in pristine condition, exuding out elegance like no other. The tables were lonely and the chairs were cold. The bowl full of mints never lessened, the counter always empty. Time was all but a concept once you invested yourself in the shelves that were still polished with youth. Each book had its own personality, each page filled with questions, answers, secrets. No one ever visited the library, and you didn’t understand why. 

uhm yeah so a pristine hidden gem of a library came to mind. this, I think, stemmed from the fact that she know12s multiple languages (so a lot of knowledge) and it’s an honor that she’s my moot (a hidden gem). clarie, to me, is lowkey bada** which is why she’s soft grunge. if she had a moodbard, I think there would be some pastel and books (maybe some idaf pictures).

@renjunwrites denise - cottagecore 

You always passed by the quaint little flower shop whenever you were on your way home from work. Every now and then you would see someone exit, but most of the time it stayed empty. In need of a bouquet, you visited the store. Vases full of flowers furnished the tables, some unmatched as they littered the counter. The petals looked delicate, so delicate you were afraid that your breath would shatter them. Each step you took padded softly against the walls, no sound other than you, no one other than you. Simply you and the flowers.

that blurb is 🤮 I’m sorry I’m bad at explaining things omg. I honestly pictured an empty, neat but messy, flowershop when I thought of denise. she has this delicateness (missing renjunlite, can’t lie) to her like flower petals. I also get a vibe that she’s an organized mess, hence the mismatched flowers (because it’s a beautiful mess). 

@jisvngy dahler - plant mom aesthetic

It was another day at school. Another day filled with ‘the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do’. Another day filled with the scratching of pencils and shuffling of paper. Another day filled with slumped backs, bored eyes, and the slow ticking clock. It was also another day for secret notes, hidden jokes, loud lunches and knowing looks with your friends. Your friends. They broke your day dreaming, made you laugh, copied your answers, stole your pencils, distracted you during presentations, all mundane things. Mundane things that you would never forget.

ngl I feel like I would become friends with dahler through school and she would honestly be one of the reasons why I look forward to school. you may be wondering how this associates to plant mom but okay hear me out. this scenario is kind of like everyday life, you know? like small things. plants are in our everyday life, whether or not we grow or acknowledge them. uhm yeah so connect those two and yay an aesthetic for dahler! would picture some succulents in her moodboard.

@jeonginks eiko - e-girl, fantasy academia

you were always told to never take things from the forest. you were never told why, so you thought there was no harm to taking a rock because, well, it was only a rock. it was a pretty little rock lying near the clear stream of water that glimmered under the rays of the sun. the green leaves above swayed gently with the wind; it was peaceful here, you thought to yourself as you slowly started to walk back home, the rock heavy in your hand. with each step, the trees seemed taller, the sun seemed dimmer and the river sounded quite loud despite you being miles away from it. suddenly, you couldn’t move, grounded by the roots on the ground. the rock started to burn in your hand, so you threw down, only for the searing to continue. you screamed as marks were carved into the palm of your hand. from behind you, a voice laughed, ‘weren’t you told not to take things that aren’t yours.’

is fantasy academia a thing? if not then just fantasy. e-girl goes with her fashion sense (if I’m assuming correctly cause your boots) but uhm fantasy because of her writing. go on her page and you’ll see so many people call her writing magical. so with that in mind, this scenario popped up. now she could be the rock, or she could be the river, or perhaps the trees, or quite possibly, the voice,, who knows, I don’t know, that’s for sure. her moodboard would be filled with nature.

@haechaaaaaaanssi janna - mermaid/fantasy, medieval 

The fire crackled, ashes gracefully flying out from the orange hue and up into the darkness of the sky. Your marshmallow sat on the paper plate, your stick abandoned next to it. You weren’t around the bonfire, no, you were along the shoreline. The chatter of your friends was distant, much quieter than the sea. It was calling you. The waves beckoned you in, pulling you farther and farther away from shore. The sand wasn’t grainy anymore, it was softer, mushier. The full moon shone above you, a spotlight you didn’t ask for. You kept walking, entranced by the sound. What was that sound? Goosebumps rose to your arm, the water swishing at your waist. What was that sound? It was like the tick of a clock, the whoosh of the waves, the whisper of the wind, but that’s not what you were looking for. What was that sound? You were neck deep until you remembered, you didn’t know how to swim, but it’s okay. You found the answer to your question. 

okay i’m not saying that janna is a siren (who knows maybe she is)! this isn’t what i’m trying to say lmao. it’s just the fact that her work is so angsty and immediately popped into my mind when I thought of an aesthetic for her; somehow it led to fantasy/mermaid? like the ocean is mellow, beautiful and elegant but sometimes can be very powerful, loud and boisterous. in other words, janna can be exquisite and sometimes a mess. would see (obviously) the ocean in her moodboard, maybe a campfire or the night sky. 

@jensungf leyna - art mom/vintage

You struggled to yawn with a toothbrush slumped between your lips, arms up and above your head as the muscles tensed and the bones cracked. Your face was dazed with drowsiness and you languidly continued with your morning routine. But there was always something that made your mornings brighter. That something was the bakery down the street. Each time you stepped through the door, your nose was flooded with the sweet aroma of pastries. The taste of the treats were sweeter, always balancing out the bitterness of coffee on your tongue. You always stared at the crumbs of comfort on your plate, fascinated how it hugged you better than anyone you’ve met.

okay so maybe I should’ve put bakery as her aesthetic? but idk if that’s an aesthetic sooo,, but I can see her as an art mom aesthetic mixed with a little vintage. if she had a moodboard, possibly some fairy lights or some pictures of a really chill looking bakery, can’t not include sweet treats either.

@glossyjaems louna - skater, neon

Laughter filled the air, cracks of the bendable glowsticks echoing in the night. You twirled the one on your wrist, the green liquid neon against your skin. Mischief sighed with each step your friends took as they neared the metal fence. Your heart was pounding, hands clampy and eyes wavering at the faded red sign. It glared at you, ‘keep out’ it warned. That didn’t stop your friends, ‘and it shouldn’t stop you,’ they told you. The what ifs swirled on your tongue and rolled the eyes of your friends. ‘It’s going to be fine’ they reassured, and they offered you a hand. ‘Let’s live in the moment, yeah?’

ultimately really fun vibes. I pictured the recklessness of youth and dream’s go era when I thought of louna. would see like spray painting or maybe neon lights or glowsticks in her moodboard. 

@the32ndbeat // @juyeonzz qiu - vintage, dark academia 

You watched as people skied down the slope. Your hands wrapped around the warm mug of hot chocolate, the little pillows of marshmallows replicating the hills of snow outside. It wasn’t long until you heard the loud clamors of your friends as they made their way towards you. A smile found its way onto your lips as they bickered over whose snowman was the best. ‘Guys,’ you announced, causing everyone to quiet down, ‘clearly, it’s mine.’ back were the overlapping voices. You leaned back in your chair, eyes glossing over each of their faces. How funny that the impromptu road trip took you here. 

originally I was thinking summer vibes and the beach, but I already used the beach so why not the mountains? where there’s snow! cuz sledding and building snowmen with your friends is very fun. I know that this doesn’t really have anything to do with qiu’s aesthetic but when I thought of vintage, I got a lot of free-spirited, really chill vibes that I associated with road trips and friends. a lodge in the mountains and hot chocolate reminded me of dark academia somehow? yeah I don’t know how my brain works either. but anyways, I see books and hot chocolate in her moodboard if she were to have one.

@neocitybynight sunny - glam

Life was busy in hollywood. The snap of the director, the brushes of makeup artists, the tears of actors, the flashing of cameras, the questions of reporters, the tailors of dresses. At the end of the day, you always returned to your apartment on the highest floor. Barefaced, you change into an old oversized t-shirt, soft music floating to your ears as you think about your schedule tomorrow. The kettle starts to whistle, the boiling liquid warming the tea bag in your cup. The sun had retired, reminding everyone that the real stars weren’t on TV but in the sky. Though, cars still drifted the streets, lights still remained on, people were still awake. You opened up your book, a sigh falling between your lips as the drink soothes your throat. You glance once more out the window at the bustling city before falling into the world of your book. Life was busy in hollywood. 

yeah so this was what I imagined, I don’t know if that’s an aesthetic but I associated it with glam. like I also imagine those 90′s heartthrob edits if you were to make a moodboard for her. you could also fit in dark academia.

[yelena-bellova]

The Measurements That Matter - Steve x plus sized reader

Summary: You’ve got a crush on your Captain, but you’re convinced that he could never feel the same way because you aren’t as thin as most girls. You push yourself too hard in the gym day in and day out, till one day things take a turn and Steve’s there to reassure you that you’re perfect, just the way you are…

Requested by @lilacprincessofrecovery : can you please make me a steve and plus size reader where he finds out shes exercising too much to try to get his attention and he tells her it doesnt matter how she looks if she keeps working out so much shell pass out? idk something like that? thank you!

Warnings: body image issues

Word Count: 2,070 Note: I’ve struggled with eating disorders and body dysmorphia + thought losing weight would make me for attractive to a guy I liked so this request was very close to my heart. Never forget that whatever size you are, you are absolutely beautiful ❤️

Just one more…

Just one more…

This was the mantra you were living by.

Just one more mile, just one more set, just one more rep…

In your free time between missions, you were always to be found in the gym. All of the Avengers put an emphasis on training and physical fitness, obviously, but not even Thor and all his muscles frequented the gym as much as you did. But rarely ever were you there for the right reasons…You were well aware of the fact that your body wasn’t built like your teammates. You certainly weren’t as thin as Wanda or as perfectly proportioned as Natasha…The world may have used terms like “plus-sized” but the only word you could ever use to describe yourself was fat. You hated your body and spent countless nights lying awake, wishing that you could look like other women. 

Because if you looked like other women, maybe Steve would finally look at you the way you looked at him…

Your lengthy workout sessions weren’t just for you. You had had a crush on Steve pretty much since the minute you joined the team a year ago. You and the captain were close friends, spending quite a bit of time together and you quickly becoming his go-to girl on missions. While your infatuation only grew for him, you never saw or got any signal from him that he might possibly feel the same way. Your insecurities took over and convinced you that the reason he wasn’t interested in you was that you didn’t look like other women. Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy, could never possibly go for someone like you…

So you ran miles on the treadmill, you did countless sets of crunches, you never stopped. And in the rare moments that you weren’t exercising, you were on your phone researching the best routines for losing weight. You hoped that with every pound shed, you were one step closing to winning the attention you craved from Steve.

One early morning, you hadn’t eaten much breakfast but decided it was a good idea to still go to the gym. During your second mile on the treadmill, you were starting to feel lightheaded. You knew your blood sugar was low and you should probably stop, but the minute you considered getting off, Steve walked into the gym. He was usually the first one to get in an early morning workout, but these days you were beating him to it. He gave you a smile and a wave, you did the same and removed your earbuds as he walked towards you.

“This is the third time this week you’ve beaten me here…I think you’re more dedicated than any of us.” Steve joked.

You let out a small chuckle, trying to keep your eyes focused on his face and not on him in his tight white tank top and track pants. Was it even legal for someone to look that good in workout gear?

“Then you better get on my level, Rogers.” you quipped as you continued to run. Your vision was starting to get a little blurry, but you blinked it away and wiped your eyes as if wiping some sweat from them. Steve smiled at you and you knew you must have been hallucinating because you could have sworn you saw a look of admiration in his eyes. 

“Don’t strain yourself. Let me know if you want to switch it up and spar a little with me.” he offered as he walked over to the punching bags.

You popped your earbuds back in and watched as he wrapped his fists in tape, beginning his attack on the bag. His moves were carefully calculated and executed smoothly. You snapped yourself out of your trance and continue your own workout, but your thoughts were beginning to blur together. Dizziness began to set in, your breath started to get heavier and a vague sense of nausea hit you. Common sense told you to get off the treadmill and rest, but by now Steve was resting from his first round of punches and was watching you run. There was no chance in hell you were going to stop now. Your legs were beginning to feel wobbly, but you kept pushing yourself because you knew you had his attention.

Just one more…

Just one more…

The room started to spin and your steps began to get sloppy. You thought you could vaguely hear someone shouting your name over the music, but you couldn’t be sure. Suddenly, one of your feet slipped and you felt yourself falling, but didn’t have the energy to grab onto something to save yourself. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and caught you before you hit the belt of the treadmill, you hung limp. Steve carried you off of the machine and laid you down on the ground. He pulled out your earbuds,

“y/n! Can you hear me? y/n, are you okay?” 

You blinked your eyes until your vision semi-cleared, Steve was leaning over you with fear in his eyes. Embarrassment was starting to set in as you pieced together what had just happened. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. I must have just overdone it.” you croaked out, realizing how dry your throat actually was. 

“That’s an understatement, y/n. It seems like all you do these days is overdo it.” Steve said as he helped you sit up. You put your head in your hands, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes. You felt like you were about to break and you’d be damned if it was going to happen in front of Steve.

“You practically live in this gym, and if you keep up at the pace, you’re gonna pass out or worse.” he said worriedly. 

All you could do was nod, knowing the dangerous toll your insecurities were going to take on you. Steve stuttered a bit before he finally asked the question you were praying he wouldn’t ask…

“y/n, is there something going on?” That was all you needed to let your tears flow, your shoulders shaking a little with each sob that escaped your mouth. Steve grabbed onto you and pulled you into his arms, rocking you every so slowly, as if too much movement might cause you to break. You sat there for a few moments, sobbing into your hands and Steve’s shoulder. Eventually, your cries quieted and you dried your eyes.

“I don’t look like everyone else, Steve. I know that. I just thought that maybe if I started really pushing myself, I could lose some weight and…” you let your sentence drift off because you couldn’t tell him the real reason why you were doing this to yourself. Your tears began to fall silently again and Steve lifted your face so your eyes could meet his.

“y/n, why would you think you need to change yourself?” he asked. 

“Because I’m fat, Steve! I’m fat! And heroes aren’t supposed to be fat! Look at Natasha and Wanda, then look at me! I’m not even in the same league as them…” you shouted through your tears. But that wasn’t what broke Steve’s heart, it was the next thing you said…

“I don’t blame people for not thinking I’m beautiful because I don’t even think I’m beautiful.” 

His jaw fell slack and he watched you dry your tears, staring down at your lap. He knew he had to choose his next words carefully, lest he mess up the situation further.

“You’re dead wrong about calling yourself fat…But you’re right, you don’t look like Nat or Wanda. You’re built differently than they are,” your head snapped up and looked at him, more tears filling your eyes. Steve quickly drew another breath to finish his explanation. “And that’s okay. Having a certain type of body doesn’t make you any more or less of a hero. Those aren’t the measurements that matter. Your heart, your dedication, your passion is what makes a hero. And you’ve got more of that than anyone I know.”

He took your face into his hand, forcing you to look at him as he continued. “y/n, you are the most beautiful women I’ve ever gotten to lay my eyes on. Inside and out, you are stunning. I’m not saying that out of pity or humoring you, it’s the damn truth. I just wish I would have reassured you of that sooner because then maybe you wouldn’t have put yourself through this.” “That’s the thing, Steve. I was always going to put myself through this because I didn’t think you-” you caught yourself one word too late. Steve’s brow furrowed, you looked away quickly and attempted to pull yourself away from his arms. “No, wait!” he exclaimed, grabbing your wrist and pulling your back down. Your eyes met and tension suddenly filled the air. 

“Am I one of the reasons you were doing this to yourself?” he asked hesitantly.

You looked down, not able to bear the expression on his face, slowly nodding your head. “I thought that maybe if I looked a certain way, maybe you’d look at me…” you finally admitted.

Steve was floored, no pun intended, sitting on the floor of the gym with your wrist in his hand and your feelings finally out in the open. He had never thought for a second that you might feel this way about him, even though he had silently hoped you had. But never in his wildest thoughts had he ever thought you’d put yourself through this hell in the hopes that you could catch his eye. A breathless smile fell on his lips which only confused you… “Look, I know it’s stupid but I’m begging you, please don’t laugh at me…” you pleaded. 

He let out a small chuckle and put his hand on your cheek, taking a second to admire you. You were sweaty with puffy eyes and no makeup on your face, but you were still the most beautiful sight to Steve.

“y/n, I’ve never stopped looking at you. Not for a minute since the first day we met have I stopped looking at you. You never needed to change a thing about yourself to catch my eye.” Now it was your turn to look confused and shocked, how could you have missed it?! Were you so blinded by your insecurities that you didn’t notice Steve returning your affections? Your mind was racing, trying to gather your thoughts and words but you were drawing a blank. You couldn’t believe what Steve had just confessed to you...

“I never thought that…I never thought that you….” you stammered. 

Steve simply smiled at you, brushed a wisp of hair from your face, and met your eyes. The look of pure affection on both your faces said more than any words could have said in the moment. Steve’s eyes flickered to your lips then back to you, silently asking for permission. You leaned in slowly, granting his request, and your lips met in a sweet kiss full of relief and reassurance. A year’s worth of longing released into one perfect moment. You broke apart and rested your forehead against his, your heart so full at the moment you thought you might burst.

“You know the only thing that could make this moment more perfect?” he whispered.

“If it weren’t happening on the floor of the gym?” you joked. He laughed, cradling your cheek in his hand. “That, and getting some food in you. You did just have a blood sugar episode, y’know…” Leave it to Steve Rogers to ruin a perfect moment by worrying about your wellbeing…You smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, “You’re probably right. Believe it or not, I’m starving. Why don’t we go make breakfast together?” He helped you up to your feet, only to pick you up in his arms. You began to protest, but he gave you a coy smile, “I think you’re too weak to walk right now and in the complete and total interest of your health, I think you need to be carried around all day. Captain’s orders.”

Letting out a small chuckle, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Well, who am I to disobey my Captain?” After that, your gym time was almost always spent with Steve and not a day went by where he didn’t make sure you knew just how beautiful you were.

[sheriffofmagic]

burgerbang0 prompt if you're still accepting them: burger goes to dasha after meeting vang0 to try to figure out who he is and where he came from. also known as: dasha becomes quickly fond of burger's new weird friend and burger gets in way over his head

let me preface this by saying it is a Mess and that i Tried. idk if i did the fondness thing and the pining is barely there but this turned more into a dasha character study and dfahjkljsg. alright i hope it’s okay

---

Dapper Dasha doesn't have friends. It’s an unspoken rule. She had acquaintances, contacts, even some people who went as far as to call her their "buddy" but she didn't have friends.

Her public persona was as carefully constructed as her face. All designed to leave a specific impression. She was calm, intelligent, mysterious, and, more than anything, impersonal. It was her job to know people but not so much the other way around. 

This was how she preferred it. Better for business and less messy for her personal life. It was lonely at times, sure, but the benefits far outweighed the costs. The internet was unreliable but Dapper Dasha? She knew people. And she could prove more valuable than half the netrunners and hackers in the city if given the proper information (and incentive).

And for the most part she was content, ignoring any cloying feelings of loneliness in favor of the well-earned sense of contentment. Dasha was good at her job and made a damn good living through it, and that seemed to be enough.

But life, or at least a very specific person in her life, had other plans. Burger Chainz had arrived with the same jarring roar as the engine of his car. Speeding up beside her one day along a darkened street, startling her into drawing her gun, he’d rolled down the window and in that dumb, amiable voice of his, asked in earnest for her help. Said he’d heard she was the best in the business. And Dasha was far from vain but, well, something about his dumb mug and sincerity had won her over. The promise of cash wasn’t bad either. Somehow a companionship had formed between them. Dasha refused to use the word “friend”. It was too comfortable, too familiar, and worse it expressed a sense of vulnerability. 

Burger Chainz was nothing if not persistent. Even after Dasha had (to her great displeasure) failed to locate a target for him, she still couldn’t seem to shake him. His lopsided smiles and tendency to fill awkward silences with even more awkward conversation had grown on her like a rash or a particularly infectious disease. Much to her chagrin, she’d grown comfortable with him. Sometimes they would even hang out when they weren’t working on a job. 

It wasn’t even that he was overly optimistic, quite the opposite in fact. Burger Chainz seemed to walk with a permanent weight on his shoulders. A haunting that lurked just behind every slightly strained smile or laugh that came just seconds too late. No, it wasn’t his attitude that had won her over. She’d hardly consider herself won over in the first place. The muscle-bound dummy just never left. Even when she’d proven to be of no use to him. Even when she was intentionally cruel in a way that made others understand it was time to back off. He stuck around. Because despite his outward warmth and charisma, he was profoundly lonely and because, somehow, he knew that deep down Dasha was too.

Somehow all of this had landed Dasha where she was today, Burger standing anxiously in her foyer with a small, friend in shiny spandex pants who looked just as unhappy to be here as Dasha was for the sudden intrusion on her peaceful Tuesday evening. The friend had given her a quick once over when they’d stepped in but since then had only been toying with a band around their wrist. A comm melded into their skin. Burger, as usual, seems completely unaware of the awkward tension brimming between everyone.

“Thanks for lettin’ us in,” he started, “So, Dasha. This is my buddy, Vang0 Bang0.”

He waved his hand at his friend who finally looked up from their arm forming their hands into a V and B symbol respectively, “Vang0 Bang0.”

It took all of Dasha’s willpower to suppress her eyeroll.

“Vang0, this is Dasha.”

Burger is gesticulating needlessly as he talks, a nervous tick Dasha has picked up on, “I was tellin’ him how you’re the best in the business at finding people. Or at least knowing people who know people who can find people.”

He’s speaking in his normal, casual manner but he’s stumbling the same way he does when he tries to comfort someone. Tripping over his words. Dasha glances over at Vang0, who’s running a hand through his platinum blond hair and looking like he’s already bored of the conversation.

Dasha turns around and walks to her living room, knowing Burger will follow. The space is small and sparsely decorated. Minimalist in a way that avoids clutter and discourages any clients from feeling too comfortable. Burger Chainz lumbers toward the couch his friend taking the spot beside him. Close but not too close.

“So who exactly are you looking for?” she asks as she sits down on a small armchair.

“Me.”

Dasha raises a well-manicured eyebrow at him, “You?”

Vang0 glances at Burger briefly, a hint of worry in his eyes but Burger just nods to him reassuringly. Dasha notices the big guy lean more into Vang0’s space as he begins to speak, “I wasn’t always the powerful influencer and household name I am today. Actually, it’s a pretty new development.”

Dasha bites her tongue before she can say she’s never heard of him.

“He’s got the uh, the brain fog thing,” Burger chimes in.

“Amnesia,” Vang0 corrects as he rolls his eyes, “I woke up a few weeks ago in a warehouse. I didn’t have much to go on. Just a job and a name. Until this one found me.”

He nudges Burger with his shoulder and Burger smiles down at his hands. 

Oh, Dasha thinks.

“Don’t remember anything before that. Tried to research it a bit. Didn’t even know where to begin but Vang0 Bang0’s good with computers so I gave it a shot,” he shrugs, “Couldn’t find anything. Yet. But Burger Chainz said you might be able to help out.”

He pauses. There’s more to ask. More she will ask Burger later about all of this but out of professional courtesy, she lets him continue.

“I could do this myself with enough time but he talked me into coming to you. To speed things up.”

Everything about Vang0 projects a manufactured confidence, including his words. They come off noncommittal but Dasha knows people. How they act, how they think. How desperate they all are to feel like they understand the unknowable, careless world they live in. Vang0 projects arrogance but his eyes bounce around the room, often to Burger, and they’re filled with fear.

Vang0 continues when she doesn’t respond immediately, “It’s whatever though. If you can’t do it, I’m more than capable of doing this myself.”

Dasha offers a tightlipped smile and looks at Burger who’s looking right back at her pleadingly, “Can I talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure, you alright here bud?”

“Yup,” Vang0 replies curtly and as Dasha leads Burger into the kitchen she hears Vang0 say, in a much more enthusiastic voice than she’d heard him use thus far, “Vang0 Bang0, what’s up guys-”

She tunes him out, “I don’t know what exactly you expect me to do here.”

“Uh, your job?”

Dasha rolls her eyes, “How am I supposed to do that when he has no contacts? No names? Links? Leads? Nothing with his name attached to it is more than a few weeks old. Where would I even begin?”

Despite the cybernetic red eye Burger was still capable of a compelling puppy dog face. He wasn’t even trying but he looked so goddamn desperate you’d think it was his own identity on the line here, “I don’t know Dash. I’m not a computer guy and I don’t have your connections, I got no clue how this kinda stuff works. But you’re the smartest person I know and Vang0 needs help. He asked me to help him. I can’t let him down. I’m not good for much more than driving but if anyone can help him it’s you.”

His hand reached out like he meant to put it on her shoulder, then lowered as he thought better of it. She wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Instead he just said in his dumb, earnest voice “Please?”

This is why Dapper Dasha didn’t do friends. They convince you to do things you shouldn’t. Things you know will break their heart and ruin your reputation. One meeting with this guy and Dasha knows her odds of finding anything on Vang0 are as good as his own, which is to say basically nonexistent. But Burger came to her for help. He hadn’t done that since the first time they’d met. When she’d failed at her task for the first time in her otherwise successful career. And her she was about to do it again, willingly this time. Because despite all her best intentions, she cared about the big guy. And because it was obvious from the moment he entered her apartment how much he cared for the obnoxious amnesiac streaming nonsense in her living room.

Dasha sighs resolutely and meets Burger’s eyes, he’s smiling like he already knows he’s won.

“I won’t promise anything-”

She’s cut off by Burger pulling her into a tight hug.

“No. Nope. We aren’t doing this get off.”

He lets her go and beams at her, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. He better pay me. And you owe me one.”

“Of course. You won’t regret this, Dasha. I swear.”

As she thinks of how much she absolutely will regret this, he brushes past her. He sinks onto the couch next to Vang0, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder as he starts tells him about Dasha’s “process”.

This is going to be the end of my career, she thinks, melodramatically. 

But as she contemplates she watches a small smile grow on Vang0’s face as Burger excitedly talks him through an exaggerated version of the time Dasha had tracked a woman down with nothing more than two digits of her phone number on a dirty napkin. His hands are flying around as he talks and there’s something kinetic in how he talks. There’s a light in his eyes she’s unfamiliar with. One she’s only seen hints of in passing conversation. Her heart damn near clenches as she thinks how far gone her friend is already.

There may be little hope that anything tangible would turn up on Vang0 Bang0’s old self, but if the smile on his face was any indication, Dasha thinks, there may still be hope for these two idiots. And damn if dumb feelings doesn’t make you do stupid, potentially career ruining, things sometimes.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

on the sixth day of kinkmas, my lover did to me:

[ g a g s ]

>>DOYOUNG

>>warning/s: blindfold, light bondage, quick fellatio, cheating, dirty talking, vulgar language, uhh implied creampie??? and breeding kink bc idk its growing on me im probably having existential crisis

a/n: rj gets carried away pt 2 ft doyoung

-

Kim Doyoung was a powerful man; the CEO of his own company at the age of 26, had multi-million franchises across the globe. He had everything; a mansion on an acre land he owned, vacation houses in each province of the country, the latest models of sportscars parked in his garage, a beautiful wife of 5 years—you would include “loving,” but that was only used for publicity.

When Doyoung had married his wife, he had no say in the matter. It was pre-arranged by their families, a contract made by their grandfathers. He didn’t care at first, it’s not like he was in a former relationship or even wanted one. For the first few months after their wedding, they did try to work things out; actually try to fall in love with one another, but in the end, as he had come to find out, she was only in it for the sake of making her family happy.

They had sex, plenty of it. All vanilla and boring—Doyoung wanted more, but she wouldn’t even let him hold her wrists down for a few goddamn seconds. The sex stopped when he found out about her lover: a high school sweetheart she was forced to leave because she had to marry him. And since that day, they’ve established that their relationship was purely just a piece of paper, that their status of husband and wife is nothing but a title to the public and their families.

You only came to the picture when Doyoung had made a surprise visit to one of his hotels in Busan. He parked his matte black Audi s8 beside a white Jeep Wrangler.

He steps out of his car to stretch his limbs and hears squeaking from behind him. As he turns, he sees you through the rolled down window of the Jeep; panting and sweaty, hair disheveled.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you were riding someone—and from the look of disdain and annoyance on your face, it wasn’t going to knock your socks off. You notice him and he doesn’t move a muscle, unashamed of being caught watching you. You didn’t even care that he had seen you because the man beneath you was coming—quite loudly and finished with a smile on his face and a scowl on yours.

When you look back up to the man that had been watching you, he was gone. You almost felt embarrassed, only because he had to watch such a pathetic excuse for sex.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the elevator.” You quipped, clicking your heels against the polished floors.

“If I didn’t have to go to this emergency meeting, I’d walk you all the way up to your room.”

You spare him a sarcastic smile, “If it really was an emergency, you would have just dropped me off.” You turn the corner to where the elevators were and found the man from earlier. He has his hands in his pockets and gaze to the floor.

“Can I see you later tonight?”

“Nope.” You snapped, “Beauty rest for the wedding.”

The elevator doors open after a ‘ding’ and you briskly walk inside after the man.

“How about after—”

“I’m driving back to Seoul next morning. I’d rather not.” You swipe your keycard on the sensor and press your floor number.

The man you were with frowns, “Oh, well, then I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”

You forced a smile at him before the elevator doors close and once they do, you groan, rolling your eyes until they land to the male who had witnessed everything. “Sorry you just had to watch the worst free live porn ever.”

He smirks, shrugging “I can’t say I’ve seen worse. I was wondering why a Seoul city girl like you would be with a Busan boy like him, he must be your partner for this wedding you’ve mentioned.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, single bridesmaids and groomsmen, yada yada, getting lucky and all that—well, he did. I did not, I definitely did not.” You’re reminded of the ache between your legs that you had to deal with back in your suite.

The elevator dings again and it opens to the lobby; no one gets in and you raise a brow at the man. “Aren’t you gonna get off?”

He looks at you, contemplatively.

The doors close and the elevator starts making its way up to bring you to your floor.

“I work for this hotel. I think it’s only right I escort a customer to their floor, especially after such a traumatic encounter that happened within the building, and make sure you have everything you need.”

“To say you work for this hotel is an understatement, Mr. Kim.” You laugh, finally recognizing his face under proper lighting.

“So you know who I am.”

“That handsome face of yours has been on the news a few times, so yes, I do know you.” You hum, warily eyeing him, “Your wife and I went to the same high school. She’s my junior.”

Doyoung scoffs, “Then you must know her lover, they were high school sweethearts.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “I-I do… I’m sorry.”

“My wife and I have come to terms that we’re only binded by a marriage contract. We’re just waiting for the right time to file for divorce. There’s no need to appologize.” The elevator doors open and he places a finger against the button to keep it that way, politely smiling at you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss…”

You say your name and begin to step out of the lift.

He repeats your name with a slight purr. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

Everything began there; and six months later you don’t regret the encounter. You can still remember how you came undone once from his fingers, another with his mouth, and three consecutive orgasms with his cock. Even though you were completely spent, sensitive and overstimulated, you wanted more.

Doyoung gave you more and more every time you meet. You didn’t need an exchange of words to know what your bodies wanted; he wants complete control while you wanted to be used.

“I don’t understand how the men before me let you go to waste. They’re idiots.” He grumbles, taking off his wristwatch.

You chuckled, the little vibrations from your throat stimulating his cock as you sucked it. He had called you over to his house in Anyang when he found out you had a meeting nearby; that had been cancelled due clashing schedules so here you were, on your knees before him.

“They didn’t let me go. I let them go. They’re idiots for not knowing how to pleasure me even though it’s the simple concept of ‘give and take,’ hmph.” You quietly say after pulling away from his shaft, pumping it with both your hands. “What about your wife? Didn’t she find pleasure in this?”

“I guess it’s different if you’re in love with someone else.” Doyoung tosses the accessory aside as if it didn’t cost a hundred thousand dollars and starts working on untying his tie. “Also, can you stop calling her my wife?”

“She still is, though, until you file for divorce and until then, I’m still technically your mistress.” You push his cock closer to his stomach and lean forward to kiss his balls. “I thought you two had the papers already?”

“Our parents want a grandchild—and while both our grandfathers are still alive, they’re more than eager to hold their great grandchildren before they die.” He groans and you don’t know if it’s because of his dilemma or your mouth playfully nipping at his testes. “And of course they had to mention that when we were about to announce our divorce.”

You kiss his cock one more time before rising to your feet, “I’d offer you help, but I don’t know how aside from letting you use my body as a stress reliever.”

“It’s enough, trust me.” He smiles, tipping your chin with his finger and kissing your forehead, “Open your mouth.”

You look at him incredulously at his request, hesitantly parting your lips.

He jams his rolled up necktie in your mouth, holding you steady by your nape. The sweet smile on his face was now replaced with the expression of what you can only describe as the face of a predator, which meant you were his prey. “Enough talking. Do what you do best, sweetheart, and be a good slut for me.”

He pushes you over the bed and pulls your tight shirt up your body, leaving it around your eyes and kept your arms by your head. You feel him palm your breasts for a moment before the strapless bra you wore came off.

There was a soft sigh before you felt his mouth closing on your left nipple while fingers tweaked the other. You arch yourself towards him when it ended so quickly, his mouth leaving your skin with a pop before you feel him working to get your pants off.

After your slacks came off with your panties, you lay there; waiting with a necktie in your mouth and a shirt above your eyes. You knew what he was doing. He was standing there by the bed, shedding the remainder of his clothing and watching you; daring you to do something he wouldn’t like so he could punish you for it. But tonight you wanted to be rewarded.

He probably hoped you’d grow impatient and shrug your shirt completely off, but instead he watched you spread your legs apart and invited him to stare at your pussy, pink and sopping with anticipation.

You feel a lone finger quickly trail from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a gasp muffled by your gag and your hips lifting upwards to chase the contact.

“If I had you like this everyday, with that tight pussy of yours just waiting to be pounded by my cock, I’d be a father in no time.” He scoffs and you hear an appreciative hum that tells you he brought his finger to his lips.

The mattress by your feet dips down and you feel his hands run along your inner thighs, teasing you as he avoids contact where you wanted it the most.

You whine through your gag but he seems to ignore it, moving your legs so they would be draped over his thighs.

“I’ve always been one to use protection, but I remember the first time we met. You were just begging to be fucked by me, crying about not caring if I had a condom on or not.” His weight shifts on the bed again and then you feel the tip of his member pushing into you. You’re moaning through his necktie, jaw already aching at being jammed open for so long. “I came twice in you that day and you know what, sweetheart?”

He starts to thrust all of a sudden, pounding into you so quickly that your walls struggle to adjust to his girth and are rubbed raw. You feel his fingers digging into your hipbone with a bruising grip as he surges himself into you repeatedly. “It. felt. so. fucking. good.”

You cry as loud as you can through your gag, wanting to move your own hips to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve never thought about kids, [Y/N]. Have you?” He hisses, switching the angle of how his cock enters you and causing you to moan again. With your lack of response, he shakes your hips against him, “Answer me.”

You vehemently shake your head, tempted to take your shirt off so you could look at him, but you kept them overhead and held your forearms. He resumes his actions, letting go of your hips to fondle your chest.

“God, I love your pussy, sweetheart. Always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you. So fucking delicious—always so wet when I see it, always eager to take my cock. Your pussy is just perfect for my cock, don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now, almost choking on your saliva when you tried to breathe through your mouth. You shake your head.

“No?”

You mumbled back something, but obviously it was obstructed by the makeshift gag. You do your best to swallow the saliva that’s accumulated in your mouth despite the necktie and repeat yourself. “Yours.”

“Mine?” Doyoung repeats, and in your head you can see the confused expression he tends to make, “Are you trying to say this pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod, writhing under his hold and finally able to meet his thrusts with your own fervent movements.

“Really? This pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod once more and he stills, length halfway inside of you. His hands are no longer on your boobs, but resting back on your hips. Before you can complain about his inactivity, he drives himself back into you with a force strong enough to send your body further up the bed. It’s creaking this time with the headboard hitting the wall and creating the softest thud.

Doyoung brings his thumb over your clit, rubbing furious circles upon it, relentlessly, until you’re crying out loud and struggling.

Unable to keep still, you try to remove your shirt but he catches you, pushing your arms back down above your head.

“If this pussy is mine, sweetheart, I would want nothing more than fill it up with my cum. Is that okay with you?”

You shake your head in agreement.

He groans, continuously thrusting. “And if I get you pregnant, sweetheart? What will you do, huh? Will you keep it?”

You don’t know how but you were able to scream out a discernible and resounding “Yes!”

Without ceasing his movements, he tears your shirt off from your face and limbs, and your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. When you finally focus on him; with his eyes lustfully glaring down at you, jaw strained, and his entire body tense as he brings you closer to your climax, he asks through gritted teeth, “Do you want me to get you pregnant, [Y/N]?”

He fishes his necktie out of your mouth, disposing the damp thing on the floor, and cluthes your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

You break off the kiss, placing your hands on his hot skin, “I want you to fuck me until I do.”

Doyoung growls, rolling your bodies until you were on top. “Then go get it for yourself, sweetheart. Chase that chance to have my children.”

Like a maniac, you ride him; gyrating your hips, clenching around him. The beautiful sound of his moans is music to your ears and merely fuels you to move faster. You reach your climax first, throwing your head backwards and jerking erratically above him; which triggers his own, ejaculating deep within you.

Your lower abdomen feels hot as you calm down from your high, still gently moving your hips despite being sensitive to ride his orgasm out, each sporadic squirt of his seed making you flinch.

With his cock still seated comfortably inside of you, you feel yourself fall backwards, making him sit up and guide you gently down the bed and lay between his legs.

“Aren’t you on birth control?” He asks, voice completely raspy and out of breath.

“No.” You confessed, “They make my boobs too sensitive. I just take ‘morning after’ pills after we fuck.”

“Do you plan to take them tomorrow?”

“Do you really want kids?”

He shrugs and you snort, “Doyoung, will you even take responsibility if I get pregnant?”

“Of course I will! What do you take me for?” He exclaims, obviously offended. He smooths his hands over your thighs, “I just don’t have experiences with kids to know how I’ll fare with them. But I do know I’d like an heir to my company.”

You gesture for him to help you sit up, both of you wincing when he does as your bodies are still connected. “I’ll take the pill, only because it feels wrong to try and make a baby when your parents want you to have one with your wife.”

“Again, can you stop calling her that? She doesn’t even call me her husband anymore. Also, I never said they wanted me to have a kid with her. Technically, they never specified who the mother of their grandkids can be—they’re only assuming her because they don’t know what’s really going on between us.”

“So no pill?”

“It’s up to you, really.” He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Is that why you’re still hard?” You lick your lips at how his dick is throbbing inside of you.

“I’m telling you,” Doyoung sniggers into your ear, “There’s just something about your pussy that makes me want to fill it up.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #266

“... and buried deep beneath the waves, betrayed by family, to his nation with his last breath cried: beware the daughter of the sea.”

What's the last thing you looked up in the dictionary? Shit, it's right on the tip of my tongue... I was making sure I was using it right, which I was. Do you ever listen to instrumental music? Rarely, and if I do, it's normally game soundtracks. Who did you last sit on? I'm hoping you mean like... on their lap lmao in which case it'd probably be Jason. No one wants my fat ass to sit on their lap nowadays. What do you think about wind? I HATE wind, unless it's hot and there's a nice breeze. Has there been anyone that you wanted to get to know but never did? Well of course. That happened in high school a lot. What's the last thing you looked at that reminded you of someone? Teddy's picture on my shelf. Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? Not that I know of. I couldn't even begin to imagine either of those trying that. Do you have a gag reflex? A VERY STRONG ONE. Would you rather have sex before you're married or wait till marriage? I don't care. Tbh by now, I kinda think before is wiser only to ensure you two are compatible in that area. It wouldn't matter to me personally, but I know that's important to some people and can cause issues and built-up bitterness. Just use protection, Christ. Have you ever let someone hit you? Um no? Do you have friends in other states/countries? Plenty. Been on the Internet since before I was even a pre-teen, talking to strangers lmao. Do you ever pay attention during church? I would try to back then, but I never succeeded well because my mind would wander out of boredom. Do you have self-control? That very much depends on the situation. I can be EXTREMELY impulsive, but in other cases hold it together. Have you ever broken a window? No. When was the last time you freaked someone out? I'm sure it was a few nights ago when I had another nightmare and woke up screaming. Mom always yells my name to snap me out of it. Have you ever gone on a date with a weirdo? No. Who's the last person you called a bitch? I don’t know. Is anyone in your family disabled? Yes. What do you want for Christmas? It's hella early to think about it, but I'm quite certain I'll be asking for a treadmill. How many moles do you have? I don't think I have any? Aren't freckles and moles different? Do you own any comic books? No. What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? I don't know. I never did really nasty ones because I wasn't stupid. Do you know anyone who has been raped? Almost, anyway. Idk if I know anyone to really has been... I hope not. Are you an atheist? No. I think there's... something. Have you ever owned a goldfish? Well yeah, from like, carnival games and stuff. Who was the last person to call you beautiful? I dunno, probably a family member when I changed my FB profile picture. How many times have you been stung by a bee? Once. Those fuckin hornets better stay the holy fuck away from me. What was the last flavor of gum you chewed? Probably something fruity. When was the last time you used tape? Ummm probably when I had to tape the side of my laptop screen a bit. When was the last time you said fuck? A couple questions ago in this survey lmao. Have you ever stolen something? Only this pink crayon I thought was beautiful at Sunday school oof. Who would you like to kiss right now? Maaaan there's three people I would so long I wasn't involved with anyone else. Mark of course lol, Jason, or Sara. Who was the last person you told to 'Shut the fuck up' to? Ha ha, probably playfully to Sara. Why were you last nervous? So I joined this group on deviantART called the Guiding Light Project, which is about mental health help and positivity, and there is a list of people seeking help and what their problem is. I decided to reach out to two people I really thought I could help, and one was a guy. Men make me so nervous that I was very nervous sending him a message, but it's going very well. Whose pants did you last take off? Uhhhh. OH YEAH HEY when I was hanging out with Colleen and she got me to change her son's diaper. Hate hate hate hated it. I do not ever need kids. When was the last time you were disturbed? Hm. I'm sure over something I saw on Facebook. NO, WAIT. Sara, do not read this. When I was at Ashley's, we were watching Naked and Afraid, and they caught a chameleon to cook for food. I almost screamed. Poor thing looked terrified when the guy grabbed him. Why did you last feel awkward? Also when messaging that guy. When was the last time you got in a fight with your best friend? It's been a long time. Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? Only a friend. Who was the last person you read a book to? My niece had me read a book like fifty times. Who is the person you say the naughtiest things to? Ha ha, Sara when we're having our stupid fangirl moments. Who was the last person to send you a letter? Sara. It's still on my shelf. :') How do you feel about war? I’m a pacifist, so guess. Do you like cupcakes or muffins more? Hm, maybe cupcakes. Have you ever pushed someone on purpose? Yes. Have you ever slapped someone in the face? No. Do you have any tough life decisions to make soon? Nothing major. At what time of the day do you usually have the most energy? In the morning, once I've passed the drowsy phase. Magenta, aqua, or coral? Coral. Do you like the color orchid? Ye! Would you rather be a wedding photographer or a nature photographer? Uhhh I literally want to be both? I'm *realistically* more interested in shooting weddings for the income, but if I had my way, I'd be perfectly financially content being a nature photographer. Man, I hope that happens. Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Are you interested in health and wellness? "Rather than interests, I consider them two very important things I should always try to pay attention to. Health is very important." <<<< This. Would you ever be a fitness coach? HA no. Do you ever question whether something that makes you uncomfortable is a good thing or not? That's a very good question. This can definitely lead to you questioning flawed morals, so in that sense, it sure can be. In other ways though, it can certainly be a bad thing. Do you think for yourself? Yes. I am, generally, very opinionated and follow my gut instinct. Do you live life on your own terms, or do you do what everyone tells you to do? The former, usually. I can be AWFUL at making decisions though, so I definitely consider advice. What color is your bike? I don't have a bike. Are you due for a hike? There is physically no way I could handle a hike in my current shape. Muscle atrophy in the legs is not fuckin' fun, and with hyperhidrosis and THIS heat? Oh, hunny. Have you ever created a themed scrapbook? As a kid, I fainty remember having one? How often do you eat dessert? Very rarely. I don't need it. What's the trendiest item you own? Oh boy, I don't have a clue. I don't even know what's "trendy." Did you pull an all-nighter last night? No. When was the last time you wrote an essay? My first semester of this year. Do you enjoy writing essays? I actually do if it's a subject I'm passionate about. Do you enjoy learning? Yeah! What is your favorite fairytale? Fuckin fight me if you say Shrek isn't one. What is your favorite name that starts with a "Z"? I have no idea. Maybe Zena, though I prefer it with an "x." Have you ever felt like you were going to throw up while you were at school? Yes. I have before. Do you own a princess crown? No. When was the last time you were jealous of someone? Ugh... with how bad my PTSD has been lately, I've been having periodic episodes of raging hate and jealousy of the girl he dated after me, thinking things like, "what if he loved her more," "what if he also told her this or that," etc. They're not even together anymore, but my brain doesn't care. Do you know anyone with an eating disorder? Maybe? What was the last thing you killed? I think an earwig-ish thing. Whose number did you last get? The girl's who adopted Bentley. When was the last time you used a public bathroom? Probably not since an appointment with my psychiatrist some time ago. Have you ever used someone for money? Wow, no. Do you have manners? I honestly think I have great manners. Have you ever woken up and realized that yesterday really happened? That was ABSOLUTELY the day after the breakup. It didn't at all feel real when it was even happening. When was the last time that you had a pet that died? Last November is when we had to put Teddy to sleep. God, I miss that baby boy. Or did Mitsu die later? I don't recall for sure. Do you know anyone who retired at a young age? I mean, probably. I'm just unaware. When was the last time you took a taxi/Uber? Where were you going? Never, actually. We don't really have those here. Have you ever been diagnosed (by a professional) with OCD? Yes. Do you know any married gay couples? Distantly. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? SARA! I feel like kids having a sleepover when I've been with her. Is there anything you should tell someone, but don’t want to? Yes. Have you ever woken up somewhere and not known how you got there? I don't believe so. Do you live somewhere where recreational marijuana is legal? No. Have you ever quit a job with no notice? No. Do you have nightmares often? HA, it's just about a nightly basis now. Have you ever been on any sort of government assistance? I've gotten loans for school and stuff. Does that count? Did you have your own bedroom when you were growing up? No, I shared it with my little sister. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic. Are you comfortable with your weight? Fuck no. How often do you listen to classic rock? Semi-frequently. Not as much as I did in high school. What about country? Just about never ever. Do you know anyone inside and out? I don't think that's possible. Is anyone in your family sick? Both Mom and Grammy are fighting cancer right now. I don't think my grandma has much time left. She can't walk on her own anymore. What kind of camera do you have? A Canon EOS Rebel T6. What is something you know you shouldn’t do, but do anyways? Download music. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Idk. Is photography one of your interests? Of course, I aim to make a career out of it. Do you know your neighbors very well? I personally don't. The person to the right of us, though, my mom knows decently and is a total and complete sweetheart. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? "Kind of (I hurt myself for my own purposes, but I did want attention paid to it), when I was a teenager, because I desperately needed someone to treat me with compassion and, like, take the shit that was happening to me seriously." <<<< I don't like admitting this, but it's happened. I want to emphasize that it was not the primary reason and was rather impulsive anger and self-hate, BUT for the mentioned reasons, I did want this shit taken seriously and realize I really needed help. Has anyone ever called you conceited? No. Do you write ever write poetry just to get your feelings out? Certainly. Not like I used to, though. Who were you last really mad at? REALLY mad? I'm not sure, but probably Mom. What is a sad song that you like? "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade has been in my head lately. What is a rumor people tell about you? I don't know of any. The only rumor that I know has ever been spread about me was that Jason and I had a baby in high school. Despite the fact I was slim then lmao. If you were given 1,000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would you do with it? Definitely plant a forest around a house I'd like to model myself, dig a nice pond for more wildlife... a lot of stuff that would benefit nature. If you had to flee their home country, where would you live? Canada. Do you think psychic abilities exist? Which one would you like to have? No. I'd like to uhhhh... predict the future when I will it myself, I guess. What’s a skill or craft that you would like to master, but haven’t? I wish I could draw exactly what I see in my head. How did you find out Santa isn’t real? My mom just told me. What’s a personality trait that you wish you had? CONFIDENCE!!!!!!! Do you believe in getting revenge on those who do wrong by you? If so, how do you go about it? Noooo no no. That creates so many more problems. If you were arrested with no explanation, what would your friends and family think you’d had done? That's a great question. If you could shop for free at one store, what would it be? For the sake of being smart, Wal-Mart. Necessities are there. Do you have any pets? If so, what are they? I have a Siamese-esque cat and a champagne ball python. I'm currently DESPERATELY trying to talk Mom into a Mexican red knee tarantula... and I really want a hognose snake. What event in your life would make a good movie? The breakup and my recovery. If you could dedicate your life to solving one problem, what would it be? Discrimination. Where do you find meaning in your life? Quite honestly, I don't feel it has much meaning currently. I'm not doing shit worthwhile. Do you believe things happen for a reason? Hell no. What do you think is a conspiracy? Honestly, I believe in quite a few. The one I believe in most was that the government was 120% involved in 911. Research. It is unbelievable. I'm very dubious that the "first" moon landing was real, either. There is an overwhelming amount of evidence it was on a soundstage. Why? America wanted to beat Russia in the space race. I love conspiracies. Do you believe in the afterlife? How do you picture it? Yes. I don't quite know how I picture it, but I lean towards like... this nirvanic state of peace and knowledge, and unity between the dead. What’s a superstition you believe in? I don’t believe in any superstitions. None. What is the dumbest way you’ve ever been injured? YOOOOOO when I was at Colleen's in-law's having dinner once, I literally took a large bite of rice RIGHT WHEN IT CAME OFF THE STOVE. I didn't know it'd only just been removed. My tongue was burned for weeks on end. Do you mind conflict? Hell yes I mind. I'm terrified of confrontation. If you could start a charity what would it be for? Something with mental health. Maybe to help those who can't afford help/therapy. If you were a cryptid (bigfoot, mothman, ect.) what would you be? I'm already a cryptid. What’s your ideal temperature and weather? Hm... like 55 and partly cloudy. What topic could you give a 20-minute presentation on with no preparation? Gay rights. Have you ever worn those drunk goggles? Yes, for D.A.R.E. in elementary school. Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? It depends on the subject of course, but I'm normally very good at agreeing to disagree. Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? Animal fucking cruelty. Dumbasses getting gored are well-deserved. Who is the best female rocker? Why? Lita Ford is a badass. Slays on the guitar and is just cool. What color of roses do you find the prettiest? I actually like the classic, deep red. Have you ever accidentally found porn when looking for something else? I don't think so. Why do so many fans with OTP’s insist that their ship is real? I don't really know, but it's annoying. Some people are just friends, y'know. Being similar/compatible does not equate to actually liking each other like that, and the feral ones are just... wow. Do you draw fanart of anything? Not anymore. There's soooo many pictures I'd love to draw of Mark, but I literally love him so much I don't want to disgrace his face with my poor ability to make shit proportional lmao. Favorite thing to see in museums? Fossils! Have you ever seen an unwrapped mummy in person? No. What things have people shamed you for? My AvPD doesn't want me to think about this. Are there any 'adult stores’ in your area? Probably at some point. Have you been inside of them/shopped there before? No. Do you watch The Masked Singer? Any theories? No.