#they just bleached his hair y'all

[lewiscarrolatemybrain]

I’ve seen a lot of really dumb performative virtue signaling in fandom but in the MDZS fandom in particular I still think about when that one batch of redesigns was everywhere for a couple weeks, and the artist 1) drew the characters looking basically identical to their The Untamed actors and 2) repeatedly explained that they had drawn Jin Zixuan with blonde hair because of a personal headcanon that the Jin artificially bleach their hair to be gold

and yet somehow there will still Multiple Posts floating through the main tag vagueing about how OP was an anti-Asian racist who had white washed Jin Zixuan and should be doxxed and canceled.

[bansept]

I will never forget that Ichigo allowed, or asked, Yuzu to cut his hair when he started uni.

Because that man said "Let me look delicious while I flirt with Orihime"

[lilirari]

HE'S SO FINEEEEEE

[punkeropercyjackson]

"I'm such an old man fucker🥰"You guys couldn't even handle adult Naruto and Ichigo

[giggly-squiggily]

Wish me luck everyone- this fall/winter will be the seasons I get through Bleach! I'm determined to watch it!

Y'all want updates? 👀

[clairebearsparkles]

I find it funny that as a fandom y'all decided "poorly dyed hair" for Gerry is just him not taking care of his roots. Like, where's the blotches of uneven color? Where's the lack of basic color theory and in turn his hair comes out more green than black? Where's the fried wire-haired look of using too much bleach? I mean I love the headcanon of Gerry originally being blonde and dying it black, but also the absolute shit show of bleaching your hair, hating it, and then trying to dye it black again for it to just turn out splotchy and green is my favorite thing ever.

This man was known for his poorly dyed hair, it was probably horrendous. I gotta draw this representation at some point.

[kamaluhkhan]

you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

[sah-xx]

SO

REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOUT CC!FOREVER CHANGING HIS APPEARANCE?

WELL HE DID

HE'S BLONDE NOW

NO IT'S NOT A WIG

HE F'ING BLEACHED HIS HAIR JUST FOR LORE

If he shows up red eye contacts next,,,,,,,,

THE DEDICATION, Y'ALL. I'M SO PROUD OF HIM.

[sant-riley]

[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]

A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!

CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)

If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."

The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.

Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.

Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!

Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt

Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass

Price: Rookie, Dear

Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun

They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.

Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.

The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.

Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.

He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.

Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.

Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.

Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.

HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.

Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.

Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.

"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"

He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.

You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.

No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.

Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.

Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.

Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.

Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.

They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.

"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.

Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.

Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10

Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.

Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.

Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)

@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx

[silentghosttimez]

Since everyone's reading comprehension clearly just went out the window when the person in the Epstein documents asked about Michael Jackson. The girl literally said nothing happened. And to go into more detail, this was before anything about Epstein came to light and when Epstein was still fronting as one of those financial businessmen. MJ was LITERALLY THOROUGHLY investigated and HEAVILY survellienced by the government/FBI for over 2 decades BEFORE and AFTER meeting Epstein, the FBI REALLY wanted MJ gone from the public eye, they even tried to use his childhood photos and some playboy magazines to prove he was guilty. In the 2000s MJ was in conflict with Sony and was going broke, some people(we dont know who they were yet) recommended he go to Epstein to solve financial issues. MJ dipped out and Epstein never got his number, his name literally was not in that black book. Y'all keep bringing up those false accusations with the boys when if you actually look up anything on it, the boys came forward and said their parents lied, and the bed thing was false because MJ's room was huge and had two beds, he had the PARENTS AND THEIR KIDS sleeping in the beds in his room while HE slept in his own GUEST ROOM.

Stop making shit up when the people who wanted so badly for him to do something criminal literally couldn't find anything at all in all those years that he was looked at so closely to the point he was literally having mental breakdowns from being watched every where he went, during every call, and so on.

(edit: To add to this, people constantly lie about his skin and how he felt about himself and his body too. When for one, his autopsy was right there and literally says he suffered from lupus and Vitilogo and his hair was literally the way it was due to it being set on fire in that one Pepsi commercial, there are literally graphic images of just how badly his scalp had been damaged. He never hated himself or his blackness, infact he actively tried to hide his white splotches for as long as he could. He used makeup and skincare stuff that he was unaware had any bleaching affects in the ingredients. He was very open and loud about being proud of his African heritage, he even was crowned in an African village.

I made this post cause I started tweaking because the singular black breadtuber I was watching was reading the Epstein documents and when he got to Michael being mentioned he and everyone in chat suddenly became illiterate and he was talking some shit like "it would seem he really was that guy if those documentaries, court stuff and articles didn't already convince you" like WHAT??? And chat was agreeing and someone was like "the Twitter stans are still gonna find a way to defend him after this" mind you, if you weren't bread dead and believed all that slander, all the court stuff declared and pretty much proved his innocence and later one people including his own friends and family came forward saying they were forced and coerced into lying. Those documentaries that came out and so many of those articles were straight up slanderous because they were damn tabloids, I don't get why people are still trying to use tabloids as proof when they were known for spreading rumors that often were not true in the slightest. This shit actually has me genuinely heated. Like, the breadtuber didn't bother reading the rest and was just like "well that proves it" even though it was stated right below that Epstein did not have his contact. Then there's the dumbasses on Twitter too making this shit worse. You'd think that most people at some point would bother to actually use their brains and seek out as much info as possible instead of taking lies and running with it, especially if they have a platform where they literally should be doing such a thing but nope. The guy was iffy about the star wars guy and whether or not he was actually a contact in Epstein's list but that same grace was not afforded to MJ.

Another edit:Oh and also it's wild MJ's false accusations are always brought and people say Elvis and Prince are better than him meanwhile Elvis and Prince were known pedos and abusers. Like are you fucking kidding me!!!)

[omar-bb]

notes & quotes from omar's live today

he wanted to release Red Light sooner but he and his team wanted to get it right

he's excited to headline at Gröna Lund - gonna be playing a new song there and at his other shows this summer!

"one of my favorite songs. i'm telling you, you will fucking choke when you hear that one. it's dark, it's dirty, it's groovy..."

"should I leak some of it? it would be fun for you to be able to sing along..."

"i hope it's fine by my team that I just leaked that"

"maybe it'll be the next single after Red Light. only maybe. I'm not promising anything"

someone asked about an Asia tour - "I cannot be live bc I'm gonna leak a lot of shit. But you wanna know something funny? This song .... it is actually a k-pop pitch song from start. it was made with k-pop in mind. it is not fully k-pop and now that i've been doing my touch on it, it is a little less k-pop but.. they actually wrote the song k-pop in mind."

teased doing a tour in the future

another "leak" - "I was actually meant to go to korea like right now or a month ago, like after the oscars ... i was supposed to go to korea. but it never happened. i was very sad. but maybe one day.

he had a scared moment where music started playing in the other room and he thought it was an unreleased song but it was just his alejandro tiktok lol

inspo for red light? "I didn't write the song ... it was a demo that got sent to me. at first ... it was a girl singing red light, and when i heard it the first time i was like yo this sounds like fucking rihanna ... i was like is this a long lost rihanna song? this is the greatest thing i've ever heard. and then i just fucking took it. i was like this is my song before rihanna takes it from me. and now it's my song."

Red Light music video when? "we shot a visualizer, so it's not a music video ... it's very beautiful. very stunning. i've never done anything like that. ... it's not a real music video. it's more visuals for the song."

will be doing red light on 25 may and also a new song

"you'll hear a whole new omar when you hear that song"

he has been replying to messages in his community on whatsapp and sms. they'll be leaking more stuff through there

new OMR Beauty product when? "....................... stay tuned"

"you will die when you see the next launch of OMR Beauty. that's all I'm saying. Next!!!"

will he start a fashion brand? "i don't really have the time for that unfortunately. ... not for now"

thinks he is not gonna bleach his hair

Someone asked red light spanish version when? and he sang a bit of it in spanish

omar backflip when? "when i'm in heaven"

is he going to act again?"i'm actually reading some scripts right now. just reading, it's not anything happening really yet, just testing the waters. we'll see, i would love to act. i actually miss acting, it was a fun time ... nothing will ever be like YR obviously, but just the thought of meeting new ppl, new friends, being together for a few weeks or a few months, and filming smth very special, that would be so much fun. ... i'm actually reading a really cool script right now" but more focusing on music right now

he has 40-50 new songs from the last year apparently??? Maybe i misunderstood this

album when? "don't know, we'll see" - he has a lot of songs and could drop an album but he wants it to be perfect so it'll be awhile

there will be red light merch this summer

he and edvin hang out sometimes

not doing Rix FM this year

there will not be 12 red light remixes lol "but maybe a few"

Eurovision 2025? "absolutely not. sorry not sorry." something about always being thrown out of the competition

he's stopped drinking coffee regularly and drinks matcha instead

someone suggested hoemars as the fandom name and he laughed lol

a lot is happening in May he says !! "y'all better eat good, sleep well" lolol

he said he might do another live next week once Red Light is out

[noosayog]

[Not just Nostalgia] ft. Miya Atsumu

wc: 2.3K

contents/warnings: exes to lovers

noos's notes: I love exes to lovers but I feel like I really didn't do it justice here :( i'm not the biggest fan of this but I spent so long writing this, I wanted to share. I hope at least y'all enjoy it :)

Often, when you return to your hometown in Hyogo, you can’t help but be swept up in nostalgia. It happens when you walk by the convenience store and remember eating popsicles with your classmates. It happens when you pass by the rolling green hills and remember riding your bike along the cherry blossom lined path. It happens when you pass by your high school and remember all the memories you made there. Somehow though, there aren’t any memories that outshadow the moments you shared with your then-boyfriend. You remember helping him bleach his brassy blond hair, sitting in the stands long after school to wait for his practice to end, and tutoring him despite your being one year younger than him. 

But nostalgia is just that and you know better than to let yourself be swept away by sentimentality. You know better than to let yourself forget the reason why you had to leave. Being back here for the summer is a risk, but surely you can’t spend the rest of your life avoiding your home, whether that be a home of rose-tinted memories or bitter heartbreak. 

– 

Your hometown is a small one and running into Atsumu is hardly an improbable outcome. It happens a bit sooner than you’re expecting, but it’s been over a year now and you have to muster up some courage. The only thing more pathetic than still moping about the break up is being the ex-girlfriend who can’t move on from the man who broke up with her. 

When you see each other, Atsumu doesn’t hesitate. There’s no prolonged staring match and no awkward silence. In fact, Atsumu seems to have completely forgotten what happened the last time you saw each other because he greets you with an unreserved hug and an excited “It’s so good to see you again!” 

You can’t deny the fact that it hurts that this is so easy for him, but you’d rather it be like this than the estranged limbo of being exes. Being with him, even in this capacity brings you back to high school and you’re swept along in his pace all over again. 

You never stopped, really. 

He asks about your family and reminisces about how much your mom used to love him. In the same breath, he invites himself over because he wants to see how she’s doing. In spite of his easy demeanor, you notice the slight flicker in his gaze, endearingly worried that he might be overstepping his bounds. Your longing for him returns in full force when he looks at you with those straightforward eyes, mixed with sweet caution. Like he still cares that he might be making you uncomfortable. 

So what’s a girl to do but let the object of her affection bulldoze through her plans to remember why she keeps the door to her heart tightly shut? 

–

“Hi, ma’am,” he grins at your mother when he walks through the doors. 

Your mom looks up from where she’s chopping garlic and welcomes Atsumu with a curt hello. Considering she’s ignored every friend who has ever visited, she’s making it pretty clear who her favorite ex of yours is. Turning back to her garlic, she commands you, “go take your boyfriend to the living room.” 

She still doesn’t like him enough to remember his name and you find comfort in that at least. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, mom.” You remind her often when she asks about your blond, tall boyfriend. 

“Oh. He’s not?” she shrugs. “Well, go get him some tea.” 

“Yes, mom.”

Atsumu smirks when you meet him in the living room with tea. “She thinks we’re still dating?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head. She just doesn’t care enough to remember our history.” 

He wiggles his brows, “our history?” 

Insufferable. 

He keeps this up all night. Your mother, impossible to charm, continues to throw blunt remarks at him over dinner, but he lets them glide over his head. He even makes your mom laugh. 

It’s because he’s like this that you can’t let him go completely. He makes it too easy to imagine what could have been. 

–

For Atsumu, seeing you again was an out of body experience. He barely remembers the moment he said goodbye to you at his graduation ceremony with the flimsy excuse of wanting to focus on going pro. But he does vividly remember the day he came home a year later, only to find that you had left town the day you graduated. And despite his love for the sport, not even he could spend every waking hour playing. The hours that weren’t preoccupied by practice were spent thinking of you. Turns out, he proved himself wrong. Apparently, he really could balance going pro and being with you, because even though he didn’t have you anymore, you still owned the other half. 

Shameless as he is, he could not bring himself to pester your friends or your mom to find out where you had gone. It was the least he could do for you. For you. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Then he runs into you at the supermarket. He sees you first, lugging a basket around and looking perfectly fine while he’s in complete shambles. He follows you around for a good 5 minutes, never mind how creepy that is, practicing conversations in his head. It pays off when he weasels his way into your house, then all the more when he feels a flare of pride in knowing that he’s the one your mother remembers.

The remaining semblance of his composure comes crashing down when Kageyama, whom Atsumu has always found pleasure in competing against, shows up without warning. 

It’s a pleasant surprise, really, when he happens to see Kageyama in front of a vending machine with his signature scowl. Atsumu calls out in his jolly, pleasant facade, but Kageyama skips over Atsumu in favor of greeting you.

You smile. “What are you doing here, Tobio? You should’ve told me!” 

“You know each other?” 

You both turn your attention to Atsumu. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama nods. 

“We live in the same building in Tokyo,” you supply. 

“Oh.” 

Atsumu has read enough shoujo manga to imagine the worst. 

It’s no longer imagination when he hears you tell Tobio to swing by to see your mom. He watches Kageyama nod and then make this exit without fuss. The whole interaction leaves Atsumu confused and uneasy. 

–

You think the universe must be playing jokes on you when you come home and find Atsumu at your front door. You’re not sure if this is some sort of torture or Atsumu really just wants to be friends again. You sigh and let him in, walking past your mom in the kitchen again. 

“Oh?” your mom begins. “Here again?” 

He grins, all charm. “Couldn’t stay away for long, ma’am. Your cooking is too good.” 

She harrumphs. “I know you’re here for my child.” 

Atsumu laughs, but she’s already back to cleaning the vegetables in the sink. 

Atsumu’s halfway to the living room and you’re preparing the tea when she abruptly stops chopping and whips her head up towards you. “What about the other boy?” 

Atsumu freezes.

“What other boy, mom?” 

“The black hair one. Doesn’t talk, only nods.”

You ignore her and she just goes back to chopping vegetables. It was just a passing thought for her, but you can only hope Atsumu didn’t hear. 

–

“Doesn’t talk, only nods.” Atsumu hears your mom say. 

He freezes in the hallway, hoping to hear any elaboration you or your mother has. You say nothing though, and meet his eyes as you round the corner. He hopes you’ll explain but you don’t say anything and brush past him to the living room. He feels a hot flash of anger; doesn’t he at least deserve an explanation? 

But it cools quickly when he reminds himself that he does not. He does not deserve an explanation or anything from you for that matter. He’s just an ex-boyfriend. 

Atsumu used to tell himself that if you ever found someone else, they wouldn’t compare to him. What could that anyone have that he doesn’t? He’s tall, an olympian athlete, close with your mother, the list goes on.

He never thought it would be this easy for you to find someone who meets all of those requirements just as easily. Except, Kageyama had a leg up in that he didn’t break up with you because he wants to focus on his career.

Irrational, boiling hot, searingly stinging jealousy floods his gut. God, Atsumu has never been more aware of his decision to break up with you, that he somehow conjured up the thought that he couldn’t handle going pro after high school and maintaining his relationship with you. He has had moments like this, regretting his decisions and missing you to like crazy. Seeing you back here in Hyogo, he had tricked himself into thinking everything would be the same after all the time that has passed. Yet, in your time apart, maybe you have moved on and someone else has presented themself as the better option.

That was time he had practically gifted to someone else. 

He wishes so badly he could yell out that he isn’t satisfied with the way things are. 

I don’t want to be just an ex. I’m not just an ex. I can’t just be an ex.

It’s sometime after dinner, your mom urging you to at least walk “boyfriend one” to the door, when Atsumu finally asks.

“Am I just an ex to you?” 

You open your mouth to answer but Atsumu barrels on. Not because he has more to say, but because he can’t stand to hear your answer.

“Actually, no. Don't answer that. I can't just be an ex to you. I can't just be your ex.” 

You’re silent. 

“What-” do I have to do to make you choose me again. 

“How-” can I make you fall in love with me again? You were in love with me once. Why can’t you do it again? 

“Why-” him? 

Miserable, he blinks up at the sky, eyes heavy. 

“You were in love with me once, why can't you do it again?” he whispers.

Either you don’t hear any of his questions, or you choose to ignore them, but you do say, “Tobio and I went on one date in Tokyo.” 

Atsumu keeps his eyes averted. It’s the explanation he asked for but not the one he wanted. 

“And that was it. We’re just friends now. He ended up needing to visit Hyogo once and he came over for dinner as a friend. That’s when he met my mom.” 

“Then why does she remember him?” still trying to keep up some semblance of nonchalance, when he feels anything but. 

“She just likes tall men. You know that, Atsumu.” 

He doesn’t like the implication that he’s only a favorite because he’s tall. In that case, any one of his teammates except for Shoyo has him beat there. 

“What about you,” he whispers, fists clenched. 

“What?” 

Atsumu takes a deep breath. He needs to make a decision here. Is he going to lay it all out for you here or is it finally time to let you go for good? Would you even give him a chance after all this time? 

The decision is easy, selfish even, to make. 

“What about you,” he says, voice shaking, eyes watering, but he doesn’t hide it from you anymore. 

“Atsumu… what about me?” you ask, not understanding. 

“What about how you feel about me? Right now?”

Atsumu watches your expression shutter, exactly like how it did when he broke up with you. 

“Because,” he rushes out. “Because I’ve never stopped loving you. I made such a big mistake when I made the selfish, one-sided decision to leave you with that stupid excuse. If anything, with the amount of time I spent missing you, that proves that I can do both. 

“And I know it’s incredibly selfish of me to do this now. To want you to come back after all I did and how long I waited to tell you all this, but if there’s even a chance…” 

He’s practically giving a soliloquy now, so he doesn’t notice that you’ve stepped into his space until you’re grasping him by the forearms. 

He cuts himself off with a deep inhale when he feels your warm touch. You bore into his eyes, staying silent. He calls your name in reverent whisper. 

“Atsumu, do you know how much you hurt me?” 

He nods. 

“Do you really regret it that much?” 

He nods. 

“Then why didn’t you come to see me?” 

“I-” he has a number of excuses. He could say that he didn’t know where you went. That he wanted to give you your space. But he was just scared this whole time. Scared of what he’d find when he found you and it was only luck that he ran into you at the grocery store. He tells you the truth. 

You ponder this for a bit, eyes wide but unreadable. 

“Do you know why you’re my mom’s favorite?” you ask after a while.

“Because I’m tall?” 

You laugh, your hands that were still holding onto his arms sliding down to slip into his palms. Atsumu’s mind isn’t keeping up here, because surely this doesn’t mean that you- 

“Tobio’s tall too,” you respond. The suspense is killing him. 

“You’re her favorite because she’s my mom and she knows me. Atsumu, if I didn’t still love you, you would’ve never stepped foot in my house again.” 

His wheels are still spinning when he feels your thumbs brushing the tears in his eyes away. You smile, and it’s the same smile he remembers. You know you’re both thinking the same thing when your eyes finally meet. It’s definitely not just nostalgia, the way fireworks explode when your lips meet after all this time.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Can you do Bleach Captains favorite "positions" with reader?

In no particular order with scenarios? 👀 Shunsui, kenpachi, Byakuya, Kensei, shinji and Toshiro.

A/n: Hi @kr0wu !! Here is your request and I hope you like it ❤️ Tw: Smut content below

-----------------------------------------------------------

Shunsui :

So, this man loves physical contact and closeness with you, so I believe that during the act he want to be as close to you as possible. I think his favorite position would be missionary where he could have your body right underneath him and be able to look into your eyes while your hands hold him close to you like he loves to feel. He simply loves seeing all your expressions of pleasure from the way your eyes roll to the way your body twitch and your legs pull him to keep him inside you. He's all about intimacy and romanticism, something that suits him

Kenpachi :

Unlike the previous captain, he is not soft most of the time, he simply can't be very romantic. And when he try, you end up laughing at him and he rolls his eyes and turns his back on you. I don't need to mention that this man loves doggy style, whether it's on the bed or against the wall. He loves pulling your hair or marking your skin with his hands, just as he loves pinning your arms behind your back and watching you struggle to free yourself from his grip. There are countless reasons why he loves having you in this position, but mainly seeing his cum run down your legs and hearing the wonderful sounds you release. Another position I think he would like would be pressing your back against his broad chest and wrapping his arm around your neck while pulling your body back to slam into you.

Byakuya:

Even though he looks serious and emotionless all the time, he loves you deeply. He would be a mix of Kenny and Shunsui, or maybe a middle ground, he is very soft with you but also likes to be a little more dominant sometimes. His favorite position would be either missionary where he could be close to both your lips and your neck to leave some small marks on your skin, or on your side hugging your body against his and lifting your thigh while he buried himself in you. He really likes to kiss or leave a few marks on you, regardless of the two positions.

Kensei:

This man is like Kenpachi, he is not patient or gentle and he doesn't even try to be romantic. So you already know what you will find there. He likes intensity and something rough, so I'm going to bet on doggy style where he will keep one hand on the back of your neck and pin you against the mattress while he hits you from behind or thrust you with both of your legs over his shoulder while keeping the other hand on your neck, choking you. He will order you to keep your eyes open just so you can see the mess he is causing you.

Shinji:

To be honest, I see him being more of a sub than a dom and a green flag. He likes it when you challenge him too, given his silly personality he will always be putting you to the test. So, I think he would like you riding him with both hands roaming his body, he would probably be witnessing one of the most beautiful sights of his life and yes he will want to have you dominating him like that more than once. He also really likes having your lips, so it's good for you to give this man some big kisses.

Toshiro :

(Firstly, I'm writing for the adult version of the character, just so y'all know)

He is careful with you and in addition to hugging you a lot, he also likes it when you hold his hand, showing him some kind of "connection". So, here, I think it would be two possible positions, either missionary where you can hold hands while he enters you gently and your bodies are very close or if you are on his lap running your hands over his shoulders and through his white hair while you ride him slowly. He is very protective of you and that is why it is normal to see his arms holding you all the time.

[jeonqkooks]

kyoho | ksj

You love your grape boy, and your grape boy... well, he might just love you a little too much.

pairing: seokjin x f!reader

rating: pg13

genre/warnings: established relationship, swearing bc when is there no swearing in my fics, mentions of seggs, suggestive themes, fluff, crack?? idk, my brand of fics is Unedited y'all know that's how we roll

word count: 1.8k

notes: i've been buying a lot of grapes lately (am i a grape person now??) and i've been eating them almost every day and of course i had to think about grape jinnie my beloved, my ultimate favorite seokjin and i want him to come back to me :((( idk that's how this lil thang came to me lmao it's the most crackhead shit i've ever written sOoOoOoOo please laugh or else ! 👿 jk but not really

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

"If you do this, we're done."

"Y/N."

"I swear, if you go through with this, we are over!"

Seokjin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly not expecting you to be so passionate about the subject at hand. "The appointment is in an hour," he says.

"Cancel it. I don't care!" you cry. "Please don't do this. Don't take him away. He means the world to me."

Your boyfriend stares at you, mouth agape, then points to his head incredulously. "Him? My hair?"

"Yes!" You crawl over to his side of the couch to straddle his lap, actual tears welling in your eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and silky it feels in your hands. His gorgeous, gorgeous purple locks. The ones he's ready to sacrifice in favor of half blond, half red hair by demand of one Jeon Jungkook.

You shouldn't be this upset over him dyeing his hair, but you are, despite knowing full well that the purple will be gone soon anyway. His dark roots are starting to show already.

It's shark week, and there are not enough words in the dictionary to express how devastated you are that he's taking away your emotional support Grape Jinnie.

A couple months ago, when he told you that he'd be dyeing his hair purple, you were highly skeptical of the decision. You didn't know if he had the face to pull off purple of all colors, even though you had already seen him sport every other color of the rainbow and absolutely rocked every single one.

The whole week leading up to his salon appointment, you teased him endlessly - started calling him Grape Boy, bought him box after box of Kyoho grapes, photoshopping Kylie Jenner's purple hair onto his head and making it your lockscreen... It was mostly just grape puns, you were really milking that whole thing.

But then he came home, hair freshly bleached and colored, and your jaw dropped to the ground and stayed there for ten whole minutes.

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets from how good he looked.

No, he didn't just look good. He was stunning, breathtaking, mindbogglingly beautiful and all the other synonyms that one could name.

The man fucking ate and left no crumbs.

That night was one of the best sex you two have ever had.

To say that you were obsessed with this shade on him is the understatement of the year.

"Don't do it," you plead. "If you really love me, you won't do it."

"You're being so dramatic. It's just hair." Seokjin puts his hands on your waist while you keep yours on his head, clutching his strands like a lifeline. "Plus, I have to honor the bet!"

Your expression turns stony then, as your eyes travel from the silky purple down to his face. You tighten your grip on his hair and tug on it sharply until your boyfriend is scowling in discomfort.

The bet. The stupid fucking bet he made with Jungkook.

You had explicitly told him there no chance in hell that he could win, but Seokjin could be an overly confident asshole sometimes.

He was in way over his head, and now you're the one suffering.

"You idiot," you hiss, pulling on his hair again, "why the fuck did you think you could do more pushups than Jungkook?"

"I don't know! We were tipsy and it seemed possible at the time!"

Releasing his hair, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply.

"Why am I being punished for your actions?" you mumble against his skin, then you ask, voice full of futile hope. "What if you just... don't do it?"

"Then I have to buy him a new mattress. He cut his mattress with scissors to make it fit into his bed frame and now it's all fucked up."

You give yourself a minute to think. There has to be a solution to your distress. You just gotta think. Think, brain, think!

And then you remember. Seokjin is still a man.

You lean back to look at him properly, straightening your position on his lap. You give him your biggest puppy dog eyes before you say, "I promise I will blow you every day from now on if you keep the hair."

If he was drinking water, you're fairly certain that he would've choked. Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise, his skin turning a dozen shades warmer, blushing from his cheeks all the way to the top of his ears.

Bingo.

"What?" he asks, like this is something so scandalous.

You lean forward to pepper kisses all over his face, putting more weight on your offer. "I promise," you say, pecking his cute cheek, "to blow you," then his forehead, "every single day," then his nose, "from now on," and finally his lips.

You linger near his mouth, not pulling away just yet. Your lips brush against his once more until you feel his hands tighten on your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you press forward, giving him a proper kiss to seal the deal.

Seokjin practically melts underneath you. Victory is so close that you can taste it. You're doing this for the greater good of mankind, for Grape Jinnie. Jungkook can fuck off with his half seasoned, half fried bullshit.

But then, Seokjin abruptly rips away from you to shriek, nearly blowing your eardrums out. The suddenness of his movements almost make you tumble off the couch.

"No, don't try to tempt me! Mattresses are expensive as fuck!"

It's been a few hours. He should be back any minute now.

Ever since Seokjin left to go to his hair appointment after having to peel you off of him because you were clinging to his body like a goddamn koala, you've been wallowing in your misery. You even busted out the big guns - Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream (with real peanut butter cups!) - to help you through this difficult time.

You're in full grieving mode now. Goddamnit. Fate is a cruel mistress.

Or in this case, Jungkook. Jungkook is a cruel mistress. That fucking guy.

When you hear the door open and the subsequent clanging of Seokjin's keys as he hangs them on one of the hooks in the entryway, you prepare to give him the biggest pout you can manage.

But then, he comes into view a few seconds later, and you gasp. You actually gasp. Before he knows what's happening, you're rising from the couch and sprinting toward him, launching into his arms with the biggest smile on your face like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You're still a grape!" you squeal joyously.

Seokjin lets out a surprise Oof! at the sudden force of your body knocking the breath out of him.

"What a warm welcome," he mutters. "I don't think you've ever been this happy to see me."

"What happened?!" you ask, eyes wide, grin even wider. "Did you change your mind because you love me so much?"

You run your hands through his hair to make sure that it's real, that you're not hallucinating this because you just love the purple so goddamn much.

And it is! It's still here! His hair is still that luscious shade of purple that you adore with your entire being.

Seokjin eyes you for a moment before he says, "I compromised with Jungkook. Did something else instead."

"What did you do?"

"I got a tattoo."

"You what?!"

"He said I wouldn't have to dye my hair if I got a tattoo of his choosing."

"Oh, no," you try to sound sympathetic but fail miserably. You cover your mouth with your hand to hide your smile, already sensing the absolute crackhead chaos that will ensue in a matter of minutes. Having been friends with Jungkook for years, you know that dude comes up with the craziest shit sometimes.

Seokjin turns around and pulls up his shirt, and you almost die from the fit of ugly snorting laughter that immediately rips itself free from your mouth. His skin underneath the transparent cling film is still slightly red, but the letters adorning the expanse of his lower back is clear as day.

You cannot find it in yourself to blink, not when the black ink is just staring at you like that. The font, so formal and classic, and yet the content of it... what a contrast.

"Kim Seokjin!" you wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes and struggling to catch your breath. "How could you possibly think that this is a better idea than to just dye your hair!"

"You begged me to keep the hair!"

"I did," you agree, clutching your stomach as giggles continue wracking through your whole body. It's almost painful at this point. "But I don't want my boyfriend to have a tramp stamp that says fucking Chicken in Times New Roman!"

"It was either this," he says, turning back to face you, "or a sketch of his head on a chicken's body."

"What is up with him and chickens? Is that his new thing now?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Well, thank you for doing that for me," you say appreciatively as you pull him in for a kiss, which isn't very graceful because you're still tittering the whole time. "But please tell me that's not permanent."

Seokjin stays quiet, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you stop laughing immediately.

"Oh my god," you say. "Is the Chicken tramp stamp permanent?!"

"No," he finally admits after a moment of hanging it over your head. As funny as the whole thing is, you do not want the love of your life to walk around sporting the most ridiculous tattoo in human history. "It's supposed to fade after a month."

You lean into him again, heaving a giant sigh of relief and wrapping your arms around his neck. One of your hands go for his hair again, weaving through the soft locks with your fingers because how could you not? "I love you, Grape," you say, pecking his cheek with a grin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes affectionately, but returns a peck to your own cheek. "I have a tramp stamp of the word Chicken and my parents might disown me for that, but at least you get to keep your Grape Boy," he says, making you giggle again.

"Because you love me so much, right?"

"Hmm. You're lucky I do."

You give him another kiss, one full of gratitude, for indulging your antics. When you move to return to the couch, Seokjin tugs on your wrist, pulling you back into him.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong," he says, acting all coy and shit, "but I recall you making me a promise earlier, no? What was it again?"

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.04.2023]

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I love how after the first Hunger Games movie they just stopped bleaching Josh Hutcherson's brows. It's so stupid, but it's one of those little things that just tickle the fuck out of me, like it changed his look so much I feel. I just- I wanna know who was the leading force behind that. Like was Josh himself just like "I look like an actual blonde, this is a hate crime." Or was the hair department like "okay, we went the monstrous One Singular Hair Color™️ (No Depth) route, can we please make him look human this time?" Or did the director just decide Peeta needed a Me Moment after finding out Katniss wasn't into him like that so he got his brows done and had his roots dyed for depth?? Is this a hint that man saw Coriolanus 'Purple Shampoo' Snow and said "not me, y'all stay safe tho." ??

(No because you can tell they really were bickering over what the fuck to do with his hair. He goes from straight 16 year old box bleaching for the first time with no toner in the first movie to his hair being different levels of bleached on a scene to scene basis in Catching Fire until they finally figure out what the fuck they're doing in Mockingjay and find a balance with the brown-blonde ratio, and even then he still doesn't really have the right skin tone to pull off natual blond. No wonder he says he hated the hair process. Say less my guy)

[katsukikitten]

Synopsis: Hunger forces you to leave the comfort of your apartment just before rain in hopes to find something that will satisfy you but you'll soon find out that hunger comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Quickly at that as an ancient beast stalks you for part of the night hoping to satiate what you've awakened in him.

Warnings: NON CON, prey predator stalking, werewolf Bakugou

AN WC: this is for @kinjuutsu monster fucking Collab I hope y'all enjoy 2640 🖤🐈‍⬛

Collab master list

The smell of rain hangs thick in the air, curling its fingers around broad shoulders as the ash blonde snarls his lip. The oncoming storm did nothing to satiate the hunger that sat low in his stomach or the ache in his teeth as the moon hung just behind the thick gray clouds. If anything it’s as the Witch say, the calm before the storm is the silent chaos that every Other craves. The Witch, the Vampire, the Paranormal and the Werewolf share the same innate need to feed on humans in one way or another.

Whether that was their life’s blood, the fringes of their soul or sex to ease an awful rut. Even Bakugou’s burning rings of onyx could barely keep his temper in check during what the elders call “moonlit madness.”

With the heavy full moon overhead Bakugou hardly feels anything tonight, other than his normal temperamental agitation, yawning even as he ducks into the 24/7 convenience store a few blocks from his home, craving something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As if it sat on the tip of his tongue, teasing him as he mulled over what exactly he should buy to make at home.

Being out of the country left his home empty yet far from unkempt. He had spent far too many decades away from his original home and midnight was as anytime as ever to return. Least then his parents and the Elders of the clan wouldn’t grill him on when he was going to find a mate. He can hear his mother nagging now, “You turned 25 a century and a half ago. I want grandpups and I’m not getting any younger damn it!”

He rolls his eyes at the imaginary conversation still hearing her gripe about the other established families and how their children were providing grandchildren, that Katuski shouldn’t do this “lone wolf bullshit.” His hag of a mother ignoring the fact that every few centuries there was indeed a lone wolf from each bloodline. The most recent being Touya but Katsuki thinks he goes by another name now.

Nothing catches his eye and just as he’s walking out, not in defeat, you come in. Brushing his shoulder with a shy smile and an even softer sorry before you disappear back into the store.

Suddenly his throat closes up, choking on an overwhelming smell.

On your smell.

Your fucking scent that now clings to him even as the first drops start to wash the Earth anew, even as you stand on the furthest spot in the store and the pundgant bleach cleaner the employee in the back is using can hardly stand up to you.

You smell like the morning dew glowing golden on the petals of a rose, of honey spread over bread after a long day, of the milk of a coconut on the warmest beach.

Melding together in a sympathy that makes Bakugou’s body weak, ache.

Yearn for you as he swallows down air and the more he thinks of walking away, the more he finds himself staring at you. Entirely lost as his tongue toys with his elongating canines that ache unbearably.

A chill runs down your spine, the deadly kind of warning one gets when danger is close. Close enough to breathe down your neck or bore burning eyes into the nape of your neck. Absent-mindedly you brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing your throat only to further agitate the beast that’s lurking between the chips and the jerky in the next aisle over.

Suddenly your appetite fizzles out in your stomach, a dying ember as fear begins to take root. Growing faster than a summer weed peeking through the concrete slabs. Grabbing the straps of your purse you move your way back towards the front of the store, wishing you had an umbrella for the several block walk back to your apartment complex.

With each step you take it feels as if there is another at your heels.

And another.

Whipping around your eyes go doe wide yet do not see anyone lurking in the harsh fluorescent light between the aisles of neatly packaged snacks. Swallowing thickly you step again, this time rushing into the rain as you start down the slow side street that runs parallel to a small field and a thin strip of woods. The snaking pavement connects to darker, more sinister alleyways that keep your eyes glued forward to avoid staring deeply into the dark eyes of the void.

Fear slips into your skin easily, skittering under the surface as it settles into the soles of your feet. Burning and begging for you to move, to run.

That something big and bad is stalking closely.

And so fear wins as your sneakers slip on the wet concrete as you break into a sprint under the dim street lamps.

All you hear is rain and wind rushing past you and the occasional hiss of “watch it” from those you push past, running until your lungs ache.

Searing need for oxygen, begging for you to make your breathing even despite your beating heart. Giving into your inherent need for air as you slow to a jog, daring a look over your shoulder.

See? Nothing’s there.

Your feet slow to a walk, rational mind soothing over the raging instinct of your gut, that still occasionally flares. Reassuring yourself as you keep your gaze locked to the nothingness behind you that you cannot even see what’s right in front of you.

Bumping into a solid mass of muscle makes a shudder go down your spine. Looking up to apologize expecting to see someone’s back only to see a chest.

The man has his hands in his pockets, as if he’d been waiting for you, a cruel grin set on his mouth as his eyes glow red under the weeping gray sky. He leans over to better level with your face as he parts his mouth to speak.

“Where ya runnin to, Sweetheart?”

There’s malice laced between the purr of his voice.

It's jarring, causing you to take a step back, mouth going cotton dry as your soles burn. This time you don't think twice about it, rushing across the street and soon your shoes lose traction on the slick wheat. Tickling your waist as it slips under your t-shirt occasionally during your haste. Glancing over your shoulder to make sure he isn't following you look for the man and again nothing follows.

This time when you crash into the mass of muscle you fall onto your ass, the chill of the Earth seeping into the denim of your jeans.

"Fuckin hell." He looks different now, the moon just shining through a thick passing cloud before it disappears behind the veil, "Makin me look like a creep runnin like that."

He growls at the end, two sharp teeth poking at his bottom lip, he looks ghastly, horrific.

Like a devil out of a novel with his glowing red eyes, his mass had gotten noticeably bigger but mostly it was the air about him.

Menacing, sharp and an undertone of playful you'd be a fool to forget.

Like a cat catches a mouse, not that of hunger but of boredom.

Of fun.

This time a scream rips through you, rising up your lungs faster than you can think. Crawling backward so you can both get out of his reach and get to your feet. He lets out an annoyed sigh and a roll of his eyes letting you run.

The woods come quickly and the large man quicker.

"I just wanna play, Sweetheart." His voice echoes around the woods and yet it still sounds close.

Close enough it sends a jolt to your stomach that seeps slowly down between your legs where it begins to pool.

Twigs snap behind you and this time you don't dare turn around for fear of running fast first into your assailant again. Yet his voice is at your ear.

"I said I just wanna play." A feral sound in his throat as it echoes in the shell of your ear before a heavy hand is found between your shoulder blades. Pushing you into the old wet leaves that smell of decay. Another scream rips through you but before you can finish you're flipped onto your back with a hot palm over your mouth and nose.

"Ya tryin to get us caught?" He smiles, his bottom and top canines are long. Far too long to be human, he takes a sharp claw and begins to rip the front of your shirt, "Or are you a slut who wants everyone to see what I'm going to do to you?"

Slowly he brings his claw down the cotton until the swell of your breasts start to peak out. Your fingers grips at twigs, leaves and dirt searching for something, anything to defend yourself against this snarling beast. Finally your small hand finds purchase, a small rock about the size of your own fist brings a fire to your eyes.

Brings you hope as you slam it into the side of the ash blonde head, right across his temple. It's enough to make him bleed a bit, losing his grip just bit as you squirm out from beneath him. But not without his parting gift. His claws sinking into your skin to keep you still as you struggle away, leaving deep red wounds down your sides and back.

The pain surges you forward, step after step as your lungs protest from your poor breathing.

A sob racks through your body, rain less turbulent under the canopy of the trees but still enough to blur your vision. That or it was your tears as you see your apartment complex building jutting out over the trees.

Just keep going, you just have to keep going.

Ignoring the details of what's unfolding and instead using that fear to climb the four stories of slippery steps in the pouring rain.

Lightning reaches out and a loud roar of thunder shakes the building with its intensity. Mother nature herself warns you as the blonde takes the stairs two at a time.

Fumbling with your key as you try to shove the metal into the lock as he stands at the end of the breezeway. A nasty smile on his face as he watches you panic trying to do even the simplest task all the while taking slow, calculating steps.

Finally the key molds the pins to the lock's liking and the handle collapses under your weight, falling into your apartment foyer. Struggling to stand so you can slam the door shut.

As you do you see him and another yelp leaves your pretty mouth shoving the metal door with all of your might.

Only for strong fingers to wrap around the edges, crushed from the force as he pushes the door open.

"Hey baby." He says it like he's coming home from work late. A mocking apology as if you were angry that he hadn't told you beforehand. He closes the door and the outside rain can still be sent through the ridges that can mold to powerful fingers.

Your knees weaken before they give out, tailbone rattling your spine as it hits the hardwood floor.

He walks towards you, standing over you, hands in his pockets again.

"Nowhere to run huh?" He laughs and it echoes through the silence of your apartment, "I'll give you that. You did get me good huh."

He wipes the blood from his head and the gash that was once there is no longer causing your brows to furrow. Crouching over you now he examines you, takes a deep inhale and his eyes flutter.

"Fuck." It's soft, barely a whisper and you can see the bulge in his pants grow, causing you to whimper. It pulls his attention to it and he vulgarly grabs it, "Ya like that? 'ts all for you."

He rips off the rest of your shirt and your bra with such force your tits bounce from the motion. He pushes you up the hardwood and your wet body makes the floor squeak.

His head buried between your legs so quickly you hadn't noticed until his nose was pressed into the seam. Quickly the denim is shredded from your body, careful to leave your underwear intact.

"N-no -stop." You want out and he just hooks his powerful hands around your hips.

"Why would I when I can smell arousal on you?" He growls and it's said with such authority it makes you freeze. Submitting to a man whose name you don't know.

"Ah fuck." He can smell more of you now, can smell how delicious your essence will be on his tongue. He noses your clothed cunt, the tip of it hitting your clit causing you to squirm and squeeze his head.

"Soo fuckin wet." He grows tired of you trying to close him between your thighs. Forcing them open as his claws sink into the tender flesh. Gently he presses his tongue to the wet patch, shuddering from how right he was. He does that for a few moments, nosing your now throbbing clit, tongue lapping at the fabric before he leans up some, pressing his mouth around your puffy button giving it a good suck.

The way his eyes look, half lidded and glowing with red hot lust you're shameful to admit it makes you cum. Right there cunt fluttering around nothing as you keep your eyes glued to his.

He rips the cotton away then, lapping at your cunt with no hesitation. Sucking and licking like a starved man, fingers arching into you with a steady pace feeling you flutter around him. You cum again around his hot digits. Panting and he doesn't let up.

He keeps feasting and feasting until your vision is blurred with thick tears and your head is swimming.

"Aw, poor baby." He climbs up you, now pressing into the side of your throat with his nose wet from your sweet cum, "Tired already? I've only just begun."

His teeth sink into your tender skin, drawing blood that he laps up with fluttering lashes.

"Fuck" he groans grinding into your thigh, "Got me fucked up pretty girl. Like a rut when I was a teen."

Pulling down his pants and shoving them to his ankles. He bullies his way into your wet heat. Panting from how good you feel, he gives an experimental thrust and when he pulls away for another, your greedy cunt tries to suck him back in. He thinks he'll cum already. From how you feel around his weeping cock and how you smell.

Sweet florals that remind him of a garden a long time ago. It causes his teeth to sink into the apex of your throat and shoulder. Fucking into you with reckless abandon as he chases his own high.

Fucking you through another orgasm as you whine, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, weakly trying to keep him to you now. Locking your legs around his waist as he sucks the sweet spot on your skin.

It causes you to scream out in ecstasy, body withering under his care causing his hips to stutter. Balls slapping against the swell of your ass as he tries to fuck you deeper with each sticky rope of white he paints your walls with.

He pulls away from your throat with a grunt, keeping himself inside you as he looks into your face. Lids at half mast, lust clouding the iris as something deeper starts to surface and it takes your burning heart a moment to realize.

That your eyes reflect his.

Causing that blossom of deeper emotion to consume anything else as he growls out before he crashes his mouth to yours.

"Mine."