#ANYWAYS IM TYPING THIS AS A COMPLAINT AND ALSO TO WARM MY HANDS BACK UP BC DAMN I HATE WHEN THEY DO THIS

[klvrgavin]

I can barely move my hands

[burnedbyshoto]

hole in the wall

In a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with hole in the wall that has him coming back for more.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, PWP, cult activity, drug mention, alcohol consumption, glory hole, cursing, degradation, praise, possessive jealous!shouto, stuck in the wall, spanking, overstim, bruising, bleeding, breeding

word count: 7,831

a/n: read the fucking warnings bro, im tired, I hate formatting, here’s to finally writing what I wanna write! also, this is for a lovely bnharem collab that kept getting pushed back... make sure to read the intro to understand my story! anyways, gloryholes is peak anonymous sex and I just,,, if thats the only way imma get to suck shoutos cock, I will. I had something else to say... I forgot. oH THIS IS WRITTEN IN A NEW STLYE-ISH??? porn from shoutos pov!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Traditionally, when people think of the connection between heroes and cults, they expect that the heroes eradicate the cults, not that the heroes are a part of a cult.

It was somewhat ironic that a group of people who advocated for public safety, for the wellbeing of every citizen of the country - the world - would demand compensation in areas that didn't involve financial compensation. Heroes saved the day countless amounts of times, but when they needed... help at night because they've been so busy saving the world, there needed to be compensation.

It had shocked nearly everyone within the hero community when none other than Yaoyorozu Momo brought them a solution. For nothing more than loyalty to saving the day, all heroes granted the benefit of joining the Savior of Eight Million, an… organization brought forth by the prodigious hero. It had shocked the hero community at first that the once thought of a modern-day princess, putting together a wicked group that served the beastly needs of heroes, was almost laughable. But as time passed, as trials tested the organization (cult), the more heroes realized how lucky they were that it was Yaoyorozu who created this.

The Yaoyorozus, in all their riches and connections, made this group untouchable.

Police were bought off, apprehended, silenced.

Heroes with the savior complex were put down.

Villains were never believed.

The Savior of Eight Million held ties with the greatest, the most esteemed people in the world. The parties were unworldly, dripping with diamonds and gold, the sweet smell of champagne barely drowning out the bitter acidic and burning plastic smell of the drugs used vicariously at their gatherings. All heroes joined, politicians and celebrities fought to get in, and commoners wished they could be the servants of the night, whether that meant they would be serving food, drinks, or drugs, or allowing the heroes to do what this was all started for: to fuck them.

Of course, it didn't help that each commoner was paid for their service, discretion, and loyalty. Those who attempted to give away the secrets of the nights were always taken care of, and every gathering after someone tried to snitch, there was always a complaint that a sex slave just wasn't good enough.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a sweet girl, a helpful woman. She was a hero.

Heroes far and wide grovel at her feet in thanks, and even more surprisingly, even her old class supported this. Oh, how great life was when you were the most significant, greatest, and most untouchable cult in history.

To Todoroki Shouto, well, he didn't really have an opinion on this all, not really at least.

The cult - the organization, was created to help out heroes such as himself live comfortably while having such a busy lifestyle. His sex drive had never been that high, with his twenty-fifth birthday approaching, he could count on his two hands the number of times he'd been attended to with the help of the organization within the past five years.

Yes, two years after debuting as heroes, Momo had approached the graduate class with her plan. Todoroki Shouto could never deny a friend, especially not someone as smart and intentional as Yaoyorozu Momo. He had been one of the first - if not the first - voice to approve of her project.

However, the fifth-anniversary gathering (it was not a party) was finally here. Two months ago, the first round of reminders came around in the form of a beautifully handwritten card by their fearless yet kind leader. Shouto wondered if she really had handwritten each and every card, or if she had created it with her quirk - while he wasn't that heavily involved, he was not ignorant to the numbers of the cult, group, organization.

TO TODOROKI SHOUTO,

I WRITE THIS LETTER TO ASK IF YOU WILL BE JOINING US IN TWO MONTHS FOR ONE OF THE MANY GREATEST CELEBRATIONS WE - THE MEMBERS OF THE SAVIOR OF EIGHT MILLION - WILL HAVE FOR OUR FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF BEING SUCH A WELL RECEIVED AND INFLUENTIAL ORGANIZATION. I AM GRATEFUL TO RELAY THAT OUR ESTEEMED MEMBERS BAKUGOU-SAN AND MIDORIYA-SAN WILL BE HOSTING OUR EVENT!

I FEEL AS IF WE HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG, TODOROKI-SAN, AND I MISS YOU SO DEARLY. I HOPE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE HAVE BEEN FINE AND THAT WE SHOULD MEET UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO RESPOND TO THE RSVP TO EITHER JIROU-SAN, KAMINARI-SAN, OR ME!

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, YAOYOROZU MOMO

The letter had been kind, inviting, and so fleeting it made Shouto feel like he needed more from one of his most missed and trusted friend. Still, there would be time to catch up with everyone, no use in pushing now.

Grabbing his phone, Shouto typed in Momo's contact name into the search bar, tongue swiping his lower lip while he typed in his message and sent it. He had never been one for these parties. Too often, there were just too over-the-top. The festivities and friends were fun, but having to fight the impossible crowds for a moment of peace kept him from attending.

A truly mundane member.

But this was different after all, it wasn't every day that they celebrated five great years of service.

I'll be going, Yayorozu.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two months went by before Shouto had even realized it.

In those two months, he had received a formal invitation with a day and time. 

2X28, OCTOBER 23

STARTING FROM 20:00

Of course, the lack of an address is a precaution for keeping their organization out of the limelight should they be betrayed. Events of all shapes and sizes were always planned by the upper board of the organization. Only a specific few knew the place where the night would befall, and the rest of the members would be brought to the festivities by a chauffeur provided by the Yaoyorozu's. Getting to and from the party was always stressfree, no matter what befell that night, their safety of getting home was still safe.

The invitation was tucked away into the inside pocket of his jacket, it was his ticket to getting into the party, and it was best to not leave it behind. 

With the invitation now securely placed into his jacket, the smooth inflexible material stiff against his chest, Shouto stared into the mirror he stood before.

An elegant full-length mirror reflected his image to him, and truth be told, he was impressed with his presentation.

A charcoal grey Italian suit trimmed glinting silver nearly gleamed against the white light; the jacket was undone, exposing the white-collared long-sleeved shirt underneath. Typically, Shouto was a tie man, but the sleek black tie he was to wear lay hanging on the hanger, the first few buttons of the shirt undone. It highlighted his toned chest, the few pale scars on his chest just visible enough on his exposed skin to look like it was intensional. He looked good.

His fingers touched his hair, the once long style had been cut in a recent fight with a villain. It hadn't mattered much to Shouto, and in fact, the sudden haircut had spiked his overall ratings. It was short now, just long enough for his fingers to graze through the locks. It was slicked back, the swirl of red and white mixing and strands of red falling into his sight.

“Todoroki-sama, the car is here.”

Shouto didn't bother turning to the attendee, his gaze taking him in one last time.

"I'll be there."

His footsteps were quiet in the hallway, his waxed shiny black shoes gleaming in his hands as he walked to the front room. He slipped on the tight shoes and looked up to his servant, who stood at the front door with a patterned, black mask.

Nodding, he grabbed the mask and slipped it inside of his jacket as well.

A kitsune.

"Safe journey."

"I'll be back tonight."

And into the car, he went, the warm smell of leather and spices filling the backseat of the self-driving car. Shouto relaxed against the black leather, his eyes staring at the road while he slipped the mask out from his jacket. There was no reason to don the mask while stepping out of the house, being caught with it at his home always smelled trouble. 

In the car's silence, his fingers rested onto his lap, his lips set into a firm line while his thoughts lingered to what was to come at this party. 

The last time Bakugou and Midoriya hosted anything, it had ended with an overall disaster. Thankfully then it had been for their agency's founding party and not something dealing with the organization. But before he could muster the will to seek out further information on the private event, he realized that the car was already pulling into the large mansion where the event was being held.

People emerged from the cars before his own, the sleek masks donning on their faces, keeping their identities from unwanted eyes. The covers were specially made by none other than Yaoyorozu with the assistance of Hatsume Mei to ensure that those who wore it would be unrecognizable unless they were within a certain radius.

A small puff of air escaped Shouto's lips as his car pulled up to the unloading zone, and his strong fingers slipped on the mask before the car door opened. With the confidence and power, only those who worked as a top-ranked hero had Shouto emerged from the car immediately greeted by the entrance staff. 

With his hands moving to button his jacket, he nodded his head when receiving information on what to expect upon entering. Shouto felt like he nodded forever while making his way up the entrance of the event, his hand reluctantly offering his phone and wallet over and receiving a ticket for retrieving it. Of course, the ticket came the bundle of condoms.

An eyebrow arched under the mask, and Shouto couldn't help the amused smirk that befell his lips as he pocketed the condoms.

The fuckers made this a sex party.

Why they even bothered to deny that they were a cult was beyond him at this point.

But as the grand doors opened, Shouto couldn't help but tense at the room's mixing aroma.

The sweet smell of champagne bubbled in his nose, wafting in powerfully with the perfumes secreting from every person in the room. If it had been his first time at an event like this, Shouto would have missed the undertone of burning plastic in the air. His eyes followed a civilian dressed up in a zebra zentai bodysuit holding a silver powder with most definitely not cocaine to who looked like the Prime Minister since he had his mask on.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto walked further into the room, ignoring the offers of drugs and alcohol as he carried on. 

"Todoroki, my man! You made it!" came the loud and energetic voice of Kaminari Denki.

It shouldn't have shocked Shouto to immediately be swarmed with who looked like Kirishima (who wore a mask resembling a bear) and Kaminari (who had his mouse resembling mask resting on around his neck), who by the smell at least, were not sober.

"You're the last one to show up, dude! We almost thought you were gonna flake!" Kirishima added, his hand coming to land on Shouto's shoulder, his lips perked into a broad smile. "Everyone else decided to join the orgy room a few minutes ago, but this guy here—" he made a pointed jab at Kaminari's chest. "Was causing a large enough disturbance that we were kicked out."

"Bro, it's not my fault that those dummy civilians can't handle a few jolts of pain!"

"You literally electrocuted everyone in that orgy and left everyone unable to speak for a solid minute, bro!"

"Everyone else is here?" Shouto interrupted rather impressed to here that even Mineta was invited to this party - or maybe he had snuck in - choosing to ignore the mention of an orgy room.

Typical cult things, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, Denki and I don't have to go in tomorrow, so we pre-gamed at his place before coming. Sero did too, but after a few minutes of talking with some trapeze girl, they went into a room and well…" Kirishima trailed off, letting Shouto put two and two together. "Mina is flirting with the crown prince, Yaomomo and Jirou are in the orgy room, Bakugou and Midoriya seem to be micromanaging everything—"

"Those two need sex the most out of the entire class! Have you ever seen a bigger work pole up anyone's asses than in those two?!" Kaminari groaned, his fingers roughly rubbing the skin of his face, and Shouto laughed softly in agreement. It was somewhat ironic that their virgin classmates were the ones who organized and put together a sex party.

"I can't begin to imagine Midoriya having sex. Although that man is basically becoming sex on legs," Kaminari continued to gripe, Shouto grunting softly in thanks when Kirishima handed him a cup filled to the near brim with a copper liquid that burned smoothly down his throat. Shouto grimaced as he managed to down the entire thing. "I can see Bakugou just blowing a hole into the wall and fucking it and considering that sex. Ain't nobody normal who can — OH MY GOD!"

Shouto looked at his friend with nearing annoyance; however, the alcohol already taking a humming effect over his body made the annoyance slip easily.

"Bro, you're gonna get us kicked out of this party, and that's gonna be the shittiest thing!" Kirishima groaned while Kaminari spazzed with what seemed to be the biggest lightbulb of an idea.

"The hoes — the holes! For the glory!" Kaminari slurred with how fast he was speaking, his hands fisting into both Shouto's and Kirishima's jackets, his yellow eyes burning bright in his excitement.

Shouto tried to keep his annoyance down, and the itch to rip Kaminari's iron grip from his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Kirishima tried again, his hand resting on Kaminari's ribcage to steady him. 

"Ei, the gloryholes!"

Gloryholes? 

Shouto numbing mind searched the banks of his memory to figure out where that word came from and why it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, fuck," came Kirishima's strained approval, and Shouto looked at his two friends who were grinning pervertedly at each other.

"What's that?" Shouto asked, his lips buzzing slightly as the alcohol was fully absorbed into his bloodstream, and somehow the smell of sex filled his nose, and the noises of unadulterated carnal lust filled his ears.

"Oh man, Todoroki, if you don't know," Kaminari trailed off, his lips pinched into an elfish smirk, and electricity coming off his hair in his evident excitement. "Just trust me, you gotta experience this shit!"

Shouto wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that thrummed merrily in his veins or the knowing glint in his friend's eyes that whispered to him to find out just what it was, but he felt his head nod without his full awareness. The feeling of their hands on his upper shoulder felt fuzzy as they took him away, intent heavy in every step they took.

He could barely take in the passing rooms as they went, the aerial artists, the sex rooms, the orgy rooms. There were so many rooms designated for just about every kink imaginable that even the stoic Shouto felt his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. With each passing step and opened room, the smell of sex, pheromones, and lust grew in Shouto's nose; the more the sticky sweet moans and screams of the cult members clung to his skin.

For a hero that was never too hot or too cold without his own ministrations, his skin was feeling feverishly hot with cold feet when they finally stopped in front of the only closed door in the hallway.

"Welcome!" came a cheery voice, Shouto blinked, and a woman appeared from nowhere.

She wore a powder blue ava tea dress; it was elegant, sleek, yet too old-school for an event such as this one. Shouto immediately assumed that she was not partaking in the sexual activities, but was instead acting as a hostess of sorts.

"Just you three patrons tonight?" she asked, her head tilting to the side and Kirishima speaking up in agreement for the group of three. "Good, good. We do have enough openings for the three of you, most people haven't found our little… hole in the wall, if you would," she took a moment to giggle joyfully, her gloved fingers pressing to her ruby red lips and Shouto fought the urge to walk away. "So please, feel free to look around and stay as long as you want!"

Her words were light and breezy, but still, there was rising suspicion and tension in Shouto's spine at her small quip.

With an innocuous smile and a glint in her eyes, she opened the door with a gentle, "have fun," and Shouto's friends ushered him in.

His initial reaction? What. The. Fuck?!

The room they entered was large and spacious, or well, at the very least, Shouto assumed it would have been if it wasn't for the obviously installed maze of walls. But with every wall, there was a collage of pictures. Faces of women, men, humans, mutants, everything you could think of plastered above a hole. Curiously enough, the images above one hole were of the same person.

His eyes swept the room, and he saw a few spots already taken, men with their pants and underwear dropped to their knees pressing up against the wall so that their noses were smushed to the makeshift walls.

Shouto blinked.

Gloryholes? Pictures of random people?

Were they fucking ghosts?

"This is paradise!" Kaminari groaned in pleasure, his arms spacing out as if he had come with fantastic news. "These normies always look at you so weirdly when you fuck at orgies, here… you get the nut and don't have to have them staring at you!"

Paradise?!

Shouto stared as his electricity wielding friend approached a hole that adorned photos of a girl with hooded eyes and a tongue piercing. He dropped his bottoms before sticking his hardening cock into the waiting hole with two raps of his fist. At this point, Shouto wasn't sure if what he had drunk was actually alcohol now. 

"These aren't dead people, are they?" Shouto couldn't keep himself from asking, his palms sweating while Kirishima laughed deeply in his chest.

"Not at all, man, it's real people, I promise! Pick your hole and have fun!" Kirishima encouraged, placing a solid pat on Shouto's shoulder before approaching a hole with a picture of a girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

Nodding numbly to himself at this point, Shouto meandered the different walls, his eyes absorbing the various pictures on the walls.

But he fell on the spot with a picture so vivating that drew him in. The chasms of your eyes defiant yet shy, a smile that called him in, and lips that looked supple and strong.

He stood no chance in defying the itching, burning need to follow suit of every other person in this room. Shouto approached the hole, his fingers pulling at his belt, quickly lowering his charcoal grey slacks and black boxer briefs. He stared into your pictured eyes, mesmerized by them, and grasped onto his hardening cock.

A soft shudder invaded his skin as he pressed his cock through the awaiting hole, the skin of his heated cock scraping against the hole, making him strangle a grunt in his throat. But when the wet heat of your mouth enveloped his cock past the hole in the wall, Shouto's face nearly crashed against the wall.

Shouto wasn't sure what to have expected, but he had summed up that this was some over-glorified handjob, a vigorous clumsy jackoff he could have done himself. But he did not expect, in any sense of what this was, to be met with warm, wet lips and a tongue that pressed underneath the head of his cock.

A guttural noise slipped past his lips, and Shouto's palms pressed against the wall, his head spinning dizzyingly from the sensation.

Shouto's breathing was erratic, his cock hardening more, twitching within your mouth as he felt your head begin to bob against his length at a slow, leisurely pace. 

His hips thrust toward the wall, his vision spinning from what this heightened sensation of what he always thought to be a mundane act. Shouto's slacks were too far up his thighs; however, the fabric spread to his max despite his attempt to lower down. He wanted to get closer to the wall, get whoever you were past this wall to take in his entire cock without an issue, so mindlessly, instinctively, he shoved the slacks further down, grunting with relieved pleasure at being able to spread out further, at getting closer to you.

"Holy shit," Shouto grunted, his forehead pressing against the cold wall, undoubtedly crinkling the paper of your photos. His hips came forward, hitting the wall dividing him and you with low, vibrating thuds, and you let him, allowed him to keep his rutting hips at the pace they were. You took him in as if it was nothing, the smooth skin of your lips gliding against his throbbing length, your tongue running alongside the bottom of his cock, tracing the veins of his skin, twisting against the sensitive skin, providing new sensations and shivers.

Shouto knew immediately that you were letting him fuck your mouth however he saw fit.

He felt you moan around him, a long, deep, undeniable noise that somehow drifted through the hole, vibrated against his cock, and could be felt against his curling toes. The sound and sensations were proving to be effective, a pooling heat building in his balls, simmering up and down his spine and neck. How he wished to grab you by the back of your head and drive his cock down your throat without mercy.

Snarling in the back of his throat, suddenly fueled by the image of fucking you, the thought of you on your knees, tears built in your bright eyes and tears rolling down your cheeks feeding him. And as if you knew what he wanted, Shouto's knees near bucked out when your mouth took him in even further, the soft choking noise, the feeling of his cock pressing against the back of your throat sending his fingers digging into the wall.

He drilled in faster, grateful for your ability to keep up, the feeling of his cock pressing down the back of your throat sending his jaw flying open, curses and praises spilling past his lips with every inch you took him further down your throat. The area of his cock unable to be taken in your mouth was surrounded by your fingers — by god, what fucking fingers you had — warm and robust, they held his skin, sliding effortlessly against the spit lubricated skin.

"You can hear me right, whore?" Shouto growled against the wall, the hot air of his breath almost fogging the area he was standing in. Somehow, he heard the choked noise of agreement, the bobbing head vigorously nodding, sending you into a sputtering choke from the awkward angle. But Shouto liked hearing you choke, liked hearing the needy tone in your whining agreement, and he swore he was feeling his heartbeat in his balls. "You're not here entirely on your own will, are you? Came here for money, to suck some rich mans' cock?" His hips stammered when you sucked your cheeks in around his length, his eyes rolling in the break of his concentration, his blood pumping in his hormone pumped euphoria. "I want you to fucking choke on my cock, you hear that? Take me all the way in, don't be scared, I know you probably don't see much cock, but I promise if you can handle me, you'll never want other cock, slut. Take me all, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

A hiccuped breath came from your side of the wall, and Shouto almost wanted to simply burn the wall down to claim you for all his need and glory, someone with a mouth as gifted as yours definitely needed to be fucked correctly. Still, his hips reigned down, slamming against the wall so that the thuds of his impeding hips were heard softly in the other areas. 

And you? Behind the wall?

He could feel the weight of your head pressing forward, the feeling of his length sliding further and further down your throat. The pulsing of his cock ridiculously stilled with the restrained muscles of your throat, and the almost excessive drool and spit that dripped from his length with your choking movements.

More, he wanted more, he needed more.

"Fuck, slut, you're taking me so fucking well. You almost have me entirely in your mouth," Shouto growled, an inch or so of his cock still not entirely in your mouth, but not letting your tight fist work his cock. "Don't give up, take me all, I know a whore like you who shows up to be a sex slave can take my cock."

A whine (was that a horny or a frustrated whine?) emitted from the wall, and with a strained noise, Shouto felt your wet, hot lips make contact with the base of his cock as he continued to drill into you. Spluttering groans poured from his throat, the feeling of your hot cavern and resisting throat, sending him over the edge.

"Yes," Shouto gasped, the smell of sex, electricity, and barely burning walls simmering in his nose. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

Shouto could feel his nerves being shot out, the feeling of the compliant mouth keeping him pumping into the hole, his fingers digging further and further into the wall into it cracked and crumbled, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, to break through the wall to get to you. He was almost there, so close, but needed to get over the hill. And then Shouto was swallowed completely when his slamming his stopped, he could feel your lip press to his skin hidden by the hole. He had no doubt that it must have been sorely uncomfortable for you, yet you were doing it to the point where he was fumbling for words, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your tongue wrapped around his cock, massaging the skin. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck!"

His head dropped back with the shooting electricity in his blood, sweat dripping from his temple and you, the stranger behind the wall, gave one vicious, strong suck, your mouth only surrounding the head of his cock, your wet tongue flicking the slit on his head, and he was spilling over.

Hot, thick, heavy ropes of white cum spurted from his cock and Shouto shuddered, his shaking breath echoing in his ears, and he could still feel your tongue moving, coaxing out the finality of his orgasm, teeth scraping against his sensitive cock just enough to have him seeing stars.

But the giggle that erupted in your throat was well noticed by Shouto, and he grunted in slight annoyance. Pulling away, a soft, almost unwanted pop echoed on the other side of the wall.

Shouto watched as his spit and cum covered cock pulled back to his side of the wall, and he grunted unwillingly. His forehead still rested against the wall, and he looked up to his left side with a disgruntled noise to see that he did, in fact, scorch his fingertips into the wall.

As he tucked himself back into his underwear and slacks, Shouto's blissed-out eyes fell onto the hole where your hand was perched out of it, your pinky the only finger visible.

"Pinky promise you'll come back later?" your raspy voice asked, and Shouto wondered if that was how you usually sounded or if it was from what happened.

"As long as you promise to do something like that again," Shouto smirked, his pink taking yours anyways.

He could promise that to the hole in the wall.

Shouto slips out the door and is immediately greeted with a bummed out Kaminari and a profusely apologizing Kirishima. He later finds out that Kaminari let out yet another round of voltage of electricity (he's banned from fucking anyone that can't absorb his quirk without damaging themselves), and that Kirishima in his blissed-out state accidentally went into his unbreakable mode and tore a hole into the wall. Shouto didn't bother telling them of the scorched walls and left with his friends.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It only felt like a few minutes before Shouto found himself outside the same closed door of the room with gloryholes. The alcohol had long since been burned from his system, he is practically positive that you managed to suck it out from his bloodstream.

For the past two hours, he had been around the mansion, aiding Kirishima in his objective to keep Kaminari from accidentally killing a sexual partner. It had been for the best, Shouto believed. He was no prude and definitely didn't hate indulging in the occasional orgies - especially at parties like this. But for some reason, as strangers attempted to shed him from his clothes, lips, and fingers roaming his scarred, heated skin, he thought of you and only you.

Your tantalizing mouth and fingers.

He had exited the orgy room faster than All Might at his peak. 

He was strangely obsessed with a stranger, a person who was no more than someone past a hole in the wall. Who knew if your picture was what you looked like, but he sure hoped it was.

But when Mina had appeared out of nowhere, her perfectly manicured fingers pressing against Kirishima's chest as she emerged from behind him. She was, obviously, one of the few easily discernable members of the cult. 

"So, the crown prince does not know how to use his dick, and I am disappointed in men all over again!" Mina pouted, but her usual sly grin was back on her face before Shouto could ask if she needed help scouting potential 'dick appointments' as she so fondly calls them.

This was where things got strange in that Kirishima pointed out that Mina should just fuck a woman to teach men how to fuck women properly. Kaminari filled Shouto in with a horribly done stage whisper that the two of them had fucked before and that despite the experience of any man, Mina was never truly satisfied. 

"Alright, student Kirishima," Mina had thrust her finger into Kirishima's chest. "Follow me to the hole-y wall and watch the master do her job!"

Once more, Shouto was outside the door, the woman seemingly materialized from thin air in her same powder blue ava tea party dress and ruby red smile. 

"Welcome back! For four patrons this time?" the woman gleefully smiled, her gloved fingers clasping below her chin.

"For one, actually," Mina spoke up first, "I'm teaching these boys—"

"I've actually never had a problem," Shouto spoke up, his calm and collected gaze unwaveringly met the hostess despite the chilling horror and embarrassment of his words that crawled up his spine. At the same time, Mina looked up him and down with a small, small smirk. "I'll be taking a spot."

"Ho ho, well, excuse me," Mina giggled, turning back to the hostess with a brightness to her stance. "Two spots then. I have boys to teach!"

"Of course!" the hostess spoke unaffectedly by the group's dynamics. "Please enjoy yourselves! This part is a special treat for you lovely patrons, don't forget to be mindful of our poor angels stuck in the wall!"

The door opened, and in the group of four walked in.

If Shouto had been taken by surprise the first time, he was beyond belief the second time he entered this same room. His first time coming, there had only been those beautiful glory holes, but this time? There were no material holes.

Where the holes used to be, there were only large holes where the person assigned to the area was now presented to the public.

Asses curved to the sky, asses pointed to the ground. Cocks leaking, limp, and red with overstimulation, cunts soaked, throbbing, and swollen with overuse. It was indeed as if these individuals had been stuck in a wall, and Shouto already felt his cock twitch in his carnal lust and need to see just how you were positioned. How he prayed that you were at your spot, laying on your stomach, ass hanging out to the world waiting for his cock to claim you, waiting for him to ruin you. He wanted to feel your liquid lust drip from your cunt, splashing and trailing down your inner thigh.

Shouto didn't bother saying goodbye to his friends, the smell of sex, and his own lust switching his brain onto a one-track mindset with the growing need to get to you immediately. 

And almost to his raging hormonal anger, he came to the aisle where you were parked, and while his heart hammered with the growing pleasure to see your ass hanging in the air, your thighs pressed to the wall, his vision turned red at the sight of some no-named man rutting his ugly cock between your dry folds.

In no time flat, Shouto was behind the man, his hand fisting into the collar of the man's shirt and tearing him away from him.

"Mine." he all but growled, his aura darkening while he glared at the red-faced idiot who attempted to cover himself up in the act of running away.

It didn't matter that what Shouto did was probably entirely rude and could result in him getting thrown out, you were his, and no way was someone going to fuck you when he was there. The weirded out gazes that fell upon him temporarily did nothing to Shouto, his focus back onto your squirming bottom, no doubt weirded out by the sudden lack of contact.

But with a sigh, his fingers combing the few falling free strands of hair out of his face, Shouto stood centimeters from your shifting thighs, watching you continue squirming until he finally moved. His hands pressed against your supple, smooth ass, enjoying the way you fit against his hands perfectly. 

He stepped forward, allowing the bulge of his strained cock to press against the top of your ass — the perfect height for him. Shouto leaned forward, his forehead once more pressing against the cold wall, his eyes taking in the still visible scorch marks he had left behind and chuckled deep in his throat.

"I'm back, my precious whore, I bet you missed me," Shouto spoke through the wall, hoping that you would respond back to him. He thought he could hear an agreeing sound on the other side of the wall, another layer of muffled, and he wondered if maybe you had been gagged. The thought made him exhale slowly, his hips strained from rutting against you, but against his belief, your ass ground against his hardening cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. "You did miss me, huh?"

His calloused fingers moved from your supple ass to the outsides of your thighs, feather-soft touches skimming your skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps and twitching nerves. Shouto's gaze remained hard on your body, watching how you completely stilled when he found his fingers against the inner part of your thigh and just shy of the excessive heat that was radiating from your cunt.

And he leaned down, his lips pressing against the curve of your ass, his eyes partially hooded when he felt you relax against his hold. But the relaxed position you held quickly erased the moment his teeth sunk into your skin, and his finger pressed against your swollen clit. 

Immediately, your body arched, a weak attempt to buck out of his hold while he heard a muffled cry from the other end of the wall. But Shouto was a hero, he was some with extreme control over his body, and as his tongue moved to soothe your throbbing ass, one finger continued to delicately dance against your clit, while the other shifted over to your softly beating cunt. 

Shouto groaned against your skin, his pants feeling too tight, the material of his underwear too hot and stiff for how strained his cock was right now, yet it was nothing to the feeling of your tight, wet, hot cunt. In and out, he pumped his finger, curling the long digit against your puffy spongey walls, the thumb on your clit circulating in slow, intentional figure-eights until you were pathetically rising and falling against his finger, a garbled whine for more barely audible through the wall. He chuckled at the feeling of your inner walls forcible clenching against his intruding finger, and he rewarded you with a second finger.

"Doesn't this feel good?" Shouto groaned, his body straightening back up so that he was flushed against your ass, his forehead resting on the wall, and his now free hand slowly grinding your ass against his crotch.

He watched you with the intensity of a predator stalking their prey, his mouth twitching into a smirk when your toes curled with a sudden drag of his fingers over a ribbed area of your core. Growling in need, Shouto's hips slammed into you, mindlessly fucking you even with his clothes on. His fingers doubled in speed and intensity until the rapid clenching of your walls was unignorable around his fingers.

His forearms ached slightly with his continued fingering, his thumb almost stiff as he continued to assault your clit, but with the arching of your back, the stuttering of your hips as an impeding orgasm was growing bigger and stronger. Shouto barely registered the sight of his own hand rising and falling heavily onto your ass, the sound of the spank echoing loudly, but that had pushed you over the edge.

A loud mewl sounded from the wall, your legs trembling entirely uncontrollably against Shouto, who still drove his hard crotch into your soaked cunt. He didn't care if you were to wet the expensive suit, his mind now solely on the fact that he needs to claim you, needs to sink his cock all the way in, and make sure you were bruised for days to come. 

Wasting no time, Shouto sheds off his pants and his underwear, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud before aligning his already hard and swollen cock head to your clenching, sopping cunt. Shouto nearly shivers as he grips his fingers into your ass, his eyes mesmerized with how your flesh molds to his grasp, moving and shifting accordingly. With only a moan as a warning, Shouto wasted no time in pressing his cock to your cunt, and thrusting in with a single, sharp thrust.

If he had thought your cunt was tight with just your fingers, if he had thought the instance where you had vacuumed your mouth while sucking him off was tight, he was in a world of surprises when he came through from entering you. Your cunt was hot and oh so fucking tight around him, milking him dry of all and any precum that he had gathered at his swollen slit. Your inner walls flutter around him, intensely and quickly trying to adjust to the monstrous thickness that he was, and he could hear the pained panting pleasure of you through the wall, and he almost lost it at the keen whine on your tongue.

He shifted, moving his hips just so slight as to regain what little sanity he had left to ensure that you were thoroughly and roughly fucked. 

"Fuck," Shouto moaned, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, his skin feeling sticky and sweaty as he felt you continue trembling beneath him. "For a fucking whore, you have a really tight cunt. I bet you wished I had used fucking lube, huh?"

Shouto took a tentative thrust into you, his legs quivering at the feeling of the way your cunt gripped his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move as he did. "Should've made your pussy wetter then," he spoke in a near whisper to the wall, unsure if you had heard him as he began his conquest in fucking you.

With his fingers gripping your hips, he enjoys the way you bruise against his hold, almost as much as he enjoys the way the wall rocks with every slam of his brutal hips.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping cunt send loud, wet noises ringing in his ears, sending a few other nearby patrons to turn their heads to look at him - to look at him in his conquest of claiming you as his. It only fueled him on, and he picked up his pace until there was a medley of sounds: his thighs crashing against your ass, the squelching of your wet cunt against his thick cock, and your thighs slapping the wall. 

Shouto growled at the feeling of your cunt stretching for him, the tremble of your legs, the way your feet twisted and curled against his knees, almost as if in a silent beg to get him impossibly closer, to make him fuck you impossibly faster, harder. 

His gorging fingers break your skin, and Shouto delights in the painful, garbled scream from your side of the wall. Your body is weak against him, yet he can still feel your hips jutting against his rutting hips, your body desperately trying to keep up with his insane speed and lust.

And when his hand presses to your lower back and the other right above your crotch so that he can raise you higher, the new angle of penetration sends Shouto fumbling for strength. It's then he can feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, your toes digging into his skin as he continues to pound away at your cervix, and he takes the rolling shrieks and moans from your mouth like a good thing. 

"Such a good fucking whore, I never found many of you who enjoyed when I literally rearranged their guts," Shouto huffed, his fingers tweaking and yanking at your clit until you were shaking in his arms. "You're enjoying this so much, I bet you wanted this the entire time after I left, didn't you? You wanted my cock in your pussy, I wanted to have my seed pumped into you until everyone knows that you're mine. You'd look so pretty pregnant with my babies, your stomach swollen, and your tits just fucking leaking milk for our children, huh?"

It's then that your cunt around his cock becomes a vice grip, and Shouto shudders at the feeling of your orgasm rocking through you, your pathetic keens barely audible in his blood rushing ears. And he continues, Shouto could feel the familiar sensation of his nerves being shot out, the feeling of your cunt desperately trying to milk him of his seed and worth as you grew limper in his arms, his fingers raking raised lines against your ass, forever marking himself against you, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, his mind solidifying over the need to somehow appear where you were now so he could fuck you with no restraint. He thought of your crossed eye gaze, the possible spit pouring from your mouth as you took his every drop of seed greedily into your cunt. He imagined seeing your eyes spilling with tears, seeing your fingers rip into the fabric as he fucked you with no restraint, and with his imagination, he lost himself.

Shouto continued to blindly ram his cock into your cunt, a savage, insane last attempt to spill himself into you, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your cunt pathetically clenched against his hammering cock, finally sending his left hand to the wall, fire bursting from his palm as finally his orgasm tears through him. Shit, shit, "Shit!"

Shouto's temples are damp with sweat, and his vision swims with his overwhelming desire for you and the need to get to your room without destroying the wall to completion.

He picks up his pants and underwear, quickly fixing himself up so that he's almost remorse in the way that he can't appreciate watching his cum spill from your cunt, but the lack of you on his cock is enough to have him zipping up his pants and racing to where the hostess appears.

She doesn't stand a chance when both fire and ice bite against her neck.

"How do I get into the rooms?"

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

After being caught flirting with whoever you had pinky promised, you had been gagged. It wasn't a bad thing per se, that man had been the last person to visit you when the room was still functioning as glory holes. With the new stuck in the wall theme, it only invited men and women to be aggressive, and a part of you guiltily and ashamedly enjoyed how rough they would get in there attempt to hear you against the gag.

But you couldn't help the flutter in your cunt and in your heart when the familiar voice of the pinky promise man sounded through the wall. Right now, however, your body felt wholly and thoroughly used. Every inch of your asscheeks and cunt was abused, but the orgasm that came with his fucking was otherwordly. 

There was still nothing to prevent the shameful clog in your throat when he abandoned you after a single orgasm, but then again, you didn't expect the door to your cubicle to be thrown open, and a man stood there with a black kitsune mask. You wondered who it was, but there was the distinctive, infamous red and split white hair behind the cover, and you whimpered at the sudden shame at being caught like this by a Pro Hero you absolutely adored. 

The mask was torn from his face, the door closing behind him, and you were ripped back into the tight cubicle, pressed flush against his chest as he sealed off the hole with his ice. You were speechless as his obviously hard cock pressed against your diaphragm, and you trembled upon hearing the zipper of his pants coming down.

And the voice of one Todoroki Shouto sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the flame in your cunt.

"I got to fuck your mouth and your cunt through other people's rules, I think it's about time I get to fuck you however I see fit."

[permanantheadache]

It’s officially the 5th where I am! Happy DEH Gift Exchange! @sincerely-us My person was @iellostar Hope you like this!!

The prompts were: evan and connor on a road trip. like, to set the scene: like those aus of people running away and disappearing when they turn 18. And: Connor comes out to his dad and it doesnt go well, he goes to evans and heidi and evan comfort him and its super sweet and cute.     And, like....for the art I did the first one, but...I kind of also did fic. Because I was worried that this drawing wasn’t very good. So, I combined the two prompts and made the fic below. It’s also on Ao3

Connor is smiling. It’s a gentle thing, this smile. Warm, happy. It’s Evan’s favorite, even though it’s the rarest.

Evan has been watching this smile form for the past hour. The further they get away from civilization, from all the drama waiting for them back home, the more relaxed Connor gets.

Anxiety and anger and stress leach away from his face, softening the line of his shoulders until he’s practically slumping in his seat.

“You’re staring,” Connor says. It’s not a complaint.

“I have a cute boyfriend,” Evan counters anyway.

Connor rolls his eyes, but his cheeks turn pink. “No, you.”

The road around them is deserted, which is how Evan’s anxiety likes it. This is the main reason he doesn’t protest when Connor takes one hand off the wheel to lace with Evan’s.

Evan pulls their joined hands up to give Connor’s knuckles a kiss.

--

It’s Heidi’s idea, originally. Long before Connor and Evan are even dating, she suggests that the two of them take a roadtrip, the summer before college. She thinks getting away from the stress of school and work, as well as their peers, might do them a lot of good.

She references Evan’s pin map, the one he abandoned at the beginning of the year--he’s replaced some of the old pins in their spots, as well as adding new pins to places that Connor mentions he’d like to see someday.

Heidi’s pleased that Evan’s retaken up his old habit, but she’s a little too smug about those new pins for his liking.

They have nothing to do with his crush on Connor, mom!

Not…not that he has a crush on Connor.

…

Okay, yes, he’s completely gone on Connor.

Thankfully, as Evan finds out later, Connor reciprocates those feelings!

But that’s a story for another time.

Connor is completely on board with Heidi’s idea, once it’s brought up to him. He’s perfectly happy to spend some time away from his family, especially if Evan’s there. The three of them make a cautious plan that, the month after graduation, Connor and Evan will hit the road.

Heidi, after nearly thirteen years of single-parenthood, is a master at budgeting. She helps them plan out where they’ll stay and the costs. It’s more than a little confusing to both boys, but to Connor especially. He’s shit at math and numbers.

Between their two jobs, and Heidi and Connor’s mother helping, they should be perfectly fine, money-wise, to do what they’d like.

“I wanna go to Bear Mountain,” Connor tells Evan.

Evan blinks, surprised. “I mean, me too, but isn’t hiking more my thing?” His eyes widen and he tries to backtrack. “Not that I think you don’t exercise! I just--”

“Let’s be real, I don’t exercise,” Connor scoffs, cutting Evan’s panic off at the knees. “But it’s in On the Road and you know I’m a hoe for anything to do with books.”

“Yeah, but you’re my hoe.”

“...”

“You know what I meant, asshole!”

--

They end up having to move up their timeline by a week. Because Larry and Connor get into their worst fight since the beginning of the school year.

The thing is, Connor and Evan have been open about their relationship to Heidi since the very beginning. And they tell Cynthia not long after. Both women are, to put it lightly, overly supportive of their relationship. It’s genuine, but Connor can tell that some of Cynthia’s furver stems from guilt. And because Evan and Connor have been mentally healthier since they became friends.

(They both still have their bad days. Some are worse than others. But, it helps. To not be alone.)

Unfortunately, Cynthia broaches the topic of telling Larry.

And she keeps bringing it up.

It takes two full months of convincing before Connor agrees to tell--if only to stop her nagging him.

Because Connor is a realist, he expresses his doubt to Evan. Larry has never been the most accepting--even about things that most straight, white men at least tolerate.

Connor won’t say that he’s worried, per say. But he’s got a bad feeling in his gut. And his gut is rarely wrong.

--

Connor has an emergency bag stashed at the Hansen house.

The first time that Connor has a fight with his family, post-becoming-friends with Evan, Connor crawls in through Evan’s bedroom window. It’s the middle of October, and freezing, and Connor has on shorts and a thin shirt. He’s shivering, in rage and because he’s cold.

After Evan gets done shrieking at the potential burglar, he loans Connor some sweats and makes him hot chocolate. He gets down all the spare blankets and make a cocoon in the living room.

Connor spends the night. The sweats are too short, but he wears them anyway. They don’t talk about what drove him to Evan’s house. They watch Food Network in near comfortable silence (though Evan can’t stop the worried look he keeps aiming at Connor, and Connor can’t fully relax until he’s passed out).

Connor crawls through Evan’s bedroom window three more times before Heidi (having caught on after the second time) gives him a spare key and a suggestion that he keep extra clothes in Evan’s closet.

“We’re always happy to have you over,” she tells him gently, closing his hand around the key she’s put in it. She’s smiling, her gentle amusement crinkling her eyes. “Just, maybe use the door?”

And so, there comes to be a small backpack filled with just enough clothes for an overnight visit and something for the next day.

At first.

Over time, the contents of the bag shift, as Connor comes over for impromptu sleepovers--and, as he and Evan became closer friends, more scheduled sleepovers--and switch out the clothes for fresh ones.

Eventually, Evan, kind of tired of how over-full the bag is getting (he keeps tripping over it when he needs something from the back of the closet), cleans out the bottom drawer of his dresser and puts all of Connor’s things in there.

It feels like something permanent, Connor having his own drawer in Evan’s house.

--

Connor drives, half-blind from the angry tears streaming down his face, until he reaches the familiar street that the Hansens’ reside on. He probably parks crooked.

He doesn’t care.

His hand is shaking as he pulls out his phone.

Connor: Im outisde

Fukc

Im outsidee

He can’t fucking type properly because his hands are shaking and he’s crying too hard and he hates this he hates his dad he hates himself he hates--

“--hey, Con, hey.”

He didn’t hear the car door open. Evan’s blurry figure is beside him, close but not touching. Connor nearly lunges to pull his boyfriend against him, immediately burying his face in Evan’s neck. He desperately needs the contact.

Evan is good at hugs.

(When Connor brings it up, their first month of dating, Evan goes deeply red. But he hugs Connor even more after that, so he counts it as a win.)

He breathes in Evan’s scent, a woodsy floral thing that never fails to send some signal to Connor’s brain that he’s safe . That, paired with the shaky hand running over his hair, practically hard-resets all the tension in his body.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, curled around Evan’s body, but eventually he finds himself pulling away. “I fucking hate crying,” he grumbles, voice crackly from tears. He scrubs at his face roughly.

Evan pulls Connor’s hands away from his face. He keeps holding them. “C’mon, you can wash your face. And you’re probably dehydrated now, so I’ll get you some water. Otherwise—”

“—otherwise I’m gonna end up with a migraine,” Connor agrees. He’s suddenly exhausted. He allows Evan to lead him inside.

—

Heidi is on the phone when they come in. Her back is to the door, so she doesn’t see them right away. “Yes, Cynthia, of course I’ll look out for him. Yes. As long as he needs to be here. He’s like a son to me.”

Connor can’t hold back the intake of breath at her words--she actually seems to mean them. It makes his chest ache. His eyes burn anew.

Heidi turns at his small noise. Her eyes go wide, and then soften with sadness and affection. “He’s here Cynthia. I’ll have him call you later.” She puts down the phone and immediately gathers him into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Connor crumples in her hold, going limp against her. And, he finds, he is not quite done crying.

There’s a brush of another hand on Connor’s back. “I’ll go get you that water,” Evan says gently. He leaves the two of them alone.

Heidi leads Connor over to sit on the couch. He sits, curling against her like a little kid. She’s patting at his hair. It’s nice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Connor shrugs. “Did my mom tell you what happened?” he asks, after a moment. His voice is scratchy as hell.

“She said that you and Larry had an argument.”

He scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly.”

She waits for him to go on.

“I just.” He sighs. “You and my mom and Zoe--you guys were all happy when Ev and I got together. I wanted. Part of me just wanted Larry to at least…accept it.” He laughs. It’s not a happy sound. “It’s not like I’ve ever exactly hidden the fact that I’m not super hetero.”

“Sometimes we’re blind to things we don’t want to see,” Heidi says gently.

Evan sits down next to them, placing three cups of water on the coffee table. He takes Connor’s hand again.

Connor chokes on a sob. “I don’t get why the hell it hurts so bad? It’s Larry , I shouldn’t be so cut up about this!”

It’s Evan who speaks, squeezing at their laced hands. “He should’ve been supportive of you. It’s not your fault he’s a--a shitty human being.”

“I don’t want to see him,” Connor confesses. “I don’t--I can’t…”

“Well, you’re staying here, honey,” Heidi says, firm. “As long as you want. Cynthia is sending Zoe over with your stuff in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. I’m shoving all my garbage off on you guys.” He feels like such a burden.

“Hon, we care about you. The people in your life that care, they help carry anything you can’t.”

Connor sits up, rubs at his running nose. Evan hands him a glass of water. He drinks half of it down. “‘M tired,” he says.

“It’s late,” Heidi agrees. “You boys should go ahead and lay down.”

Connor and Evan are still holding hands as they make their way upstairs. They curl up together on Evan’s tiny bed, but neither of them sleep yet.

Evan is tracing circles across Connor’s back with his free hand. His voice is quiet. “How would you feel about leaving this week, instead of next?”

Connor slumps in relief, giving a brief, jerky nod.. “That would actually be perfect.” His hold on Evan tightens. “I don’t…I can’t stay in the same town with him. I think I’ll lose my shit if I see him.”

“Valid. I think I might punch him if I see him.”

“Babe.”

“I’m serious. He hurt you, I hate him.”

--

They’re driving down to Harriman State Park, their first stop--mainly due to its proximity to Bear Mountain and the Appalachian trail.

It’s sunny, but not hot. It’s the perfect temperature for a hike. At least, according to Evan.

Connor has to sit down on a rock twenty minutes in. He’s sweating buckets and glaring at Evan. Evan is entirely too cheerful. “How are you so upbeat?” Connor whines. He reluctantly accepts an offered water bottle. “Don’t you hate sweating?”

“Of course I do, but when I’m sweating because I’m doing something I enjoy, it doesn’t affect me as much.”

Connor smirks behind his water bottle, giving Evan a raised eyebrow.

“Oh shut the hell up, you know what I meant!”

“Do I?”

“I’m not the one wearing black!”

--

The sun is just beginning to set when they make camp. Which is something that Connor actually knows how to do.

Those few years in Boy Scouts that Larry forced him to do are actually useful.

Connor scowls. He’s not going to think about Larry. He’s on a trip with his awesome boyfriend and he’s not going to let anyone ruin that. Not even himself.

It’s still early enough in the summer that night time is significantly cooler. It’s the perfect temperature for cuddling. Evan and Connor take full advantage and curl up together.

“Jeezus ,” Connor squeaks, flinching away from the icicles currently assaulting his legs. “Why are your feet so cold?”

A somewhat devious giggle slips out of his boyfriend. “I have p--I have poor circulation?”

“How come I haven’t noticed this before?”

“I usually wear socks at home, but I’m not going to sleep in sweaty socks. That’s gross.”

Connor heaves a long sigh and submits to Evan sticking his freezing toes all over his shins. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Evan hums happily and says, far too seriously, “I love you, too.”

It should be a big moment, them saying those words to each other for the first time. But, Connor likes this better. He likes that they’re calm and pleasantly sleepy from the long drive and difficult hike. His muscles ache in a good way (though he won’t likely feel that way come morning). And he is cuddling with his boyfriend, who loves him.

He snuggles more firmly against Evan and drifts off to sleep.

[ehstarwar]

a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves (2/8)

It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways.

-

Rey holds up her end of the deal with Ben and asks him for help.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: threw in a lil spice with this chapter to show my gratitude for how wonderful u all are 

໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

(also i'm shit at getting back to comments, but just know i will totes respond to you all and i would also die for all my commenters and kudos-ers. now back to ur regularly scheduled ABO)

Chapter 2: that breathes upon a bank of violets

-

Ben glared down at his now empty plate, while another champagne flute was placed before him. His mother continued to prattle on about her latest endeavors in the senate, but Ben was having a hard time focusing. He knew he should be listing to his mother; after everything he put her through, it was the least he could do, but his mind was elsewhere. Someplace not too far away, probably just waking up in a ratty old band t-shirt, smelling like all the good things in this world. 

“… Then he told me that I was only four votes down when I actually thought I was three votes ahead, so if he hadn’t tried to make a pompous ass of himself, he probably would have won- Benjamin? Hello? Are you with me?” Leia waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him from a train of thought that was not suitable for Sunday brunch with his mother.

“What? Oh, sorry. You were talking about Senator Sion, I think?” Ben says. Leia side-eyes him, taking a sip of her mimosa. 

“You’ve been distracted all morning and keep staring at me like you want to throw your eggs at my face. What’s going on?” She asks, motherly concern coloring her voice. Ben sighs, knowing that lying will only come back to bite him in the ass.

“You fought to end the suppressant mandate on omegas, what, a few months ago?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“This is about politics?” She questions, giving him a disbelieving look.

“You realize that now insurance doesn’t have to cover suppressant coverage any more because of this, right?”

Leia sighs. “We knew it would be a side affect, that the lesser organizations would use it to capitalize off diminishing coverage. We weighed the risk and rewards and felt that it was still worth fighting for. We’re working with Planned Parenthood to be able to distribute suppressants to omegas who still want it, but it’s a war. Victories don’t always come easy.” Leia explains. Ben runs a hand through his hair.

“You don’t think the risk outweighs the reward? Omegas have a hard time getting good jobs with decent insurance, as is. If they can’t afford suppressants, it just makes their life harder.”

“All of this and more has been discussed with various political advisors who know quite a bit more than alphas like you and I, Ben. We made out decision on what to support. It would be hypocritical for us to tout that alphas don’t need to be on blockers but measly little omegas need suppressants. If you wanted to fight about political derivatives, we should have met in my office. No cutlery to throw at each other there,” She huffs. 

When Ben stays silent, not knowing how to continue this conversation without turning it into a fight, Leia concedes. 

“Did something happen? Do you know someone…?” She asks. Ben nods. “Who?”

“Rey,” He admits. Leia’s eyes go wide in understanding and she relaxes in her seat, inwardly pleased that she finally understands what’s going on.

“Rey is off suppressants because her insurance stopped covering them and now you having harder time concealing your feelings.” Bens’ eyes snapped up to his mother, before he began sputtering retorts.

“What are you- I don’t know- That’s not even, What? I don’t have feelings for Rey! It’s just… a problem and I know that I’m indirectly a cause of that and I feel bad. But not because I’m… I have… nothing. I feel bad for her, is all.” Leia just quietly laughed to herself, only fueling Bens’ discomfort. 

“Oh, please, Ben! I used to have to beg you just to know your friends name. You and Tai were friends for six years before I even knew he existed! Then, you meet Rey and introduce her to me after a week of knowing her. A week, Ben!” Leia says.

Ben just continues to mutter intelligible things under his breath.

“It’s okay for you to like her, Ben. I’d be worried if you didn’t. She’s a great girl. The whole family loves her.” Leia’s attempts to comfort her son serve only to embarrass him further. Like Ben didn’t already have the less-than-inconspicuous seal of approval from Grandma Padmé, and the constant jibes from Uncle Luke about how Rey ‘balances’ Ben out’. He hates that he loves it so much. That he needs it at all.

“If I… If I say anything to her now, she’ll think it’s just because she’s not on suppressants. She’ll think of me as just another knot-driven alpha who forgot to take his blockers.” Ben’s quiet admission sobers his mother up for a moment. 

“You’ll just have to convince her otherwise,” Leia presses, earning a humorless chuckle from Ben. 

“And how do I do that? I’m not exactly the most eloquent when it comes to women…. or people in general, really.” His mother snorts.

“You think I don’t know that?”

He narrows his eyes, and Leia puts her hands up in surrender.

“You’ll just have to… be there. For her. Whatever she needs. That’s the best place to start.”

-

When the number flashes across Rey’s screen, she knows it means trouble. Because she hasn’t had enough of that lately, evidently.

Inspection today. 

During normal work hours?

No. After.

Inspections take a lot of time. I can’t stay that late tonight.

No other option. Feel free to quit. 

Rey feels her insides boil. Her boss, Plutt knows her situation (despite her many attempts to keep it from him) and knows that quitting isn’t an option. Her fist balls as the thinks of what ‘inspections’ entails. 

Any normal work place with  a proper Human Resources department would call it an employee evaluation, but not Plutt. No, his ‘inspection’ consist of going through all of the work Rey has done over the last few months, noting only the complaints of vehicle not properly fixed, unsatisfied customers who didn’t like that an omega was working on their stuff, and Plutt’s continued harassment of her character. It would break any normal person, even people stronger than she; but Rey wouldn’t be brought down by Trumps’ broke doppelgänger.

Rey wanted to quit, and she had typed up a two-week-notice more than once, but its not like she could easily find another job. An omega mechanic, with debt up to her ears, in the wrong part of the city wasn’t the most attractive to potential employers, and going without a job wasn’t an option. So she would endure the likely horrific forty minute attack on her person with a straight face, then treat herself to some of the half-priced sushi from the drugstore around the corner.

The most daunting of all this was the fact that she would be in Plutts’ office, alone, well into the evening. He’d never tried anything on her, but he did tout his alpha status around enough that he was very aware she was an omega. 

And now, an omega without suppressants.

Rey thought of the pheromone sprays that she could take a few test sprays of, trying to put an alpha scent on her that would clog up the room and make Plutt want her out of there as soon as possible. But alpha sprays were hard to come by and usually did a piss-poor job of convincing others it was real. Only a real alpha scent would do the trick, and Rey’s lack of a love life gave her limited options.

Except, of course, for Ben. 

His rich, thick, melt-in-you-mouth, alpha scent that could bring back an omega from the brink of death would be perfect. If it made Rey feel like she was wrapped up in a warm blanket for the rest of the day, that was just an added bonus. 

But it’s not like she could ask Ben to do that. It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways. She texts him before she looses her nerve. 

i have a favor to ask

Shoot.

it’s a big favor 

…shoot?

you can say no if you want

i’d understand

Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?

Not trouble, per se, but a predicament 

Rey, I’m worried. What’s going on?

u remember my boss Plutt? he wants to have an 

inspection with me tonight and i’d be alone with him. 

he’s an alpha and…

u know my situation 

I’ll come stay with you during this inspection.

no, i don’t think that’d go well

Plutt can be… territorial

sometimes he’ll find a reason to refuse 

service to an alpha

i don’t want him to hurt u

I’d rather he try and hurt me than hurt you.

I’ll be with you. 

I will also help you look for a better job 

with a better employer.

i appreciate you for offering to do that, 

but i have an idea that could be better

and less likely to get us hurt

You quitting?

no

i think u should scent me

Um.

What?

scent me. 

surely you’ve scented someone before

I know what scenting someone is.

It’s just…

a little intimate. 

For people who aren’t dating.

yeah but we’ve know each other forever

i think it will be fine

that way i’d have your scent all over me at work

and Plutt will think i stink and cut the meeting short

that way he won’t try to hurt u and he

won’t try anything at the inspection!

its a win win

in my opinion

But you’d be covered in my scent.

yes benjamin that is precisely the point

You would have to smell me on you.

We would have to do this before 

you went into work and you’d smell like me 

until you could bathe.

i feel like ur not getting why im asking u

i WANT to smell like you

I don’t know if this is a good idea.

it is!

i’ll be able to keep my job and ward 

off my creepy boss

don’t not do it because of me

if you don’t want to do it, i understand

but don’t say no because ur worried about me

i meant what i said when i told you i can take 

care of myself

And I meant what I said when I

 told you to ask me for help.

I just kind of assumed it would be for

 literally anything else.

well

this is what im asking

Okay.

I’ll do it.

-

Reys’ palms were sweaty as she rode in the elevator up to Ben’s apartment. Part of her wanted to believe that she was nervous because she was dressed in greasy overalls that were two sizes too big for her, yet inside of a building where the median income was upwards of  seven figures. It had a fucking bellman. With gloves. 

She’d been here before, many times, but never on her way to work and never in anything less than her fanciest clothes. Rey knows Ben makes a lot of money, hotshot lawyer and all, and that he comes from money. But being inside of this building reminds her just what a difference of worlds they come from. And also that she’s asked someone who can afford to live here to do something a little scandalous. 

It’s not that she was nervous about smelling like him; that part she was looking forward to. It’s the actual act of scenting. Ben wasn’t editorializing when he said it was intimate. Scenting was a step down from a make out session, but not by much. Rey wishes the thought of doing this with Ben didn’t send a fresh wave of slick between her thighs. He would be able to smell her. He would never say anything, never want to embarrass her that way, but he would know. 

She tries not to think of that when she knocks on his door. It swings open moments later, to a frazzled looking Ben. He’s dressed for work, fancy slacks and crisp button down, and the stark reminder rings in her head again. She is also assaulted by how good he smells. It takes her a minute before she can speak.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” They stand in the doorway for an awkward second before Ben realizes he’s taking up the whole doorway and moves to let her in. Rey walks inside, instantly putting her ratty backpack on the ground by his couch. They say nothing to each other, just stare, waiting for the other to speak.

“This is weird,” Rey states. Not that it needs stating. “I feel bad, now. For having asked you. I shouldn’t have put this on you.” She sees him take a gulp before talking.

“I told you I’d help you if you needed it,” He reminds her. 

“I don’t think you had this in mind when you offered.”

“Not really. But I offered, so I’ll help. On one condition.” Rey cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What?”

“The minute you find another job, a better job, you will leave this one. The minute, Rey.” 

It’s not what she was expecting him to say. But he wouldn’t be Ben if he did everything she suspects. She’s also not suspecting him to give such a command. A real one, alpha voice and all. It makes her shiver.

“I will,” She squeaks out, unable to say anything else. 

“Good.” His posture relaxes a bit and the wave of anger she felt the beginnings of, go away. They’re left standing together, silently. “So… how do you want to do this?” Ben asks.

“Um… I just figured we could hug? For like, a while. Being in you space is good because your scent will stick to my clothes too, so it doesn’t have to get so… touchy, if you don’t want.”

His jaw works.

“You think hugging will suffice?”

Rey shrugs.

“Its better than nothing. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than I already have.” 

“If we’re going to do this, I think we should be through. I don’t want you to have to go through this for nothing.”

Rey wants to say that just being able to smell him at all is reward enough, but there wasn’t time for that discussion. 

“Okay… so I’ll just…” She points to the barstool at his kitchen island, walks over to it and sits down. “If I’m on your things, it’s better. Sticks more.” She doesn’t know if its creeks in the building or a very low whine that Ben emits, but she ignores it.

He walks over to her, now seated on the stool, looking her up and down. Rey feels like she’s being appraised and really regrets her decision not to have washed her work clothes before coming over. His gaze is hot, and Rey thinks she’s panting harder with every step he makes towards her. 

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much. You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to.” Ben is between her legs now, having opened on the own volition. Rey manages to nod, and that’s enough for Ben. His hand comes to cup her jaw, and she instinctively leans into it. Her head lolls to the side, in his palm, as his face comes down to her neck. His nose rubs along her jaw, and she can feel his lips as they skirt along her pulse point. His other hand rest on the counter behind her, effectively trapping her in. 

Rey feels like putty. Ben’s scent is strong from across the room, but in her personal space? It’s suffocating. Her eyes close as she focuses all her attention on the way she can feel his stubble scrape along the sensitive skin of her under-jaw, and feels the faint pressure of his nose passing along her scent glands. He works himself slowly, leaving no skin untraced, before moving to the other side. He maneuvers her head to his other hand, before mirroring the same position they were in just a moment ago. She is glad she choose to sit; her knees would be useless.

His movements become more sure, tracing harder, and making Rey let out the most pathetic whimper she’s ever heard. Embarrassment instantly floods over her body, but before she can apologize, Ben growls. Literally growls. 

Suddenly his body is flush with hers, her thighs resting on the side of his hips. She feels his hand that isn’t holding her head move to grip her waist, digging his fingertips into the jean material covering her. She doesn’t realize her hands have worked their way to his abdominal muscles until she feels her hands tightly wind his shirt. 

His mouth traces along her scent glands, opening slightly, and she can feel his heavy breath on her skin. The first trace of his tongue on her glands makes Rey cry out, and involuntarily cant her hips into his. She feels his tongue, slick and hot, licking her then. Lavishing her glands in his saliva that made her head spin. Her heart beat was pounding, her ears rushing with blood. She could feel every part of him, his tongue, his hands, his lips, his hips. The growing hardness in his pants was pressed into her stomach as his hips rocked slightly in time with hers. 

When Rey snaps back into reality, she sees where this is going. And even though it physically pains her to stop him, she knows she has to. 

“Ben…” She whispers, his mouth still moving against her skin. “Ben,” She tries, voice a little surer now. He emits a low whine, making her stomach clench. Rey weaves her hand onto the side of his face before calling out again. “Ben.”

He stills then, body still flush against her, but mouth closed. She felt him pull back, not removing his hands, only lifting his torso so that they were looking at each other. His pupils are blown wide open, black covering the usual honeyed brown. His chest is heaving with his breath, and his mouth is slightly parted as he sucks in air. 

Rey feels something cool along her chin and realizes she’s been drooling, sliver running down her mouth in a thoroughly undignified manner. Her fingers quickly go to wipe it away and rub it into her clothes, but Ben takes her hand, covered in drool and sticks it into his mouth. 

His eyes close as she feels his tongue suck of any of the cool wetness, replacing it with saliva of his own. Rey keens and clenches her core. His tongue works around each digit, encircling all her fingers with his tongue. When Ben finishes his assault, he pulls her hand out of his mouth, but keeps it against his lips. His eyes are still closed as she feels the air from his nose one the wet surface of her hand.

Rey doesn’t dare move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Ben is all around her, still between her legs, and she knows movement will mean brushing against the thickness she felt in his pants. A tickling sensation in her spine tells her that she doesn’t want to move. That beside this alpha is where she belongs and where she’ll be happy and where alpha will provide and-

It’s a lot. 

“Let me walk you to work.” Bens’ words are low, and send vibrations through her hand as he speaks, eyes still shut.

“What?” Rey is still a little breathless, but shock colors her voice. 

“I don’t think… I’m having a hard time… I can’t not be around you, right now. If I let you leave right now…” She feels the shiver that runs down his spine, “It wouldn’t be good. Especially since I know where you’re going.”

Rey can’t speak. She knew that alphas had a hard time letting go of omegas, even just for a few hours, but she’d always assumed that was for people who were mated. Not them, not after one scenting session, intensity notwithstanding. Rey gulps as she tries to find her voice.

“Okay… but we’ll stop a block away from the shop. I don’t want you to get into a territory fight with Plutt. I couldn’t…” bare to watch you get hurt. And I’m afraid I’d like it too much if you hurt him. 

“Don’t say another alphas name, right now… please.” His voice is pained and she can see the clenching in his jaw. She mumbles sorry’s as her thumb begins to trace his strong chin. 

When his eyes slowly reopen, they’re back to normal, the warm tones causing Rey to release a sigh of relief. They slowly detangle, and Rey tries to pretend she doesn’t see the bulge still in his crotch, and hopes that he couldn’t tell just how slick she had gotten. Rey excuses herself to the bathroom to clean up and give each of them a minute to collect themselves. 

She tries to wipe up the slick that ruined her underwear before splashing cool water on her still reddened cheeks. When she exits the bathroom, Ben is still close. It must be apart of the alpha sensation, being unable to part with their mate after being so… intimate. It warms parts of Rey that she didn’t even know existed. 

They are silent nearly the whole way there, but Ben is right next to her the whole way. He is never more than a breath away from Rey, unintentionally shielding her from the others they pass along the way. She can still feel him, the confusing mix of pheromones he’s giving off. There is only one she recognizes above all else: arousal.

She knows they’re a block away from work, not by the street corner, but the way Bens’ head snaps up when even the hint of Plutt makes itself known. After spending the whole morning inundated with Bens’ delicious smell, it nearly makes Rey retch. She feels Ben still at the opening of an alleyway and her body stops without her control. She looks back up at him, seeing the steely way his eyes rake over the street. He is unhappy and she doesn’t like it.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“You shouldn’t work here. It’s a bad place. I don’t want you here.” She knows its his alpha talking. That Ben wouldn’t be this controlling, overbearing man, but it makes her mad nonetheless.

“You can’t control where I work, Ben. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it’s my choice. Now, thank you for… doing what you did, but I can handle it from here.” Rey goes to walk off, but Ben stops her. His hand comes out to grip hers, not in a tight, jerking way, but in a soft way that that makes it hard to refuse. 

“I’m sorry… you’re right.” His eyes are downcast, but he keeps his hand on hers. She feels a little guilty for snapping at him; after all, she’s the reason he’s experiencing these emotions. 

“It’s okay… I’m sorry, too.”

They stand there for a moment, knowing that this is making them both late, but neither of them having the heart to move. 

“We have to go to work now,” Rey says quietly. Ben nods. “Can I… talk to you, later?” She asks.

“Of course,” He breathes. Rey lets their hands drop and goes to turn to work, but Ben calls out for her. 

“Rey, please be safe. I need you to be safe.” 

Rey should be more used to his intensity by now, but it still makes her shiver.

“I will.”

-

come say hi on twitter!

[yoon-kooks]

Careless Bickering

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader, with a hint of Taehyung

Genre: fluff, angst, roommates!AU, songwriter!Seokjin, ceo!Taehyung

Summary: You and your roommate always bicker over the stupidest shit, but how did things go from 0 to 100 when you showed the slightest interest in Seokjin’s boss, Mr. Kim Taehyung?

Word count: 1.6k

PREQUEL#2 // Piggies in a Blanket PART1 (coming soon!)

A/N: this is technically a one-shot, but it also serves as a prequel/backstory for the new tae/jin series im in the process of writing~!

You awoke to muffled guitar strums and an angelic voice. Tossing and turning, you threw your blankets over your head to block it all out so you could get another hour or two of sleep. But of course, you could still hear the soft melody through your defenses. At least it sounded pretty though. So you couldn’t be too mad at Seokjin for waking you up early on your day off.

As you laid in bed, you heard constant revisions being made either to the lyrics or the melody. And in between breaks, you’d hear a tsk or groan of frustration. Ah, a new song. That was the best and worst thing about having a songwriter for a roommate. You’d be able to hear all these new songs before they were released, but you’d also have to put up with hearing the guitar 24/7 along with all of Seokjin’s complaints about his beloved boss.

You tiptoed out of your room to the kitchen in just your underwear and a pink oversized shirt. As you made yourself and your roommate a cup of hot cocoa, you peeked over at the boy on the couch who was too focused on writing down lyrics to notice your presence. There was something very attractive in how he worked on a song so diligently, although you knew there wasn’t any chance you had actual feelings for him. Those feelings had faded away long ago.

“Why’re you up so early on a Sunday?” You placed Seokjin’s mug on the coffee table in front where he was sitting on the couch.

“I didn’t sleep yet,” he yawned and took a sip of the hot cocoa which, judging by his overly-dramatic facial expression, he thought had been coffee. Now fully alert, he inspected the shirt that was just barely long enough to keep your ass covered. “Is that my shirt?”

“Anything pink in this apartment belongs to you,” you laughed, holding the hem of the shirt a bit suggestively. “If you want it back, I can take it off now but I don’t have anything on underneath~”

“Just give it back to me later,” he sighed at your childish behavior. You were disappointed by his bland response, but that’s how he always was. “Y/N, I really can’t play around until I finish this song, okay? That snake moved up the deadline to tonight.” The only person Seokjin ever called “snake” was his boss at PigLit Entertainment. Kim Taehyung.

“What a shitty guy,” you said, only to humor your roommate. You set your mug down and curled up in a blanket right next to him on the couch.

“Yeah, I know right,” he shook your hand, glad that you were on his side. “Because of him, I have to drop by the studio later to record and get his approval. After I catch up on sleep though.”

Of course, you had never met this Taehyung guy, or rather, Seokjin had never introduced you to him despite inviting you over to the studio every once in a while. All you knew was that your roommate made him out to be some privileged fuck boy of a CEO. And you always wondered if that was true.

“What kind of song did he have you write this time?” You perked up to look over at messy notebook filled with lyrics. Snow, santa, mistletoe. “Ooh, Christmas!” Christmas was always your favorite holiday because you loved the thought of cuddling up with a lover to stay warm during the snowy weather, or going out on a late night date to see all the pretty Christmas lights. The only problem this year was that you were single as fuck.

“Ooh, Christmas!” he imitated your squeak as he picked his guitar back up. “Wanna hear what I have so far?”

“I already heard it. In fact, it woke me up, you know,” you huffed like a spoiled brat as you laid your head down onto one of the couch pillows, making sure you were facing away from your roommate. “But yes, please play it again for me~”

As he sang to you, you tried to stop yourself from humming along, but the tune was so catchy. The lyrics were cute too. You interpreted it as a song about a “friends to lovers” kind of romance. Which was exactly the type of love you hoped to some day have.

You thought everything about the song was perfect, except for the one line you cackled at: “you got my heart melting like snow”. Too cheesy, in your opinion. But being the talented songwriter he was, Seokjin knew how to give even the cheesiest of cheese enough charm to make it sound good.

“Was it any good?” the boy asked, although you pretended to be asleep. When you didn’t answer, he slowly peeled your blanket open and exposed a naked area on the nape of your neck. You yelped when his freezing guitar-callused fingers pressed gently against your much warmer skin.

“What’d you do that for?” you hissed, swatting his hand away and wrapping yourself back up into the warmth of your blanket.

“Just checking your pulse,” he smirked. “You didn’t response, so I thought you were dead.”

“You’re dead to me.” You jumped to your feet and slowly disappeared into the hallway. Despite the annoyed front you were putting up, you were a little bit concerned over how cold his fingers were.

When you heard the guitar again, you snuck into your roommate’s bedroom and rolled into his bed. You decided to camp out there until he finished his song. That way, he could retire to a nice and toasty bed that you warmed up for him. And you’d shower his song with compliments as well. That would surely earn you a few hours of quality cuddling before he had to leave for the studio. And perhaps later that night, the two of you could see the Christmas lights together. Who needed a lover when you had a roommate?

All the bickering between the two of you was just an unspoken act, a weird thing you did as roommates. Maybe it was a defense mechanism of some sort. But truthfully, Seokjin was the most important person to you, just as you hoped you were to him.

-

The next thing you remembered was feeling a block of ice pressed against your back. You shifted around under the sheets until you were in the comfort of slightly warmer arms. There was a soft kick when your ass accidentally backed into something stiff, but you decided to ignore it. Instead, you rolled yourself to face the other way, delighted to see the handsome face of a sleeping Seokjin.

Even after furrowing his brows at the rustling of the sheet, your roommate kept his eyes shut, “If you’re gonna stay in here, let me get some beauty sleep, yeah? Otherwise I won’t hesitate to kick you out.” Despite his threat, he slid his hands underneath your shirt to your upper back and pulled you closer to his body.

“How about a ‘thank you’ for warming up your bed for you?”

“Thank you. Now good night.”

“No wait, Jin!”

“What?”

“I want more than just you saying thanks.”

“Like what?”

“A thank you kiss?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay fine, I’m kidding.”

“Haha. Can I sleep now?”

“I said wait!”

“Y/N, spit it out already. Please, I’m fucking begging you.”

“Let me go with you to the studio when you show the song to Taehyung.”

“What? No.”

“But I wanna support you and see him-��

“You wanna see Taehyung?” Seokjin peeked with one eye and glared at you.

“I wanna see him react to your music,” you finished.

“Why are you so interested in that guy?”

“Because you always call him a snake.”

“That’s because he is one.”

“Well, if he reacts badly to your music, I’ll believe you.”

“You don’t believe me, your roommate?”

“That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that everyone has their own opinion.”

“Well my opinion is that it’s best for you to not get involved with someone like him. But do whatever you want, Y/N. If you still wanna come, I’ll take you.”

You hated the condescending tone Seokjin used towards you whenever he spoke about Taehyung. Sure, a lot of people hate their boss for a variety of good and bad reasons. And yeah, you knew your roommate was only trying to keep you away from another fuck boy, another heartbreak. But it wasn’t like you’d fall in love with Taehyung the moment you saw him anyway, nor were you even looking for a serious relationship. You didn’t need to be protected. And you just wished Seokjin wouldn’t stress over you or his boss so much.

“Just never mind about it, Jin. I won’t go,” you wiggled your body out of his embrace and rolled out of the bed. “From what I heard, your song sounded great. Good luck on getting it approved.”

He didn’t respond. That was always a bad sign. Because it meant the argument was much more than your usual harmless bickering. It meant he was mad at you, and you were mad at him.

You closed the door behind you and returned to your own room, immediately stripping Seokjin’s pink shirt off your body and throwing it into your pile of laundry. As soon as you dressed yourself in your own winter clothing, you left the apartment to see the Christmas lights. You didn’t care that it wasn’t night yet, or that you had no one to go with. You just wanted an excuse to leave.

[icecreamkink]

*slides this here bc im still Not Happy With It but i also dont know if i even wanna continue it but i need to put it somewhere also @fangirl383 might or might not shoot me with her pink gun if i dont post Another wip she liked and i promised i would ha  h a*

“Listen, I know this isn’t an ideal situation—” Malfoy snorted in contempt. Harry ignored him. “But we’re doing a job and if you could not act like someone’s roping you into.. Into-  What the fuck are you doing n- ow” Harry groaned as Malfoy’s elbow somehow collided with Harry’s mouth despite the fact half of his body was half on top of Harry, and, rationally, it had to be an accident. But if there was someone who would contort themselves to make Harry’s life the most difficult possible, it would be Malfoy.

“Shut up, Potter.” The git said, not even bothering to apologize.

“Will you stop moving-”

“I’m trying to get a clear view.”

“Do you need to climb on me to do that?!”

“Well actually, I do since your intelligence landed us in a literal hole,” Malfoy hissed in his ear. Harry opened his mouth to protest that, but well. It was true, his team had been the one to inspect the terrain and find them their hiding spot - a cave so narrow that was indeed more of a hole, nestled at the bottom of a cliff, large enough to fit 1.25 person lying stomach down. Or two aurors, lying practically on top of each other, as it were. The location was ideal because it had a side view of the site they believed to be the smuggling ring HQ, but far enough that the protean spells didn’t reach it, and was naturally conspicuous through dense trees and small rocks (and for being as tiny as a rabbit hole, Malfoy had grumbled moodily) so they didn’t need to use so much magic to disguise themselves. A natural hiding spot, nearly undetectable, but not particularly comfortable, Harry had to admit.

Also it was just… weird to argue with someone when they were hissing against your neck. Harry scratched his nails where Malfoy’s warm breath had tickled it.

“What do you have those dorky glasses for if you need to strain so much.” Harry muttered pettily against his wand, currently pressed between his face, his sweaty hand and a piece of rocky earth. Ugh, it was so hot in here, the air thick and still, made all the worst by the invisibility mantle they had thrown over themselves; all the places he and Malfoy touched felt as if on fire, he had dirt everywhere and Malfoy’s huffed breathing on his ear did absolutely nothing to cool him down, only gave him weird goosebumps in his spine. Harry squirmed miserably, and got a very pointed elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

“My glasses aren’t dorky” Malfoy hissed in supercilious indignation. If Harry didn’t have to risk torticollis to do so, he would have turned his head to watch his eyes flash in all his mad inventor righteous fury.  “They are high level magical object research in trial period, designed to help oafs like you not get killed in the line of work. My glasses, dorky, honestly, you of all people saying that with those things you wear around since school-”  

“What are you talking about, I’ve been told my glasses are quite fetching. Witch Weekly did a whole article on it.” Harry grinned as Malfoy ground his teeth. He’d take all the amusement he could get, after all, and riling up Malfoy was always so much fun.

“Oh, if the pinacle of journalism in our country, Witch Weekly printed it” Malfoy said snidely. Then, as if physically unable to stop there, he continued. “For your information, these glasses are curse repellent, heat vision, magical signature identifying ones. It won me a research funding from the Research and Extension Division-”

“Yeah alright Doc Brown, what do you see then?” Harry interrupted, stretching his back in an attempt to soothe his aching shoulders.

“Nothing uh, much. Will you keep still?” Malfoy murmured, voice strained.

“I barely even mov-” Harry started to protest in indignation, but was cut off by Malfoy’s sweaty hand suddenly pressing against his mouth.

“Shhhh, someone’s coming.” Harry immediately tensed—well, as much as he could in this current predicament, as he could barely grip his wand. Thank Merlin he’d gotten better at wandless magic.

He could hear a faint rustling sound; Malfoy moved his hand into the curve of his neck and it felt oddly comforting. Harry could feel all of Malfoy’s muscles tensing where they pressed together.

Malfoy fiddled with his wand, and Harry faintly prayed he wouldn’t accidentally stab him in the eye with it, because that was just the type of thing to happen to him.

Somebody jumped on the plateau they were directly under, boots scuffing the ground above them.

“That’s it?” A voice echoed. Harry could see Malfoy pointing his wand at another one of his “assistance magical artifacts ” or as Harry called them, his crazy inventor gadgets. It was a little box, similar to a radio, and it buzzed softly at Draco’s murmured incantation, releasing the faintest golden glow.  

“Mmhm, just leave the merch on the front hall.” The person above them said. “Talk to Bre and only Bre, then get the fuck out. There’s a new shipment coming, and everyone’s on edge, don’t hang around more than you have to.” A new shipment. This could be their shot. Harry willed whoever was above them to casually drop a date. Possibly a location. And a list of names. His knees hurt.

“Right, no worries Reg. I’ll be in and out in a peep” A pair of gangly legs dangled in front of them, stumbled over a rock, and then took off briskly towards the house in the woods.

Malfoy shimmied above him, trying to get a closer look. He brought the little box close to his mouth.

“Suspect: Male, red hair, medium stature, grey robes, carrying a medium sized black box.” Malfoy said into it. A recording device, then. Clever.  “Entered the house at -” he paused expectantly, and Harry cast a quick tempus “12:47, sunday the 24th. The box doesn’t appear to be the size or type for containing snakes, so it’s possible it’s another type of ‘merchandise’.” Malfoy put the recording contraption back in his pocket, balancing himself with one hand at the small of Harry’s back.

Harry scowled, unamused at being used as a cushion.

“Next time, I’m topping.” He grumbled.

“What?”  Malfoy choked out, hand slipping down Harry’s back into his side, knuckles thudding against the bedrock.

“In the- the stakeout” Harry hissed, embarrassed. “I’m not your damn pillow.” He grumbled. Malfoy started to shake above him, his whole body vibrating, and with growing chagrin Harry realized he was laughing. He dropped his head into Harry’s shoulder, trying to stifle his giggles.

“Don’t worry Potter, I’ll be your pillow if you want. I’m very comfortable switching between top and bottom after all." He quipped, amusement laced in every word. Harry could feel his blush spreading like fire from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he dropped his head between his arms with a disconcerted groan.

“Oh my god, shut up.” He mumbled, and Malfoy laughed even harder, gleeful and evil, shaking Harry’s whole body. “Is there movement above us?” He said loudly, mostly to stray from the topic at hand.

“Hm.” Malfoy projected a small map of the terrain from the tip of his wand. “Nope. Reggie dear is...currently at the bottom of the hill, down the other side. You know, I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Auror Potter. You’re practically just lying there, I’m doing all the work here.” He drawled, injecting unnecessary lewdness to his voice, still faintly amused as it was. Harry could swear he seemed to be purposefully pressing even closer, his words just short of murmured against his ear.

The git.

“Lying here- How can I- You’re on top of,” Harry started, and felt Malfoy giggle again, then huffed and promptly shut up. “You’re fired.”

“You’re not my bo-oss” Malfoy sing songed, but moved out of his position anyway, sliding away from Harry and turning on his side.

Harry felt disinclined to face him while his cheeks were still flaming.

“Oh come on Potter, where’s your sense of humor?”

“You didnt seem to be in such a jaunty mood a minute ago.”

“Yes, your mortification greatly lifts my spirits.” A beat. “I’m versatile like that.”

Harry sighed, lifting his head. “I hate you so much.”

“That’s kind of why we’re here, isn’t it?” Malfoy hummed, cheek smushed against the palm of his hand. Harry made a noncommittal sound. They were here in a partly punishment mission to quote unquote ‘learn how to act like the twenty-three year old Auror you are, not a snotty fourteen year old whenever Auror Malfoy is concerned’, after his (and Malfoy’s) respective partners filed complaints against their methods and their fighting and their case-point competition. So while it was true their behavior got them here, saddled together in this weird, uncomfortable stake out, Harry wouldn’t say hate was what brought them; he didn’t argue with Malfoy or looked over his cases or felt the need to prove himself and best him out of hate, it was more of a... compulsion. It was just more -  fun, in the often glum and dreary line of work they’d chosen, to have Malfoy pay attention to him, meet him at every curve and breathe down his neck. To watch him rising to his baits when he poked fun at Malfoy’s clothes and hair and (admittedly ingenous) inventions. He admitted to himself that he liked the rivalry, was motivated by it.

But, of course, Harry wouldn’t tell him any of that. And it’s not like he enjoyed Malfoy literally breathing down his neck, so Harry pulled out his wand and checked the map himself instead of answering.

“There's… something moving through the field” Harry said, looking the small dot moving in a hurry. It was too small and moved strangely for a human. Could it be...

Malfoy rolled on top of him again, straining once more to try and see the scope of land.

Harry waited, tense as Malfoy tried to get a clear view.

“Oh.” Malfoy said, muscles unlocking from his coiled stance. “It’s your reptile.”

Harry lifted his head suddenly eager in an attempt to see, banging it painfully against Malfoy’s chin in the process.

“Fuck,” Malfoy hissed, quickly rolling as far away from him as was possible, which in case meant they still touched thigh to shoulder even with Malfoy on his side with his back pressed against the stone. He sent Harry a dark look, clutching his chin; Harry patted his head as condescendingly as he could, turning back to the map, eyes glued to little wiggling dot heading for them.

“Missster Harry, Missster Malfoy” Arnaud hissed in greeting, poking his scaly face into their cave, then quickly sliding into the middle of them both. Arnaud turned his head to Malfoy, flicking his tongue in further acknowledgement since he couldn’t understand him.

“Hey” Harry greeted with a smile even as he inspected him for any sign of injuries. “Is everything alright?”

Arnaud turned to him.

“Yesss, it’s all been really quiet. They’ve mosstly kept us in the cages ssso far, and I snuck out without them ssseeing me. They’ve received five more younglings today, along with eggsss, and theress a boy bringing something else. Sssomething I couldn’t sssee.”

“Did you hear something about another shipment coming tonight?”

“Yess” Arnaud said, lifting his head. “I hear the humans talking. Tonight, at midnight.”

 “The smugglers have been quiet, but more snakes and eggs were brought in today, and something else he couldn’t see. He confirms there’ll be a new shipment at midnight.” Harry translated.

“We have to report it back to the team. See if it’s the time for an ambush or to collect more data” Malfoy said. Arnaud nodded in approval.

“I should get back before they miss me.” Harry nodded, even as his stomach tightened.

“Tell him to be careful.” Malfoy said, looking out with furrowed eyebrows. Arnaud flicked both of their fingers and slithered quickly out with a hissed ‘don’t worry’.

“That’s our out then.” Harry sighed turning sideways too. Malfoy was staring at him, pressed as far back as he could against the rock wall; there was maybe an inch between them.

“You’ll write the report.” Malfoy said, trying to sit up slightly.

“What? Why?” Harry spluttered.

“You headbutted me.” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“You elbowed me in the face!” He shot back. Malfoy stared him down. Harry held his gaze. His eyes looked very dark in the shade.

“Rock parchment wand?”

“...Fine”

.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall of Kingsley’s office. The dark red wood set his hair off rather nicely, Harry noticed. With Arnaud perched on his shoulder like that, he could be a slytherin poster boy.

Robards was still complaining in the back, something about Harry and Malfoy competing for leads and ethics and immaturity or something. Harry wasn’t paying attention. His and Malfoy’s… methods were always questioned, but here they were, another case closed, weren’t they? That’s what should matter.

Behind Robard’s back Malfoy caught Harry’s eye, smirking minutely and winked. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Prick.

Robards face acquired new shades of red, but Harry wasn’t listening at all. Malfoy outright grinned, bringing one hand to stroke the scales on Arnaud’s head and his stomach felt….weird. Somehow almost...fluttery?

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that was inconvenient.

[addcests]

Chocolate Kisses

hey look i’m not shitposting for once i HAVE ACTUAL CONTENT FOR ONCE  HI HONEY IM HOMEEEEEEEEEEE DID YOU GUYS MISS ME? NO? YES? TOO BAD EITHER WAY HERE HAVE A FIC a white day fic, it was also supposed to double as a fic for MM’s bday

Title Chocolate Kisses Pairing  LPMM Words 2130 Summary Psyker has a nice evening planned out for White Day. [prompt]

Mastermind could believe that Psyker would pull him from the comforts of their home for a nice evening out, even if it was a hard-pressed challenge of coaxing Mastermind from said comfy home, Mastermind complaining all the way. The outing was simple though—a brisk walk through some of the markets, a quick bite to eat, then into the hustle of the malls—and it was enjoyable. Sure, Mastermind would be more inclined to a quiet date at home, but a little outing every now and then was more than acceptable, refreshing even.

What Mastermind could not believe was that Psyker would pull them from the comforts of their home, knowing full well the weather, and still insist on their little outing.

And so, Mastermind made it quite plain how he was displeased with this chilling turn of events.

“Hey,” Psyker started, voice not holding a single ounce of sympathy, “For your information, I did pay attention to the weather report.” He stopped, jabbing a finger at Mastermind’s attire once he stopped too. “And I told you to go with the bulkier coat.”  

Mastermind flippantly waved his hand, as if he to motion that he was ignoring the fact that Psyker did indeed warn him, “Anyway, that coat didn’t match well with my boots.”

He was not doing this with Mastermind. The taller man let out a groan, ruffling his hair in an aggravated manner, refusing to give an answer to that in fear Mastermind would continue his little tangent about his outfit and fashion. He fell in steps behind Mastermind as he continued a few paces ahead. He did indeed continue why he did not choose the better coat.

This was no actual fight, for their bicker was commonplace, something normal. They bickered easily, their back and forth banter exchanged so comfortably, as if second nature, until they ran out of insults, left with nothing but childish name calling and finally fell into silence. Not a silence that was awkward, or unwelcomed, but one that didn’t require anymore words; a silence that enveloped them both as they enjoyed each other’s presence.

They shared a smile.

Psyker snuck a glance, noticing jittery movements from his peripheral. “You’re shivering,” he pointed out, moving closer and bumping shoulders with Mastermind, not waiting for his answer.

Mastermind ducked his head some to avoid Psyker’s watchful gaze, seeming to scrutinize his every shudder, mumbling, “I did say it is cold.” Or at least, it was cold. Suddenly, the frosty temperature was no longer a problem when Mastermind realized Psyker had wrapped his heavy coat around him. He had wanted to protest, but held fast to Psyker’s coat, clinging to the body heat that remained, enjoying the other’s scent as well. Instead of the feeble protest he had in mind, Mastermind hummed with content then murmured under his breath, “Mmm, are you sure?”

“I’m not the one who won’t stop complaining.” Psyker’s words were not malicious nor biting, but light with a teasing tone as he chuckled after.

“Mmm,” Mastermind made another low hum in the back of his throat, too pleased with burying his face into Psyker’s coat to really give an answer that was more than one word.

They pressed on, this time their goal was for home, because even Mastermind noticed the frigid air getting to Psyker, able to see more puffs of misty air every time he breathed. When he reached for Psyker’s hand, Psyker’s normally warm fingertips were slightly chilled.

Upon feeling Mastermind’s fingers curl against his, Psyker made a sudden gasp, a mindful noise as if something had just occurred to him.

But startled Mastermind quickly puffed out, “What is it?”

“Nothing, just,” Psyker reached towards Mastermind, confusion flooding his features as he neared closer, his intentions still not made clear, his hand dropping down and—

“Where are you touching?” Mastermind insisted, pausing at each word, wary of the sudden movements and Psyker still reaching for him.

There was something that sounded suspiciously like “hold still” and a low rumbling noise Psyker made—displeased, probably—followed by a click of his tongue showed Psyker wasn’t up to his usual… playful antics. After patting Mastermind down some, in one quick movement he reached in for one of the coat pockets and pulled back. And in his hand, was a small red box, wrapped, with a dark red bow. “I know we’re not home yet.” Psyker smiled.

Mastermind’s mouth dropped, if only a little, when the realization dawned.

It’s White Day!

At first, Mastermind thought Psyker just wanted him to get out of the house, instead of being focused on his studies, nose in a book. Having a planned date surprised Mastermind, if he were honest. But he wasn’t expecting a date and… and?

And whatever it was in that box?

Psyker caught Mastermind’s inquisitive stare, glaring down the box like a curious child who couldn’t wait to open a gift. At that, he smiled tenderly, the affection clear in his eyes. “It’s your favorite.” He wasted no time unwrapping it and pulling the lid off the box, revealing at least five expensive yet neatly packaged chocolates and other chocolate type bonbons. He chuckled, relishing in seeing Mastermind’s face light up.

His mood, previously thwarted by the weather, was now uplifted because of Psyker’s gift. “They are!” Mastermind affirmed, not even bothering to hide how the chirp in his tone at the sight of his favorite chocolates. He licked his lips at the sight, prepared to dig in. Before he could even touch one chocolate, they were all snatched up—gone just like that. His reaction wasn’t instant, staring numb, struck with too much disbelief to properly act as he watched the other man stuff his face. It took a plain faced Psyker munching on the chocolates, with no shame, for him to snap to. And when he did, his response this time was fast, furious, a loud pitched whine of, “Psyker!”

Despite the shrill and childish whine, Psyker didn’t seem too bothered in the slightest as he gave a lazy grin as he munched on the chocolates, too pleased with himself as he watched the heated Mastermind. This served only to rile Mastermind up more. But Psyker was quicker to act, dropping the box unceremoniously in Mastermind’s hands as he leaned forward, closing all space between them in one swift, fluid movement as he sealed Mastermind’s complaints shut with a chocolate filled kiss.

Poor Mastermind hardly had time to react, just barely registering that Psyker had even dumped the box of chocolates in his hands. His eyes widened, feeling Psyker’s lips but tasting nothing but chocolate. Once this was finally processed, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his eyes fluttering shut, fingers digging into the box as he bit back a moan, and unable to stop the sound when Psyker slipped his tongue against his.

Psyker pulled back, barely a few inches, only to pounce on Mastermind again, leaving no room for the other to recover. Despite this sudden action, when their lips melded together again—how soft Mastermind’s lips felt—there was no smug smirk of satisfaction this time. Rather, Psyker wanted to coax Mastermind into something easier, softer… sweeter. Because his hands were free, both flew up to gently cup Mastermind’s cheeks, angling his head for a deeper kiss.

The sudden deepness—and all too familiar gentle, tender touch—had Mastermind grabbing blindly at Psyker, desperate for some sort of purchase to pull Psyker even closer. It was intoxicating, really. His head swam, whirling as he felt himself drawn more into Psyker with each lap of his tongue, each soft nibble on Mastermind’s bottom lip. And Mastermind chased him eagerly, matching each nip and swipe of tongue. Every taste of chocolate made Mastermind want to lose himself even more in Psyker’s chocolate filled kisses.

Something as simple as a sweet kiss.

That thought grounded Mastermind, with some reluctance, as he untangled himself gradually from Psyker.

“You’re red,” Psyker teased, smiling that though they pulled apart, they were still very much close, nearly pressed chest to chest as Psyker leaned to rest his forehead against Mastermind’s.

The sweet gesture would not throw him off, and his teasing remark only grounded Mastermind more as he flushed. “You ate my White Day chocolates.” He tried to be angry, really, but he wasn’t. Could hardly pretend. Not with the taller man this close, nuzzling their noses together now.

Psyker bit back a smile? It was hard to tell. “I think I shared.” But it was clear with another teasing comment, it was him forcing down a smirk.

“It wasn’t for you to share.” As if he needed a reminder, Mastermind absently stuck his tongue out, running the pink muscle over his lips, still tasting the expensive chocolates. Though it wasn’t his intention, he felt a small swell of victory when he caught a glimpse of Psyker following the action as he dragged his tongue once more. Desperate to push his victory, Mastermind wiggled out of his hold, turning his back to him.

Had Mastermind been facing him still, he’d see Psyker’s playful roll of his eyes. He followed Mastermind, knowing full well that was what the other wanted, hugging his middle and pulling him back to him. “Aww, how about I make it up to you?” He rested his chin on Mastermind’s shoulder with ease, humming into the other’s ear.

“Psyker.”

“… I was going to say with hot chocolate.”

There was a pause and then, “Deal.” Mastermind felt Psyker’s hand brush against his when he pulled away, feeling how chilled Psyker was. “I think we should rearlly head back and out of the cold anyway.” He felt a little bad now, about hogging Psyker’s coat to himself while they were still out. All the more reason to get back sooner too. They turned together, moving to march beside one another as Psyker hummed in agreement. “Besides, I think we’ve left Psych and Arc to their vices way too long.”  

The cold was getting to him, so there was a small lapse before Psyker hummed in agreement.

“Psyker.”

This time he nudged Mastermind to let him know he had his attention, bumping shoulders happily with him.

Mastermind could tell the cold was starting to bother him now. “I’m making the hot chocolate.” He wanted to make it for Psyker, in all honesty. He felt bad about still having his coat... Mastermind tugged it closer, hugging the coat closer a few moments before continuing, “But you’re making us cookies then.“

“Spoiling you,” Psyker bit out as if annoyed. Ignoring Mastermind’s cry of “hey!”, he grinned as his teasing tone continued, “And now the kids too?”

He didn’t give Mastermind any room to reply anymore, but Mastermind didn’t need to nor want to upon seeing Psyker beam. Transfixed, he watched the smile Psyker already wore, fond and light, grow, crinkling the corners of Psyker’s eyes as he stared down at Mastermind.

Staring down at the person of his affections, all so lovingly.

How could Mastermind reply?

But it became evident he didn’t need to when Psyker leaned over to press a sweet kiss to Mastermind’s forehead, replying for him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

---

BONUS:

When they announced their return, they stopped at the welcome mat when they didn’t hear any energetic replies bouncing off the walls. It was way too quiet, when it came to that pair anyway. So, Mastermind and Psyker assumed the worst, but instead as they traversed the house together they found themselves greeted with a heartwarming sight.

Psyker put a hand to Mastermind’s chest, who hadn’t caught on yet, a silent motion to halt him and silence him. Slowly he led Mastermind’s gaze with a jab of his thumb to pair before them.

“Well, that’s adorable.”

Psych and Arc were sitting on the floor, in front of the television huddled together. Upon closer inspection, Arc was leaning more on Psych’s shoulder, using Psych’s head as a pillow. Their held hands, their fingers linked together and they were snoozing soundly, fast asleep as their chests rose and fell.

Psyker seemed to be looking around until his eyes fell on a bouquet of roses messily splayed over a disheveled wide box of what looked like packaged candies and chocolates. It looked as if it were open too, with the way the ribbon was slack and the lid disturbed. He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, eyes looking over the gift once again, “I wonder how everything went...”

“What do you mean?”

Psyker motioned to the gift that Mastermind had yet to see. “I’m curious about what happened but,” He flashed Mastermind a crooked smile. “Let’s make that hot chocolate and cookies first.”

[comicteaparty]

April 25th-May 1st, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble  chat that occurred from April 25th, 2020 to May 1st, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What is your warm-up routine before you write or draw something related to your story?

Page, Rambler Extraordinaire!

Honestly? I don’t have a formal warm-up, but I definitely like to have my fingers all warmed-up and ready for lots of typing! I really need to get in the mindspace for the particular image/idea being portrayed, though.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

1) Seek out music that matches the energy of the page, 2) Draw some circles/spirals/hatchmarks to loosen up, 3) Pick the easiest thing on the page and finish it first to build momentum, 4) Repeat Ad Infinitum

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

-listen to music from my playlist -read some fanfics -watch YouTube videos from my subscription -get some tea -stretch/workout -wear my comfiest clothes

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

i'm also another one that listens to music before doing story stuff. (sometimes either is a favorite song/song i'm obsessed with atm or one that matches the current scene)

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I usually reread my comic so far and listen to some music I associate with it to get me in the mindset and excited for it

eli [a winged tale]

I have a warm up character to go to! Usually I try for some gestures before getting right back to the panels. It gets the rustiness out of the way for me!

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Ooh I love your warm ups, Eli!

eli [a winged tale]

Thank you! It’s easier for me to get into a routine when I have something fun to draw first (with zero expectations)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I don't always need a warm up, but doing panel borders for HoK makes for an excellent warm up. It gets my brain switch gears to comic mode. Music is great, but I only turn it on for important moments (or illustrations outside of comic). There are certain moods that... recur in important moments in my story, and I have playlists for those. e.g. 'sad emotional intimacy'

eli [a winged tale]

I love how music influences our work! I would love to hear all your playlists if you have them easy to share

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

ooooh @eli [a winged tale] i like the motion in your warmups! They're very fluid and nice to look at @keii’ii (Heart of Keol) Keii, I agree with separating playlists for moods! I usually just group them all in my favourites and mentally search for them

DanitheCarutor

Gosh I'm one of the most boring people. Lol I don't have a routine, I don't need one since I'm always in comic mode. Like, all I ever draw is comic pages. I don't have a script or anything that requires writing, so no need for a warm-up for that. I just jump right into it.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Sounds like you live on the edge which is the opposite of boring 8)

eli [a winged tale]

^

DanitheCarutor

I dunno, it would be cool to do warm-up drawing. That would sure help for gesture/color/anatomy practice. I just don't have the time, a page takes about 4 days to finish without outside distractions, so I have to get to work right away.

eli [a winged tale]

If you can jump right in, that’s great! For me otherwise I just stare at the inks and wish it would colour itself

DanitheCarutor

Ffff I'm like that with dynamic shots where the perspective points are off the page, and I have to tape scrap paper to it, and sometimes my ruler isn't long enough. Working in a traditional medium can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Lol

This panel is a good example.

Top view perspective lines went way off the page, I hate it.

Anyways, that's my complaint for the day.

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

When I draw warm ups. This was of my 'for practice' comic art. I wanted to practice the vertical scroll storytelling. A lady gets her purse string cut, and the thief runs off. Whenever I want to figure out action scenes, I do little character interactions. It helps me learn more about certain character behavior(edited)

eli [a winged tale]

Nice! Practice comics are great!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

yeah it's really good too!

it's also a great way to possibly have new stories/series

kinda like.....brainstorming, but applied

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Thank you Eli, Shadow. I try to combine my knowledge of storyboarding, since vertical scroll sequences, are similar to that in some regards.(edited)

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I.... Don't do warm up. I just... Start drawing(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

dang Holmea you living the risky life

that's brave

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I am pretty sure of my skill. Should I warm up?? Could be super to start warm ups! I check my mail, find out how we are doing online with our comic and just begin to draw. I guess since I have done it professionally as a 2d animator, and there is not really time to warm up, that I have learned to just start

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I do warm ups for everything! though what I define as warmups depend on each creator. For me, it begins with stretches and sketching, ill doodle things i need to get out of my head so i'm not distracted by those ideas- they usually involve studies, certain character interactions, or thumbing out pieces I want to tackle later! I may sure to draw everyday to flex that too, so its also important to be able to relax those creative muscles with some pre-work!

also! my warm ups vary with what medium i work in. if Im working in watercolours, i practice fine pencil work and get my lines as loose as possible. when it's comic (so mainly inking) i do what I described above with character studies and what not

kayotics

I’m really bad at remembering to do warm ups. I should.... actually do them more, but the time I have dedicated to drawing is usually pretty limited

Deo101 [Millennium]

Because I usually finish off whatever I had been working on the day before, warmups for me are kind of the process of starting a new piece. All the sketching and thumbing to get my next idea out work pretty well for warming me up, and then I feel ready to go by the time I'm needing to do things like lines. I also get music going that fits the mood of what I'm working on, like lots of people seem to do! I also need to remember to do stretches more :/ And I usually get myself some kind of drink, tea or something, to keep me company while I work ;)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Sounds like you are pretty busy, Kayotic. Yeah warm ups can be a good practice before diving into a big illustration

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Weirdly I don't think I've ever done warmups for illustrations. Only comic work!

Probably because illustrations, I just do them whenever I feel like it, so my brain is already ready (i.e. I don't start if my brain isn't ready)

whereas comic... I can't just wait for my brain to get ready. I need to keep updating it.

Page, Rambler Extraordinaire!

Pro-tip: if you decide to not do anything and procrastinate, you don't have to warm-up!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

hmm, can't say i've really tried warming up for art before, but i've heard it can really help! What are you guys' art warm up routines?

Deo101 [Millennium]

For me it's just kinda mindless sketching til I hit what it is I wanna be doing

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Make panel borders (not really a routine though, at least I don't think it is)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

When I do watercolor, I usually don't do warm ups unless I'm planning from thumb-> sketch ->color thumbs and figuring out local colors for watercolor then doing my watercolor flats from there

Deo101 [Millennium]

Instead of staring at a blank screen and waiting, making little circles or scribbles or drawing like. Some arms or something til, eventually, my brain thinks we're working and then it's like "ah yes! Here we go!"

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

but digitalllyyyyy I shoullddddddddd

my brain when looking at my comic: "aight time to do the thingy lmao"

Deo101 [Millennium]

If I've already got a sketch waiting to go I can jump right in though

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

idk, I should but my time is usually limited so I haven't done a warm up in a while lmao.

now I have the time, I probably would

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ohh i see

like some quick sketches

i see how that can help- whenever i'm figure drawing or drawing people in a cafe or something my later ones are always better

how is making panel borders a warm up? don't you have to do that anyways?

Deo101 [Millennium]

Lines with intent! Doesn't matter what the purpose is, same kinda thing as drawing a bunch of straight lines in a row or practicing ellipses a bit

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

It's something I can do with my brain turned off. While I do it, it wakes up the comic-making part of my brain

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

oh ye

Deo101 [Millennium]

Which I'd encourage doing things like drawing a ton of ellipses or straight lines, it gets your hand into the groove so you can draw stuff right the first time

Do I do it often? No But I do encourage it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ah i see keii

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

So for me, the panel borders can function like a warmup without being a "ritual." Kinda like if you're... say... hiking, walking from your parking spot to the trailhead can be a warmup even if it's not a ritual and is necessary anyway

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

ooo that's an interesting way of putting it

... man I really should consider warm ups often. I have been touching my sketchbook less and less so lmao

I do find making small thumbs and coloring them in relaxing for me, not sure that count as a warm up but its something I like doing when planning out watercolor illustrations lol

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Relaxing/chilling/ "reward after a long day" arting is also an interesting topic, though not 100% suitable for this week's question...

I find it interesting how a lot of people seem to like, make cute ship doodles, whereas I uhhh

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

lineart is the easiest for me to do though. I don't have to think much about it

maybe i should like line a page as warm up?

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I'll drop some examples in art share in a bit

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ooh please do(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

That sounds like a good idea! Worth trying

Feather J. Fern

I actually read in a artist self care comic "Draw Stronger: Self Care of Artist" that you are supposed to stretch and stuff before you art so your body is warmed up for long periods of sitting. Things i draw before getting into main art, the one line challenge where you draw something using one line, gesture drawing warm ups, and always becuase it's something I recently been doing, is drawing a thumbs up on a page that I can erase later or keep in a sketchbook as in like "Good job "(edited)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I don't have a warm-up routine before I sit down and draw / write comics. Besides making a cup of coffee before I dive right in. (edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I don't follow rules

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

i don't really have any warm up routines. it helps that 3d art is less physically demanding than drawing. during/after my work, i try to look away from the screen and relax my eyes every so often, but i can't think of anything i specifically do before working.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Another dive-right-inner here. I mean, I do loose pencil sketches before putting down lineart, but it's not like a separate warmup drawing before the real one, it's just the start of the real one.

If my brain isn't in "comics mode" and I need to get a page done...I find a nice secluded spot, sit down with the blank sketchbook, and stare at the empty paper until ideas start clicking into place. Unrelated sketches would be a distraction at that point -- same as checking twitter, just one more excuse for my brain to focus on something other than the page.

Used to do the seclusion in local restaurants( whether it's a nice place or just a plastic fast-food table), but obviously that hasn't been an option for a while :/

varethane

My warmup is working eight hours at an unrelated job l-lol

eli [a winged tale]

Haha aw that’s a mood

Miranda

Oh boy do I feel that

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

oh that got real