#Top-rated lip liner for all-day wear

[thekaykery]

I recently addicted to ur taehyung fic (little and the beast) god I loved the couple like how adorable their relationship was so maybe can you do for the same couple or an individual tae x reader smut where OC is his girlfriend and she secretly planned to tease tae by wearing bunny cosplay lingerie and asks him to fuck her in that outfit which she looks so cute as well as hot and tae immediately giving in his pretty girl's wish 🥺🥺💗

This is my first ever ask so pls ignore if it's cringe or whatever lol

yes ofc!!! tsym for loving little and the beast! this one's for you ❤️

honey bunny

pairing: kim taehyung x f!reader

category: smut, fluff

word count: 2.3k

rating: 21+

warning(s): ddlg, daddy dom!taehyung, little sub!f!reader, bunny costume, destruction of said costume, pet names, daddy kink, cursing, teasing, begging, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, allusion to choking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), praise, aftercare, mentions of squirting and passing out from said squirting

notes: again, tsym for requesting this! ik this took forever but life grew hectic bc of college! ty for your patience! p.s. what a good time to release this with layover amirite-

You don’t know if this is a good idea.

Purchasing this… gift with Taehyung’s card was risky enough. Yes, he’s able to see the Amazon charge in his account and know it was you. Yes, he likes to ask what you buy. Yes, you tried your best to hide this in a spot where Taehyung doesn’t normally look. Really, you’ve just been waiting for the opportunity to take it out and wow him.

And today is the day.

Gazing in the mirror at your reflection, you run a hand over the sleek white leather costume. Cinched at the waist, it emphasizes your hips and bum, and the cups do little justice to contain your breasts. You paired fishnet tights, wrist cuff sleeves, and a collar with the costume, along with a bunny ears headband; white stilettos top off the outfit. You even put on some makeup: black liner, mascara, blood-red lipstick.

Although you know it’s all going to come off with your tears and spit, you wanted to be pretty, look pretty for Taehyung.

However, this seemed like a good idea at first, but now you’re second-guessing yourself.

As your dom and caretaker, Taehyung is accustomed to seeing you in cute, frilly clothing, since you’re in little space more often than not. So you don’t know how your boyfriend is going to react. The least he can do is like it, right?

He doesn’t have to love it. You just want to… surprise him.

The familiar sound of the front door opening and closing catches your attention. Your hands become clammy. You scurry to the bed and lay down, stretching along the blankets, which are soft against your skin. Footsteps approach, growing louder with each one, then–

"Jesus Christ."

You shyly peek at your boyfriend. Taehyung stares at you, utterly divine in loose beige pants and a garnet tee tucked into the waistband, his dirty-blond hair swept back away from his face. His brown eyes are wide with shock, knuckles white from his tight grip on the doorknob. You carefully roll over, exposing your chest, and his throat bobs.

“Hi,” you murmur, smiling a little.

He doesn’t reply straight away, obviously stupefied by your costume. “What’s this?” he croaks.

“Do you like it, Daddy?” you quietly ask him, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and standing. Your heels click on the hardwood floor as you step towards him. “I got it for you.”

Another gulp. Taehyung drifts to you, enchanted. “You look…” His slender fingers curl around your waist. He sharply exhales, eyes unable to stay still. “Fuck, you look so pretty, babygirl.”

"Thank you," you whisper.

His touch is fire, burning through the costume and branding his fingerprints into your skin. Your eyes flutter when his hands trail up to your breasts, caressing them, your sensitive nipples rubbing against the leather. You bite your lip to contain a mewl, heat flooding your cheeks as Taehyung tugs the cups out of the way. He plays with your rosy buds, rolling and pinching them between his fingers, bolts of arousal shooting straight to your pussy.

“So this is what you bought that day,” Taehyung softly says, almost to himself, tugging at your nipples.

“Please,” you pant, jolting when he pinches a bud.

A ghost of a smirk. "Please what?"

You swallow, trembling. "Please fuck me."

Taehyung chuckles. He pinches your other nipple, drawing a whine from you. "You can do better than that, sweetheart."

You pout, eyes dropping in embarrassment. You dislike voicing your needs. He should know what you want by the way you react to his teasing, but that’s what Taehyung likes. The power he holds over you as your dom. He wants you to express your thoughts, tell him exactly just what you want.

It reminds him how much you trust him with yourself, submitting to his every touch and kiss, handing over your body to do as he pleases with it.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, shivering, head tilting back as Taehyung mouths kisses on your throat. “Please. N-Need you so bad. I-I don’t are what you do to the costume, just please fuck me.”

Taehyung chuckles, the low sound a sweet caress. “Alright, babygirl. Anything for you.”

A few seconds later, you’re on the bed again, this time with Taehyung crawling on top of you. He slots between your legs as your lips meet in a slow, passionate kiss. You quietly moan when his hands cup your tits, calloused fingertips digging into them. The stark comparison of his rough fingers on your smooth skin is arousing. Your eyes roll, bucking your hips up into his hand while he strokes your hot center over the costume, his tongue slipping into your mouth and dancing with your own. You grasp his shoulders for support, a little wail escaping you when Taehyung rips the costume at the seams.

“Daddy!” you whine, heart aching at the loss of your costume.

“What?” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Just doing what my babydoll wants.”

You open your mouth to retort, to remind him you bought this costume with his money, but the thought disappears the second Taehyung glides a finger through your folds. You quietly moan, pressing your lips together when he easily locates your clit and rubs quick, little circles on it. You swallow, rocking into his touch all while his eyes burn into you.

That’s another thing Taehyung loves in this dynamic with you: Watching you squirm beneath him from pleasure and your orgasms. It doesn’t matter if you seek from his mouth, touch, or cock. He adores the view of you experiencing total euphoria because of him, and it’s even better because he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. His precious girl, all his to love and care for in every way possible. But he knows you secretly like it too, watching him get off on you getting off.

“Daddy, please,” you plead, your hand sliding down to his arm from his shoulder. “Fuck me.”

Taehyung merely hums, his eyes dark and gleaming as he sips a long finger inside you. You whimper, your legs trying to snap shut, but his body stops it from occurring. He pumps it in and out of you at a steady pace, listening to you whine and moan, observing the way you writhe in bliss.

“How badly do you want it, babe?” Taehyung rasps, deep voice husky with lust. He rests his forehead on yours, your breaths mixing while more noises spill out of you. “Huh? How badly do you want Daddy’s cock? Tell me, babygirl.”

“Please!” you cry out, back arching when the pad of his finger brushes over your sweet spot. “O-Oh, fuck yes, please–”

“W-Want it so bad!” you sob, tears stained black from your liner and mascara. “Please, please, fill me up until I can’t think of anything but you!” You squeal, your entrance burning slightly from the intrusion of a second digit, but it feels so fucking good. “P-Please, fuck me up with your big cock, please!”

Taehyung smirks. “That’s a good girl."

While he continues to finger you, Taehyung miraculously shucks off his pants and boxers, cock springing free from its confinements. You lick your lips at the sight of him. Long and girthy, slightly curved with a bulbous tip, veins ridging it, the prominent one crawling up to his frenulum like a tree. You pant in anticipation as Taehyung sits between your legs once more, clenching around nothing when he taps his cock on your drenched pussy.

You’re so deep in your own little world that you don’t even notice him removing his shirt. You grind up against his dick, whining, clit singing at the friction.

“Want Daddy’s cock so bad, don’t you?” Taehyung coos.

You eagerly nod. “Yes, please!”

“Let me hear it one more time, baby.”

You keen, clutching the sheets in your hands, a lump of frustration growing in your throat. Damn him and his teasing. “Please, fuck me, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung purrs, and finally, after what felt like endless torture, he enters you. He hisses. “Fuck, so fucking tight...”

You, on the other hand, are in complete bliss, eyes shut in ecstasy. He fills you up little by little, sinking further and further into you until he’s fully seated within you. Your eyes roll at how full you feel, his pelvis pressed to your core, his balls flush with your second hole. You softly pant, shifting in your spot beneath Taehyung, your walls rhythmically clenching around him. This spurs him into action.

He starts slow, one deep stroke after another. You quietly curse, and Taehyung lowly groans, the sound causing you to clamp down around him again.

“Fuck, relax,” Taehyung croaks.

“F-Feels so good,” you whimper.

“I know, baby.”

Your head falls back on the bed, a little whine slipping out of you, your tits bouncing in time with Taehyung’s gentle tempo. You hook your knees to your chest, allowing him more room to work. He lovingly pets your thighs in thanks. Taehyung grunts, nibbling his lip, his hair falling in his face. God, he looks like a god above you like this, completely drunk on your pussy, just like you’re drunk on his cock.

“Go faster,” you plead. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung picks up the pace, assuming a medium tempo. “Like this?”

You whine and shake your head. “Faster!”

“Be specific, darling.” His hand ghosts over your throat, which has your walls fluttering around his cock. His fingers always make a pretty necklace when Taehyung’s in the mood.

“F-Fuck me until I can’t think straight,” you beg, lightly grasping his wrist. “Please, Daddy.”

“That’s better.” Soon, Taehyung bucks into you with the manner of a well-oiled machine, quick and precise, hips smacking against your ass. He grunts, holding your legs for you while you cradle your tits for emotional support. “This what you wanted, babydoll? Hm?”

“Yes!” you cry, pinching and pulling at your nipples. “F-Fuck yes, Daddy, oh my god!”

Taehyung breathlessly chuckles at your confirmation, using your words as encouragement. He adjusts his angle slightly, along with the depth of his thrusts, and a loud wail is ripped out of you. He smirks. Bingo. Taehyung continues at this position, tip bludgeoning your sweet spot repeatedly. You shriek, eyes crossing, stars speckling your vision. You can’t even talk anymore, rendered speechless by his cock.

He melted your brain. He always does.

The sensation of his cock deliciously gliding against your throbbing walls is addicting, creating a high only your pussy adores. The veiny ridges provide a pleasant catch along your molten core, the lip of his tip adding to it, perfectly hitting that spongy part within you again and again. Your toes curl in your heels, and because of Taehyung’s godly pace, one of them falls off, bouncing on the bed and clattering to the floor. The other one joins it in courtesy of Taehyung.

“Gonna fuckin’ pump you full of my cum,” Taehyung grunts, curling up and hovering above you, forearms situated by your head. His pace becomes stilted, signaling his approaching end. “Until it leaks out of you, babygirl.”

You simply moan, which has him laughing. “Did I fuck my girl dumb? You’re so cute.”

Despite his impending doom, it doesn’t stop Taehyung from fucking you with fervor. No, he keeps going, pistoning into you, operating like a jackhammer.

“D-Daddy,” you croak, clawing at his ribs. The icy burn you’ve learned to love has begun to creep up on you, body trembling in expectation. Fuck, you’re so close. “‘M-M gonna cum.”

Taehyung groans. “Yeah? Gonna make a giant mess on my cock?”

“U-Uh huh!”

He hisses, brows furrowing in determination. Jaw clenching, Taehyung vigorously pounds into you, fingers tangling in the sheets by your head. Your noises rise in volume as your orgasm speed towards you like a bullet train, closer and closer until–

You scream, back arching like a bow, your soul dropping into the pool of euphoria waiting to embrace you. You loudly moan as its fingers caress you, stroking the most intimate parts of you while your pussy paints Taehyung’s cock white, not even aware of the clear liquid splashing all over the two of you. You sink deep into that pool, ascending into spaces you’ve never reached before. Your eyes grow heavy, and your hearing is reduced to a high-pitched ringing.

You shut your eyes to rest for a few seconds, just to wholeheartedly enjoy euphoria’s touch. However, when you wake, you discover you’ve been tucked under the blankets. You frown and sit up, only to pause at the feeling of cloth on your body. You glance at yourself. You’re no longer in the costume; rather, in a large oversized tee.

What the hell?

“You’re awake.”

At his voice, you seeks him out. He enters the bedroom with a bowl of your favorite snack and a glass of water.

“What happened?” you quietly ask him.

His lips stretch into a smug smirk. “You squirted. Hard. Then you passed out, but I cleaned you up and made sure you were comfortable.” He offers you the snack and water. “I bring refreshments.”

Your cheeks flare with heated embarrassment. “I-I passed out? From squirting?"

“Yup.” Taehyung chuckles, crawling into bed beside you. “It was pretty hot, not gonna lie. I came on your tummy instead of inside you like I wanted, but it’s okay. Your health and safety comes first.”

You shyly sip your water, leaning back on the pillow. “Did you like it, at least?”

“Hm?” Taehyung peeks at you. “Like what?"

You bashfully divert your gaze. “The outfit.”

A low chuckle. “I loved it, baby. You looked so pretty in it while I fucked you, and those tights… Goddamn.”

You quietly giggle, bowing your head, your hair falling and curtaining your red face. Taehyung brushes it behind your ear. “I loved it, babydoll.”

“Really?” You peek at him.

“Mhmm.” Taehyung twines an arm around your waist, tugging you close. “If you order another costume next time, tell me. I wanna see you put it on.”

“N-Next time?”

“Oh, baby.” Another chuckle rumbles in his throat. He presses a kiss to your ear. “There’s always a next time with you.”

© thekaykery 2023

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

inventory, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re missing a piece of inventory from your erotica shop. Surprisingly, you find it in the same day. It’s around your boyfriend’s neck, who also happens to be your sub. Hm, well, you have to act accordingly, don’t you?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; dom/sub dynamic; feels and there’s a decent bit of buildup; smut (mirror kink, spitting, cock ring usage, cock-slapping, scratching, spanking, vibrator use, overstimulation, edging, m-masturbation, cum eating, f-receiving oral); fluff; noona dom!reader x sub!Jungkook

technically part iv of ‘customer service’ series, but can be read alone

–

customer service part i | part ii | part iii

-

Jeon Jungkook was a problem.

Technically, your problem.

You tapped your pen against your recordkeeping book. No one was in the store. It was the middle of the week. Not usually the time to get freaky. People got freaky on the weekends. You usually spent these times doing the boring stuff. Setting up the deliveries for the rich customers that purchased clothing from you. Cleaning the store from top to bottom and finding some interesting fluids in interesting places. Typical. Answering emails, accounting, taking inventory. You were missing one piece of inventory, but those things always turned up eventually. You weren’t worried.

Eh, wasn’t a big problem.

Your big problem was Jeon Jungkook.

He wanted to be exclusive. Okay. He wanted it to be a relationship. Slightly less in your comfort zone, but you were willing to give it a shot. Unfortunately, Jungkook also wanted one more thing.

He wanted you to lose you temper at him.

Now, there were several things you, personally, did not do anymore. And number one on the list was losing your temper. You did not want to be in power and actively angry at the person you were fucking at the same time. It was dangerous. It was irresponsible. You’ve gone too far before and hurt your sub. You weren’t going to repeat it.

Not with Jungkook, no matter how much he tried to rile you up.

And he tried. Disobeyed you outright. Talked back. Taunted you. It took a lot of your skill and redirection to focus his attention elsewhere and not at his ultimate goal of pissing you off so much that you used sex as a weapon, because quite frankly, that was a fucked-up thing to do and you were not going to do it. You would rather leave than become that.

You told him this. You told him that he should not try to provoke you, especially not this early in the relationship. His body couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t handle it mentally, and you didn’t want to end up emotionally and sexually abusing him, even if it was an accident. Because it was your responsibility to not do that and you took that shit very seriously.

Jungkook had agreed reluctantly and he still tried.

Sigh.

You rubbed your forehead. If he was an experienced sub, then maybe you could be less strict. But he wasn’t. And yeah, maybe you were a little scared. Because your last relationship had ended very, very badly, because you had gone too far and your sub had been too scared to use the safe word even when it was too much and that really, really fucked you up. You regretted it, even after all this time, even after all the apologizing, even after your sub had forgiven you, multiple times.

You had never forgiven yourself for it.

The whole relationship had fallen apart because of that one time.

After that, you didn’t really date. All you did was have one-night stands with subs you already knew. It was easy having sex with no strings attached. Now you were dating Jungkook. Yeah, that. The dating bit. It was messing you up. It was making you overly cautious. You didn’t want to repeat your mistakes.

You let out a tense exhale.

You didn’t tell Jungkook about this, mostly because you didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want to admit your sub had been too scared of you to use their safe word. You were ashamed. Scared of yourself and what you were capable of.

Sometimes, when you thought about it, you wondered if you should stop. Give up on the dom/sub thing and have vanilla sex instead with some nice guy who had a normal job and raise some babies and fucking chill out. Seemed nice. Life wasn’t about needing a power complex when being intimate after all. You could have a perfectly satisfying sex life with two people in equal power. Could even still be kinky without the whole ‘I’m the authority and you have to listen to me’ thing.

Yeah, well. Before you could commit to that, Jeon Jungkook decided to fucking seduce you in your own damn sex shop.

You placed your hands on your head and let out a big sigh.

Damn you, Jungkook.

-

You found your missing piece of inventory.

It was around Jeon Jungkook’s neck when he opened his apartment door for you.

Your face was completely neutral, one hand in the pocket of your black trench coat. The other holding your black leather briefcase. Underneath the coat, you wore a simple floor-length black skirt. Black heels. Nothing but your face and hands uncovered. In one second, you took in every detail upon seeing Jungkook.

One, his long black hair was tied back, his bangs framing his large brown eyes. Two, he was wearing a little bit of makeup. Slight amount of eyeshadow and liner, lip balm to make his lips pinker. Three, he was wearing a very low V-necked black t-shirt that was quite obviously meant to show off his shapely collarbones and sculpted pecs. The ink-black tattoos in his right arm stood out against his tan skin. Fourth, he was wearing leather pants – not the ones you made him, that would be indecent exposure showing up to the door like that – but, still, black tight faux leather trousers that he half-tucked his shirt in so his crotch was visible.

And.

Fifth.

He was wearing a black leather collar around his neck, one with a large silver ring hanging down at the center. It had silver studs with in the shape of a diamond pattern punched into the leather. It closed in the back with a silver buckle.

How did you know this?

It was your missing piece of inventory, of course.

You clicked your tongue.

“Oh! Noona,” Jungkook said nervously, biting his lip.

You little shit, don’t you ‘oh, noona’ me. You almost turned around and left. Almost. Irritation was putting it mildly. You were pissed. He had stolen from your shop. Became an actual fucking thief to get a rise out of you. You two weren’t going out on a date. It was already late, so both of you had intended on having a nice night in. He’d dressed up for it, as one does. Made himself pretty for you to ruin. Jungkook knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t being subtle about it, wearing the stolen inventory right in front of your face the second he opened the door.

He wanted you mad and he wanted you mad from the start.

You did not look at the collar. Instead, you stared into his eyes, furious internally, but completely placid on the outside. His brown orbs were observing you in anticipation. He wanted it. Bad. You had refused to let him cum last time because he had talked back to you. That was a week ago. You wondered if he had jacked off or not. You put no such restrictions on him even though he asked you to. You were curious on how far Jungkook was willing to go, so you let him choose.

And, clearly, Jungkook choose death.

Just kidding. But he was really testing you here. And so, you made up your mind.

You waited, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook flushed and backed up, holding the door with two hands.

“C-Come in.”

You stepped inside, heels clicking on the hardwood. Jungkook closed the door behind you. The large, floor-length mirror was in the living room again. The incident in the fitting room must have really had an impact on him. Maybe he was developing a mirror kink because of it.

You felt Jungkook slide up next to you, his breath against your ear. Shallow, needy, already horny. You weren’t surprised. Nobody dresses like that and doesn’t want to be fucked.

“N-noona…” He was making his voice desperate and breathy, already submissive for you. “I really missed you.”

“That’s lovely to hear.”

You kept your tone light, no pet names, stepping out of your heels and walking towards the couch. Jungkook followed you like a shadow, still chewing on his lip, messing up his own hard work of making himself pretty for you. You placed your briefcase on the coffee table. He hovered as you undid your trench coat slowly, pulling open the tie and unbuttoning it deftly, fingers dancing on the placket.

“I can help you?” Jungkook offered, holding his hands out.

Your eyes gradually lifted, locking your gaze with his. You saw him visibly shiver in excitement.

“No need.”

You saw Jungkook pout as you slipped out of the coat, one arm, then the other, revealing the white dress shirt that was neatly tucked into your black skirt. It had pleated detailing down the front and silver collar pins, completed by the silver cuff links you used to close the sleeves. You folded the coat elegantly and laid it over the back of his couch.

“Are you mad, noona?”

You want me to be mad. Thankfully, at this point you had calmed a little. Yes, Jungkook was an idiot for doing such a thing, but he wasn’t doing it because he was trying to hurt you or actually steal from you. Maybe it was something he’d seen or read in porn. Maybe it was something his brain devised because he felt some weird need to prove to you that he was a good and obedient sub, because he knew you had previous partners and he wanted to outdo them or something. Maybe he wanted to see how much of a dom you really were.

And, most likely, it was all of those things.

“Jungkook.”

This time, you said his name with a sharper tone.

“Y… yes?”

You turned your right hand upwards, entirely aware of the placement of your fingers. Pinky, ring, middle curled inwards. Index up, thumb out. Poised, elegant, almost haughty. You flicked your cuff link, straightening the backing to slip it out. It was a diamond-shaped accessory, completely unnecessary for everyday life and completely necessary to force Jungkook to wait on you one more second. One more heart-stopping moment.

You glanced at his crotch. Hm. Interesting. Then you blinked and your eyes were on his. Hair hanging around his cheekbones, pupils dilating, swollen lips parted as he let out light pants of desire. He was slowly but surely losing it.

Maybe it was because his erection was suffocating in his leather pants.

You twirled your cuff link in your fingers. Jungkook watched the action, entranced by the dexterity of your digits. You knew what he wanted. He’d been texting you all day, trying to work you up. You had made him wait. Just like how you were making him wait now.

“What is your safe word?”

That was the question you used to start off the scene.

Instantly, you saw the relief, the hunger, the absolute need to serve flood his dark brown eyes. Now you were the dom. Now he was the sub.

“Euphoria,” Jungkook nearly moaned.

You nodded slowly, placing the cuff link on his coffee table. You upturned your other wrist, removing the other with a swift flick. You heard him whimper at the quick action. You almost smiled. He really wanted it. Ah, but you are a bad, bad boy, Jungkook. The metal clinked as it touched the walnut wood of the tabletop.

And there are consequences for being a bad, bad boy.

Your gaze connected with his once again. His eyes were practically begging for instruction.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you drawled. His teeth sunk into his lower lip once more, the tiny mole underneath winking at you. “Go ahead.”

His eyes flitted about, trying to search for the trap. He swallowed, straining against the collar.

“Do… do you notice anything different about me?” Jungkook asked hesitantly, taking a step towards you.

You didn’t move from your position, observing him closely. His hands by his sides were antsy, itching to touch you or be caged with rope. You hooked your thumb at the base of your cuff and rolled it down. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You’re wearing makeup for me,” you replied, letting a small smile drift to your lips.

“A-ah…” He blushed. “Is it… is it too unmanly?”

Who the fuck put these ideas in Jeon Jungkook’s head? You just wanted to talk to them. And by talk, you meant flog the living daylights out of them. You had a big one at home. It could be arranged.

“No, of course not. You look very handsome.” Pause. “And fuckable.”

No reason not to tell the truth.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a dark pink. “T-Thank you, noona.”

During the entire conversation, you had folded the sleeves of your dress shirt up to your elbows. The stiff, crisp fabric held, and suddenly you were imposing, sleeves rolled up, black skirt skimming the hardwood floor. The neutral façade you had upheld for so long dropped away. Jungkook noticed the change instantly, even though you hadn’t actually said anything yet. His eyes widened a little, shoulders tensing.

Your eyes flashed, chin lifting.

“Or is that not what you meant, pretty boy?”

You did not hide the irritation in your voice this time. His breathing hitched, the muscles his arms ripped and Jungkook very, very much wanted to be punished.

“Um…” He fiddled with his hands guiltily, eyes skirting about. “It’s not what I was referring to, no…”

“Look at me.”

He snapped his head up, gulping. So obvious. His neck strained against the leather. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What were you referring to?” you questioned icily.

Jungkook was shaking all over. He lifted his hand slowly, reaching up to his neck, hooking two fingers around the metal ring of the collar. He tightened them, tugging down a little, eyelashes fluttering, a tiny moan rumbling in his throat. You were going insane on the inside. Fuck, did he know how submissive he was? Did he know how his small, cute little actions made him look so fucking appetizing?

“T-This.”

“Ah, yes,” you finally acknowledged. You waved a hand and he removed his, biting his lip again. “I did notice that. A nice touch. Is it for me?”

He nodded quickly. He seemed to forget for a second that he stole it from you. “Yes, noona, it’s for you.”

You sighed. Jungkook’s expression changed, becoming slightly confused.

“Pause.”

The indication that there was an intermission in the scene. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You are testing me, Jungkook, and I do not like it.”

Jungkook’s brows knitted together, looking down. “I’m sorry, noona.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t try to make me angry on purpose.”

He closed the distance between you two, placing his hands on your elbows. His brown orbs anxiously found yours. “I… I just… please…” His fingers pressed into your skin, his breathing deepening. “I want to see how far I can go. How far you can take me. You won’t…” Jungkook shook his head, hair flying everywhere, ponytail bouncing. “You’re holding back, but I can take it, noona, I promise. I promise I can.” His fingertips caressed you, determination in his eyes.

Hm. Jungkook could tell. You breathed in deeply, inhaling his clean scent.

You are aware of your mistakes. You have learned.

You pursed your lips.

I really, really do not want to hurt you, Jungkook.

“You must promise me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You must promise me, that if it is too much, if you cannot handle it, if it is not something you want, you must use your safe word.”

He nodded quickly. “I promise.”

And then you crumpled a little bit, your strict demeanor falling, the fears rising, the vulnerability making your voice quiver as you unfurled your arms and grabbed his t-shirt, shaking him roughly.

“No, Jungkook,” you pleaded. “You must promise me.” And you couldn’t explain, couldn’t bring yourself to say why, but he could tell how serious you were because you were suddenly weak, suddenly the parts of yourself that you kept under wraps revealed themselves, the parts you were ashamed of appearing, and you were letting him witness it. Because he said he wanted you. Not just dom you, but you.

And this, well, this was you too.

Jungkook’s eyes softened and he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you, long, sweet, delicate. It was like time stopped. As if the world froze and there was nothing but Jungkook’s lips on yours, reassuring and comforting. He drew back and opened his eyes slowly, warmth in his chocolate orbs.

“I promise.”

You looked up at him, stunned. He grinned at you, showing off his teeth, a little cheeky and embarrassed all at once. You removed your hands from his shirt, lowering them gradually.

“Sorry, I…”

Jungkook’s hands dropped and held yours tightly. He shook his head.

“No, noona. I understand. I know you are looking out for me,” he said brightly. “Because I’m always trying to get into trouble.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. At least he admitted it.

His teeth caught his lip, still smiling. Less nervous now, more playful.

You removed your hands from his. Okay. Okay, fine. Jungkook wanted you to be the dom. Not a dom, the dom. You let out a breath, controlled, clean. Step back into your role. You are in control. You can do this.

“What is your safe word?”

You cracked your neck, a sharp pop that made Jungkook jump.

“Euphoria,” he replied automatically.

“Very good.”

A beat passed. Jungkook remained close to you, unsure what was going to happen. His eyes wide and flighty, chin trembling, hands in front of his chest. You lowered yours, placing them behind your back. Piercing gaze on him, taking a step. His eyes followed you as you slowly circled him, speaking carefully and deliberately.

“So, Jungkook, tell me,” you began, skirt grazing the floor as your glided around him. “What makes you think you’re wearing the collar for me?”

Jungkook’s head whipped around quickly, following your movement with darting eyes. Damn, his ass looked great in these leather pants. He looked unconfident, brows furrowing, trying to conjure the right answer to get what he wanted.

“Um… I thought… maybe you might like it…” He stumbled through his words. “B-Because you like controlling me…”

You smiled at him. Jungkook brightened.

“I do.”

The eagerness beamed off his face as you stopped in front of him, still smiling pleasantly.

“I love controlling you.”

Then the smile dropped. The air around you became ten degrees colder with your shift in demeanor. Jungkook barely had a half-second to realize the change before your hand shot out and gripped the silver ring, yanking down harshly. He yelped, arms flying out, falling to his knees hard, gripping your skirt for balance. Your other arm was still behind you, folded into the small of your back. You narrowed your eyes, holding the collar ring so tightly that your knuckles were white.

His eyes flew up, pain and surprise.

You ticked your head. “But clearly, I’ve done a poor job, because you’ve gone and stole from me, you bad boy.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, scooting himself forward, clutching your skirt tightly. “N-No, please, noona, I only–”

You yanked the ring up and Jungkook gasped, words cut off from the sudden jerk of his head snapping back. “You only what? Pickpocketed? Broke the law? Took my hard-earned money from right under my nose, to hurt me?”

“No, no, never,” Jungkook whimpered, looking up at you, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to hurt you, noona. Never.”

“Then explain yourself,” you barked severely.

His eyes were turning teary, pleading. “I only… I only wanted to borrow it. So you could punish me and so I could show you I could be a good boy and take what I deserve.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your other punishments weren’t enough?”

Jungkook’s lower lip quivered. The shame of his true intent was creeping in his eyes now.

“I… I wanted to see you angry, noona.”

“Even after I told you that you shouldn’t?”

He nodded, scurrying himself even closer on his now, most likely, bruised knees. Eyes on you, holding onto your skirt, whole body trembling. He angled his hips forward, showing you how hard he was in his pants, straining it even more by pressing his erection into the zipper of the leather. His lips open, black curls hanging around his face, almost pathetic but not quite, because you knew Jungkook was acutely aware of exactly what he looked like. Doing it to entice you, doing it to assure you that he wanted it.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted.

You forcefully let go of the ring, flinging him away from you. Jungkook squeaked, releasing your clothes as his body twisted to the side from your sharp movement. You swept your skirts away and took a step back.

“Noona, w-wait!”

Jungkook tried to scramble to his feet, but you snarled deep in your chest, making him freeze.

“Crawl.”

He looked startled, looking at you with wide puppy eyes. You took another step back. Jungkook followed you, on hands and knees, his bangs flared out, the low neckline of his shirt hanging down, revealing his chest. You could see his back muscles rippling under the fabric. Fuck, he was so handsome. You weren’t heading for the front door. You watched his mind calculate the angle of your body, mood lightening as he realized that was the direction of the bedroom. You, however, stopped at the floor-length mirror in the living room. Pointed to the patch of floor at your feet.

“Here. Now.”

Jungkook immediately complied, getting on his knees in front of you, hands between his legs, keen to please, facing you.

“Other way,” you clarified, sounding disappointed.

He lowered his head at his mistake and spun around, now facing his reflection. You glared through the mirror, making eye contact. He looked very sorry and very dejected. You almost forgave him just like that. Maybe Jungkook didn’t like this. Maybe you were being too harsh.

“Do you want to use your safe word?”

His eyes on yours. He shook his head lightly, not breaking your gaze.

“No, noona.” Your heart thudded in your chest at his tone of voice. “I’ve been a very bad boy.”

Jungkook licked his lips slowly, not looking away, the tip of his pink tongue lingering before sliding back into his mouth. He kept the same look in his eyes, but his actions were giving you the go ahead.

Shit.

You raised an eyebrow and lowered your hands. They floated above his shoulders and you were reminded of the first time, in the fitting room of your erotica shop, the moment he seduced you and pulled you into his pace. Jungkook tipped his head back, long hair sliding to his ears, the reflection of the stolen collar taunting you.

This brat.

Slowly, finger by finger, you placed your hands on his face. Fingertips pressing into his jaw, cheek, temple, into his soft skin, nails slightly digging in. Scratching up his pretty face a little, claiming it as yours. Jungkook had perfect bone structure, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, pretty forehead. He was panting, mouth open, hot breath drifting down. Hands on his thighs, clutching them tight.

You bent down, chin above his head so he could feel your hot breath on his scalp.

“My pretty boy,” you murmured softly. “Why must you be so bad? Do I not treat you well enough? Do I not give you what you love?”

“You do,” Jungkook whined in your hands, the guilt creeping into his voice. “You do, noona. Your pretty boy is… g-greedy.” He rolled his hips a little, spreading his thighs more, staring at his own reflection of his low-necked shirt and his thighs open, cock bulging in his leather pants.

Your fingers slipped down, down, tracing the leather collar. You let your index finger circle around the metal, not yet touching his chest, so close but so far. Jungkook kept trying to raise it into your touch.  Your other hand reached back and grabbed his ponytail, yanking his head back. He moaned right into your chin, too turned on to pretend he was hurt.

“I am going to my briefcase,” you stated, not looking at him under you and instead staring at his reflection, torso straining from how sharply you were forcing him to arch his back. “You are to remove your clothes. Whatever is left on you will remain for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, noona.”

You abruptly let him go, striding to your briefcase swiftly, hearing a flurry of noise as Jungkook flung all of his clothes off. Snap, open, grab. You had already packed a black velvet bag holding the things you intended to use on him tonight. You spun around to see him practically ripping his leather pants off, the panic and regret evident on his face as he tried to shove them down his muscular calves. Smart boy had removed his underwear with his pants, smearing trails of pre-cum down his legs and onto the floor. You waited half a second for Jungkook to pop them over his ankles and he threw the pants to the far wall, so hard they made a loud slapping noise. Jungkook was on his hands and knees, panting, beads of sweat on his forehead.

It was actually hilarious to watch, but now was not the time to laugh.

Jungkook snapped his head towards you, eyes wide, his hard cock smacking his thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him. He gulped. Wearing nothing but the collar. Oh, he looked so good. You could tell him to get into position.

Or.

Tease him.

“Want to put my mouth on you, handsome boy.”

His cock twitched as his jaw dropped.

Your tongue slid out and stayed at the side of your lips as you spoke. “You look so tasty for me. When was the last time you came, Jungkook?”

His hands curled into fists on the hardwood floor, legs falling open, cock throbbing. The veins stood out against the hardness, head swollen and red.

“F-Fifteen days ago…” he whimpered.

He had denied himself. So cute. What a good boy. You smiled at him, still holding the velvet bag. “Really? You didn’t cum, not even once, without me?”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, hair flying everywhere. “Wa… wanted to be tasty for you.”

You pouted a little. “Hm, that’s half a month. You waited so long.”

Jungkook nodded, chewing on his lip. You gestured for him to adjust his position and he turned his body to fully face you.

“Eyes on the mirror.”

He turned his head to face his reflection. Hands on the floor next to his ass, slightly leaning back, legs open.

“Look away and I’ll walk away,” you warned.

“Y-yes, noona.”

You floated down to the floor. He couldn’t exactly see you, but you slid into the frame of the mirror, right between his legs. The velvet bag was out of his sight, next to his leg, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at his stiff cock and your proximity to it, holding his breath. You collected your saliva on your tongue and opened your mouth. It dripped down in a thin, slim line, hitting the angry red head of his cock and causing it to jerk at the sudden impact, coating it.

“A-ah, s-so good…”

“What do we say?” you purred, collecting more.

“T-thank you, noona,” Jungkook moaned, watching as you dropped more onto his aching cock, splattering onto his crotch. You lowered your head, closer. Closer. Jungkook sucked in a breath, waiting, needing, trying not to move. You made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“You’re a bad boy, Jungkook.”

And then you spat on his balls.

His head tipped back as he groaned, eyes barely open as he watched himself, chest shuddering as he felt it trickle down and onto the floor below. You spat on his genitals again, more force this time, spraying it across his cock and stomach. He cried out, slamming one of his fists onto the hardwood.

“Y-yes, noona, I’m a bad boy.”

And then you produced a cock ring seemingly out of nowhere, eyebrow raised as he wailed loudly.

“N-no, please, please don’t,” Jungkook panicked as you brought the black silicone ring closer and closer to his now saliva-drenched cock. “Please, I promise to be a good boy, please don’t do it…”

You said nothing, simply placing it on the engorged head and using three fingers to hold it, pushing down slowly.

“Noona, a-ah… no…” His eyelids fluttered, eyes on the reflection of his thick cock being viciously squeezed into the silicone ring. He let out a choked sob as it popped over the bottom of the head, sliding down, down, all the way to the base. You barely touched him, removing your hand as Jungkook shuddered, his pulsating length now bound by the black band.

You raised your head. He was still, very obediently, staring at the mirror.

You smacked his cock with your palm.

Not hard, but enough to make it bounce and for Jungkook to squeal, hips rising as his dick shook from side to side, unable to move much from the tight cock ring. He was making it move more by rocking his hips, heightening the feeling of being bound.

You waited until it stopped swaying.

“Your neighbors will hear you, Jungkook,” you said calmly. You turned your head and looked into the mirror. His eyes locked on yours, pupils dilated, strands of hair clinging to his sweaty face. “Should I gag you?”

“N-no, noona,” he whispered hotly, breathing shallow and tight. “They have to know I’m being punished. B-Because I’ve been b-bad.”

Good gracious, Jungkook.

Your panties instantly soaked. Who was losing it here? Was it him or was it you? Fuck.

You slowly smacked his cock back and forth, back and forth, staring at his face in the mirror. His head tipped back, not closing his eyes, moaning wantonly as his stiff length was roughly shoved around, barely any pressure and too much at once because of how hard he was. You stopped, watching his cock bob, almost purple-red now. Pre-cum beaded at the tip.

You couldn’t help it.

You leaned down, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could see, and gave the slit a tiny kitten lick.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Jungkook lost control, eyes rolling back into his head, and you almost moaned, his strong, intense taste all over your tongue. He tasted so good. So fucking delicious. You pulled back, pretending not to notice that Jungkook had looked away from the mirror as he quickly collected himself, back to staring at his reflection. You grabbed his hips and dug your nails into his skin, dragging him so his body was tilted.

“Flip over,” you growled.

You backed up, taking the velvet pouch with you as Jungkook obeyed, on his hands and knees now.

“On your face.”

Jungkook whimpered, lowering his cheek to the cool floor, leaning against it. Now his ass was up in the air, vulnerable and exposed.

“Both hands on the ring.”

His teeth sank into his lower lip, scooting his hands so he held the silver collar ring with fingers on both hands, arms against the floor to hold him up. His cock stuck straight down, stiff and swollen, trapped in the silicone circle. You waited to let Jungkook readjust his knees to be more comfortable and so he could see everything. The muscles on his back tensed with anticipation.

“I didn’t cover your mouth for a reason.”

“Yes, noona,” Jungkook breathed.

You raised your hands and raked your nails over his back, all the way to his ass. Hard, deep, leaving lines of pink and red, almost breaking the skin. Jungkook moaned, tongue sliding out, body shaking, eyelids fluttering. You did it again, and again, creating your pattern of lust on his back.

“Mine,” you growled possessively. Your eyes locked with his.

Thump.

Had anyone ever looked at you with so much adoration before?

Jungkook nodded.

“All yours, noona.”

You slapped his ass with your open palm.

He yelped, shoulders hitting the floor, face sliding a little against the wood. Pupils dilating, whimpering for more. You smacked him again, and again, and again, never the same spot, always with the full palm, all over, causing large red handprints patterned all over his ass. Jungkook was a groaning mess, legs slipping, the head of his cock touching the hardwood.

You stopped.

His ass was bright red, covered in your slaps and scratches.

Jungkook opened his eyes. He seemed to realize he wasn’t looking at his reflection anymore. He panicked, seeing your glare in the mirror, and tried to raise his hips, but your hand stopped him. The tip of his cock was in contact the floor, dripping pre-cum.

You pressed his hips down a little and shifted them from side to side.

Even the little stimulation of the head against the hardwood made Jungkook moan, pleading with you as he desperately clutched the collar.

“Noona, p-please… Please let me c-cum…”

You removed your hand. Jungkook continued rubbing himself in his own puddle of pre-cum on his living room floor, as you predicted. You didn’t stop him. You reached into the velvet pouch again. Jungkook’s eyes had fluttered closed as he continued stimulating himself, probably not enough, but he didn’t seem to care. You pressed the thing in your hand onto his scrotum and turned it on.

“A-ah!”

Jungkook’s hips flew up, balls suddenly shaking violently from the bullet vibrator in your hand. He shut his legs, sticking his ass out into your hand as he gasped, pressing back into the vibrator as you lazily drifted it around his balls.

“Oh, fuck, noona, oh, fuck!”

He was still holding onto the collar somehow as he tried to get more, wiggling his hips, but you were faster, grabbing his ass with one hand and digging your nails into it.

“Stop.”

Jungkook froze, whimpering and panting on the hardwood, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glazed over.

You traced his asshole with the tip of the vibrator.

His eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out.

“Oh, please, noona, put it in me, p-please…”

You drew figure-eights around his asshole and his balls, calmly.

“I bet you would love that, but you’ve been a bad boy, so I don’t think so.”

Jungkook whined, shaking his head, dark curls fluttering, soaked with sweat.

“P-please, I’ll be good, I need it, I need you to do it, fuck, please.”

“No.”

You pressed the vibrator into the cock ring and Jungkook nearly screamed, cutting himself off by snapping his jaw shut and yelling into the floor, hips jerking in your hands. You kept it there for a good five seconds before you removed it and backed up, reaching into the velvet bag again. Jungkook had maybe one shaking inhale before you gripped him under his armpits, hoisting him up.

“Let go of the ring,” you commanded, and his hands dropped, helping you get him to his knees. His bruised knees. Still, he leaned against you, soaking your clothes with his sweat, spreading his legs out more so his body lowered and your head could be seen past his shoulder. 

You reached down and removed the cock ring, Jungkook gasping in relief. It rolled away, now forgotten.

“Get yourself off.”

“B-but, noona…”

Your hands appeared and pressed against his nipples, turning on both bullet vibrators at once.

“Get. Yourself. Off.”

“F-fuck!”

His hand immediately flew to his cock, viciously pumping himself as you rubbed his nipples with the toys, his groans rumbling in his chest with the vibrations, so strong, so intense, his tan skin glistening with sweat, arm tattoos dancing as he stroked himself fast, his cock so hard it was purple now, veins popping out.

And, like the masochist he was…

Jungkook grabbed the head and squeezed firmly, cutting off his own orgasm with a wail.

You responded just as fast, dropping your hands and shoving the vibrators against his balls, twice as much stimulation as before. His head fell back against your shoulder, half-moans, half-screams of your name as he bucked into them, working himself up once again, your breath against his neck, your eyes watching Jungkook’s reflection – his shaking legs, his balls cupped in your hands, his abused and overstimulated cock popping in and out of his tattooed hand, his now inflamed nipples, sweat dripping down his neck, long black hair flared out against your cheek, the mole under his lower lip trembling with his cries.

Fuck, he was everything. Everything you ever wanted.

“Ah, noona, yes, yes, you’re so good to me, so good…”

“Cum on the mirror,” you demanded. “Cum all over yourself, pretty boy.”

Jungkook whined, snapping his head back down, feeling you increase the vibration setting on his balls and that was it, the tipping point as he sobbed out your name, shooting all over the mirror in large splatters of white, jerking his hips so it traveled higher, sticking onto the reflective glass, all over his reflection.

And he watched it, moaning, so entranced by his likeness covered in his own cum, dripping down in slow smears, messy and dirty.

You turned off the vibrators, withdrew your hands from him.

“Lick it off.”

Jungkook was exhausted, wheezing, hoarse, and yet he still removed his hand from his cock, crawling to the mess he made, pink tongue flopping out, licking his own cum off the mirror, eating it up with groans of satisfaction. You watched him, fascinated, surprised he even listened to you, surprised he was still going, because honestly at this point, you really thought you had gone too far, but Jungkook was enthusiastically making out with his own face with his orgasm at your command, and loving every second of it.

“Jungkook.”

He pushed himself away from the mirror, immediately coming to you, his dark brown eyes hazy with pleasure. He dumped himself in your lap. You still wearing all your clothes. He looked up at you, lips curving into a naughty grin.

“I love it when you turn me into your plaything.”

This guy.

“What do you want?” Jungkook panted. “I’ll do anything. Anything for you.”

Oh, that’s right. You had spent so much focus and energy on Jungkook that you completely forgot about yourself. How did that happen? Ah, but you were so tired now. You let out a puff of disbelief and slid down to the floor.

“I want a nap. Get back to me tomorrow morning.”

-

You woke up slowly to something wet and hot between your legs.

Can I wake you up by eating you out tomorrow morning?

If you brush your teeth.

Really?!

If you brush your teeth, yes.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, breathing in Jungkook’s scent. His bed. His tongue against your opening, softly lapping, burying his nose into your core. You pursed your lips, sighing softly. The tip of the wet muscle slid up, licking at your clit. You pressed your hips into his face and the large hands around your thighs tightened, holding you closer.

He moaned, so hot, right into your pussy.

Your hands released the sheets, sliding across the fabric, up your hip, tracing his fingers. Eyes still closed, feeling for his long hair, clean, fluffy, wild from sleep. Burying your fingers in the strands, pressing him down into you.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

He licked faster, lips closing around your clit, pushing his head into you as he pressed your thighs into the sides of his face. You could feel his cheekbones, his jaw rubbing against your skin. Felt his wet warmth, rapidly rubbing your sensitive nub.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred and he whined, vibrating your pussy with the sound.

Your fingers tightened in his hair and you hissed, gliding into your orgasm, dripping into his mouth as your clit throbbed against his tongue, pleasure flooding you like a warm blanket.

You finally opened your eyes, breathing out as you saw Jungkook’s handsome face between your legs, cleaning you up. He kissed the insides of your thighs, nuzzling your skin. He seemed to feel you watching him and his eyes looked up, bright, doe-like, chocolatey. His pink lips glistened with your release.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I keep the collar?”

You raised an eyebrow. He smiled at you, playful, naughty.

“If you pay for it,” you replied, half-joking.

His tongue flashed out.

“I can pay in cash and in orgasms.”

You laughed as Jungkook dove down between your legs once again.

--

masterpost

[gallickingun]

YOUR BAKU IS PERFECT!!! may I pls have more??? 🥺👉👈

a/n: AW THANK YOU! i had to start easy bc he scares me lol. well not him so much as writing him correctly! 

warnings: swearing, blood, lil tension; everyone 18+ even if there’s nothing going on. 

ps, wow, this took a turn. 18+ for a reason now lol aka spicy but tolerable

“Outta my way, Deku!”

“Eat shit, IcyHot!”

“Fuck off, Weird Hair!”

“You know you can talk to your friends without insulting them, right?”

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles, dusting the ash off of his uniform.

“Yo!” Kirishima shouts as he trots over to where the two of you are, loitering over what remains of the training bots. He tilts his head, his face guard outlining his features, “Anyone ever notice that Bakugo never calls her anything mean?”

You scoff, “Oh take it as a compliment. Just means that he cares so little about me that he hasn’t thought of a crappy one-liner for me yet.”

“Hey!” Bakugo’s eyes widen, brows raising to form creases on his forehead. He’s growling now and you wonder how far you can push him, “You’re mean to people you like, I’ve figured you out, Baku’.”

He’s gritting his teeth and his jaw is quivering but you can’t help the giggle that parts your lips. The sound only seems to spur him on in his bout of fury, “You take that back, you raging little bitch!”

“There he is,” Kirishima groans, slapping his palm to his face. He sighs and shakes his head, reaching forward to grab Bakugo around the arms, dragging him towards the locker room. 

Pissing Bakugo off had to be the best part of training.

You made it your point to say the last thing to frustrate him; it’s entertaining. And you know he’ll never hurt you, not for real. No matter how far he pushes his limits, he hasn’t ever actually harmed his friends beyond repair.

“Same time tomorrow?” you salute the hothead as he’s roughly yanked to the lockers.

“What did you say?!” He’s screaming from across the yard, his hands ferociously animating in midair. He raises a fist to you before flipping you off with both hands, “You’re lucky Weird Hair is here, or else I’d totally come beat your ass!”

You chuckle as you turn to go to your own set of locker rooms, a hot shower calling your name. There isn’t enough energy remaining in your body to send him another taunt or insult. You also know when is enough with Bakugo - you don’t want to have to have a full fledged one-on-one with him unless you have to. You’d never admit it, but he might overpower your quirk if he were angry enough.

It seems to become a thing then, because now you can’t stop paying attention to the way that Bakugo says your name instead of calling you some rejected insult. Even though he’s moved into an apartment with Kirishima, and he and Midoriya spar on the regular, he still keeps the same nicknames he gave them in high school. 

You allow the tiniest of thoughts to wonder if maybe Bakugo just thinks highly enough of you to allow you to have your given name instead of giving you one himself.

The next time you bring it up, you’re pinning him down with your forearm on his throat, hips pressing harshly to him. You’re enlisted in the same agency, have been for about three years now, and you’re both working your way up the charts and the pay rates.

“Why don’t I get a cute nickname, Katsuki?” you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

He’s growling and before you know it, you feel a stinging explosion set off against your thigh and you’re rolling over. He takes advantage of the moment and pins you right back. Your head bobs against the training mat but the rest of your body is rendered immobile. His shins are on yours, successfully pinning your legs down as his hands make quick work of your upper body.

“Why does it fuckin’ matter?” Bakugo grits his teeth and narrows his eyes down at you, unsure as to what you’re getting at. His forearm is cutting off your breathing and he knows it, pushing into your esophagus as he repeats the question, only harsher this time.

You try to move your hand, signaling your surrender before you pass out.

Once he realizes, he’s leaning off of you, watching as you sputter and cough. You even thing you hear him mutter some sort of an apology as you work through your fit.

“I guess it doesn’t,” you manage, voice hoarse. “I’m just curious, since Kirishima said something.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, resting his palms on the top of his thighs, “He’s talking out of his ass, is all.”

You find your hands are on his knees, casual as if this were normal. You chew on your lip and he gets impatient, brows knitted together as he snaps, “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

“You don’t see us as equals, do you?”

He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.”

Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

Bakugo is clambering off of you then, his ears burning beneath the tails of his bandana. He offers you a hand, helping you stand to your feet. Your fingers linger a bit too long and you feel the sweat gather in his palms. You wonder if he’ll light you on fire for looking at him like that.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone as an equal.” Bakugo’s voice is rough, hidden behind his arm as he wipes the blood from his face. He smirks and you wonder why you’ve never seen him as he is, “But maybe I could start. Get better, and then we’ll see.”

As he walks away, you make it your personal mission in life to be seen as an equal on the battle field and in real life.

You train harder, longer, putting every part of your being into becoming better. You research strategies, researching the other heroes, playing your strengths off of theirs. You stay up late and wake up early, your body begging for rest but you are unyielding as you climb the sidekick ranks.

It’s another seven months before you’re face-to-face with him again.

You’re paired up as sparring partners, the two of you going head-to-head for a full thirty minutes without even using your quirks. You’re both sweating, his quirk daring to go off if he really willed it to. You know the strength to withstand using his abilities must take a lot of concentration.

“Wow, you’re not half-bad,” he chuckles, swinging a right hook at you. You dodge it easily, reacting by kicking him in the side. He chokes on his own saliva and you smirk at him, “What, you scared, baby?”

You’re not sure why or how that slipped from your lips, but it takes him by surprise. Either way, it leaves you with an opening to jump in the air and swirl your knees around his neck to pin him to the ground. Your legs are around his waist and you’ve got his arms barred upward.

The sight of his sweating palms so close to your eyes makes you a little nervous, but you have enough faith in him to hold back his anger and his explosive fists. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter. He squeezes his eyes closed and wraps his palm around your face, fingers pinching your cheeks, “You asked for it.”

He swings you by your neck, your legs releasing him as your body falls to the ground with a loud thud, a small wave of energy tousling the ground next to you. Bakugo has you by the throat now, eyes wandering over your face as he inspects you.

“Been training, huh loser?” Bakugo juts his knee into your stomach and you force yourself to withhold from choking on your own spit. Your eyes bug out of your head at the pain but all you do is scrape and claw against his arms and torso, silently begging him to release you.

You glare up at him before reaching out to lick at his palm, thankful for once that neither of you are in your full hero get up. You’re somewhat surprised to taste ashen sweetness on your tongue, but it takes him off guard long enough for you to slap his arm away and stand to your feet.

“You fucking licked me?!”

You shrug, running towards him while he’s still on his knees. Your knee cap pushes into his chest, toppling him to the ground. You’ve knocked the breath out of him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he settles in the ground.

“Yield,” you ask of him, holding him by the throat. “C’mon, Baku, call it.”

The scent of smoke drifts to your nostrils and you barely have time to shake your head before a non-lethal explosion takes your attention away from him. Before he can get the jump on you, you propel yourself backward, flipping twice until you’re far enough away that you feel safe.

“Shows you, fuckin’ lickin’ me,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and his palms are like lighters, sparking as he stalks towards you.

You won’t be bested by him, not after all of the hard work you’ve been putting in for the past few months. You’re thankful that your own quirk is something opposing to his - water manipulation. In the same way that he can pool his sweat and light it on fire, you can turn yours into a weapon.

You call forward the water from your body and the water in the air into your palm, molding it into shards of ice on your fingertips. You start to sling the projectiles towards Katsuki as he walks closer. He dodges them with ease, but the final one slides across his cheek, drawing blood.

Everything inside of you churns at the sight of his eyes hardening, jaw quivering under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together. He chuckles and it’s dark, but it stirs something in you - now you know he’s giving it his all, so when you win, it’ll be a justified win.

“I’m about to kill your ass,” Bakugo swipes the collected blood off of his face with his thumb, staring you down. “You’re damn lucky that I’m not wearing my gauntlets. I’d light your ass on fire before you even had time to use that shitty quirk of yours.”

You start working on pulling more water from the air, thankful that it’s a rather humid day. Now, if only it could rain. Then Bakugo would be completely out of his element and you would be more than comfortable.

“My shitty quirk just marked up your pretty face, ‘Suki.”

He charges at you and the two of you trade blows for what feels like hours. You have to stay at least a little ways away from him at all times if possible, his quirk only short range without his gauntlets. You’re glad that your quirk is able to become a ranged weapon if necessary.

Bakugo is much faster without his heavy suit, though, and you’re not ready for him to chase you, right on your heels as you try to put distance between the two of you. You lean down and swipe your feet around his ankles, but it seems he was ready for it because he jumps over the top of you and lands just in front of you.

“Not gonna get that one over on me again,” he snarls but it’s just on this side of a smile, his eyes lifting upward as he tangles with you again.

You tilt your head as you block one of his punches, “Am I turning you on, ‘Suki?”

“Shut the hell up,” he grunts.

“Your face is bleeding again,” you comment, twisting his hands in your grasp, hearing his wrist pop under the action. You wince but he shows little reaction to the pain, “Why don’t you clean it up, huh?”

The comment stops you in your tracks and allows him the opening to slam into you, pushing you across the greenway until you’re stumbling over your own body. You suck the water out of the surrounding plants, balling it up in your fists to create your own version of his gauntlets.

“Get over here, and maybe I will!” You call, raising your fists. He’s already sprinting toward you, but you use the remaining water on the ground to propel yourself upward, the spray of it blinding him long enough for you to encase his body in ice.

You’re gritting your teeth, keeping this part of your quirk is especially difficult given that you haven’t had time to hone it, unlike the other ways you know how to manipulate water. You can barely get the words out of your mouth, “Yield, Katsuki!”

You know that he’ll die from asphyxiation or hypothermia before he can blast his way out of your trap. His eyes widen from within the crystalline cage and your lower lip shakes - you were really hoping not to have to use this move, but he’s proven himself to you time and time again that he’s continuously climbing the ladder to get better.

“Yield!” you shout, your blood vessels straining against your skin.

His eyes close and it’s the closest thing to a yield that you’re going to get. As soon as you can, you drop the ice, the surrounding area flooding, the ground turning soggy beneath his feet.

Despite the absolutely enraged look on his face, you approach him and brush your thumb over his cheek, using the water from his face to heal his scratch.

“There,” you let out a breath at the exertion, “now you’re pretty again.”

Bakugo snatches your wrist harshly, glowering down at you, “Enjoy that, because you’re not going to beat me with that stupid quirk of yours again.”

Your jaw quivers but you ask the question anyway, “C-Could you ever see me as your equal, now that I’ve beaten you?”

“If I had my gauntlets, your stupid ice cage would have been toast!” Katsuki is shouting, his grip on your wrist tightening. You try your hardest not to wince but it does not go unnoticed by him as he makes the connection.

He shakes his head, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you that hard.”

“No, it’s fine, I,” your breath catches in your throat, “I shouldn’t have made you angry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you get it?” he growls, yanking you closer, only softer this time. “You always make me angry.”

If you weren’t confused before, you sure are now. You know that Bakugo has a naturally hot-headed temperament, but you never expected him to attribute some of it to you.

“Gah, you’re such an idiot!” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair before blowing a breath out of his mouth, attempting to calm himself down. He really doesn’t want to screw this up. “Every time I see you, I get this, this stupid knot in my stomach. And it just pisses me off! Why are you different?”

You want to laugh because it appears he’s experiencing feelings for the first time, but you don’t want to make him feel humiliated. Instead, you reach your palm upward and wrap your fingers around his wrist, “You make me feel different too, Katsuki.”

He rolls his eyes, “Great. So we’re both fucked.”

This time you do laugh, but only because he’s so blunt. You know better than to touch him excessively, especially in public, “I guess so. Maybe we can fuck together?”

You’ve never seen Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes go so wide.

-

a/n: well, that was a bit different but still the same lol. not tagging anyone this time bc i don’t want to be a bother :) i hope you guys liked that. feel free to request more/others! 

[omgreally]

The Apprentice: Chapter 4

Read on AO3 Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader Rating: E for Explicit, Soon Wordcount: 9k+ Summary: Peli Motto took you off the streets of Tatooine to become one of the best apprentices she’s ever had - but honestly, the DUM droids are setting the bar pretty low. Still, you work out well for the first few months until an armored Mandalorian stranger lands with a busted-up ship and a strange magic baby and, well, you’re intrigued. Even though you know you shouldn’t be. Peli’s always teling you to keep away from anything hot but sometimes, to fix something, you have to stick your hand straight into the fire.

---

“How’s it going in there?”

You jump, whacking your head on the edge of the open panel. You’ve been working inside the Razor Crest for hours and it’s been cramped, hot and sweaty, and this is the last thing you need.

You wonder how anyone wearing so much metal can move so silently. Shouldn’t it clink, or something? But no. The Mandalorian is silent. The Mandalorian is stealth personified.

The Mandalorian is fucking annoying.

The first day it was disturbing, the second, uncomfortable, and now it’s just a pain in the ass. You’ll be trying to work and he’ll pop up out of nowhere like a children’s toy, spouting some deliciously smooth one-liner in that scratchy, filtered voice of his, and you’ll get distracted, forget what you’re doing, screw up or have to start all over again - or all three.

You’re just lucky you didn’t brain yourself on the edge of the open access hatch. You rub your forehead, glancing around to glare at him - but he’s closer than you thought. He’s braced a forearm against the bulkhead and he’s looming over your shoulder, helmet tilted as he peers over your shoulder. He’s so close you can see your reflection in that shiny metal breastplate of his, and you look…

Not as annoyed as you should be.

“Do you mind?” you gripe. “You’re in my light.”

“No I’m not. You have a flash clipped to your shirt.” He taps it, and you draw back a little, the memory of his gloved finger tracing your collarbone burning bright in your stomach. Fuck. 

You’re not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s constantly getting in your space. Touching you. Just fleetingly, under the guise of guidance, moving you out of the way or towards something he wants looked at. It’s a brush of his hand against your waist here, a touch of his fingers at the small of your back there, and it’s just enough for a repeat of that first night in your bunk.

You try not to think about that as you turn back to the mess of components and circuitry on the inside of his ship. There’s too much work to do, and while he often hovers close to you like a moth to lamplight, he doesn’t seem keen enough to get close enough to singe his wings.

You can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose. Whether he knows he’s driving you insane - in more ways than one. It’s impossible to determine beneath the shell of his armor, the unknowable darkness of his visor. Sometimes, though, he’ll tilt his head, or the tones of his voice through the vocabulator become warm and honeyed beneath the unfriendly scratch, and you wonder...

“Y’know, the repairs would go faster if you didn’t keep interrupting me,” you point out. You don’t add the fact that secretly, deep down, you enjoy the interruptions. You like being driven insane by this unfathomable tower of Beskar. 

Peli tells you it’s just a crush, that you’ll get over it. But you’re long since past the age of schoolgirl infatuations, and how can you have a crush on a man whose face you’ve never seen? No, this is something different. Gravitational pull, just like Peli said, although she sours when you quote her own words back to her. You don’t know what it means, but you’re fairly certain that if the Mandalorian asked you to try and fix an engine that was actively on fire, you’d do it.

You’d burn up.

“Just want to know what you’re doing,” Mando says. “I don’t like having strangers working on my ship.”

Ouch. That stings, though you’re not sure why.

“But Peli speaks highly of you,” he continues as he watches your hands work under the white light of the flash. Wait, she does ? “And you seem…” 

He pauses for far too long. 

“Competent.” 

Right.

“You Mandalorians aren’t so good at compliments, are you?” 

“When the need arises.” Oof. The way he says need makes your gut churn, and not in a bad way. You try to ignore it.

You stop to survey your handiwork, trying not to look at Mando except out of the corner of your eye. He’s still there. Hovering, tall and boxing you in to the cramped space. You realize then that you can’t get to the ladder without having to squeeze past him, and it makes your pulse ramp up a little higher, as it always does when you’re in close quarters with him. 

You’re going to have to do something. You can’t work in these conditions. It’s too distracting.

You set down your hyperspanner at the same time as he turns and walks away. You stare at his back, appalled. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the fucker. You’re suddenly full of a mindless frustration, and you call out to him - “Hey, Mando!”

He stops and turns. You think maybe under the helmet he’s raising an eyebrow, or frowning.

“What’s the deal?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. Tilting your chin up in challenge. He shifts his weight to one foot and lets his hands hang at his sides. Posturing again. 

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t figure it out. Do you want me to fix your damn ship or not? ‘Cause you keep hovering over me like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You're not,” he assures you. 

“Then what’s the deal?” Suddenly brave, you step closer to him. And closer. Until you’re in his space, and you have to crane your neck up to meet his visor. This close, he’s very still, and you can see the rise and fall of the chestplate with his breath, the movement of his cowl as he swallows, heavily, underneath it. Interesting. “‘Cause if you’d rather have Peli up here, say the world. I’ll go.”

“No,” he says. And when he lifts a gloved hand, you flinch. He reaches out and turns off the flashlight hanging from the strap of your tank top. Just a light tap, but his hand lingers, and then you feel rough leather on the outside of your arm.

“You take good care of the Crest,” he says, and your lungs seize and your blood rushes in your ears as his fingers trail down towards your elbow. “And you’re good with your hands.” His voice has dropped an octave and fuck, it’s doing things to you, making your thighs want to clench and your mouth water. Does he know? Can he know? You wonder what’s under that fucking armor, and your fingers suddenly itch to find out.

“Not the only thing my hands are good at,” you say, and his head tilts. Curious.

“Oh?”

That little oh of inquiry - it’s more interest than he’s ever shown you. You seize on it like a flame in the darkness. 

Your voice comes out soft, suddenly touched by shyness, but you’re bold as you take that last step forward that brings you an inch from his body and Kriff, he’s broad. You feel dwarfed by him, but strong when you reach out and place a finger on his breastplate. He stills at the touch. “I could show you.”

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move, and this close you can hear the sound of his breathing through the modulator. Hear it as he hesitates. Then he reaches up, and his hand closes around yours, completely enfolding it.

“You don’t want to do that.”

Your stomach drops, and this time, not in a good way. He steps back and lets you go, and you try not to allow the disappointment to show on your face. Instead, you stoke the flame of your anger, let it burn bright and hot in your chest in the place of embarrassment, even as your face flushes. 

“Why? You think I’m offering ‘cause I’m getting paid? Because I’m not,” you tell him. “I’m an apprentice. Peli took me off the streets, gave me food, somewhere to sleep, something to do. What I do the rest of the time is my business. I’m not in the habit of offering clients extra services just for kicks.”

You don’t expect Mando to turn back towards you, to loom suddenly, tall and menacing, in your space. But he does, and you resist the urge to take a step back, instead blinking rapidly and drawing a quick breath into your lungs to steel you as he leans over you.

“You don’t know what you’re offering, Girl,” he tells you, and his voice is - Gods - his voice is a rough rasp that licks up your spine, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s not touching you but he might as well be - you feel warmth in your belly, between your legs, and it sets your teeth on edge. “I’m a Mandalorian.”

“And?” you prompt, surprised when you find it easy to speak. “You may not be allowed to take off the armor, but you can let me take care of you like I take care of your ship.”

Mando’s breath catches. It’s subtle, but you hear the stutter of it through the vocabulator, and it makes your blood sing with triumph. It makes you brave, steadying the shake in your fingers when you reach out and lay your hands flat on his chest, the Beskar cool underneath your palms.

“Nobody’s ever…” he begins, and there’s something in his tone, something small and broken that makes your heart ache for him suddenly. “It’s always been about what I can do for them. Never what I - Dank farrik…” Mando swears suddenly, soft and vehement, and you wonder what’s going through his mind. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, I do,” you tell him, lips twitching as your hands move lower, over his flak jacket, towards his belt. “You’re the Mandalorian.” You lean up and against him so that your mouth hovers near his cowled neck. “And I’m the Apprentice.”

And that’s when you realize he’s hard, and that’s not a weapon but a bulge in his pants pressing against your hip through the fabric of his pants. Gods above, you think, he’s big there too, and now you’re wondering if this is a good idea even as you crowd your body against his.

His hands settle on your shoulders, and you wonder if he’s about to push you away, but then they drift around your back and slink lower, fingers pressing into your spine. Gentle. And then Mando grabs your ass with both hands and pulls you roughly against him, and your breath is arrested in your lungs. 

The sound that comes out of the vocabulator you can only compare to a growl, and he squeezes your ass, roughly kneading the firm flesh under his fingers. He’s so strong he’s practically lifting you from the deck, and you have to stand on tip-toe and lean wholly against his body to stay upright. 

“Mesh’la,” he murmurs, soft and reverent, at odds with the rumble in his voice, and you wonder what the word - Mando’a, probably - means. But you don’t have time to ask, because that’s when you hear it.

Peli calling for you.

“Girl!” Her voice drifts to you from outside the ship, and the Mandalorian freezes. “Girl, got those parts you wanted for the heating coils. Get down here!”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

Mando lets you go and the litany repeats in your head. “Fuck,” you echo it aloud. Then he grabs your jaw in one wide, covered hand.

“This isn’t over,” he tells you. You stare into the blackness of the visor and slowly, you nod. He releases you and you fall back, trying not to pant like a wanton loth cat, and you thank the Stars.

“I’ll be back,” you tell him as you head towards the ladder on shaky legs. As you turn to clamber down it, you watch Mando as he settles in the pilot’s seat, facing away from you, but you can see the tension in his posture, in the set of his shoulders as the helm turns to one to glance back at you.

“I’m counting on it,” he says. And you grin to yourself as you grab the sides of the ladder and slide down it, landing on your feet, and rush to meet your boss at the bottom of the ramp.

She notices the flush in your skin or the spring in your step straight away, and purses her lips knowingly and frowns at you as she hands over the components.

“What took you so long?” she asks suspiciously. “What were you doin’ up there?”

“Oh, you know,” you say breezily. “Just offerin’ my services.”

Peli’s pursed lips wrinkle further, if that’s even possible.

“I’m gonna go see if the baby’s awake,” she tells you. “He’s due a feed. You - you just get that ship fixed ‘fore you go tryin’ to fix anythin’ else.” Her gaze is pointed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it!” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away. “I ain’t payin’ you to have fun!”

You laugh all the way back up the ramp.

---

Taglist: @hugs-for-din, @casssiopeia, @casssiopeia, @herefortheart, @shannaniganss, @sofithewitch, @mandosbitches

Feel free to request to be added/removed from the taglist!

[murdersexual]

Heeeyyyy can I get an leorio nsfw alphabet 👉🏼👈🏼

6 FUCKING DAYS OVERDUE! I AM SO FUCKING SORRY! 🥲

I am terribly RUSTY at doing NSFW Alphabet. 😥😥😥 I had POSTING anxiety because of it. 😰😰😰

Feel free to challenge me to one liner fics, more alpha, and blah.

🚨WARNING MOTHAFUCKAHS🚨 (You’re all not mothafuckahs! I’m sorry 😥)

-RATED MA.

-STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT.

-NOT PROOFREAD!

-May contain HELLA mistakes.

NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... READETH THE SHIT!

And now presenting...

Murdersexual’s Leorio - NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After a long round of position switching, tender and breathy whispers, passionately rough love making, just know you’re in the hands of a natural caretaker. Leorio’s the type to have an atmosphere made for the absolute best of comfort. If you’re at his spot, he’ll have the finest of AC in his room, a mini fridge full of various chilled drinks for you to pick from, the most fluffiest of blankets and most plush of pillows—unless you rather his chest be your pillow—all for you to be at ease. He’s the type to lay back and relax, maybe crack a few jokes while giving you compliments to your sex game. And after you both catch your breath? A round two or three or four maybe possible~

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you? Everything is perfect. There’s not anything to love about you! And on him? Well the same goes for that matter. There’s not a day where he won’t stand in the mirror and smirk with radiant confident and say: “Hmph, I look good~”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Facials are a yes for him! To see your face highlighted from his cum will never fail to turn him all the way on~ That and if you’re giving him the most soul-sucking of blowjobs, watching you swallow his cum is always a win. 💦 Glazing your ass in his ‘glaze’ is one of his favourites as well. Especially since his pull out game is IMMACULATE.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s more or less not a day where he’d come up with some pretty risky and outrageous fantasies. From the craziest of roleplays, using new props, being in very risky locations—like a dressing room in a clothing store. It’s never dull with him regardless but he rather not reveal such to you for he may or may not like to keep you guessing.

(For fucksake, I SUCK at these... 🥲)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hell to fuck yeah he knows what he’s doing! He’s more or less the one who’s hella encouraging and motivating to you to try all of the craziest shit he’s tried during his first time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary with one leg propped up on his muscular ass shoulder. Watching your expressions as he hits all of your sweet spots while secretly testing your flexibility is why he adores this one. Then there’s Doggystyle. He can never get enough of going to pound town until you try to put a hand on his thigh. Hell, prepare to get your hand smacked away or pinned to your lower back. That and he’ll make you throw it back~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends! But more or less, he will crack a joke or two here and there, anything to have a quick breathy laugh. After all, not all bedroom action has to be so boring, right?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oohhh, he’s rather nicely set down below. His happy trail is rather light, tamed and pretty fine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s always going to be passionately romantic. From touches, kisses, the low and soft whispers of genuine admiration and love… Just him having that naturally gentle sensuality is what makes every little second all the more euphoric~

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s far away, there’s never time he doesn’t think about you. But when you send him some rather teasing photos, the temptation can’t be helped!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satin ribbons, roleplay and domination seems like plausible kinks. Tying you up in some satin ribbons, just to see the deep colours against your skin looks amazing to him. Roleplay? Oh my, since he’s most definitely in school to be a doctor, let’s just say you’re going to always be his favourite patient to tend to~ Domination? He’s going to always be on top unless you somehow charm your way to making him beg for mercy. He’s going to always command you to throw that ass back and so on~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a much more of a private type of guy, so more or less anywhere in his place—dorm or whatever. That means, couch, bed, shower, hell, even the wall! Oh, kitchen table! Maybe even bend your ass over the counter~ Same goes for your place~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing is a big one as well as when you’re mad at him. It’s lowkey kinda hot to him, especially since he’ll fuck your attitude away.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don’t tell him you want some other guy fucking you while he watches. He’ll cuss you out and probably not want to see you for the rest of the day. That and he would never do anything that you wouldn’t want to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Watch out, his tongue game is fuego. 👅💦 He will give and he’ll make sure that he receives! There’s no half and no other half!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starting out, his stroke game will be slow and long with a few twists and wiggle of his hips. He may slowly pull out all the way until the tip is all that remains inside. Midway? Stroke game gets shorter and quicker, and he’ll reach even further on the inside. After discovering all of your spots, you’re going to feel every little bit of him. He wants your legs to shake, hips to quiver, back to arch and toes and fingers to curl.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies before his early morning class or before he heads out. He doesn’t mind one as long as you’re down for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He loves to experiment! He’s open to MOST ideas! The riskier the more tempting. Ask him to fuck in public or in a car across from the police station, he’ll be down for it. 😏

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is OUT OF THIS WORLD! 😏 Hopefully you can keep up~ Rounds? Probably about 4? Maybe 5! There’s no telling. He’ll go until his balls are completely drained~

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ah, does fuzzy handcuffs and satin ribbons count? 👀 You can T R Y to use it on him but his strong ass will break out of them~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases waayyyy too much! 😤 It’s even worse when he’s far away visiting his friends, he’s always FaceTiming or Skyping you looking way too fucking good... But when he gets back to you, he’ll pay for it! Not that he’d complain right?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Typically, he’s loud when he’s snappy, but in the bedroom? His voice is much quieter... Suave and low. His grunts and moans are pretty quiet but when he’s fucking you outta anger or if he’s drunk? He’s pretty loud~

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has a lot of pornographic magazines and Kama sutra books. He’ll fold the pages with some key positions or outfits he may want to try with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Beneath those clothes, you’ll come to see that Leorio is far more muscular than what he appears. He also has a ‘third’ leg down below that’s pretty flesh coloured, long and girthy. Since most of the things he wears is pretty fitted, you can never miss what’s packing in those boxer briefs and beneath that tank top and long sleeved button up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is pretty high. (I mean duh, he’s a goddamn sex symbol. 😏) However, its controllable. You can always tell from the way his eyes scan you up and down and how he smirks with a soft bit of his bottom lip.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

YOU will ALWAYS be the first to fall asleep! There are times where he wanna fall asleep first with you but he’s more or less up doing any homework assignments or talking to his squad. Maybe even cleaning up then hitting the showers. His domestic ways are one of his biggest secrets.

You may now applaud!

Encore?

Thank you for the request! 😅 Sorry it’s not as good, I really... REALLY tried. 👉🏼👈🏼 I may actually have to come back and do this over... Because Leorio DESERVES! 😤 My little (tall) Koi Fish deserves waaayyyyy more love! (I really tried with the aesthetic omfuck...)

[whqtsername]

Eyeliner

Pairing: Eren / Mikasa

Rating: E 

Genre: Smut

Length: 3.9k words

Notes: Hi!! I’m sorry for this, it’s just plain horny. I just thought Eren would look good in eyeliner, and things got out of hand. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Eren watches from the bed as Mikasa applies her eyeliner, making a perfect line and smudging it ever so slightly so it had that “i haven’t slept in three days” look she often went for. 

The two of them are at her house, in her bedroom. They were going to meet up with Armin and a couple of other people later that night - and since they lived near each other, they came to the conclusion that it would be easier to meet at her house and go together from there.

He had arrived earlier than the time they had settled on - having already showered and gotten dressed in less than 15 minutes, he got bored quickly and decided to go to her house and seek her company. When she opened the door for him, her face was bare and her hair was still wet from the shower; she looked puzzled until he explained the situation to her - and she gladly welcomed him in, granted he didn’t mind waiting for her to finish getting ready.

And so, here he is, sitting on her bed as she focuses on herself in her handheld mirror; she’s fully dressed now, chains, rings and earrings in place, her hair is neatly done up in two little pigtails. He watches her quietly sing along to the Cure song that’s playing while she does her makeup, and wonders how she manages to keep herself so steady and make absolutely no mistakes - it’s almost mesmerizing to him. She had been getting ready for the last 20-ish minutes - her big makeup bag sitting beside her, it’s contents (Eren had no idea what most of them did) sprawled around her.

“Eren?” She calls, breaking him out of his trance.

“Yeah?” He replies, sitting up straight and hoping she wouldn’t notice the light blush that tinted his cheeks.

“I’m ready.” She says, placing the lid back on her pencil liner and shoving it back into her bag.

“Cool, uh-” he trails off, looking at his watch, “We still have some time before we have to leave so, no rush.”

She smiles at him, and he smiles back. And they’re silent again, the music in the background is the only sound present in the room. Suddenly, her smile fades and she turns her head, as if in thought - which in turn, puzzles Eren.

“What?” He asks.

“Can I do your eyeliner?”

Eren is taken aback by the unexpected question - while he thought Mikasa looked very pretty with her makeup (not that he would ever tell her), he never saw himself as the type of guy who would do something like that. He found himself too plain to venture outside his basic style.

“Huh?” He blinks.

“Eyeliner,” She repeats herself, taking the pencil out of the bag and standing up, “I think it would look nice.”

Eren hesitates. They were going to meet with other people today… What would they say if they saw him wearing eyeliner?

“If you don’t like it, we can remove it. I just want to see what it would look like.” She says when he doesn’t reply.

“... Okay.” He says, finally.

She smiles again, and moves closer to him. It suddenly dawns on Eren that her putting eyeliner on him meant she would be very close to him, and touching his face. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he curses himself for letting his mind wander - this is his childhood friend, for fuck’s sake, he should never think of her like this.

He tenses up when she sits next to him, gently grabbing his face and turning him to face her. He notices how warm her hands are and tries to stay calm, but can’t help the blush that creeps onto his cheeks. I hope she doesn’t notice, he thinks. 

“Close your eyes,” She says softly, and he can feel her breath on his face.

He obeys, closing his eyes and trying to distract himself from the thousands of thoughts that suddenly rush to his head. He feels the hard pencil press against his eyelid; it’s uncomfortable and it feels weird, but he trusts Mikasa knows what she’s doing. 

The hard tip of the pencil is replaced by something soft - her finger, he assumes; she’s smudging it like she does on herself. She repeats the process on his other eye, and Eren thinks to himself, this isn’t so bad.

She tells him to open his eyes, and he obeys once again, now fully realizing how close their faces were to each other. Nevermind. She doesn’t seem to notice how red he’s getting, cupping both of his cheeks and straightening his head to take a good look at him. 

“Okay, now look up.” She instructs, and he does.

She brushes his overgrown hair away from his face and starts working on his undereye and waterline. He flinches. She tries again. He flinches again. Again, and again. 

“Stop moving!” She says, trying to hold his head in place.

“I’m trying! It hurts!” He defends himself.

She groans and tries again, and again, he fails to keep his eyes open. Taking her hands away, Mikasa lets out a long sigh. Her solution to the problem is not something he was expecting.

She crawls onto his lap, settling on top of him. His breath is caught in his throat, and he doesn’t dare move. Even with this small bit of contact between them, he already feels the blood rushing down. Fuck. He thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck.

“Stay. Still.” She says sternly, and her tone only makes his pants feel even tighter.

He tries his best to obey her, breathing shakily as she places her hands on his face again and brings the eyeliner back to his eye. This time she succeeds, as Eren is absolutely petrified in his place.

She smiles triumphantly and moves on to his other eye, lightly grinding on his legs in the process. He stifles a little moan. Was that on purpose? He wonders, no way. It must’ve been an accident.

His denial does nothing to help his current situation - he’s half hard now, and absolutely mortified. He hopes and prays that Mikasa won’t realize it, too focused on doing his makeup to care.

He gulps as she starts on his other eye, thankful that she was almost done with it - soon she would get off of him and he would be able to breathe properly again. Once she does finish with the liner and puts it aside though, she doesn’t move.

Instead, she brings both of her hands back to his face, and their eyes meet as she uses her thumbs to smudge the black ink under his eyes. They’re both quiet, and her hands don’t leave his face as she admires her work, looking very proud of what she’s done. 

“Pretty,” is all she says, and it’s quiet again.

Eren looks back at her and notices a light pink tint on her cheeks that wasn’t there before. She moves again, and it reminds Eren of his now full-on boner, which has become painfully obvious. They keep looking at each other, her thumbs softly caressing his cheeks - none of them dare to look away.

Mikasa breaks her gaze though, and her eyes briefly wander down to Eren’s lips. He catches it - and it’s the only confirmation he needs.

He leans in and kisses her - her lips are soft, and she tastes of cherry. But it’s quick, too quick. He pulls away to look back at her. Her eyes are wide, and she gasps softly, blinking once. Twice.

“Sorry I-” He starts, but she doesn’t let him finish.

She kisses him again and he eagerly returns it, relieved. She pushes herself closer to him - he can feel her against his dick now, and her erratic heartbeat matches his own. His hands leave the mattress and move over to hold her hips, as she tangles hers in his hair. This can’t be real, he thinks.

But it is.

She absentmindedly rolls her hips against his, and a low sound escapes his lips, muffled by their kiss. His hands settle on her ass and he starts guiding her as she grinds on him - he wonders if he’s dreaming. Never in a million years did he ever think he would get to do this with her.

She pushes him down on the bed and breaks their kiss - her eyes are gleaming with lust, and her cheeks are a shade darker now; the chains that hang around her neck dangle above him and she smiles. Eren moves one of his hands and pushes a few loose strands of hair away from her face behind her ear. He looks back down at her lips, her once meticulously perfect black lipstick was now smudged, and he assumes that part of it ended up on his lips. He smiles back at her and pulls her in again; the quiet sound she lets out is music to his ears.

His hands start wandering once more, and find themselves grasping her thighs, touching the skin underneath her skirt. Her hands are gripping the sheets beneath them for balance as they move their hips in unison - Eren is sure that he’s died and gone to heaven. 

But Mikasa pulls away from him and he’s brought back to reality. 

“Do you… wanna do this?” She asks, shyly. Eren knows it’s her first time - it’s his as well. 

“Yeah. Do you?”

She nods, smiling down at him as she starts unbuttoning his shirt. She’s slow, meticulous, and he watches her, observing every one of her movements. So beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

Once she undoes the last button, she pushes the fabric out of the way and runs her hands through his chest and stomach - she’s also studying him, as he was doing with her. He tugs on her sweater. Take it off. Let me see you. She does, and it’s the most wonderful sight he’s ever seen. 

Her necklaces fall perfectly on the valley in between her breasts - she’s not wearing a bra. Eren can’t help but stare, his breath is caught in his throat and he’s rendered completely speechless. She blushes and looks away from him, but he places a hand on her cheek and makes her look back at him. It’s ok. It’s just me. He hopes she can understand his thoughts through his smile. 

She takes a deep breath and grabs both of Eren’s hands, guiding them to her chest. Slowly, he starts caressing and groping her breasts - She fits perfectly into his hands, as if they were made to be there. 

She lets out a happy sigh, and Eren feels he’s doing something right. She smiles down at him, and he smiles back up at her. She rolls her hips against his and he is once again reminded of his borderline painful boner - a moan escapes his lips. She notices, and smiles a little wider. She tears his hands away from her and leans down to leave little kisses down his neck, his chest, until she reaches below his navel. He props himself up on his forearms and elbows so he can properly look at her as she starts unbuttoning his jeans. Suddenly he feels nervous, insecure. He’s unsure what her reaction will be, and that scares him. She slowly pulls his pants and underwear down; once he’s freed she sighs, and he’s unsure what to make of her reaction. His mind starts rushing again - but all of those thoughts dissipate the moment she touches him. 

Eren lets out a moan, and his hand instantly flies to his mouth to try and mask it. He watches her as she starts stroking him; it’s not a sight that he ever expected to witness in all the years they’d been friends. 

“Can I?” She asks, looking up at him. Her voice is almost bashful, and it drives Eren crazy. 

Yes. Please do. He nods. 

So, she does. She takes him in slowly, and a little clumsily. Her teeth lightly scrape against him, and it sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Mmgh Mikasa-” He manages, “teeth.”

“Sorry…” She mumbles, tearing her lips away.

“No, no, it’s okay!” He assures her, tangling one of his hands in her hair, “Please, keep going.”

She takes a deep breath and tries again. This time, Eren throws his head back in ecstasy. He gently guides her head up and down, and she quickly gets the hang of it; in no time, Eren is already moaning. 

He looks down at her, forcing his eyes to stay open, because he wants to remember every little detail of this. Mikasa, on her knees, sucking his cock. It’s so lewd, so obscene, and so beautiful. 

Mikasa takes her time with it. As with everything, she’s meticulous and a perfectionist - she doesn’t want to leave any part of him untouched. She starts off slow - painfully slow. Eren wants to push her head down; more. Please give me more, but he stays put. He doesn’t want to spoil it.

When she looks up at him, he forgets how to breathe for a moment. His hips seemingly gain a life of their own and he thrusts into her, his body disobeying his brain; Eren is impatient, and Mikasa knows it. So, she picks up the pace, matching his hips, and he swears he’s seeing stars. 

He can feel himself getting closer, so he warns her. But she doesn’t stop. She keeps sucking, licking and humming around him, until she sends him over the edge. 

He lets out a long, drawn out moan as he spills into her mouth. She looks right at him as she swallows, and he pulls her back up to give her a kiss. He can taste himself on her lips, but he doesn’t mind, all that matters is that her lips are on his.

Once his head stops spinning, Eren decides to return the favor. Never breaking their kiss, he lays her down on the bed, his hand snaking up her legs and under her skirt. He presses his hand against her and groans. Lace. 

Eren can feel how wet she is through the flimsy fabric, and it brings a smile to his face. I did that. She’s like this because of me. He softly runs his fingers up her slit, and she lets out a shy moan - barely audible over the music. His ears perk up at the sound, and immediately he wants to hear more. His lips leave hers for a moment, and he slowly removes her skirt, taking in the view once it’s off. Red lace.

He inhales sharply and presses his hand against her once more, as she slowly opens her legs wider for him. He pushes her panties to the side and watches her closely as he moves his fingers up and down her pussy. He has a vague idea of what he’s doing, and he knows there’s a specific spot that’s supposed to feel really good, but he can’t seem to find it. Mikasa can probably see the confusion on his face, because she giggles and moves his hand over her clit. He gulps, embarrassed, but swallows his pride and starts rubbing slowly, which proves to be more than worth it when she starts quietly moaning and grinding her hips against his hand. Her eyes are closed, her brows are furrowed, and she’s biting her lip. Eren feels like he’s in a wet dream, seconds away from being awakened and pulled away from this sweet bliss.

Slowly, he moves his hand down and pushes a finger into her. She moans in surprise, but soon settles as he starts moving in and out of her. He adds another one. She sighs, but that’s pretty much the extent of her noises - which confuses him.

“Try…” She says, quietly, “Try moving your fingers like this.” She makes a gesture curling her fingers up. 

Eren obeys, and the moment he does, she lets out a long mewl. “Yes,” she pants, “keep doing it like that.”

He moves slowly at first, but the noises she’s making only encourage him to go faster, harder. Eren genuinely cannot believe that he’s making Mikasa Ackerman writhe and moan underneath him like this. And she looks so unbelievably attractive.

Eren takes his fingers out of her, and she whines in protest. He removes her panties and stares at her for a moment - Mikasa Ackerman, his best friend, lying breathless before him, completely naked, with her legs spread wide open. For him. 

His mouth waters at the sight, and he wastes no time diving in between her legs. She gasps and arches her back, her hand flying to grab his hair. He starts eating her out like she’s his last meal on earth, and he’s trying to savor every moment of it. He focuses on her clit, and the sounds she’s making tell him he’s doing it right. He inserts his two fingers back inside her, curling them up like she taught him to - and she seems to love it, her moans only getting louder and louder. 

“Ah, Eren!” She moans, and it sends a shiver down his spine. Just the sound of her moaning his name is enough for him to start getting hard again.

He can feel her shaking in his grip, and he hopes it means she’s close. He keeps going, desperate to keep listening to her sweet sweet sounds, and eventually, he pushes her over the edge. She clenches around his fingers, and a shiver runs through her entire body - her legs closing abruptly. Her strong thighs wrap tightly around his head, but he doesn’t mind - he allows her to ride out her orgasm, and after a few more strokes, he pulls his fingers out of her.

Once Mikasa comes back to reality, she notices her legs squeezing Eren’s head, and sheepishly spreads them again, red in the face. Cute.

“S-sorry,” she mumbles, as he crawls back up to meet her face.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling and pecking her lips, “I liked hearing you say my name.” 

Mikasa’s eyes widen, and she immediately pushes him away, blushing even deeper. Eren can’t help but laugh. How can one girl be so cute and so sexy at the same time? She sits at the edge of the bed, face buried in her hands, groaning. This moment reminds Eren of what they truly are and will always be: friends. No matter what happens. 

His laughter subsides, and his face rests in a smile. He crawls over to her, and starts peppering sweet kisses on her neck and shoulder, like a tiny apology for embarrassing her. She takes her head out of her hands and sighs happily. He’s forgiven. 

He gently places his hand on her cheek and kisses her again - it’s tender, and it almost feels like they’re trying to convey something through it. She places her hands on his waist, pulling him closer to her and deepening the kiss. They stay like this for a while. It’s almost heavenly - Eren feels like he could be here forever, just kissing her.

But she has other ideas.

“Uh…” She says, pulling away and looking down. “Do you have a condom?”

He blinks. It takes a second for him to process what she said.

“Yeah, I-” he exclaims, snapping out of it, “I do.”

He gets up from the bed and stumbles over to his backpack in the corner of the room, his heart beating out of his chest. He reaches into it and pulls out his wallet, haphazardly pulling out the foil packet he always kept on him. He never thought he would use it, but kept it there, just in case.

He turns around triumphant, with a big smile on his face. She smiles back at him, and he feels weak at the knees. She's leaning against the headboard, legs spread, touching herself. It takes all of Eren’s strength to not jump on her immediately. He takes a deep breath and makes his way back to her calmly, crawling over to meet her face and capturing her in a slow kiss. 

Eren feels nervous again. Ok, it’s go time. Be chill. It’s gonna be fine, not like you’ve been dreaming about this for years. He pulls away from her and she settles down on the bed, resting her head on the pillow. Eren smiles at her before attempting to open the condom and failing, his hands too sweaty and shaky to form any friction. She assists him, and when he gets it open, it feels like time has stopped completely. He takes a deep breath and rolls the condom onto his hard cock, positioning himself in between her legs.

Eren presses his forehead against Mikasa’s as he slowly pushes his dick into her. She winces and he stops immediately, concerned - but she urges him to keep going. She pulls his head down to kiss him again, her moans echoing in the back of his throat.

Eren settles for a slow pace, trying his hardest to control himself so he doesn’t hurt her -  but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more. Stop being greedy, he thinks to himself.

Much to his surprise, it’s Mikasa who urges for more. 

“Faster,” She whispers.

Eren gladly obliges, placing his hands on her hips and ramming into her - watching in awe as she comes undone beneath him. Breathless, moaning and whimpering. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.

Eren almost feels like he’s locked in a trance - so much so that he can’t control the next words that leave his lips.

“Say my name again,” 

“What?” She says in between labored breaths.

“M-” He hesitates. “My name. Say it again.”

She chuckles at his request, and it almost makes Eren regret it, until she obliges. 

It’s a long, drawn out moan, and it’s almost enough to make him cum right then and there. His name sounds so good coming out of her lips, he never wants her to stop.

He stops thrusting for a moment to recompose himself, and Mikasa decides to take the lead. She flips him over on the bed, now sitting on top of him. She settles for a quick and rough pace, rubbing her clit as she rides him, her chains dangling over his face.

“Mikasa I-” he breathes, “I don’t think I can hold on for much longer if you keep going like this.”

“That’s okay,” she whispers, leaning down to reach his face and press her forehead against his, “Cum for me, Eren.”

Eren whimpers and pulls her in to kiss him again, as he reaches his second orgasm of the night. Mikasa doesn’t take long after him, clenching around his dick as she also reaches her climax.

She collapses on top of him, taking a moment to catch her breath before she pulls away. Eren takes a moment to comprehend what just happened as Mikasa removes his condom and wobbles over to the bathroom to flush it away. Holy fuck, is all he can think.

When she comes back, she lies down next to him, nuzzling her face against his neck. He gladly welcomes her into his arms, wrapping one around her, and fiddling with her chains.

Eren looks at his watch.

“We’re late,” He says. He feels like he should sound more urgent, but he’s not. He’s calm. 

“We can just tell them something came up,” She mumbles.

Eren laughs and Mikasa moves to face him. She pecks his lips.

“Your makeup is ruined,” Eren says, caressing her cheeks, But you still look beautiful.

“So is yours.” She replies.

They both laugh, and nothing else really matters anymore.

[jplokisdottir]

this or that questions

send me a # and the letters tot somewhere next to it

Bad haircut or bad dye job?

Pineapple pizza or candy corn?

Talking pets or talking babies?

Winning the lottery or finding your soulmate?

Misquoted movies or mistaken lyrics?

Test the waters or dive in the deep end?

Glass half full or glass half empty?

Ketchup or ranch?

Phone in bathroom or no phone in bathroom?

Sort by price or by rating?

Sauce on the side or sauce on top?

Crunchy peanut butter or smooth peanut butter?

Zombies or vampires?

Funny story or one-liner?

Bad breath or body odor?

Working hard or hardly working?

Sneezing or coughing?

Air guitar or air drums?

Robots or dinosaurs?

Guacamole or salsa?

Boxers or briefs?

Fainting or spit take?

Speeding ticket or parking ticket?

Comedian in serious film or serious actor in comedy film?

Silly hats or silly socks?

Instagram famous or infomercial famous?

A store where every item is free or a restaurant where every dish is calorie free?

Passwords or secret handshakes?

Loud neighbors or nosey neighbors?

Babies dressed as animals or animals dressed as humans?

Smartest person in the world or richest person in the world?

Save 100 strangers or one loved one?

See the future or change the past?

Time machine or magic wand?

Sight or sound?

Logic or emotion?

Words or actions?

Passion or stability?

Predictability or excitement?

Growth or security?

Money or love?

Success or happiness?

Apathy or obsession?

Skill or popularity?

Poor and happy or rich and miserable?

Cherished or respected?

Intense pain for ten minutes or dull pain for one day?

Misunderstood after death or forgotten after death?

Hero or antihero?

Happy endings or sad endings?

Overly optimistic or overly pessimistic?

False hope or unnecessary anxiety?

Massive success by accident or modest success on purpose?

Rekindled friendship or rekindled romance?

Regret or doubt?

Underestimated or overestimated?

No company or bad company?

Painful truth or comforting lie?

Pause time or rewind time?

Free travel for one year or free lodging for five years?

Second chance at love or second chance for your career?

Logic or emotion?

Predictability or excitement?

Money or love?

Success or happiness?

Painful truth or comforting lie?

Pause time or rewind time?

Would you send your nudes to a stranger or send your nudes to an ex?

Would you rather get oral sex or give oral sex?

Would you rather sleep with someone twice your age or a minor?

Would you rather touch yourself in private or in the presence of your significant other?

Would you rather give a lap dance or a strip tease?

Would you rather be horny all the time or never be able to have an orgasm?

Would you rather have a one night stand with someone really attractive or someone really skilled in bed?

Would you rather watch your parents have sex or have your parents watch you have sex?

Would you rather masturbate all day or have sex all day?

Would you rather have the lights on or off during foreplay?

Would you rather have group sex with strangers or with all your exes?

Would you rather only have sex in the bedroom or never have sex in the bedroom?

Would you rather have sex in the backyard or on the front porch?

Would you rather have early morning sex or late night sex?

Would you rather make out with your boss or watch your partner make out with their boss?

Would you rather be the submissive partner during sex or the dominant partner?

Would you rather have kinky sex or romantic sex?

Would you rather finger/be fingered under the table of a busy restaurant or under the table at your parent’s place?

Would you rather have sex with a corpse or never have sex again?

Would you rather know when your parents are having sex or have your parents know when you’re having sex?

Would you rather your girl saw a sex video of you and your cousin or of you and her best friend?

Would you rather your girlfriend was an ex-porn star, or your sister was currently a porn star?

Would you rather date someone with a ridiculously high body count or someone curious about your body count?

Would you rather sleep with a superior at work for a raise or find out your partner sleep with a superior at work for a raise?

Would you rather have a sugar mama who asks for sex a lot or one who asks for nudes a lot?

Would you rather make out in the dark or make out in public?

Would you rather sleep with only hoes or die a virgin?

Would you rather have to pay for sex or be paid to have sex?

Would you rather have sex up against the wall or in bed?

Would you rather take off your partner’s underwear with your teeth or tease them with your tongue till they take off their underwear?

Would you rather have your fingers buried in your partner’s back during sex or your partner’s leg wrapped around your waist during sex?

Would you rather make a lot of noises during sex or a really loud noise during orgasm?

Would you rather watch a threesome between transgenders or join in the threesome?

Would you rather find out your partner slept with your parent in the past or your ex now sleeps with your parent?

Would you rather have sex with someone who has really good skills in bed or someone who has a really attractive body?

Would you rather have multiple orgasms that weren’t so good or just one terrific orgasm?

Would you rather be with someone who loves to strip tease or who knows how to tease with their lips?

Would you rather suck at foreplay or suck at sex?

Would you rather be with someone who walks around the house naked all the time or someone who wears the most seductive outfits around the house?

Would you rather watch your dog have sex with another dog or watch strangers have sex?

Would you rather make out on a bed filled with stains or on a dusty bedroom floor?

Would you rather be with someone who cums too quickly or someone who never makes you cum?

Would you rather sleep with your best friend’s parent or your parent’s best friend?

Would you rather be horny a lot or hardly ever get horny?

Would you rather pick up someone from a nightclub or someone from a bar?

Would you rather your most hated ex, threaten to upload a sex video of you and your current lover or a sex video of you masturbating?

Would you rather have sex in the boardroom at your office or in the parking lot?

Would you rather give anal sex to a strange old woman or get oral sex from a strange old woman?

Would you rather be with someone who insists on raw sex or someone who insists on no sex?

Would you rather have loud and rough sex while your grandparents were in the next room or while your parents were in the next room?

[borderlandsthirst]

Flame Angel au

Koetai  

Physical 

Has a long gash going down her back at a slanted angle, it’s decorated with the twins’ snake symbol and a pair of dragon wings. 

Triple pierced ears, a small hoop for the earlobe and studs for the other holes. 

Long kinky hair kept in a ponytail, left side of her hair shaved around the ears. 

Has smaller scars over her body from years of abuse, use to try and cover them but now wears them with pride. 

Fashion since is nonexistent, just like the twins she wears an inconsistent color scheme. 

Has her own symbol she wears on the back of her jacket. A dark orange, six-winged serpent surrounded by flames. 

Has a pet Spiderantling name Natty who grows up to be a badass Spiderant Queen. 

I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!! 

Long post under the cut along with psychological destress and dark thoughts.

Mental 

Mostly shattered, years of mental and physical abuse has left Koetai in a state of numbness that only eases when the twins are around. 

It’s a bit unstable, can fly off the handle sometimes and takes it out on the followers.  

Has accidentally scratched Tyreen once while having a fit, it didn’t really affect her physically but emotionally she understands what it means to be treated poorly by your parents. Even if it’s not the same kind of trauma. 

Sometimes she’ll just shut down while in the safety of the Cathedral, while working with a saint or one of the twins she just stops and stare into the distance. Takes a while to bring her back 

Has stolen small unimportant items from the twins to take with her while she’s in the field so it feels like they’re with her. She needs them with her. 

Feels empty when the twins aren’t around or isn’t being praised by the followers, she’s the right hand of the twin Gods, she’s the enforcer. How can nobody see how powerful and important she is? 

Is a bit sadistic, will toy with Crimson Raider soldiers like a cat and then kill them in the most gruesome way imagine with her bare hands or a weapon that’s either her’s or theirs. All with a smile on her face. 

Takes pleasure in all pain, mostly people she knows are innocent and not fighters. Why should she care about the pain of children when nobody cared about her’s? 

Personality 

Crazy, that’s to be expected after everything that’s happened to her. 

Will fake you out in a heartbeat, one second she’s quiet and smiling real menacingly in your face, the next you’re lying on the ground bleeding while she walks off with your money and loot. 

Only when she’s with the twins can the girl she could have grown into is revealed, kinda shy in interested in music and crafting. And yoga, she has to be at ease to keep the twins at ease when they’re about to snap. 

Loves Troy and Tyreen but would never tell them (they’ll figure it out on their own eventually), because to her they are real Gods. 

When she’s focused on something she’ll get real quiet so her concentration isn’t broken. Sometime she’ll stick her tongue out the side of her mouth, Troy and Tyreen have many pictures. 

Gets along with the twins amazingly well, it’s almost like they’ve been together forever. Will let Tyreen do her hair and makeup, will let Troy do her nails. All three of them will sleep in a pile. 

Is standoffish towards literally everyone else, the bandits of Pandora remind her too much of a crazy, shitty father. 

See the cultist as demons, they aren’t even lost souls, just ants on the surface of a dry ass planet, but the twins have given them a chance to seek out salvation. She just loves the part where the follows fall out of line, although she hates seeing the twins angry, she loves the killing part.

Troy 

Physical 

Has a pretty nasty scar on his right shoulder leading down to the area across from his ribs. 

Troy protects his damaged area with a skin friendly and cushiony gel liner filled with medical beads. It hugs his shoulder and keeps his bracer in place without causing more harm to his body. 

Wishes for nothing more than to be normal like his sister, he constructs a prosthetic using stolen Hyperion tech that (surprisingly) still works and sprays it his skin tone. 

He has built up muscle mass (but is still skinny around his ribs) still has his eight pack (or is it a six pack?) 

Will cake on so much eye shadow you wonder if it's just a part of his face. And wears more eyeliner that is necessary when in front of a crowd. 

Has nipple piercings, gauges, a lip piercing, and a di- 

Still has the things in his arm (because Idk what they are) that are medical ports the pump nutrition into him. And so does his spinel connecter.  

THICK THIGHS AND ASS!! 

Mental 

Hates his body, even though he has an eight pack he loses weight at a dangerous rate, he has to eat lots of meat every day. 

Has night terrors often and usually wakes up with a knife in his hand. He wishes he could muster his powers to heal himself a real right arm. 

Tyreen usually has to come and calm him enough to get him back in bed, on especially terrible nights she’ll have him sleep with her for comfort.  

When alone he mumbles his mother’s name like a mantra, Leda Calypso. Like saying her name with keep him from going insane. 

Is angry at Tyreen for latching onto him as a fetus and almost killing him, but knows that she obviously didn’t mean to, this kind of thing happens sometimes to twins. And it’s not like she could do anything about the Leech, she was a fetus. 

Doesn’t stop him from hating what happened. Even though he loves his only family member. 

Has found himself thinking about very dark things involving Tyreen and blood. 

Making his prosthetic look like a real arm only broke him more, but even if it looks real, he knows it’s not. 

Personality 

A mask of channeled angsty goth teen energy, not as dramatic as Tyreen, but when he is it’s a fucking show. Overconfident in himself and cocky. 

Doesn’t like when the followers get too close to him, Tyreen, or Koetai. Will act like he gives a damn about his followers at a distance, but if they get too close? He crushes they’re skull with his cybernetic. 

Is a cold and viscous beast with no remorse for anyone, will stump in your ribcage just for looking at him. 

Keeps his personal saints at an arm's length, on Koetai can get close, anyone who steps out of line is, well, dead. 

Behind closed doors he’s all over his machines, he loves to tinker and build. He created the blueprints for the COV’s guns, Koetai’s buzzaxe, and countless other knickknacks across the camps of Pandora. 

Loves beatboxing, will make up some horrible beat in hopes that Tyreen or Koetai will rap or sing to it, can actually sing himself. Has sung the girls to sleep before. 

Records personal logs for himself whenever he’s in the mood, it can be about anything, personal issues, how being the GodKing makes him feel, how there’s really only one asset in his life that’s keeping him together. 

Love to bake, surprising to someone who doesn’t know him. But Troy loves sweets and it’s hard to get that on Pandora, so he makes them himself. 

Tyreen 

Physical 

Tyreen has a matching scar on her left shoulder blade where she was connected to Troy. 

She wears at least two layers of clothing to ensure it stays hidden, it doesn’t matter if it’s hot out, if her scar is covered then she’s satisfied.  

Has perfected a balanced look of dark makeup to make her look grown and sexy since she has a baby face. Sharp eyeliner, dark blue or black eyeshadow, and variety of dark lip-glosses.  

Works out with Troy (but not too much, just enough to stay in shape) so she has a nice four pack. 

Also has piercings, cute little studs for her ears, a nose piercing, nipples too, and a cl- 

Has her mother’s last name tattooed across her lower back. And has the COV logo tattooed on her right shoulder (really to match the eye on Troy’s shoulder.) 

Doesn’t wear a glove on her left had (since it doesn’t do anything nor does it really match the outfit.) 

THICK THIGHS SAVE LIVES, while big booties end them. 

Mental 

Can HEAR the Leech talking to her, trying to convince her to consume more, feed more, TAKE MORE. Has even told her to leech her brother more times than one. 

Was once teetering on the edge of insanity because of the constant whispering in the back of her head, but over the years she’s managed to push it back. But sometimes the voice breaks through again. 

Because of the voice she barely sleeps, it’s not like she needs to, but she can’t even if she needed to. 

Loves her brother with all her heart but feels like he hates her for what she’s done. Sure, she wasn’t even born yet, but she almost killed him before he was even born. 

Actually despises the fact she’s a siren, if she wasn’t a siren Troy would messed up, mom would still be alive, and dad wouldn’t have treated us so coldly. 

Doesn’t have it together as much as she likes to think, would have a mental breakdown behind closed door, Troy has only seen it once and spent hours with Tyreen as she sobbed uncontrollably into his arms. She made sure to never let him witness that again. 

Tyreen has clawed at her tattooed arm a few times, scratched thick deep cuts that immediately heal close, just to be scratched open again. 

Only perusing the Grant Vault for Troy’s sake, hopefully all that power will keep his stable for the rest of their lives. 

Personality 

Egotistical and shamelessly smug. Thinks she’s big shit and that she’s on top of the world. Lives with a shit-eating grin on her face while in front of the camera. 

Actually convinces everyone around her that she truly does care about of her followers (but is really still afraid of them.) Wouldn’t hesitate to punt-kick one in private though.  

Enjoys followers throwing themselves at her feet to offer gifts and praise, but if anyone touches her, even accidently, they’re dead. They’re not even allowed to kiss her boots, she doesn’t want their saliva on her clothes. 

When away from public she is extremely soft and sweet, kisses? She gives kisses to her brother and to Koetai, she is also pretty chill. 

While Troy bakes, Tyreen cooks. She may not need to eat real food but that doesn’t mean she can’t if she wants to. Pasta, sandwiches, a fucking baked potato? You name it, she can make it.  

Loves to sing, her mother said she had the voice of an angel, will perform a little concert for Troy and Koetai and feel flushed and proud afterwards. 

Enjoys painting like no one would believe, has a painting station in the corner of her room where she spends a good amount of time painting pictures of her loved ones, which is only three people, not including her father. 

Enjoys just, sitting outside on her balcony with the fresh air, even if the air is dry and smells like skag shit.  

First time I’ve ever written anything like this and I’m sure I did it badly, still more to come, should work on a position structure or something. Also need to make a layout of the common and working rooms.

[rainandhotchocolate]

Movie Star

A/N Hello! This is another fun idea I’ve had, I want to write more so let me know if u like it! It’s Sirius x reader fake relationship trope cause I’m yet to do that and YES PLEASE anyway enjoyyyy lel

Y/N stared in the mirror. She was wearing her nicest pair of jeans and cropped black flowing top with matching black boots that she had spent three hours shining last night. She’d even done her hair so it curled softly down her shoulders, having practiced it for the last week. She’d done everything she had planned for today, a whole binder sitting in her bag (that she’d also polished), healthy snacks and sunglasses and a small bottle of vodka, just in case, but she couldn’t move from the mirror.

It was her first day on set. Ever. Living in LA had been one of the most challenging and painful thing Y/N had ever done, and she had been very close to driving home and just fucking becoming a full-time taco bell server but she received a call two days previous for a tv series role because the girl originally offered it had been offered to play Meryl Streep’s daughter in some likely million dollar movie.

“Y/N, get the fuck out of the bathroom and leave!” Lily’s voice screamed from the hall, her fists banging loudly against the door.

“I just… I just need a minute!” Y/N called back, flattening out her hair again. You can do this. You’ve read the script. A lot. A lot a lot. You’ve got this. Or maybe you’re going to fall flat on your face.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you miss your first day I will actually kill you.” Lily was banging with her foot now and Y/N groaned.

“Ok, ok, fine. I’m coming out.” Y/N steeled herself and turned on her heel, marching out of the room. “How do I look?”

Lily gave her a once over, her lips pursed.

“Hot as hell, but just professional enough.”

“Perfect, ok I should go shouldn’t I,” Y/N picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

“Please do.”

Y/N pulled Lily into a tight hug and moved quickly out of the room. Lily called ‘Good luck’ loudly as Y/N slammed the door shut, struggling to pull her keys out of her bag with the amount of crap she had put inside it.

The drive was thankfully quick, and she pulled up to the lot in 23 minutes and 30 seconds feeling increasingly nervous and slightly worried that she might puke.

“ID,” the security guard sounded incredibly bored.

“Yes, right of course! It’s my first day so…” Y/N trailed off as she noticed the security guard had turned back to her phone. “Uh, here it is.”

The guard looked at it, checking the database before waving her through, the boom gate opening slowly. Y/N thanked the guard and drove through to the parking lot.

“Ok, lot 34, 34…” Y/N mumbled as she checked her phone, “Where the fuck is this.”

There seemed to be no numbers on any building, people moving left and right and screaming aggressively for her to move out of the way.

“Sorry! Fuck I cannot be late,” Y/N swore under her breath, feeling her heart rate increasing at the thought of being late and the director just firing her on the spot for being a trash actress who can’t even find a bloody set on time. She re-opened the email sent to her with the maps and details about the set, zooming in on 34 and trying to match it up where she’d walked from the parking lot, and smoothly slammed into someone’s back.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Y/N winced, leaning over to pick up her bag and the things that had fallen across the floor.

“It’s totally fine,” a deep voice replied, the person she’d bumped into turning and bending down to help her out. “Here’s your… vodka?”

Y/N stood up and met the person’s eyes, nearly choking on her own spit. In front of her was the stupidly gorgeous, incredibly famous Sirius Black. He looked even better in person, and, frustratingly, had a goofy smile playing on his face as he handed her the bottle of alcohol.

“Oh, uh, I just am not really sure if I might need some kind of bribe and now that I’m saying it it sounds really idiotic, thank you.” Y/N grimaced, wanting to crawl into a hole.

“First day on set, huh?” Sirius laughed, popping the bottle into her bag.

“How did you guess,” Y/N sighed, “I’m very lost, any chance you would know where lot 34 is?”

“I would actually, it’s where I’m going as well.”

“I… oh.” Y/N had forgotten to read the cast list. In all her planning and panicking and memorising every aspect of the script and characters that she could, she’d forgotten to read the fucking cast list.

“You must be Y/N then? Replacing Amanda?” Sirius began leading the way towards set, Y/N struggling to keep up with his long legs and attempting to avoid staring at his perfectly styled dark curls that hung just above his shoulders.

“Yes! I got the call a few days ago.”

“You look familiar, what else have you been in?” Sirius pulled open a door to his right, letting Y/N go in first.

“Oh I actually… um… haven’t – “

“Y/N, Sirius, please get into hair and makeup we needed you on set 10 minutes ago!” A girl with bright blonde hair and a wild expression pointed towards two caravans to the side of the room. Y/N apologised and moved quickly away, having never been more thankful to be interrupted. She pushed the door open to hair and make-up, looking around awkwardly.

“Hey there! Y/N?” A girl with short brown hair and bright pink spiky earrings grinned at her.

“Yep, that’s me.” Y/N followed her into the small room that was covered in boxes of different make up, paints and wigs hanging up against the walls. The entire front of the caravan was covered in mirrors, a chair in front of each one.

Y/N sat down in the chair the girl directed to, staring at herself awkwardly in the mirror.

“I’m Alice, I’ll be your hair and make-up gal for this season, hopefully the next one but here’s hoping it’s picked up,” Alice began to fiddle with Y/N’s hair, pulling it up and around her shoulders whilst she spoke. “So have you read through the whole script? It’s definitely the coolest thing I’ve worked on so far, and lets be real we’ve all dreamed of working with Sirius.”

Alice actually waggled her eyebrows, grinning at Y/N.

“Yeah it sounds like a cool story,” Y/N mumbled, her eyes watching Alice’s hands closely, wondering what she was going to do to her.

“So cool!” Alice pulled her hair up into a bun, pining up the loose strands and standing in front of the mirror to look at her face. “I’ve gotta ask, how did you react when you found out you were getting to kiss Sirius? I think I would have screamed the house down.”

Alice giggled, grabbing out a brush and primer, beginning to smear it across her face. Y/N resisted closing her eyes and smiling absent-mindedly as the feeling of the brush swishing across her face almost made her forget what Alice just said. Once she’d lifted the brush Y/N replied.

“Is Sirius… is Sirius playing Aramis?” Y/N felt her stomach twist, Alice, testing a couple of foundation types on Y/N’s wrist before dabbing it across her face.

“Yes! Didn’t you read the cast list?”

“Apparently I’m not that smart,” Y/N muttered, wanting to kill herself. She could have prepared for this, researched him, previous roles, kissing style, not panicking when he leans in. You fucking idiot.

“Don’t worry, the amount of people who haven’t read the script by the first day on set would surprise you,” Alice’s warm smile seemed to calm her slightly, likely alongside with the soft brush sweeping over her cheeks and eyes.

“Are there…” Y/N paused, unsure if she wanted to admit that she was sort of new to the whole filming thing, or if she would be accidentally humiliating herself.

“Hmm?” Alice gave her a look, holding the brush back, “You ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous.” Y/N gave her a small smile.

“Well either way, you look amazing,” Alice stepped away from the mirror and behind Y/N’s chair so she could see herself in the mirror. Y/N leaned in to look at herself, or herself 2.0. Alice had somehow highlighted angles in Y/N’s face that she didn’t even realise she had, her eyes highlighted by the subtle brown eyeshadow and liner.

“Holy shit, you are good.”

“You’d hope so,” Alice breathed out a laugh, letting out Y/N’s hair. “Now I’m sorry in advance because you’ve done your hair so nicely, but we are starting with the second scene today and you’re about to have your hair absolutely destroyed by some back combing.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Y/N laughed at her genuinely apologetic expression, grimacing when she held up the brush like a knife.

“Here we go.”

Alice gave her a hug when she left the caravan, wishing her luck like they had been friends for the last seventeen years and pointed her towards costumes. Four girls and two guys swarmed around her, holding up multiple tops and pants that looked exactly the same but with slight differences in the colour. Y/N wondered if they’d made them after the previous girl had cancelled, Y/N had given her a thorough stalk and immediately noticed the very big skin tone difference. They handed her a peasant blouse and linen pants, letting Y/N slip them on behind a curtain before circling her again once she’d changed, handing her a pair of lace up brown boots.

Y/N walked towards set, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly with each step. Someone knocked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Love the new look.” Sirius smiled at her, his hair looking somehow better.

“Yes, it’s called the ‘my hair is secretly a bees nest’” Y/N matched Sirius’ quite fast pace, drinking in his loud, dog-like laugh, his head shaking back.

“Alice is honestly an artist,” Sirius grinned at her, leading her towards the director and producer who were huddled together next to the set of large village facades, a gravel path along the front.

“She is, this isn’t my real face,” Y/N felt her heart flutter as she made Sirius laugh again.

“Y/N, Sirius! Glad you’re here, we are running short on time today because apparently we’ve been bloody double booked,” the director hissed at the producer who grimaced apologetically.

“I just want to see how you guys run through the second scene, doesn’t need to be anything fancy, just want to see you on the set and then we will start blocking properly. Sound good? Good.” She didn’t wait for them to answer, pointing them towards the gravel pathway.

“Great,” Sirius smiled fixing his collar and moving towards the set, Y/N followed close behind him. Y/N took a deep breath, sitting down on the path, trying to stop herself from fidgeting and calm herself. You know this, you can do this.

“And, action!”

It was a mixture of exhausting and exhilarating, and a couple of times where Y/N became slightly too mesmerised with Sirius’ impeccable acting skills. Once she’d been dismissed Y/N began to walk awkwardly back towards the caravan where the costuming team had moved her clothing, a large set of letters with her name on it across the front. It was probably the most exciting thing she’d seen all day.

As she reached it, she was pulled sideways by a small girl with a sharp brown bob and perfect cat-eye.

“Hi, Mary, PR, I just need to chat to you and Sirius for a quick sec ok?” Y/N was dragged towards Sirius who had been chatting animatedly to Alice, leaning against one of the set facades. “Sirius, a second?”

“Yep, see you tomorrow, Al,” Sirius winked at her and she waved him off.

“Ok, don’t have a lot of time, need to be at a marketing meeting in 10 minutes. So as you’re aware you two are love interests in the show and we are already getting some great hype given that the books have been getting steadily more popular. We want to lean into the pairing, a couple of staged outings, nothing confirmed just hints, ok? I’ll set up some time to run through the times we are going to get you two to be together, and what to post up on your socials.”

“Wait sorry are you talking about pretending to be together? Like… like a relationship?” Y/N interrupted her, stuttering awkwardly and berating herself internally.

“Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow with more details, just want to keep you in the loop.” Mary shook both their hands in quick succession and sped off towards the exit, heels clicking loudly against the concrete. Sirius and Y/N said nothing to each other for a few awkward moments.

“Well, I guess we will be seeing a lot more of each other,” Sirius broke the tension, his hand tucking into the front of his jeans.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Aha. Shit.

 Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527

[fictionalarsonist]

may i request nr 9 of your recent prompts with taeyong x reader?

「 unexpected encounter 」

pairing ›_ taeyong x readerwith ›_ jaehyun ; doyoungcontent ›_ slice of life-y ; flirting ; friendshiprating ›_pgwc ›_2k

���

premise ›_After moving to a big city, you find yourself missing everything about home that you complained so much. Taeyong was one of these things, but when you two meet again, by a coincidence, he’s nothing like you remembered.    ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #9.“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…whatever you want to call it.”

「 ao3 | masterlist 」

The cold streets makes you shiver even with all the layers of clothes you’re wearing, you press your dry lips in a thin line, but that only harms the damaged sensible skin. You’re not much of a winter person yourself; you hate all this cold, wet streets, the chaotic traffic and the annoying, disgusting steam. It makes you think of winter back home, it’s just as cold, if not worst – but you liked winter just fine there.

You miss playing in the snow, the trees always tinkling with snow, the smell of fresh winter mornings that isn’t tainted with the toxic smell of pollution. The bone, chilling cold was as pleasing as it could get, but there’s the fireplace and the familiar faces and your favorite bakery shop. You’re not quite sure if you’re homesick because you can’t afford going back home for Christmas or if you’re just not cut out for the big city. Funny, though, you were so eager to live the pathetic small town just two, three years ago.

It’s relief seeing your colleague arrived earlier, the lights inside the shop is dimmed, the closed sign shows on the glass door. You push open the door and the bell announces you. Jaehyun raises his head to see you walking in.

“Good morning!” He greets you with a quick, tired smile.

“Morning!” You greet, smiling back at him as he goes back to work. “You beat me today,” you hear his scoff.

“Well, I might pass out during the day,” you hear him reply from under the balcony and you stop in front of it, unbuttoning your coat.

“Another night awake?”

“That fucking stupid project,” he grunts before appearing from the balcony, his face twisted in annoyance, “I swear, if no one send me their part in this I’m just gonna watermark the whole shit with my name with big, bold letters. I’m not going to give credit to anyone.”

“Can you do that, though?” Jaehyun shrugs in response, “How long ‘till deadline?”

“Uhm- four days?” He frowns, looking into the distance, “Wait, what day is today?”

“Today is the 28th”

“Three days, then” he corrects himself, looking at you, “Even if they send something I don’t think I have enough time to edit, so-” he shrugs, leaning his weight on his elbows on the balcony. “I don’t even care about the fucking prize, the shitty award or whatever- I just want a good grade, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, at least you’ll make it,” you comfort him, patting one of his slumped shoulders.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun replies more energetically before pulling back.

“I’ll get ready and come out to help you real quick,” he hums as you rush to the locker room.

Inside the shop is warm and cozy and you, slowly, regain the sensibility on your fingertips, your lips, and on the tip of your nose. You go through the usual routine to get ready before meeting Jaehyun outside.

“What’s left for me?” You ask, finishing to tie your apron.

“Those two needed to be cleaned. I’m gonna get the pies-” 

“Okay,” you shrug

“The espresso machine’s already on,” he warns over his shoulder.

There’s nothing but the sounds of Jaehyun at the back while you clean the machines, but this silence is welcoming and even relaxing. It contrasts so much with the view beyond the glass door. The chaotic traffic and people walking up and down the street. You enjoy these times before opening the shop, not knowing how the rest of the day would be.

***

Taeyong looked through the car window, irritated with the stillness. The car’s been stuck in traffic, not being able to move for far too long. Clicking his tongue, he lowers the partition with an impatient sigh. His driver looks at the review mirror, waiting. Ten, sitting by his side, spares him a watchful look.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to get out of here?” Taeyong asks, impatient.

“I ‘m afraid not, sir.” The driver replies with a trained apologetic tone.

Upset, Taeyong slumps back on his seat, undoing the button of his suit, blowing air out of his lungs, trying to tone down his anger.

“Are we too far from the company?” Taeyong asks, this time his questions directed at Ten, sitting by his side.

Doyoung spares a look at the map on his phone before replying.

“I’m afraid so.”

This reply only causes Taeyong to be even more discontent with the whole situation.

“This is ridiculous,” Taeyong protests in severe exasperation.

He glances outside yet again and sees you running out the door after a client.

“Taeyong, if you-” Doyoung’s cut off when Taeyong pushes the door open, letting the frigid wintery weather in the perfectly warm, luxurious car. “Taeyong!”

Before he could say anything else Taeyong’s walking on the wet streets, with drizzling rain falling on him.

“Park the car somewhere, don’t move anywhere without us.” Doyoung orders the driver and doesn’t wait for the response, already pushing the door open and chasing after his boss with an umbrella.

***

As soon as the sign at the door shows the coffee shop is open people come in, seeking the warmth and coziness as well as the drinks. Jaehyun busies himself to serve a couple of tables as you take his place at the balcony.

“What can I get-”

“Hey, Y/n!”

You blink, not quite believing the dazzling smile directed to you belongs to the awkward boy you had a crush on back in high school. Though now, Taeyong looks nothing like he did then. It hasn’t been that long and yet, he changed more than you could ever think.

“Taeyong?” You gaped.

“Taeyong!”  Doyoung calls, hurrying after him inside the coffee shop, “If you want we can go back to the hotel and I rearrange the meeting-”

Doyoung’s words are cut off, noticing Taeyong isn’t giving him any attention. Doyoung turns to look at you, someone who looks… Quite average, nothing like Taeyong’s usual interests.

“We can discuss something like this later, Doyoung.” Taeyong says rather gentle and that gets Doyoung puzzled.

“Yes, of course. Should I get you a table?” Doyoung asks with a light frown.

“I think Y/n could do that for me. Couldn’t you?”

“Uhm- I-” You start, but protests of the customers lined up cut your words. Taeyong wasn’t even in the queue.

“Hey, dude! I don’t care if you’re here for coffee or you just wanna flirt, but get in line.” Someone says aggressively and Doyoung gets between the two people just so the other wouldn’t dare to push Taeyong as they intended to.

“Hey, Y/n!”  You hear Jaehyun whisper by your side and you jolt in surprise, “I’ll take care of this, get him a table or something”

Jaehyun’s fast at the job and you step out of the balcony. Taeyong follows you to a more private table.

“Is this place yours?” He asks when you handle him a menu.

“No, I just- work here”

“And when are you free?” He places the menu on the table without even glancing at it while you stand there, waiting to get the order.

Your eyes wander around and you can tell there are quite the number of people looking at him. It’s not everyday someone like Taeyong comes along to place like that, people like him or, at least, the way he looks right now are usually found in over the top, expensive, luxurious restaurants, ordering food which you can’t even begin to imagine the names of, let alone pronounce if you ever came across.

“Y/n?” He asks again, in an inducing tone. With that smile that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You can’t believe you still have a crush on him after so long.

“Uh- Yes. Yes, what’s your order?” You ask automatically after snapping back to reality. He chuckles charmingly.

“I asked, when are you free?”

“At seven. We close at seven.” You speak up before you could stop yourself.

“Okay, then- I’ll come back at seven, then.” He stands up and Doyoung stands up after him. “I’m really glad I got to meet you again,” his smile looked quite sincere this time.

But that’s because, for a split second you could see the face of the boy you liked back then, instead of the arrogant man that was now taking your hand and bringing to his lips. You didn’t notice Doyoung’s eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

***

As soon as the shop got more of a free time, Jaehyun came to you as you cleaned one of the tables. Your mind went back and forth that moment over and over and still- you couldn’t figure how that could possibly happen.

“Okay, so- Tell me.” He asked, standing beside you as you repeatedly wiped the table, the same spot, over and over again. “Y/n?” He called, lowering his head to notice your eyes were looking into the distance instead of the the clean spot on the table or him. “Y/n!”

His half-scream made you jump in place and look at him.

“What now? Did you really need to-”

“You weren’t even paying attention to the table. What do you want, make it invisible or something?”

“Huh?” 

He points at the table you’ve been cleaning, literally shining at this point. A wide contrast to the others.

“We have two options now, either we clean the others the same way or get this one dirty,” he says thoughtfully, looking around for a moment before looking at you, “But, seriously- Who’s that guy?”

“Who?”

“You know who,” he insists, chasing after you when you run away from him, “The guy that came here looking for you.”

“He didn’t came looking for me!”

“He came in, ordered nothing. Just talked to you and left,” Jaehyun states

“You- might have a point.”

“Who’s him?”

“He’s- He’s just someone I knew,” you try

“You knew?” He asks with scoff. “He didn’t seem dead to me.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jae! I had a crush on him when we were in high school or something, that’s all.”

“Did you date?”

“No!”

“Then, why’s he here?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask in frustration. You’ve been asking the same question yourself. “He’s different. He’s…”

“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…?” Jaehyung mocks as you seem to search for words.

“Whatever you wanna call it” You say, impatient with the way he keeps joking around with you. “But I was about to say that he doesn’t look like himself. Like the guy I had the crush on. Maybe- Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“And- Still, you’re going with him?”

“I- You know, it might be nothing.”

“Yeah, and he might be a jerk. Look, this is what we can do for the day-  You’re leaving with me today. We can do something fun that won’t end up with you getting hurt by the morning and leave me to take care of this chaos by myself. Deal?” You watch him manner his hand to the busy but now quiet coffee shop.

“What about your project?” He shrugs

“It’s almost done, I won’t add anything from anyone else by this point, so I can seat back and do nothing. So? Deal?“

“Deal.” You shake his extended hand to you with a self-assertive smile.

[syntaxeme]

Giardino Segreto ch. 2

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Chapter summary: After yet another fight with his father, Angel goes out on the town with a friend, looking to drown his feelings in drinks and drugs. Alastor follows along, concerned that Angel might run into trouble--and run into trouble, he does. So much for keeping a low profile.

— — –

It took a further few days of hemming and hawing before Alastor finally managed to take action. After all, he had to decide on an approach, how to introduce himself, how honest he should be—there was plenty to consider. Plenty to waste time overanalyzing.

Maybe two weeks after his initial coughing fit, he was hovering around the Dellarosa house again, looking for an opportunity to speak to Angel—but even when he arrived home at around 10 p.m., his father met him at the door and dragged him into his office. Unable to resist observing the interaction, Alastor slipped into the room alongside them.

“What the hell is your problem?” Angel snapped, trying and failing to wrench his arm from his father’s grip. “Get off me!”

“Where’ve you been?” The Dellarosa family’s patriarch, Enrico, was a large and physically imposing man, whose voice always seemed to hold a certain quiet anger. Especially when he was addressing Angel. “And what are you wearing?”

Angel drew into himself slightly, crossing his arms and grasping at his sleeves. His outfit consisted of a dress shirt, slacks, and oxfords, all of which were a bit too big for his slight frame. “Clothes?” he answered defensively. “I borrowed ‘em from Criss.” That would be his older brother, Cristiano, who was next in line for the position of boss.

“Right. You ask him about that first or did you just take ‘em?”

“He gave them to me,” Angel growled, bristling. “They’re just clothes. What do you care?”

“I care that my daughter is running around town looking like a damn crossdresser,” Enrico snarled right back, and the boy stiffened at that word. ‘Daughter.’

“Who, Molly?” he asked coolly. “Last I checked, her closet was still full of skirts, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Don’t play stupid—”

“Well, you only have one daughter,” the boy insisted, his voice rising along with his frustration, “so I dunno who else you could be talkin’ about.”

His father took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m losing my patience with this whole I’m-a-boy phase.”

“Losing? Like you ever had any to start with?” Angel’s shoulders were tense, his hands still clenched, his voice coming out through gritted teeth. “And I told you already, it ain’t a phase. No matter how many times you argue with me, no matter how many dresses you force me to wear, no matter how many times Ma tries to tell me about my ‘place’ in the business—this is who I am.”

“Please. ‘Who you are’ changes like the fucking weather. This? This is just your latest bid for attention, and you’re hangin’ onto it because it’s working.” Enrico’s voice was icy, utterly devoid of compassion. Despite his body’s rigidity, Angel’s hands trembled slightly.

“Molly believes me.”

“Molly goes along with your theatrics because she loves you. I don’t have time for it.”

Time for loving your child? Granted, Alastor had never been a parent himself and therefore couldn’t know how it felt, but that particular brand of love, he’d heard, was meant to be unconditional. Enrico’s seemed to come with a great many particular if-then addenda.

“Why would I lie about this?” Angel’s shaking was getting worse. “When you make every single part of it so fuckin’ hard—”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Why would I bother fighting with you if this wasn’t real?” the boy demanded, furious and glaring even as his voice broke. After a moment, his father took a step closer and reached up to swipe a tear off Angel’s face with his thumb.

“Boys don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said without a hint of sympathy, his tone dripping disdain. “Now you listen to me and listen good. I don’t want to hear any more of this. Not one more word. You’re making a fool out of yourself, going out looking like that, and you’re making a fool of me too. The pants, the short hair, you trying to get involved in the business—that shit’s about to end, and if you keep tryin’ to fight me, I’m gonna make sure you regret it. You hear me?” Silence for a moment, and Angel’s eyes stayed trained on the floor. Unsatisfied, his father took a step closer and growled, “I said, do you hear me, Antonia?”

Drawing in a deep breath, the boy straightened his spine and raised his head to answer clearly, “My name is Angel.” Without a second’s hesitation, Enrico pulled a hand back and slapped him across the face, hard enough that the sound voided the room of air and Angel stumbled to the floor.

Beyond Alastor’s control, a high, ear-splitting screech of static pealed through the room, and both mortals cringed. It took every ounce of his willpower not to end Enrico’s life then and there. He knew this wasn’t the first time Angel’s father had raised a hand to him, of course, but he had never been present to witness it in the past. The static quickly faded from the room as he struggled to calm himself, and the two humans stayed still as they tried to determine its source.

Not now, Alastor told himself. Patience, just a little longer. I won’t let him be in this position again.

Still distracted, Enrico muttered, “Get the hell upstairs and put on something that fits you.” Angel forced himself to his feet, and under his father’s withering glare, he left the room. He kept his head high as he walked, but there were visible streaks of tears down his face. Alastor followed quickly up the stairs to his room, trying to remember the introduction he had planned for himself earlier past the blinding fury he felt from seeing Angel be struck. When the boy locked his bedroom door and wandered toward his closet, starting to unbutton his shirt with shaking hands, Alastor realized he was edging dangerously toward peeping Tom status. After a split-second of panic, he bolted out onto the balcony to try to center his thoughts.

All his careful planning had been thrown off within just the past ten minutes; he’d hoped to catch Angel in a good mood when he returned home and to introduce himself in a lighthearted atmosphere. Judging by the rage and pain now radiating from the boy, that was no longer an option—not for this night, at least. Better to wait for another opportunity, then?

At the sound of the balcony door behind him, he spun on his heel—and found himself face to face with Angel. The Radio Demon sucked in a breath and held it, frozen even though he was well aware no mortal would perceive him, even this close. Angel’s dark eyes gazed right through him and out at the city, his expression patently dissatisfied, his cheekbone already starting to bruise from Enrico’s slap. He ran a hand through his pale bangs, tilting his head back, and Alastor realized he hadn’t actually taken his shirt off; it was just unbuttoned. Further, his modesty wasn’t in question, as he was wearing a tight bandeau underneath to bind his chest. He was, as always, singularly beautiful, and Alastor couldn’t bring himself to look away until Angel finally took a step back himself and retreated inside with a sigh.

The tension slowly melted out of his posture, and he fought back another coughing fit from the excitement of having been so painfully close to the object of his affections. The sooner he explained himself, the sooner Angel knew of him and could possibly return his feelings, the less he would suffer over time. Yet still he hesitated to accept the vulnerability that came with admitting to being in love. Some foolish part of him almost insisted it would be better to die than to suffer that indignity.

While he was standing outside fighting with himself, Angel turned out the lights in his room—but he didn’t go to bed. Instead, he switched on a lamp and seated himself at the vanity against the wall. As Alastor peered inside curiously, Angel was putting on eyeshadow and liner, winking and smiling at himself in the mirror. Cute. But why wear makeup to bed? He must have been planning on going out again, which wasn’t entirely out of character.

Alastor got his answer in the form of a huffing, grunting young woman clambering her way over the balcony’s railing to crouch atop it and rake strawberry blond hair out of her eyes. “Hey!” she hissed in a sort of stage whisper, a conspiratorial grin curling her lips. “You ready to go, bitch? We ain’t got all night.”

“Fuck you,” Angel called back with a laugh while Alastor took a step back on the balcony to observe the new arrival. Her hair was messily pulled back into a high ponytail, her pleated skirt shorter than average, her blouse partially unbuttoned on top and bottom. Frankly, she looked like a hellion. Mischievous.

Stranger still: she was a demon. A relatively low-level demon, it seemed, as she didn’t seem to notice Alastor’s presence, but he could still read it on her, as he could any demon in a human guise. Did Angel know about this? Surely not. Yet even if he was unaware of it, it did seem to be a fact that he was friends with a demoness. Another interesting surprise.

When he came out to meet her, he had changed from his brother’s borrowed trousers into a pair of shorts he and Molly had fashioned from a loose skirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the lower part of his shirt unbuttoned and tied at his waist. “Took ya long enough,” his friend teased. When her eyes fell on his marked cheek, she winced slightly but quickly replaced her smile. “We getting’ outta here or what?”

“God, please,” he groaned. “I am beyond ready.” Seemingly (factually) from nowhere, the girl produced a very simple rope ladder, which she tied to the balcony’s railing and quickly descended. Angel laughed as he followed her, “Where the hell were you keepin’ that?”

“Girl’s gotta have her secrets.”

Alastor peered over the edge of the railing as they crept away from the house, nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand. Angel was, by all accounts, an adult. Being the child of a mafia boss, surely he’d been taught how to defend himself. Yet something about the idea of him being out who knew where in New York City in the middle of the night made Alastor’s skin crawl. After a moment more of debating with himself, he rushed through the harsh shadows cast by the moon and followed the pair. Even if this wasn’t the time for his confession, he could still be sure that Angel was safe.

As they walked and he listened, he learned the girl’s name was Cherri. “You’re mopier than usual,” she said, nudging Angel’s arm. “Old man caught you comin’ home?”

“Of course he did,” he grumbled in response. “And he pulled the whole ‘I’m putting my foot down’ shit again. We’re just gonna keep havin’ that same conversation over and over until he gets it through his thick skull, and I’m so tired of it.”

“Don’t worry about it right now, babe.” The girl threw her arm around his shoulders and nudged her head against his while they continued to walk. Alastor felt an unfamiliar pang at seeing how close they were. “This club where I’m takin’ you is the best place in town to get your mind of all the bullshit at home, trust me.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Angel chuckled. They continued downtown to a somewhat rundown part of the city, passing by what appeared to be an abandoned hotel and traveling down an alley at its side. Already, Alastor was uncomfortable with the setting. If he were the sort of person to say he had a ‘bad feeling’ about a place, he certainly would have at this moment. All the more reason to continue following.

At the end of the alley, there was a bare metal door in the solid brick wall on their right, and Cherri pounded her fist against it in a particular rhythm. After a moment, the door cracked, then swung open fully to reveal a musclebound, dark-haired man, one who looked perhaps twice the age of Angel or Cherri.

“Been a while, doll,” he said in a voice that betrayed years of tobacco abuse, his eyes roaming licentiously over Cherri’s body. Unpleasant. When he turned that same gaze on Angel, Alastor’s body grew tense. Unacceptable. “And who are you, sweet thing?”

“His name’s Angel, and he’s with me,” Cherri said, protectively pulling the boy closer to her side and giving the older man a withering glare. “So keep your fuckin’ eyes to yourself, Jazz. You lettin’ us in or not?”

Despite her hostility, he shrugged and took a step back to let them enter without any further protest. Alastor followed along, giving ‘Jazz’ one last reproachful glance before heading downstairs into a basement that had apparently been converted into a bar. The room was lit here and there by lamps on the tables spotting the floor. The place wasn’t terribly full, and no one looked up when the newcomers entered.

“Dio santo, I’m gonna lose my damn mind if I don’t get a drink,” Angel groaned, “now.”

“All right already, calm down,” Cherri laughed. “Come on, my guy at the bar’ll take care of us.”

Alastor remained for the next few hours, standing by at the table the duo occupied against the wall and listening to them chat. After the past several months, this was a pastime he’d grown used to with Angel, and he was happen to listen—though the conversation this evening wasn’t the most positive sort.

Angel had quite a lot to say about his mistreatment at home, how his father refused to even attempt to use the correct name or pronouns. Enrico had even gone as far as snapping at the others when they addressed Angel correctly. The tone of his voice—particularly as he grew more intoxicated—made his pain clear through his anger, no matter how tightly he tried to cling to the latter.

In addition to several shots and various cocktails, Cherri also obtained a pouch of crystalline white powder and a handful of small, colorful tablets. She popped one into her mouth and offered one to Angel, who accepted it and squinted at it curiously. “Wassat?” he asked, already beyond tipsy and firmly in the realm of drunk. He didn’t wait for an answer before impulsively bringing it up to his mouth to lick it.

“You’ll like it, trust me,” Cherri told him as she was stirring the white powder into their drinks.

Alastor stood by, nervous, starting to fidget a bit as he wondered how all those chemicals would interact. Granted, this subject wasn’t his area of expertise; the drugs he had dabbled in in life had been of a very different sort. But if Angel had never tried this combination before, might he be in danger of having an adverse reaction? He was a bit reckless, Alastor had noticed already, and with his judgment already skewed by alcohol, he was that much more likely to make rash decisions. Briefly, Alastor had the thought to try to stop him, but that wouldn’t be the best first impression. And besides, there were too many people around for him to comfortably come forward.

Once the two had downed their pills and drinks, they seemed to grow much more talkative, more energetic, more cheerful—but it all seemed forced, artificial somehow. And Alastor’s concern continued to mount, particularly when a pair of men, visibly larger and stronger than the two of them, came to join them at their table.

“You girls look like you’re havin’ a good time over here.” One of the intruders was recognizable as the same Jazz who had let them into the establishment. The two made themselves comfortable in the surrounding chairs while Angel and Cherri seemed rather confused by their presence. “Mind if we join you?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Cherri said flatly, sending Angel into a fit of giggles. “If you ain’t here to get us another drink, piss off.”

“Hey, we can do that. Dan.” Jazz nodded to his companion, a tattoo-covered ruffian who left immediately for the bar. As Alastor watched, he ordered a pair of colorful cocktails, then discreetly added…something else to the glasses before bringing them over and setting them in front of Cherri and Angel. Angel was clearly in a more agreeable mood, as he readily reached for the glass in front of him—but his friend caught his hand to stop him.

“Look, Jazz, I dunno what you think you’re playing at,” she growled, growing tenser and more hostile with each passing moment, “but it ain’t happenin’.”

“You sure? Your friend seems like she’s havin’ fun,” the tattoo-covered Dan pointed out, nodding at Angel, who was still a bit giggly. He tilted Angel’s head upward, trying to pour the offered drink down his throat—and unfortunately, the boy was too addled to argue, opening his mouth and leaning into the predator’s touch. “Look at you, all eager.”

“Hey, get your fucking hands off him!” Cherri snapped, lunging at Dan, only to be caught by Jazz, who held her back and dragged her into his lap. This was all happening very quickly, the situation escalating in mere moments while Alastor warred with himself. Yes, it would be an issue to blow his cover, but letting Angel come to harm would be far worse.

“What’s the problem, doll?” Jazz snickered, his hands starting to creep under the edge of Cherri’s shirt while she struggled. “Everybody’s feelin’ good right now. Why don’t you take another drink and enjoy it with us?”

“No! Get off me! Angel!”

Angel, who was in the middle of being fed his drugged drink, apparently heard his name and lifted his head, spilling cold liquor down the front of his shirt and taking in a shocked gasp. “Cherri?” he slurred, trying and failing to blink the haze from his eyes. “Babe? What—”

“Don’t worry about her, honey,” Dan said, moving in closer to turn Angel away from his friend. “She’s in good hands. And so are you.”

Alastor had seen quite enough. As hard as he’d tried not to involve himself in Angel’s affairs, as much as he disliked the idea of revealing his nature in such a public setting, he absolutely refused to stand by and see the boy he—damn it—loved be abused like this. With a snap of the demon’s fingers, the shadows in the room (and there were plenty) bent to his power and rushed forward to separate the two predatory mortals from their quarry. Angel and Cherri were replaced back in their seats, while the would-be molesters were shoved some few feet away as Alastor manifested in front of them.

“What the hell?” Dan muttered, reflexively reaching for a pocketknife tucked into his waistband. Oh, please. “Where did you come from?”

“Gentlemen, I’m going to assume you’ve both had quite a lot to drink this evening,” Alastor said, his calm demeanor belied by the steadily-building radio static in the room. The other patrons noticed it as well, and some inched closer to the ruckus. Not ideal, but the most important thing was Angel’s safety. Whatever Alastor had to do in order to defend that, he would. “With that in mind, I’m willing to ignore your deplorable behavior on the condition that it cease immediately and you leave these two”—he nodded toward Angel and Cherri, who were still somewhat in shock—“alone. Please don’t make me tell you again.”

“Fuck you,” Jazz snapped predictably, taking a step forward as if he thought his height and bulk might intimidate Alastor. No such luck. “Look, we were here first, so scram and find your own girl.”

A buzzer sounded from somewhere unseen. “Ooh, I’m sorry, that’s not the answer we were looking for,” Alastor said sympathetically, twirling his staff in one hand before stamping it down against the floor. Every light in the room went out, sending its occupants into a panicked uproar.

Alastor, on the other hand, had no difficulty seeing in the dark. He had his shadows seize the two delinquents and knock their empty skulls together, not sure of how much damage it might do and not particularly caring. In the same instant, he scooped Angel up into his arms and instructed the shadows to bring Cherri along as well. The three swept up the stairs, down the alley, and into the ruined hotel next door. An absent wave of Alastor’s hand lit the dust-covered sconces on the wall, providing just enough light to see by.

Now that they were out of harm’s way, he carefully rested Angel on the threadbare rug to check on him, and his blood ran cold as he realized the boy was still, silent, unresponsive. Not breathing.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 7 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: We can’t promise that this posting rate will continue forever, but for now, please enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The team scrambled to come up with ideas for the new Spring collection that would please their illustrious leader, and when they were out celebrating after the meeting, Pearl got a little too close for Violet’s comfort.  

This Chapter: Violet makes a new friend, wakes up in a very compromising position, and deals with a massive hangover.

***

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Violet whispered to herself, reapplying her lipstick, making sure her lip liner was perfect even as her hand was shaking a little. Violet could hear her work phone, the familiar ringtone that meant Pearl was calling her.

She wanted to take it, wanted to accept the adventure Pearl was promising her, but Violet had hooked up with coworkers before, and that was a mistake she wasn’t eager to repeat.

Violet was drunk, and confused, this entire thing not at all what she had hoped and dreamed of for her and Pearl’s first kiss.

Besides the fact that they worked together, that Pearl was her friend, that she was one of the few human beings Violet actually genuinely liked, at the end of the day, Pearl was a player.

Everyone in the fashion world knew that.

There was not a lesbian or bisexual woman in the New York Fashion industry that didn’t have some kind of story about Pearl, Violet having listened to her fair share at parties, and she would never want to become one of those.

Their friendship was too important to her for that to happen. Stupid stupid stupid.

A gorgeous blonde girl stumbled out from the bathroom stall, humming to herself as she washed her hands. The blonde watched Violet apply her lipstick with rapt attention, then smiled, a thick Australian accent leaving her mouth.

“Wow…How do you do that? Your makeup looks like…sooo good.”

“Thank you?” Violet would normally be a little weirded out by this kind of attention from a stranger, but the girl was so beautiful and earnest that she only smiled back.

“I can’t wear red lipstick, but on you it’s...perrrfect,” she slurred.

“Everyone can wear red lipstick,” Violet stated.

“You think? Should I try it?” she asked, eyes lighting up gleefully.

“Umh…” Violet looked down at the lipstick in her hands. “Sure.”

But when the girl wobbled a little in her heels stepping forward, Violet had second thoughts--she was a little buzzed herself, but that girl looked far too drunk to do makeup on her own. It would likely end up all over her face if she tried.

“Know what. Let me help you,” Violet offered kindly.

“Oh wow, are you my fairy godmother?” she squealed, climbing up onto the counter.

Violet laughed at the other’s words, immediately feeling the kind of connection only two very drunk girls could.

“Maybe I am,” Violet giggled, as she began applying lipstick--not an easy task, given the blonde’s bubbly chatter, telling her all about how she normally only wore chapstick and mascara and wished she knew how to do winged eyeliner like Violet’s but could just never get the hang of it. But soon, Violet had done a satisfactory job, and leaned back to admire her work. If that girl was beautiful before, now she was absolutely stunning. “Um, whoever told you that you shouldn’t wear red lipstick should be killed.”

“Does it look good?!” the blonde asked excitedly, turning around to look in the mirror.

“You look gorgeous. Like, so pretty I can’t even deal with it,” Violet said nodding emphatically and realizing that she was maybe a little drunker than she previously thought. She certainly didn’t bond this much with strangers under normal circumstances. Of course, most strangers weren’t beautiful, charming blondes with adorable accents.

Shit, she really had a type when it came to girls.

“I love it! Thank you so much, fairy godmother!” she said, green eyes sparkling with joy. She turned back around and threw her arms around Violet’s neck.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling them both.

“Courtney! There you are! You need to come back to the dance floor, bitch!” said a vaguely familiar voice. Violet turned around, trying to figure out where she knew the voice from.

“Adoooore! I’m getting my makeup done. Do you like it?” The blonde girl, now identified as Courtney, giggled, arms still around Violet, a huge smile on her face.

Adore? Realization suddenly dawned as Violet placed the face and voice.

Of course.

Adore was Bianca Del Rio’s little sister, and therefore someone Fame included in her close circle of friends. A musician of some kind and known party girl. And, if Violet was correct, she also knew Pearl somehow. It all made sense--what a small world.

Adore seemed to recognize Violet at the same time, big blue eyes widening with joy.

“Hey! It’s you! Violet, right?”

“Yeah, hi.” Violet smiled a bit shyly at her. She didn’t know Adore very well, but her closeness to Fame made Violet feel mildly self-conscious. Adore didn’t seem to have the same problem, throwing her arms around Violet as if they were best friends.

“Court, this is Violet. She works for Fame at Galactica.”

Courtney’s eyes bulged, and she clapped her hands together excitedly.

“She does?! Omigod how perfect! I just applied for a job as her assistant!” Courtney said.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, bitch?” Adore demanded. “You know that Fame is practically like family.”

“Well, I applied for like 50 jobs this week; I just need anything that’ll let me stay. But I didn’t think I’d have any chance. I don’t have a lot of experience and I’m sure a million people applied. It’s Galactica .”

“So what?! You don’t need experience, you can do anything!” Adore turned to Violet, grasping her by the hand. “Violet, you need to help my girl get an interview. She’s amazing. She’s the most responsible person I know, and a really hard worker, and so smart.”

“Awww, bunny!” Courtney cooed, slinging an arm around Adore’s waist.

“Plus she really needs a job so that she can get a work visa.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be deported,” Courtney added solemnly.

“I know it’s kind of a weird problem for a white person to have, but there you go. And America is just soooo much better with her here.”

Adore buried her face into Courtney’s shoulder, hugging her tightly.

“Well, I’m looking over the résumés for the new assistant position. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll totally put yours at the top of the pile.” Violet found her drink on the counter and was just about to take a sip when Courtney jumped down, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“I swear I love you… Like I really honestly love you. I don’t remember your name just this second but you’re going in my gratitude journal, no, no, don’t laugh! And when I remember your name, I’m going to give it to my firstborn child!!” Courtney squealed, wrapping Violet in a neck-popping hug while hopping around in place.

“This is so beautiful,” Adore said. “I don’t know about you two hotties, but I’m ready to drink and dance some more, so the next round is on me! Let’s goooo!”

Violet let her new best friends drag her back out into the club and towards the bar, giggling the whole way.

***

“We gotta go, bunny,” Adore said, causing Courtney to whine.

“Nooo, I wanna dance some more,” she slurred, arms wrapped around Violet’s shoulders. “Me an’ Violet wanna dance.”

“I know, but Violet has to go home, too. Right?” Adore exchanged a look with Pearl, trying to extricate her friend from Violet, who swayed a bit in her heels, giggling and hiccuping. “Sorry, this one can’t hold her liquor for shit.”

Pearl laughed, putting her arms around Violet’s waist and pulling her gently from her new best friend.

“Seems that way,” she said.

“Say goodnight, Courtney,” Adore said.

“Goodnight, Courtney,” echoed the blonde sadly, looking over her shoulder with one final wave, then stumbling, nearly pulling Adore to the ground in the process. “Oops.”

Violet watched them, still giggling to herself, then allowed Pearl to guide her outside towards a row of taxis.

Pearl had never seen her hammered like this. Violet was a giggly, blushing, cuddly mess, and she had never been more adorable.

They were nearly inside the cab when Violet’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Pearl! Wait-” Violet grabbed for the door. “Wait wait wait wait.”

“What?” Pearl reached over her, grabbing her hand and furrowing her brow. “Are you okay?”

“Trixie!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pearl we left Trixie behind!”

Pearl had to bite her lip not to smile, since Violet seemed genuinely distressed. “Trixie left with Katya and Max over 2 hours ago,” Pearl explained patiently. “He’s probably all snuggled up in his jammies, fast asleep.”

“Oh.” Violet’s shoulders relaxed as she slumped onto the seat. “Okay. That’s… That’s good.” Violet yawned a little, covering her mouth with her hand. “I wish I was wearing pajamas.”

This time, Pearl did actually snort. Violet was the only person she knew who could be near black out drunk, but still insisted on calling it pajamas.

“Do you?” Pearl couldn’t help asking, buckling her in. “What kind of pajamas?”

Violet gave her a sly smile, eyes half closed. “I’m not telling you that…”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head. Even drunk off her ass, Violet still managed to be more a mystery than not.

***

Trixie yawned as he made his way to the bedroom. He had brushed his teeth, swaying in place and humming to himself while he had done it.

Pearl hadn’t come home with them, Trixie was pleasantly tipsy, and he couldn’t wait to spend the night on some private time with his girlfriend.

Trixie opened the door, to see Katya who was standing by the mirror, brushing her blonde hair. She was perfectly sober, their eyes meeting in the mirror, and Katya broke into a giant smile.

“Hey cutie.”

“Hi.” Trixie couldn’t help but blush as he crawled onto the bed, the temptation to shake his ass too great to resist, and the move earned him a loud laugh from the woman he loved.

Katya was the beginning and the end of his world, and all he ever needed. He could listen to her all day, her laughs and giggles, her hyena fits and even when she snorted, all filling him with joy.

Trixie was more than ready to burrow into the pillows, and wait for Katya to finish her hair so she could come defile him, when he felt something that was horribly, horribly wrong.

One of the decorative pillows on the bed, the blue one, was all flat.

“Katya?”

“Mmh?” Katya was braiding her hair, her long fingers running through it.

“Did you wash the pillows?”

“Yes, isn’t it nice?”

“Mmmh..” Trixie picked the pillow up, gently trying to fluff it, to get it back to how it had been before Katya had thrown it in the washer but it was definitely dead.

“Shit.” Trixie whispered. He felt sad, the pillow one of his preferred companions on many a long night whenever he took “special” time with himself.

“What’s with the long face, sugarbutt?” Katya crawled onto the bed too, and Trixie could see that she was wearing nothing beneath her silk robe, the look in her eyes telling him that she was more than ready to fuck.

“I don’t have a long face, a round one, maybe, but not long.”

“You’re perfect.” Katya smiled, her hands gliding over Trixie’s scalp and grabbing what little hair he had, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. “Now come on, you’re drunk and I want a piece of you before you pass out.”

Katya smirked, and caught him again, the two of them falling back on the bed.

Trixie tried to enjoy the kiss, but he couldn’t calm down, couldn’t let go of the fact that their washed pillows were filling him with something that almost felt like annoyance.

“Katya?”

“Mmh?” Katya had practically crawled in his lap, her legs on either sides of him, his hands on her hips.

“It was my special pillow.”

“What?” Katya stopped, her face the perfect picture of confusion. “Your special pillow?”

“You know,” Trixie closed his eyes. He was pretty sure that sober him would never say this, but drunk him had no such problems, “for when you’re gone.. And I, you know, miss you…”

“Wha-”

Trixie could feel himself blush, his cheeks burning.

“Wait. You mean. Oh, oh, ooooooooh. Really?”

Trixie wanted to die, his insides feeling like hot liquid, the shame painful, but also so delicious, his cock growing fully hard, and he knew Katya could feel it.

“Show me.”

“… Show you?”

Katya nodded, the woman quickly getting out of Trixie’s lap, sitting against the headboard, her hand gently going over Trixie’s face.

“Please me sweet boy, and I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Trixie closed his eyes, his heart hammering away as he pushed down his pajama pants, the pillow stuffed underneath him by Katya.

Trixie wanted nothing more than to serve, making Katya happy the most important thing in his life.

***

Violet blinked, her brain feeling like it could run out of her ear the first chance it got. “Ow…” Violet tried to turn over to go back to sleep, but her body felt like it was made of stone.

“There’s water and painkillers on the nightstand, but you need to get ready because you have work in a few hours.”

Horror slowly washed over Violet’s whole body, turning her blood to ice, as she realized who the voice belonged to and that the bed she was in was definitely not her own.

“Oh no, no no no no.” Violet looked around, ignoring the hammering pain in her head.

Pearl was lying next to her in nothing but a cotton bra and panties, a smirk on her face. Violet looked down, slowly realising that she was wearing one of Pearl’s t-shirts, and that was when it hit her.

“Did we, oh god- Why am I wearing” Violet could feel her throat close up, panic clawing under her skin. “What happened- Pearl, did we- Did we… Did we have sex?”

“Wow.” Pearl raised an eyebrow, “Is the idea of fucking me really that terrifying, ViVi?”

“I can’t remember anything after Adore bought that last round of shots...”

Violet felt like she was going to have a full blown panic attack trying to figure out what happened after they left the club.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Violet. Relax, please.” Pearl reached out, gently petting Violet’s back. The sensation of Pearl’s palm - warm through the cotton of her t-shirt - was tantalizing, but Violet couldn't enjoy it at all.

“Nothing happened last night, I promise.”

“And why would I believe that?” Violet could feel tears threaten to fall, shame welling up in her stomach. “I wake up, and I can’t remember, you’re not wearing any clothes, I’m not in my dress- I’m not even in my apartment and I- I-”

Violet had to fight not to cry, not because she was disgusted at the idea that she had maybe slept with Pearl, but because she couldn’t remember anything at all. It was scary not to have any idea what she had done, but it was terrifying to think that she had wrecked her chance of a relationship with Pearl, or even worse, that she had ruined their friendship.

“Violet, listen to me.” Pearl turned Violet’s head so she could look her in the eyes, her thumb gently gliding over her cheekbone. “Nothing happened, I promise.”

Violet bit her lip, looking into Pearl’s blue blue eyes.

“I brought you here to help sober you up. I tried to give you some coffee without waking Katya and Trixie, but you passed out before I had the chance.”

Violet felt her throat relax, her breath slowly returning to normal.

“I undressed you since no one should sleep in Alexander McQueen.” Pearl smirked. “Imaging your horror if you had creased your dress.”

Violet snorted. “I guess…”

“And Violet-” Pearl smiled, grabbing her pillow and putting it back under her own head. “If we had actually fucked, I promise you would remember.”

Violet had to laugh at that, shaking her head at Pearl’s cockiness.

“You should probably start getting ready. I know your whole look probably requires a lot of primping, and it’s almost 6:30.”

“What?!”

***

Violet felt like a group of tiny dwarves had taken up shop inside her head, even the sound of her own nails on her computer keyboard too much.

Violet had rushed to work that morning, none of her usual calm present as she had practically verbally abused a taxi driver when he took a wrong turn. She had felt so bad she had thrown an extra ten dollars in his face, but the day had just gone downhill.

Thankfully Fame had been kind to her that morning, in an unusually sweet mood, not even commenting on the fact that Violet wore sunglasses indoors, even accepting the first breakfast with no complaints of the coffee being a little cold.

Alaska had called after lunch, her normal high pitched ‘hiiiiie’ feeling like a red hot poker forcing its way through her brain.

***

Fame was reading an email when Pearl came into the office, wearing sunglasses with shades the size of plates. Fame smiled; Pearl looked as bad as she knew Violet felt, and oh how she loved to see her pets get what they deserved.

“You sent for me, Miss.”

“Close the door.”

Pearl smiled, quickly obeying Fame.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Seducing my staff to go drinking on a weekday, paralyzing my poor assistant.”

Pearl snorted, a cheek grin on her face.

“Did you know that Violet gave me her own coffee this morning,” Fame held up her cup, Violet’s name scrawled on the side, “without even noticing?”

“I’m sorry Miss, that wasn’t my intention.” Pearl smiled, the air crackling with sexual tension. Fame loved teasing Pearl, loved playing this game of pretend between them.

“Perhaps not, but the damage has been done,” Fame said, keeping her tone cool and even, looking directly into Pearl’s eyes.

“Let me make it up to you, Miss,” said Pearl. Her sleepy voice with just a hint of rasp from last night’s debauchery made the offer implicitly sexy.

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Fame asked. She drummed her nails on the arm of her chair as she leaned back.

“Maybe not, but I can have fun trying.” Pearl took a few steps forward and dropped to her knees.

“Hm.”

Fame looked down at her lovely face, reaching down to remove her sunglasses.

“Please, Miss?” Pearl placed a kiss against her knee, lifting the hem of her skirt slowly.

“Fine,” Fame said, voice resigned as if she was indulging Pearl and not the other way around. “But be quick.”  

***

On Thursday morning, when Max stopped by Fame’s office to drop off a batch of photos with the new sample clothes, he noticed that Violet looked out of sorts.

To a stranger she probably looked perfectly poised, but Max could see it in the way her ponytail wasn’t completely tight, could see it in the way she kept sipping water.

So later that day, during a creative meeting which meant Fame was out of the office, he returned with coffees and a little bag of croissants, gently asking if she had time for a short break. She’d accepted the coffee gratefully, but hesitated about the pastry.

“They’re still warm, if that helps,” he said, and that seemed to seal the deal.

Violet reached into the back and pulled one out, sinking back into her chair with a sigh as Max settled on the sofa.

“It’s been a rather hectic week, hasn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” Violet smiled, shaking her head.

“Anything I can assist with?” Max offered.

“No, I just...I really need to find a candidate, any candidate for the assistant position that Fame will at least consider.” Violet sighed. “The last few didn’t exactly-”

“Go well?” Max guessed.

“That’s generous, and I have no idea where I went wrong.” Violet groaned. “Fame needs someone who can do well, who can support her in everything. Everyone so far has been more than qualified, one of them even worked as an event planner, and yet, she sent them all away without a second though.”

“That sounds like her.” Max smiled.

“If she won’t accept people who are organized and experienced…” Violet trailed off, eyes going to the resumes littering her desk, creases in them telling Max how many times she’d been through them. “I don’t know what to do.”

Max pondered her dilemma. Of course, considering their boss’s desire for perfection, it would make sense for Violet to bring in these competent professionals with years of experience. On paper, that made perfect sense.

But there was another side to Fame, one with which Violet was probably less familiar.

“Have you considered…” Max paused. He needed to be careful to phrase this correctly. “You know how she loves to cultivate talent. To discover people, so to speak. So while it’s important to bring in people who are smart and capable...perhaps consider someone a bit more...green?”

Violet tilted her head, brow furrowed. It seems that offering up fresh young faces simply hadn’t occurred to her.

“You never know,” Max said, “But she may very well appeal to someone eager and ready to learn. And, uh...aesthetically pleasing, shall we say?”

“I guess... “ Violet’s eyes drifted back to the resumes on her desk, realization dawning on her face as she pulled one from the pile. “It’ll be worth a shot. Thank you Max.”

“Don’t mention it,” Max said with a wry chuckle. “Really. Don’t mention it. HR would probably not appreciate the way I phrased that.”

“Probably not.” Violet laughed, and they clinked their paper cups together.

[skincarebeautymakeuptips]

Everyday Makeup Products for Zoom School

Learn in a beautiful way with everyday makeup products

Remember that feeling of rolling out of bed and doing your 15-minute everyday makeup routine (thanks, YouTube!) before running out the door for school? Quarantine may have halted that last part, but an everyday makeup routine is just as essential now that you’re heading back to the classroom in a new way: over Zoom. 

In fact, it’s probably even more important now to invest in the right concealer and lipstick shade when you’re learning in the virtual sense. The last thing you need is to look washed out or have blemishes accentuated by the HD camera on your Macbook, and everyday makeup can do wonders for your self-care and self esteem during these uncertain times.

Things are definitely a bit different at school than they were last year, but you can still wow your new classmates with beautiful everyday makeup. All you need is a bit of concealer, brow gel, and perhaps a bit of sparkle… and you can do it all while wearing pajamas. Mira is here with a bit of Beauty 101 as we share our favorite everyday makeup products to make a statement this school year.

Boy Brow by Glossier, $16

Fun fact: Boy Brow is Glossier’s best selling product of all time. Why? Because it’s the everyday makeup product that makes everybody feel beautiful and on their best brow game. This brushable, creamy wax gives you impeccable arches that look completely natural, yet perfectly precise. You could tell your virtual classmates over Zoom that you’re not wearing any makeup products and just woke up like this, even if it’s definitely not true, because Boy Brow looks that effortless and will be your best brow secret throughout the rest of quarantine. Oh, and did we mention that it even contains Oleic Acid, Lecithin, and Atelocollagen to smooth and condition your brows?

Shape Tape Concealer by Tarte, $27

Every beauty influencer’s favorite concealer turns 20 this year, and believe us when we tell you that Shape Tape lives up to the hype. Very few makeup products cover dark circles and instantly brighten up your look the way this cult favorite does, and the top Mira ratings for blendability, hydration, and anti-creasing mean that you’ll always be able to say “bye bye” to dark under eyes and care for the delicate skin in this area. If you’re in the mood for a more advanced beauty look before class, this everyday makeup also works as a great highlighter when contouring your face!

Natural Matte Eyes Eye Shadow Palette by Too Faced, $59

When in quarantine, a little eyeshadow can go a long way in making you feel pretty. Or in this case, own your pretty with one of your favorite pink and powerful beauty brands. Natural Matte Eyes Eye Shadow Palette has 30 shimmer and matte shades to beautifully blend your everyday makeup looks for more than a few compliments on your Zoom call. Eyeshadow isn’t as much effort as you may think, as you can just add a simple wash of color over your lids for an instant boost of beauty. Or you know, show off your skills with a magnificent halo eye or cut crease… there are no rules in everyday makeup!

Extra Illuminating Moisture Balm by Bobbi Brown Cosmetics, $69

Casual reminder that staying inside doesn’t mean that you should skip out on your skincare routine. This is a time for sheet masks and a sparkly moisturizer, like this one from Bobbi Brown Cosmetics! It’s extra in the best way, made with ultra-fine pearl pigments to energize tired skin and restore your natural radiance. Wear it alone as it absorbs into the skin for your most gorgeous complexion, or get that dewy glow by wearing it under your foundation. It looks natural and radiant, yet extra at the same time. What more could you want in an everyday makeup product?

BB Cream by NYX Professional Makeup, $13

You can’t have a list of everyday makeup without BB cream, the #1 product to hydrate your skin and give you a dreamy, dewy glow with minimal effort. And you can always count on NYX to deliver affordable, high quality products that enhance (but don’t change!) your natural beauty. Apply this BB cream before a Zoom meeting for a burst of moisture and confidence.

Tinted Moisturizer SPF 20 by Laura Mercier, $43

You may have heard that skincare comes before makeup, and while that’s generally true... you can totally have your tinted moisturizer and wear it too. This cult favorite by Laura Mercier has nearly perfect reviews on Mira Beauty, with guests writing that it lasts for hours, looks beautiful and bright, and feels extremely lightweight on your skin. All ages, all skin types, all different tastes in makeup, you’re sure to fall hard for this everyday makeup. It gives you a luminous glow that looks lovely on camera, and contains SPF to protect against sun damage even while staying inside.

Glow Kit - Sugar by Anastasia Beverly Hills, $40

Tinted moisturizer is ideal for subtle radiance, but you’ll need a highlighter to glow all out on your Zoom conference call. And don’t think it’s only for glam looks, as you can easily incorporate this sparkly must-have into your everyday makeup routine. Just sweep a bit onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead for a little shimmer that will definitely make you want to keep checking yourself out in the camera during your call (we’ve all done it,) or try a few highlighter hacks for something a little more subdued. Our favorites? A tiny dab of highlighter in the inner corners of your eyes to help you look instantly more awake and alert, or placing a bit of product in the Cupid’s bow area to fake a plumper pout.

Volum' Express The Colossal Big Shot Washable Mascara by Maybelline, $8

Here at Mira Beauty, mascara has a special place in our hearts. And also our beauty collections. It’s one of the best beginner products that many of us began using at the start of our makeup journey, and it’s never let us down when we want to look simply beautiful, but not too OTT. Even if you haven’t touched your falsies in months, a drugstore mascara like the Volum' Express The Colossal Big Shot by Maybelline can help frame your eyes and give you the long, luxurious lashes you desire. Just apply a coat or two and you’ll be good to go with any everyday makeup look!

Balm Dotcom by Glossier, $12

Ah, Glossier. The go-to beauty brand when you want to look natural, but still get that flawless skin that dreams, and Instagram filters, are made of. But you can’t get your lips get lonely either, which brings us to Balm Dotcom. This lip balm is packed with antioxidants and natural emollients to hydrate and nourish dry, chapped lips, and it’s available in seven flavors like Birthday and Coconut to make your Zoom calls more fun. Get a taste (literally) of natural beauty as this everyday makeup leaves a subtle tint and hydrates your pout with rich ingredients like Castor Oil, Beeswax, and Lanolin.

The Multiple by NARS, $39

Mood: all monochrome’ed out with nowhere to go. Except you know, a Zoom class with tons of people to compliment the beautiful color on your eyes, cheeks, and lips. As the name suggests, The Multiple by NARS is a multipurpose tool that saves you time and money while you apply one shimmery, spectacular shade onto every feature of your face. Celebrities love to own this look on the red carpet, and wearing it may just make you forget about the fact that you’ve been staying inside for months. Choose from a range of shades, including a shimmery tangerine like Puerto Vallarta, rose gold like G-Spot, or Copacabana for a sparkly pink, pearlescent hue that you’ll never want to put down.

Vitamin C Serum by Mario Badescu, $45

Your everyday makeup look needs a friend, and its name is Vitamin C. Many forget just how important this nutrient is, as it’s basically essential to the skin... yet isn’t produced naturally by the body. But don’t worry, there’s a serum for that. It’s made by your favorites at Mario Badescu (AKA, a VSCO girl’s favorite brand) to give your skin a burst of brightness while evening out complexion for better makeup application.

Matte Liquid Liner by NYX Professional Makeup, $8

There’s just something about eyeliner that can make you feel more put together, even when you’re really, really not. It’s one of Mira’s favorite everyday makeup products to put your eyes on full display throughout your conference call, and the options are endless with the Matte Liquid Liner by NYX. Use the felt tip pen to create an epic wing, or just apply a line on the top lid for simple beauty. At under $10, Matte Liquid Liner is used by tons of influencers and celebrity MUA’s. Why? Because the ultra-black, matte formula means that it won’t reflect the light in strange ways while on camera, making this liner perfect for your Zoom calls.

Glitter & Glow Liquid Eye Shadow by stila, $24

“This is seriously the best glitter eyeshadow I've ever used! The pigment is great, zero fall out, and stays on all day.” Mira reviews are all about the Liquid Eye Shadow by Stila, as it looks magnificent on your eyes and won’t give you the creasing or shadow fall out that most powders will. While this formula looks like it was made for more dramatic makeup looks, don’t let the shimmer fool you. More subtle shades like Wanderlust or Dollish create the illusion that you just spent an hour perfecting your sparkly eyeshadow, even though you spent like five minutes and it still looks perfect. Pair it with Stila’s Stay All Day Waterproof Liquid Eye Liner to be the true star of your conference call!

Insta-Blush by Revlon, $12

Living the cream. Or dream… probably both with this everyday makeup must-have by Revlon. The “Insta” in the name of this cream blush refers to several things. For one, it gives you a sheer, natural finish in seconds that suits any makeup look. It also looks subtle enough on camera to give you just the right amount of color on your Zoom calls, without looking too clown-like or risking the HD Macbook camera picking up any streaks. In fact, certain shades of the Insta-Blush are so lightweight and blendable that it can even double as a contour stick!

Brow Powder Duo by Anastasia Beverly Hills, $23

Don’t underestimate the power of powder. Brow powder, that is. Anastasia Beverly Hills is likely one of the first brands that come to mind when you hear the word “brows,” and for good reason. You won’t be disappointed with this long lasting and volumizing powder that lifts your arches and creates the ideal shape for everyday makeup. It’s been proven that brows are the most noticeable feature on your face, and you’ll draw attention in the best way with ABH in your collection.

From the classroom to Zoom, learn more about all your favorite everyday makeup products on Mira.

Source: Everyday Makeup Products for ZOOM School 

[rebelwriter95]

Rules, Memories, and Other Uncomfortable Things.

Hiiii okay here we are!! Chapter One of my first fic! I'm really excited to show this to yall, I hope it came out okay. Just a note, the title of this might change and when it does I'll let you know before I change it. A big thank you to @whispersweetliestome for reading through it for me!! 😘

Word Count: about 2170.

Chpt 1/?

Rating: T *As a general warning. Might up the rating as we go. We'll see chapter by chapter :)

Warnings: Angsty. Does Mando count as a warning?

Chapter One

The sun was high in the sky by the time I finished weeding the garden. Standing up, I dust my hands off and then absentmindedly lean on the post of the fence behind me. I stare off into the distance, caught in my endless parade of thoughts again.  Life has been surprisingly good since I settled down. Boring, but good. I mean, what else did I expect when I decided to become a farmer? Sure there were some days when I miss my old life. It was a hard, dangerous, and sometimes nasty life, but it was my life and I was damn good at it.  

Something shiny catches my attention and I’m flooded with memories once the glistening figure comes into focus. All at once, my breath catches in my chest and I become acutely aware of how all of my nerve endings now feel like they’ve been zapped with a bolt of lightning. Why now, of all times, does he choose to come back? Things had just started to fall into place and feel somewhat normal. I try to focus on steadying my breathing, but it’s too late and I start to get lightheaded. I reach out a hand to catch my balance. Instead of finding the fence post, a warm leather-clad hand grabs onto my bare one and holds it tight. “It’s been so long”, a disembodied modulated voice rumbles. ‘Not long enough’ almost makes its way past my trembling lips. I continue to stare down at the boots across from mine own, afraid to look at the owner of the deep voice. 

** You reach out and grab onto the hand offered to you. “It’s been so long, I can tell.” No need to see his face, you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to rub it in…” you trail off as you brush the dust off your pants. “Again!” you call, falling into place. You crouch in a staggered stance stance so that your right leg is behind you. After raising your fists in a defensive position just high enough to see above them, you wait for your partner to do the same. He chuckled and copied your stance. Left foot moves over right, then right foot steps back out. Repeat. It’s a careful dance the two of you share as you size up your opponent once again. Lunging forward on your left foot, you sweep your right leg out to try to throw the Mandalorian off his feet. Taking the bait, he jumps it cleanly and you seize the opportunity to quickly shift your body to tackle him as soon as his feet touch the ground. You land with your right forearm against his chest plate and knees on either side of his hips, effectively pinning him to the ground. Before you could say something witty, you feel the barrel of his blaster press into your soft (vulnerable) side. “Not bad, I guess” he chuckles. You cock your head to the side and tap the top of where his beskar chest stops with the small hidden knife in your right hand. “You guess?” **

A gentle cough pulls me out of my thoughts. Giving in, I slowly look up to the helmet that taunts my dreams late at night. A million questions run through my mind as I drink in the sight of him. Sure I was still mad at him, but that never stops the longing in my soul from calling out to him. I guess he finally answered. “What do you want?” I asked him after I found my voice. 

He takes a step closer to me and replies deeply, “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I hang my head to try to hide the flush that is crawling quickly across my cheeks; knowing full well that respect should be shown at all times, no matter how badly things may end. His hand squeezes mine comfortingly while his free hand reaches up to stroke my cheek. I jerk back slightly before he makes contact. He sighs and his hands fall to his sides. Stepping around him and out of the fenced off area, I start walking back to my wooden abode. “Well, come on then. I’d at least like to clean my hands before you explain what life or death situation brought you to my doorstep.” I throw over my shoulder.  

Wiping my hands dry on a rag, I turn to where he’s leaning against my counter. “So, what brings you here?” He pauses, seemingly to gather the right words. “I need your eyes.” My eyes narrow and quickly dart over the chest that lays covered in dust, lingering in the shadows of the corner. “What makes you think I’d help?” I all but snarled at him. His head cocked and I mentally kicked myself for being a brat again. I rubbed my temples and started again. “Look around Mando. What makes you think that I would give all this up?” He pushed himself off the counter and stalked toward me. He set a small puck next to me then leaned in and said, “Because this isn’t who you are, and you know it.” I look down and finger the beat-up device before picking it up.

** “I had it covered you know” You claimed. “Oh so that’s what you call that little move? I’m not sure how almost falling off a cliff constitutes as ‘having it covered’“ he grunted. You drop the arm you were pulling to cross your arms and glare at the Mandalorian across from you, not that he could see the look on your face given the helmet shielding your faces. You wait until he turns to you and sighs, dropping the arm he has been dragging, to start talking. “Look.. You’re right. I lost my focus which caused me to lose my footing. If it hadn't been for you, this criminal here” You kicked him for added effect “would have gotten away. “I’m sorry.” He just nods in response, then bends over to pick up his designated arm. “Come on, we need to get him in the cryo freeze chamber before he wakes up.” You squat to pick up your arm, and then continued back to the ship. 

Once back on the Razorcrest, the two of you wrestle with the now conscious thief, trying to get him into the chamber. “Come on, stop fighting it,” you grit your teeth. “Look, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” You laugh to yourself at your own witty one liner, and you think you can make out a faint chuckle from the armor-covered bounty hunter to your right. The criminal seizes the opportunity to slip loose and shoulder-charge you. You recover quickly and throat punch him, then you use all your strength to shove the burly creature into place so the Mandalorian can hit the button that initiates cryo freeze. 

Rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms above your head, you glance around trying to find the little device you had placed on a ledge near the chamber before going out on the hunt this morning. Once it was located and in your hands, you turn to face the 6’8” tall man. “Are you ready?” you asked. He turned to see what you were talking about and immediately put his hand up in a “surrender” gesture. “Woah, hold on. That’s not happening.” He protested. You practically skip over to where he and the frozen form are still situated. “Come on, you said you would! Besides. It’s just one picture and it’ll be our little secret, I promise!” You wiggle in place just a tiny bit as a sort of silent plea. He signs heavily and shakes his head. “Be quick about it.” He finally replies after what felt like an eternity. You hold up the disk out in front of the two of you, posed in front your first bounty. “Say carbonite!” you laughed. Right before you took the snapshot, you quickly stuck your finger close to the frozen figure, in the direction of his snout.**

I chuckle quietly to myself, recalling the messy day that holoframe was taken. It was my first bounty by myself, some mid-level smuggler that crossed the wrong people. You know, career jump-start type thing. While I was trying to take him down, I saw something move in the corner of my eye and I got distracted just long enough for the surprisingly agile creature to kick me in the chest and send me flying backward. Thankfully, the distracting something turned out to be none other than my teacher, whom I had thought stayed back on the ship. After that save, I learned to not only stay focused, but also always have one eye on one’s surroundings at all times. Well, learned is a strong word considering what was yet still to come between us. 

I go to stick my finger in the holographic creature’s nose for old times sake but the Mandalorian’s hand reached out and turned the puck off. “See? You haven’t changed one bit.” He spoke with a hint of wistfulness that comes from years of close contact. “Listen... You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and take a deep breath. This man needs to stop talking, like right now, because his voice had this dangerous habit of dragging me into unsavory situations. I take another, deeper breath and exhale completely before trying to hand him back the puck. “I’m not sure how much help I can be, seeing as, you know…” I trail off and gesture shallowly to my back with my free hand. An awkward silence blanketed the already quiet house. His large hand wraps around mine to close my hand around the small puck then leaned in close enough that I feared that he would hear the erratic beating of my pounding heart. “Whatever you decide, this belongs to you.” he rumbled lowly in my ear. After a moment, he spins on his heel and heads to the door. I glance down at the device in my hands, the one I thought was lost to me forever. As of their own accord, my feet walk me over to the chest that sits in that lonely corner. My treacherous hands take the key hidden under the worn, work-stained shirt I’m wearing and unlock the heavy contraption that keeps the old secrets and memories locked away. Fingers stretch outward to run along the smooth, thick material of my deep purple cloak, gently though, like touching it any harder would release all of the history that was so carefully and deliberately hidden away. 

Choice decided, I scramble to my feet and run after the Mandalorian stalking away from my house, toward the setting suns. His head turns so that it looks as if he’s glancing over his shoulder when he hears my pounding footsteps sprinting up to him. He slows to a stop so you can catch up to his long, strong strides. “Alright,” I agree. I can see his shoulders perk up a bit as it registers what I’m agreeing to. Nodding in reply, he tells me that he has a couple of things to take care of before leaving tomorrow at dawn. “You know the deal, pack only the necessities. I’ll be back tomorrow at sunrise to pick you up.” I grunt a quick yes sir to the order given to me, falling back into old habits a hell of a lot quicker than I want. Turning back toward the meager house I had built myself, I made a list of all of the items I would need, and which supplies I could grab for the trip that wouldn’t spoil. Opening up the chest once more, I wrap the cloak around the contents of the wooden crate and stuff it into the combat bag I have hanging off my shoulder, then I start packing the rest of my essential items. 

The next morning, I sit outside in the cool damp grass meditating on the rules I created for myself late last night instead of sleeping. Hearing the screams  of the Razorcrest’s engines, I stand and dust myself off. I steal one last glimpse behind me before I mutter a soft good-bye for the me I could have been. Facing forward again, I whisper a careful prayer. One about hope. About surviving the coming storm I know is bound to happen. You don’t just mash together you guys’ personalities and expect things not to get heated. I square my shoulders and walk confidently up the ramp to where my old friend stands waiting for me, a sight that holds such bittersweet emotions with it. It’s like a punch in the gut though, and I have to remind myself to keep things professional. Remember the rules, I thought to myself. Stay composed. This can not end like it did last time.

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober19 Day 27: A Night at the Opera

Prompt #27: Can you wait for me?

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

Rating: Teen (bit of swearing)

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50468477

“Come ooooooonnnn, angel! We’re going to be late.”

“Just a tick, dear,” Aziraphale called from the bathroom, where he’d been getting ready for at least the last half hour.

“Gnrfl.” Crowley leapt up from the bed and began pacing. “Honestly, angel, it’s just the opera. Nobody dresses up for the opera these days.”

“Some of us still have standards.” There was what sounded like the cascade of an entire shelf of bottles falling to the floor. “Oh, bother.”

“Just leave it, Aziraphale! We can clean up when we get back.”

“Won’t be a mo’.”

“Give me strength,” Crowley muttered. Aloud, he said, “Can I help, at least? Clean it up while you finish getting ready? Assuming that will ever happen.”

“No, no; you mustn’t see me until I’m ready. It would spoil the surprise. Can you wait for me just a bit longer, my love?”

As if he had a choice. “Whatever. But if they’re sold out of programmes when we get there, I absolutely refuse to listen to you complain. And I’m not miracling up one for you, either.”

“Of course. You said it’s a period production, yes? Not one of those modern adaptations?”

“I have met you, angel. Would I ever deprive you of the joy of picking apart all the costuming mistakes?”

“I do not do that!”

“Oh, please. When The Wives of Henry VIII put Katherine of Aragon in a French hood instead of a gable, you had a fit. Had to hear about that one for weeks.”

Aziraphale huffed from behind the closed door. “Well, that was just careless on their part. Kate would never have worn something so suggestive, let alone something so French.”

“Not really disproving my point here, angel.”

“Hush, foul fiend. You’re distracting me, and I’m almost done.”

“Don’t believe you. You’ve said that before. I think you’re going to spend the next six thousand years in there, doing who knows what.”

“I’m making myself beautiful for you, my dear.”

“You’re always beautiful, angel. You’re also making us very, very late.”

The door finally opened, and Aziraphale stepped out.

“Forget the fucking opera,” Crowley murmured. “You look amazing. Let’s just stay here.”

Seeing Aziraphale in a tuxedo was a rare treat indeed. The sleek black suited him, setting off his pale cheeks and bright eyes. Looking closer, Crowley noticed the angel had done something to play up his eyes: a suggestion of liner and mascara to bring out his pale lashes, a subtle smudge of taupe sparkles across his lids. Even his lips looked fuller, not painted so much as tinted to enhance the natural lush curves and warm pink.

“Not too much?” Aziraphale said, fretting just a bit with his fingers. “It’s been a while, and I’m out of practice.”

“Not too much. You just look . . . more-ish.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew wide open. “I beg your pardon?” he said coldly.

“Nonono, more-ish. not whorish.” Crowley enunciated more carefully this time. “Like my beautiful angel, only turned up to eleven.”

Aziraphale unruffled himself. “Good. I wanted to look good on your arm tonight.” He gave Crowley a once-over. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Well, not now I’ve seen what you’re wearing.” Even the angel’s hair was styled: he’d put some kind of product in it to form the usually unkempt waves into elegant defined curls that glistened in the bedroom’s light. Sighing, Crowley miracled up a tuxedo to match Aziraphale’s, but with a crimson cummerbund and tie instead of tartan. “How’s this?”

“Gorgeous, darling.” Aziraphale pecked him on the cheek, frowned, and rubbed his thumb over the smear he’d left. “Obviously the cosmetics manufacturers have a different definition of ‘smudge-proof’ than I do.”

Crowley grinned. “Leave it. I kind of like the idea of letting everyone know you’ve kissed me.” That earned him a warm smile.

“Shall we go?” Aziraphale produced a black silk top hat that barely showed the cake stains even Crowley’s miracles had been unable to eradicate. “After all your fuss about us being late, I’d hate to miss the first act. There’s no admittance once the overture starts.”

“Not the hat,” Crowley pleaded.

“It’s part of the outfit!”

“Yes, but it makes you look like a complete berk.”

“It’s elegant.”

“It’s a load of uncomfortable memories stuffed into a chimney pipe and wrapped in silk. And it still smells like rabbit poop. And it’ll mess up your hair: don’t want hat head when you’ve spent so much time on your hair.”

The threat of squishing his carefully arranged curls was what did it. “Perhaps not, then.” Aziraphale set down the hat and offered an arm to Crowley. “If we leave now, I think we should just make it in time.”

They did. Crowley even made sure there was a programme still available for his angel. If Aziraphale was going to treat their night out as something so special, it seemed like the least he could do in return.