#WHAT a character. and sketched surprisingly lightly too

[chamerionwrites]

The last time I played even a little bit of Skyrim was during a summer 2020 pandemic fugue and yet I still periodically get walloped upside the head by brief unlooked-for fits of Ulfric Stormcloak Fascination. Absolute catastrophe of a man but in such interesting and varied ways. Geological strata of fuckery.

[samson-the-whale]

So ... I made a self insert fore WIR ....ya

:]

Name: Scrapper/scrap

Gender: male (this mf bisexual)

Age: in his game like 20s to 30s if we go with his game age like 30s or 40s 

Game: Scrapper's scrape up

(its like punch out game mechanics game play wies)

Character interactions:

 Hc he gets pumped up easily and likes to push people in the shoulder lightly but really fast when he needs to let out that excitement (t can be like a charging up a special move in his game) and might accidentally leave a bruise 

When he does it to Ralph it tickles 

When he punches Felix he says ow but then hammers his arm and it heals

When he did it to Calhoun for the first time she hit him across the room because she thought he was picking fights and fucking K.Od him with that bitch slap

Then was kind of apologetic after Felix explained and yelled "oh shoot sorry" then Scrap still laying in the floor gives a thumbs up and a strained "I'm ok...it's ok"

 Also if he did the punching thing with Vanelopie she would just pixilate a bit and his punches would almost go through her shoulder kinda I think much like Ralph it would also just tickle 

Ralph:

Before the whole plot of the movie I like to think Ralph liked him but was kind of bitter "he has huge fists and smashes stuff why am "I" the villain?" XD

Ok ok 

So he and Ralph actually get along surprisingly well for you know one being the main character of his game and supposed "heroes" of the game  and the other is well the bad guy. They both like punching stuff and hav a give each other a high five or fist bump while walking by each other so like buddys

Felix:

Him and Felix are more like 

Felix: look at this cool thin-

Scrap: HOLLY CARP CHECK THAT OUT

Like literally one of the doodle sketches was Scrapper leapfrogging over felix to look at a new plugged in game 

So he kinda is an annoying brat towards felix but always makes it in good fun like he's messing around with him with never an intent to hurt his feelings (even when he goes too far and accidentally does)

Vanelopie:

So now we got Vanelopie

There's actually this running joke sorta where scrapper really likes bright colors becus how I imagine his game has a very limited color palette except him for aesthetically pleasing reasons

So he'd actually stay away from brightly colored areas out of comfort before becoming more enthralled in other colors hens his fixation with casualty visiting sugar rush when he's bored 

You may think oh then he must have met Vanellope while visiting 

Well actually no he bye dumb luck he never met her until after the events of the first movie 

So there knowing each other isn't really that strong yet 

But because of him and ralph eventually becoming friends he grew a liking to the spunky little girl calling her shortstack all the time (despite him being a similar height) and or squirt

In response Vanellope calls him oled man

Calhoun:

 Calhoun thinks he's like 12

He is not he's like 30-40 Like lectures him on his fighting form Thinks he's like inexperienced Finds him endearing if a little overbearing Finds his high energy useful in certain situations but exhausting at other times Is unsure...which fighting game he originates from Then bonding through duty or honor or avenging a loved one.

Sour bill (because I want more interactions and im hiperfixsaiting):

Scraper:Yoooooo a fellow rubber ball

Sour bill:what?

 Ima say this shit now they would drink tea together because yes Scrapper doesn't like coffee he drinks tea

Sonic (because I can):

Mf cameos in scrappers game in later levels for no reason just because funny

It's like the meme

Scrapper: sonic? What are you doing here?

Sonic in scrapper's game: waiting for them to play Gangdemstyle 

Ok so I forgot to put this in I was ryly hoped to post this but thanks to my friend @im-not-important fore spell correcting and helping come up with ideas(also did some of the Blu doodles in the Wight board drawings)

[twilightmalachite]

Poltergeist - Garbage Heap Sketch 3

Author: Akira

Characters: Madara, Natsume

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofer: Revoltrad

"In short… It’s just like playing hooouse!"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Maizuru House (Recreation Room)

About ten minutes later…

Madara: I’ve finished changiiing! After all, they say if you hang around in plain clothes, you might be mistaken for someone suspiciouuus!

Ooh! You’ve changed too, Anzu-san? You look cuuute! It reminds me of the old days, when we used to play house together as kids—

“Here you go Papa, today’s meal!” “Thanks Mama, I love you!”

…Hmm? Whaaat, why’re ya looking at me so distrustfully?

Hahaha, come to think of it, you already see me as a suspicious person who just claims he’s your childhood friend, don’t youuu…

Do you think I made up all those childhood memories too?

It’s true that the two of us really did play together, you knooow! Well, I am exaggerating somewhat.

Because you used to always be so quieeet! Come to think of it, when we’d play house, I’d just play the role of the dad, mom, and the kids all at the same tiiime!

And you’d just watch with a smile just like that. That was how we’d play house.

How nostalgic, hahaha!

Natsume: You guys look to be getting along surprisingly weLL.

Madara: Ah! Sorry sorry, I was chatting away and kept you waitiiing!

Natsume: I don’t miND. There’s no urgent work to be doNE, anywaYS.To be honeST, there’s no shortage of staff at this faciliTY—More than enouGH, in faCT.

If we don’t come up with work to do ourselvES, then we won’t have anything to do at aLL.

Madara: So, what kind of work…? What does it entail? I mean, I have a fairly good guess, but…?

Natsume: MhM. Here at the Maizuru House orphanaGE, MaM will be working as a nursery teachER.

The little kitten—Anzu-chan—and I will act as supporting roles for you theRE, Mikejima-senpai.

Madara: A nursery teacheeer… I don’t have any experience in that line of work, you know. Will that be okaaay? Don’t you need some sort of qualification for thaaat?

Natsume: Of courSE. It doesn’t matter if we’re not actually nursery teacheRS. This is just a job-showcase program that features idoLS, after aLL.

You'll work as an assistant to a real nursery teachER. You can just help out lightly as if it were a part-time jOB, okAY?

You don't even have to heLP, just pretend you are in front of the camera and that'll be good enouGH.

Madara: In short… It’s just like playing hooouse!

Natsume: YeP, it’s that category of pretend plAY. Projects like this are done oftEN. It’s not uncommon for entertainers to get thrown into various situations and experiencES, especially for web seriES.

In this case it would be “Let’s experience what it’s like to be a nursery teacher!” wouldn’t iT?

Madara: So a cheap project that looks like it was thought up in five minutes.

Natsume: You have a sharp tongUE, don’t yOU. The president seems to have done his best to come up with a MaM-like job like you wantED, you knOW.

MaM, as the name suggesTS, has the attributes of a maMA—A mothER.

Madara: A mother being someone who is supposed to love, care for, and nurture children?

Natsume: That’s the attributiON, yES. I know it sounds a bit old-fashionED, but the image you hold of a mother isn’t exactly the latest version eithER, isn’t iT?

Just put on your good ole old-fashioned mother act you have for the cameRA. That’s what you wished for, so you should be happy with thAT… RigHT?

Madara: Hmm. Well, I guess even I’m not sure what I was thinking about when I said I wanted a MaM-like job.

I might as well test out this job that the president so kindly considered for meee, then. It’s not like I can selfishly go “I don’t want to do this, I’m leaving,” anyways.

Natsume: That’s rigHT. You don’t want to take a how-many-hours long trip back to the Starmony Dorms all over agaIN, do yOU?

Even the mild-mannered president would be angry if you were to boycott a job so considerately given to yOU.

You would have to grab some souvenirs for him on the way baCK, at the very leaST.

Madara: I don't even think there are any shops where you can grab souvenirs around here…

The way to this place had nothing but untouched wilderness wherever I looked… Not even a siiingle house.

I was shocked to hear this was an orphanage. It’s more like an isolation ward or a prison.

Natsume: …It might be something like thAT.

Madara: Hm?

Natsume: It’s nothiNG. More importantLY: We’ve delayed this for a bit too long nOW, but allow me to give you a tour of the facility and introduce you to the rest of the staFF.

No more complaining about every little thiNG, and listen politely to what I tell you nOW, alrigHT?

Madara: Yeeees, Mama.

Natsume: Isn’t MaM supposed to be yOU? Goodness gracioUS.

[ ☆ ]

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[stitcheswashere13]

Slashers x Insecure reader Part 2

 There will be a part 3!  Part one is up! Kinda short, Written as a head cannon- like thing. Enjoy~

Includes: Brahms Heelshire, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Billy loomis & Stu macher.

Warnings: Sfw!/fluff , Insecure reader, Metions of: Scars, Blood, knifes. not proof read. 

Brahms Heelshire!:

He doesn’t quite understand this, He understands the feelings your having (he is also insecure about his face), But he doesn’t understand why you don’t find yourself attractive? He finds you very pretty.

Will kiss your marks (Birthmarks, scaring, stretch marks, ect.) And sometimes rub them, to try to help you find the beauty in them.

You don’t have to worry about anything, Brahms is there, and trust me say one thing bad about yourself & you will be covered in cuddles, kisses & Praises.

He will distract you by cuddling you, Im pretty sure Brahms will have you in his arms 24/7, Insecure or not.

He thins any marks or anything lie that adds character to a person, so sometimes he will get a bit upset if your covering yourself solely because you dislike your body/ something on your body.

He is good at helping you feel better about yourself, so if you are having trouble with anything, tell him.

Says things like” I love you no matter what, sorry darling, your mine”. Or “You look Pretty Love” (I use pretty/cute as gn terms)

Look at this wall rat boy, he loves you no matter what.

Bubba Sawyer!:

He feels so Bad that you feel this way, he understands what your feeling (I’m pretty sure anyone who has seen the leather face movies ,well at least the ones  with Bubba, you can tell.)

He is THE BEST. Person to tell your insecurities to because 1. he knows how to help ease your pain, 2. he doesn’t judge 3. he understands what you are going threw

Will kiss every part/area you hate.

His way to distract you is one of the two : Cuddles or him and you sowing.

He is so sweet, he will snap at his family if they say something a bit too hurtful

(Small head cannon) I think Bubba would love to draw, specifically people he loves, So I would think he has a page or two filled with drawings/sketches of you/ you and him together. 

Like Brahms he would get kinda upset about you covering yourself up do to you disliking a part of your body.

Its Bubba, He doesn’t care how you look. 

Thomas Hewitt!:

You say 1 thing bad about yourself he will look at you like you just cursed out his whole family. 

He understands what you are going threw, but he can’t really help what Hoyt says so most of the time (well all the times he can) You are by him or on his lap.

He will physically and mentally fight Hoyt. (i guess i will can it mentally) 

Will rub all of the marks you hate. (And if you can kiss them lightly)

I feel like he will try to drag you away from the mirror when you are looking in it a bit to long (He is worried and doesn’t want you to hurt yourself)

He makes sure you are healthy, Mentally and physically, so he will make sure you feel loved.

He is one of the leather faces, You really think he wouldn’t love you if you have something you don’t find attractive on your body. 

Billy Loomis! & Stu Macher!: 

(A few poly & a few not poly)

Poly: 

They Are over protective in general (Well mainly Billy but Stu does have his moments) But if you and insecure expect them to be even more protective.

One would rub the area/Marks you hate and one will lightly kiss them

They will distract you will affection. (Both will make sure you are loved) 

They will also distract you with watching movies. (mainly a Stu thing)

if even 1 person makes you cry they will be found dead, covered in blood. 

Just Billy:

Like I mentioned before, he is very Over protective, Badly overprotective

He understands you, and is surprisingly good at comforting, kinda has a therapist touch to him

He is so sweet and soft when it comes to these things

Will let you play with his hair if it helps you keep your mind off of these things.

Just Stu:

He trys to help you out by one of the three things : Having Billy tell him tips, Telling you bad dad jokes, or he just kisses every part/area/mark you hate. 

to distract you he will grab some popcorn and some drinks and put on a movie for you two

Another way he distracts you is that he will let you paint his nails

when I said that if one person makes you cry they will be found dead, lets just say Stu was the main culprit  surprisingly .

End Note! I hope this helps people who are feeling bad about yourself, Part 3 will be out soon, if you want to see what characters i write for or strories ive written check out my pinned post! Request Are open! Sorry if this is short! i hope you enjoyed! Byeee! Have a lovely day! <3

[xxlost-cityxx]

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: Rough anal sex, virgin Katsuki Bakugou, slight choking, slight piss kink/bladder control, brief spanking, rimming, bottom Katsuki, dom Kirishima, begging, crying, anal fingering, degredation and praise

I posted this on Ao3 literally last night, so enjoy.

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Stupid fucking Kirishima with his stupid fucking face and stupid fucking body-

Again. Once-a-fucking-gain. Katsuki was hard at work. Kirishima had simply aided Katsuki in a surprisingly powerful villain attack- even though everyone knew Dynamight had it under control. But Eijirou's help...made it easier to take down the villain- NOT that Katsuki needed his help in the first place. 

The villain landed a hit on Katsuki and he flew into a pile of concrete and wooden rubble, and the next thing he saw was Red Riot, unhardened, nearly body slamming the guy into a wall, digging his forearm and elbow into his neck and his knee between his legs. It looked painful for the villain and it looked like Ejirou was definitely holding back from completely crushing the dude's balls...But. The way Kirishima was looking at the guy, a stone cold face, a deadly glare he hasn't seen since the last time Eijirou had heard Monama talk back in U.A. He was mad. And Gods if that sight didn't make him pop a boner-

So now here he was. Virgin Katsuki pretending he was too good to be around all his druken friends who were surely getting laid tonight, meanwhile, all Katuski would do tonight is ride his dildo until the sun came up. 

Bakugou couldn't jack off. It wasn't really a fact, but he's pretty sure that any man would avoid jacking off with even a small risk that you might blow your own dick off, especially if you were gay. Gods bless the prostate. And really, it takes forever to cum riding 6 inches of colored silicone without touching your dick, but the point was, it got the job done and no one knew his secret to having 'thunder thighs' or some shit. He still remembers the first interveiwer who asked about his leg day routine, stating that he had entranced everyone with his thighs or some shit. He never thought he'd be referred to as 'thick' or whatever it was.

He took another shot of vodka, ignoring the pestering jealousy as he watched Kirishima dance with Denki. It was obviously platonic, not only did they repeatedly state in multible interviews that they were 'strictly bromance' and that they liked fucking with their fans's minds, Denki was dating Dead Eyes and Earphones. 

Bakugou wasn't even a little tipsy really, it took a lot to get him drunk. It took a lot to get any of them drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying. But Bakugou wasn't going to go home drunk and have drunken masturbation for 5 hours, never was his thing. So he'd stick to being sober for tonight. 

He growled as Kirishima's hand was on Denki's hip, Kaminari's back against Eijirou's chest. The much smaller blonde wiggled his hips against Kirishima's surely soft dick. Sero and Mina were laughing their asses off from their seats, Denki smirking and trying to be as dramatic and intimate as he could, a few phones recording them. 

Katsuki growled to himself, slamming the shot glass on the bar top so hard it slightly cracked. He stood up and grabbed his coat, oblivious to how red eyes quickly switched from watching the smiling and laughing faces of his friends to laser focused on the ash blonde in a split second. 

As Katsuki left the bar, he grumbled to himself until he was outside his place. 

An hour later, he was panting. It felt like his entire body was covered in lube by the time he was bouncing on the silicone properly. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the head bump into his prostate with practiced movements, usually a feeling that would have him gasping and shuttering, but he wanted this cock to be Kirishima's. He was sick and tired of riding an inanimate object that didn't praise him, didn't make noise, didn't cum. He wanted to be pinned and fucked so hard he would have to call off work the next day.

He whimpered as his toned thighs easily let him travel up and down the silicone. Silicone. He couldn't even get himself hard, he was soft, even with his ass stuffed and his prostate stimulated, he was soft. There wasn't a twitch, and even his prostate felt dull. 

He groaned to himself, sliding off the dildo and reaching for his phone. He quickly unlocked it and pulled up his gallery with his singular 'clean' finger, quickly going to his hidden folder and clicking on the picture that always got him hard. Kirishima did a photoshoot nearly 6 months ago, he was in a kimono that was completely opened with white pants that banded to his stomach. He stared at Katsuki through the picture, a belt in his big, tanned hand. He already felt his cock harden slightly, a small frown painting his face as that was like a weak attempt at mimicking his usual reaction to the picture. 

He slid back on the dildo propping his phone against his wall and started bouncing. He imagined those toned hands sliding against his back, barely touching him, and it was almost like he could feel it, his body twitching with slight interest. He imagined his voice, telling him to ride the dildo, training his hole for what was surely a monster cock, Eijirou too nice to let Katsuki destroy himself on his cock right off the bat...unless… What if he would just fuck him? And that got his reaction. His dick was fully hard now, but it wasn't aching with need like usual. 

What if Eijirou would slam into him as soon as the dildo was out? Would he let Katsuki adjust, or would he pound him into oblivion with the raw power his body held? 

He let out a moan, but the pleasure didn't last long as his phone started ringing. He nearly flinched, scowling at his phone for ruining what he worked hard for, but his face sofened as it was Kirishima calling him. 

His mouth went dry, his eyes slightly wide. He doesn't know what really compelled him to answer the phone, but as Kirishima's voice rang through the other end, he couldn't help but bite his lip and shift on the dildo. "W-What do you need, Dumbass?" He asked, cursing himself for starting his sentence off weak. "Haha- Hey, Kat! I just wanted to made sure you were okay. You hit that rubble pretty hard today, and you left earlier than usual." His cheery, sober, voice said. Katsuki closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips up the dildo, the familiar arousal burning in his stomach, finally. 

He stifled a whimper, "M' fine, Shitty Hair…." He pretended to grumble out, desperate to think of something to keep him on the line as long as possible. "That's great! I was a little worried, y'know. Didn't want to lose the manliest man I've even known since highschool!" He said, and Bakugou's heart did a mixture of dropping and fluttering. He felt guilty for trying to get off to his voice, clearly ignorant and innocent, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that he didn't refer to him as his best friend which would usually put him down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, gasping as he accidentally his his prostate. He dropping the phone, slapping a hand over his face. "Katsuki!? What was that?" Kirishima urgently called. Bakugou's dick was on fire, his body was alight with arousal, if only Kirishima knew. 

He hesitantly picked up the phone. "I'm f-fine~ Shitty Hair!" He replied, cursing himself for not stopping himself from slowly bouncing on the dildo again. 

Silence. 

He slightly wondered if he accidentally hung up, but there was still static. "I'm not stupid, Katsuki." Kirishima suddenly said. Bakugou froze. His voice was lower but soft, almost like he was hesitant to say it in the first place. "W-..What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, not daring to move on the dildo, even though he wanted to take advantage of Kirishima's tone so fucking bad. 

"Are you getting off right now?" Kirishima asked, Bakugou suddenly became aware of how slick and schelchy the lube was. Bakugou's throat closed up, his mouth too dry to produce words. "Fuck…" Kirishima whispered, the sound making Bakugou's eyes widen. "Are you trying to fuck with me…?" He asked, but Bakugou wasn't deaf to the distant sound of Kirishima nearly break checking himself. 

Bakugou whimpered quietly, but a part of him prayed that Kirishima heard him, and as his breath hitched over the phone, he knew he did. 

"Fuck-" Kirishima groaned. Bakugou gasped at the sound, bouncing on the plastic lightly once again, the lewd noises surely reaching the phone. "C-Come over." Bakugou's stern voice said, once again sounding weak in the beginning. "Already on my way." Kirishima nearly whispered back. 

Bakugou's body was on fire, every part of him was twitching. The call ended only a minute ago, and suddenly Bakugou's night was going to change who he was. He was hard, nervous, excited but horny above all else. As soon as he heard his front door open and nearly slam shut, Bakugou gasped, trying to let out his nerves. Heavy, fast footsteps made their way down his halls, and suddenly Bakugou was conscious about how he should present himself. 

He didn't have time, and so he let himself be cocky, leaning forward on his hands, arching his back and rolling his hips on the silicone gracefully, and it probably looked a little too good based on how smooth the action felt. But he didn't have room for his usual pride, Kirishima was stuck in the doorway with his mouth slightly open and wide eyes. Bakugou looked at him in the mirror to his side, and his eyes were staring at him. 

"Holy fuck.." He groaned, his hand slowly moving to his crotch, but he gripped the inside of his thigh. Mid. Thigh. 

Bakugou's eyes widened as he finally had the rough sketch of Eijirou's cock in his mind, and fuck he wanted to go stupid with cock. 

"C'mon…" Bakugou nearly whimpered, rolling his hips a little more dramatically. Kirishima groaned in the doorway, slowly walking into the room, Bakugou's position giving him the perfect view of his pink, glistening and stretched hole swallowing the silicone easily, the dildo's girth seemed pathetic to what Eijirou knew he had. 

Eijirou knelt down behind him, and as Katsuki smiled, expecting him to caress his body, that didn't happen. 

Kirishima quickly wrapped his hand around the smaller man's throat, yanking him back to meet his still clothed chest. Bakugou wheezed at the unexpected and sudden movement, but fuck if his own cock didn't love it already. 

"Riding this pathetic dildo while I was out there concerned about you, hm?" He darkly whispered, his finger tips lightly digging into his neck. Bakugou whimpered, wiggling his hips back, trying to get a feel for the man's clothed cock for himself. Kirishima sighed, almost in disappointment. "Tell me.. What were you thinking about? Riding this pathetic excuse of a dildo." He asked, talking right into Bakugou's ear. Bakugou let out a stuttering breath, squirming in Kirishima's sturdy grip. 

"Tell me." 

Bakugou gasped at his dark tone paired with his hand gripping his entire neck roughly. He wasn't used to feeling so small compared to someone else, but fuck he was loving it. 

"Y-You…" Bakugou gasped out as Kirishima loosened his grip just enough. "What about me..?" He asked, only slightly softer. 

Katsuki's cock was aching, begging for the same attention Eijirou was giving his throat. "H-How hard you would fuck me- How big your cock is…" Bakugou finally admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Kirishima hummed in his ear, his hand moving to the back of Bakugou's neck instead and pulling him up to his feet. Bakugou let out a guttural moan as he was ripped off the dildo still suctioned to the floor. 

Kirishima hummed, noting how the dildo really did look like a pathetic version of himself. 

Kirishima dragged Bakugou to his bed, glaring at the blonde when he tried to move. He pulled off his own shirt and pants quickly before joining him on the bed. Bakugou's eyes quickly widened at the sight, his mouth slightly open and his face slightly filled with fear and shock, but quickly replaced with determination. "Better fucking prep me, asshole." Bakugou spit out, laying on his back. 

He didn't expect Kirishima's rough nature to continue though. Eijirou glared at Bakugou before swiftly gripping his neck and pinning him further into the mattress. "Excuse you? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now? Order me around again, I fucking dare you." Kirishima spit out a look of fake disgust on his face. Bakugou was shocked by the moan that left him, more than happy with his decisions from tonight, at least so far. 

He yelped as Kirishima's hand left his neck and grabbed his hips instead. Kirishima pulled his ass into the air, Bakugou's legs spreading automatically, falling to almost meet his chest. "W-What are you gonna do?" Bakugou asked, eyes wide with arousal. "None of your fucking buisness." Kirishima spit out, digging his thumbs into the stretched pink muscle. Bakugou gasped as Eijirou pulled his rim apart, testing just how stretched he was. 

Bakugou saw his cock when he took off his pants, the way it weighed itself down, how his fingertips would definetly have trouble touching each other, and the fucking length- he wondered if Kirishima would actually show through his stomach…

As Kirishima added a finger to stretch and play with his rim, he decided to take down the roughness, only for a couple seconds though. "Use the traffic light system, okay?" He almost ordered, wanting to keep the same sexual energy but also let Bakugou know there was a safe way out. Bakugou's breath stuttered and he quickly nodded, having read enough fanfiction about being fucked by Kirishima and having done enough research to know something as simple as the traffic light system, and he's so fucking green.

Bakugou didn't expect a tongue to enter him though.

Bakugou nearly shouted, gripping at the sheets before pathetically trying to reach for the other man's head. "N-No!" Bakugou shouted, but it was moan filled and an empty request. Kirishima's eyes shifted to Bakugou, lapping his tongue over the blonde's rim before softly shoving it inside as far as he could. 

Bakugou was squirming around at the foregin feeling, gasping every time he moved his tongue, it felt so warm, soft and perfectly wet. 

Kirishima took his mouth away, licking his lips as he roughly slammed 3 fingers into the unsuspecting hole. He quickly spread them as far as he could, Bakugou's gasp turning into a pained moan. As Kirishima softly stroked his slightly pulsing insides, Bakugou was panting with wide eyes. "Beg." Kirishima ordered darkly, jamming his fingers into Bakugou as far as he could, hitting his prostate hard. 

Bakugou moaned out, caving in on himself because of how Kirishima held his ass up. But he wouldn't beg. 

After a few seconds of soft finger thrusting and no begging, Kirishima picked up the pace, slipping one of his fingers out, knowing Katsuki won't like the lack of fullness anymore. He jams his fingers into his prostate every time, Bakugou's eyes nearly crossing as he tries to arch his back but just keeps caving in on himself. 

"Fucking. Beg." "F-Fuck you.." Bakugou responds, his voice shakey, the defiance fake and fragile. Kirishima's eyes narrow, a frown forming on his lips. "Fine." He replies, shifting one hand to Bakugou's abdomen and pressing, pleased with the slight fullness under a specific layer of muscle. He continued to slam into his g-spot, Bakugou's eyes widening and getting slightly watery. "W-Wait-!" Bakugou moaned out loud, slight panic coating his oh so beautiful face. The tip of his penis kept rubbing against Kirishima's arm, and he knew so much stimulation was working against him. He was either going to beg or piss himself. 

"S-Stop! Too much- T-Too fucking much! I have to go you f-fuckkk-ing lunatic!" He moaned out, grabbing at Kirishima's arms. "Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, or you're going to piss yourself, get your clean sheets dirty, all unsatisfied and embarrassed. Poor little Katsuki couldn't hold his little blatter while I fucked you with my fingers." Eijirou cooed, tiliting his head a little before bending down and licking along the back of his thigh to the crease of his ass. He travels up to his sack and licks him firmly with the flat of his tongue. 

Katsuki screams.

His clawing becomes frantic, and he's sure he's sobbing, but he's no match for even Kirishima's strength. "N-No! Ei- Stop! I-I'm gonna pee!" Katsuki cries, thrashing around as much as he can. But as Eijirou gently sucks in one of his balls, his resolve snaps. "Please! Please, please, please!" Katsuki finally cries, Eijirou's fingers slowing down and his hand letting up on his blatter. He moves away from Katsuki's cock and smirks down at the red and teary face below him. 

"Please what?" He asks, Bakugou's eyes widening. "P...Please… Please fuck me… I want you to fuck me with your fat cock!" He cries, tears falling from his eyes. 

Eijirou sighs, content with his work. "Good boy~" He coos, swiftly plunging 2 more fingers inside and spreading them. Katsuki gasps, looking up at Kirishima who refuses to look away from his face. 

As Kirishima slowly pulls out, he bends over and grabs the lube from the floor, popping open the cap and pouring it into Katsuki. He flinches and wines at how cold it is, and Eijirou just travels the bottle to his cock, rubbing his hand over it and coating everything with lube. 

As he sloppily closes the bottle, he moves Katsuki onto his stomach, Bakugou groaning as he was finally out of that horrid position. 

Kirishima places the tip at his entrance, kissing Bakugou's nape, and right as Bakugou prepares for a dreadfully slow slide. Kirishima slams into the hilt. Bakugou's eyes shoot wide and his thrusted up further into the bed with the force, his mouth dropping open as a horrid moan filled scream leaves him. 

This is it….he's not a virgin anymore…

He feels nothing but cock, painfully perfect cock that makes it hard to breathe.

Kirishima groans at the tight feeling, his body shaking as he convinces himself not to fuck Katsuki into oblivion. 

Eijirou starts off slow, dragging his cock out halfway before pressing in again, the pace making them both groan. God, Katsuki's back tooks so fucking pretty all arched like that, delicate but strong all in one. He always knew Bakugou would look so pretty with his face burried in sheets, his ass high in the air and filled with his cock. 

He feels himself slipping, his thrusts slipping into violent, angry lust every so often before he catches himself quickly. 

But as Katsuki's sweet moans keep reaching his ears, he finally gives in, grabbing Katsuki's wrists and pulling them back, lifting Katsuki off the bed and using his wrists as leverage, pulling his weak body back onto his cock as he slams his hips into the man's ass. 

"Holy fucking shit~" Bakugou's voice calls out as Kirishima's thrusts get rougher, violent. His voice bounced with the thrusts, his moans cutting each other off as Kirishima no longer cares about hitting the man's prostate, pounding into him purely for selfish pleasure Bakugou didn't know he was capable of. 

"Fucking pathetic cocksleeve- Such a fucking whore for dick, huh? You fucking-love! -taking my fat cock like this!" Kirishima spits out, pulling on Katsuki's wrists harder. Bakugou's eyes are crossing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

'Ruining me-'

"Not a single thought going through that head of yours, huh? Just taking my cock so good like this, loving how I ruin every other cock out there for you! Only my cock can make you cum, can make you feel so fucking good!" "Y-Yes~" Bakugou's broken voice cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

The bed is slamming into the wall so hard the pictures are rattling, and Bakugou can't register anything but cock, pleasure, Kirishima and cumming. 

"So fucking good, so~ fUCKing go-od~" Bakugou sobs, not caring of the searing pain in his arms and shoulder blades. But as Kirishima angles his hips, he starts slamming into Bakugou's prostate, and as Bakugou tries to arch in Kirishima's hold, he cums. He clamps around his cock so hard Kirishima moans, letting go of Katsuki's arms and letting him fall face first into the bed as his entire body rocks with unbroken thrusts, shaking with the ongoing orgasm that never seems to end. Eijirou hears the sobbing and groans with pleasure, swinging his hand down to Bakugou's ass, growling as he watches the muscle and fat ripple with the perfect impact. 

Kirishima puts his hands in the curve of Katsuki's spine, pressing him down and shifting forward, slightly sitting back on his calves as he jackhammers into Bakugou's swollen, red and oh so fucking soft boy cunt. 

Katsuki is screaming but it's so distant to Eijirou, all he can hear is the squelching of his ass and all he can think of is cumming. 

"FUCK- EIJIROU~" Katsuki screams, sobbing and begging for him to slow down, not to thrust so hard, not to be so brutal. He can't feel his limbs, all he can feel is the overstimulation as his body is pounded so hard he inches forward on his bed, only to be pulled back just as quickly. He feels like a cocksleeve because he is one. 

Kirishima groans, finally slamming into Katsuki with all he has, his cock pulsing inside Bakugou almost like a slow vibrator. As Kirishima completely fills Katsuki's intestines with cum, his own cock spurts out a pathetic amount of it's own cum, his balls drawing up tight and his cock twitching with painful interest. 

Kirishima and Bakugou are panting, and as Eijirou gives another overstimulated thrust for good measure, the both moan out. 

"F-Fuck…." Kirishima groans, Katsuki panting into the sheets with wide, tired eyes. 

He really did ruin Katsuki's chances at fucking anyone else. There's no way he can go back to toys, and there's no way he can fuck anyone else.

[bubblyhoney]

buncha kisses

warnings: mature language, Good music mention, slight suggestive content, lotta name calling!, basically just fluff

tags: sapnap x fem!reader (a continuation of [renamed from “a collection of moments at the beginning of your relationship”] win for me, basically, with college!au)

words: 1447

A/N: a very sweet anon requested a continuation of college!au with sappy and had some great ideas for me! i love when you guys interact and talk with me pls continue to do so! been receiving a lot of really encouraging attention from some of my favorite people (ahem, for example @strawberrymilkgeorge [among others] <3) so i just wanted to say thanks for that :)

-

It’s a sticky day in May.

It’s that kind of hot that irritates under the skin and works its way through the hair on your arms. Makes you want to either rip your skin off or sink into a pool full of ice.

May is a month that Florida doesn’t take very well; it’s either raining like it’s the Great Flood, or hot as a mosquito’s ball sack.

And to make matters worse, it’s the due date of a huge calculus project. Like— weighted heavier than the final kind of huge.

You’d gotten up three hours before your final at 9 just to cram. Your desk was littered with folders, chapter notes, and highlighters dull with use. A half-eaten bagel was off to the side, staling by the second.

That was before your AC broke. Yup. Broke. Ka-put. Just full on died—it was almost audible. Your roommate had stumbled into your room, face creased with sleep, and cursed for thirty seconds straight.

Completely understandable, actually.

But you didn’t have time to fret about the damn temperature. You just took your shirt off, kicked the box fan near your bed into the highest gear, and breathed hot anger down into your notes.

The only relief you would find would be lunch with Sapnap after your final. His apartment had air conditioning, and he was surprisingly deft with a knife and cutting board. Dude didn’t know how to figure the mechanics for emailing his film class project to you that one time last semester but could whip up a Greek salad and broiled chicken like no other. Your own little Gordon Ramsey.

He was yours now, officially. As of last month he was yours. A month full of drive-in movies, failed study dates, and an absurd amount of McFlurry’s.

And that’s what is waiting for you in Sapnap’s cup holder when you swing your way into his car with an exasperated look on your face. You just melt, eyes flicking up to his gratefully and silently taking it.

“How was the final?” He lays a hand on the gear shifter and nudges the AC up one more tick. The door closes behind you and you shuffle your legs apart, leg hair tingling in this heat.

“It was fucking brutal. I think I developed an ulcer just looking at the reference page,” you huff and he just shakes his head, laugh hot on his lips. “Absolutely not worth the studying—think I got a good grade, though.”

“Well, that’s cool. I’m proud of you.” The engine chugs to life when he shifts into drive and starts for the side street.

“Thanks.” Your cheeks blush ever so lightly but you pass it off to the heat. A moment passes. “So.” The straw makes a choking noise as it nudges at the bottom of an empty cup. Jesus, you finished that fast. “What’s on the menu for today?” Brandy’s Sunny Day lilts softly into the blasting air as you settle into a comfortable conversation, schoolwork at the back of your mind.

“Thinking of making banana chocolate chip muffins and pigging on those. Thoughts?” Flicking on his left turn signal with his left hand, the right slides onto your knee.

It’s never too hot for that.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, voice small in a sudden bout of shyness. He double-takes with a smile, squeezing once at your leg.

Pigging is a perfect term for what you two do the second those muffins are out of the oven; it is too easy to shove three of those in a matter of seconds. Bellies full and in a sugar coma, you two lay under the whirring of his living room’s fan and stare up at the ceiling.

“This feels so good,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. Reaching a hand out, he pats his way to your hand and takes it, immediately squeezing it. “Wish you were kissing me right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” You taunt and hike a leg up onto his hips, swinging onto his lap and leaning to get your lips near his.

And that’s that.

The night is perfect.

Sapnap ushered you into his car at midnight and within four minutes you were on a US freeway with your head out the window. Like a dog.

A lone bird flies past in the dark air and you watch it swing into a patch of trees. You just close your eyes and breathe.

The stress literally melts. Melts into a puddle and drips out of you, falling onto the black pavement whipping past at a moment’s notice. School is a bitch already, much less an American college education. Grades and tests and professors and GPA’s and all that.

You swear Logan Lerman’s character knew what he was talking about when he said “we were infinite” in The Perks of Being A Wallflower. That’s what this feels like: infinity. Going 70 in a car driven by your hunk of a boyfriend, feeling the wind in your hair and the taste of midnight in between your teeth.

The inside of the car feels sweet when you duck your head back in, smile wide and hair crazy and a content look in your eyes. Sapnap gives you a glance before looking back at the road nonchalantly and lifting to curl and twitch two fingers at you. You instinctively move forward, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity. Three fingers grip your jaw tight, and then his mouth is on yours as the chorus of The King swells through the speakers. You only get two seconds to hum in happiness and slide a hand up his chest before he’s pulling away and has those beautiful eyes back on the road.

“You’re mean to me,” you sigh, and settle back into your seat with a ‘hmph’. He just looks smug. Bastard.

The nights Sapnap plays video games with his friends are—hm. Definitely something. You like to let him have those nights with no distractions most of the time; and you’re categorized as a distraction by the amount of times he “lags” when giving you a kiss or getting you on his lap.

Tonight, he got off work early and on the drive home called and asked if you’d come over and sit with him while he Robloxes with his friends. (“It’s like you can’t go one day without your hands on me,” you’d teased, but he couldn’t say a thing in response. You were right, needless to say.) “You can bring your paints!” he’d even added, knowing you like to watercolor as a hobby. You weren’t necessarily Etsy-worthy but it was fun and a stress-reliever.

And so here you were. Legs crossed, sketch pad in your lap, watching your adult boyfriend yell so loud that his voice cracks and breaks with every change of tone. You really had to remember to apologize to his neighbors…

“Baby��,” Sapnap starts, swinging around in his chair to hit you with a look so pouty his lip was in danger of falling off. “My dear girlfriend. My lovely woman.” His question doesn’t even need to be asked— he wants you to go get him a drink.

“You’re a misogynist. I’m calling NOW on you.” But you’re already heaving yourself off of his mattress and heading into the hallway, faux-annoyed look on your face. It melts into a smile upon seeing that little canvas mounted on the wall next to the door to his bathroom. It was a haphazard portrait of his parent’s dog Bowser that you’d drawn the few days his step-mom forced him to bring you home over spring break.

When you return to his room a few minutes later with a Bang and a couple of snacks for yourself, Sapnap has his headphones off and is swinging his feet in his chair like a child waiting for their parents to pick them up from school. You approach him, apprehensive smile on your face, and hand his drink over.

“Thank you,” he drawls, mid-yawn, and sets it down on the desk. Snaking an arm around your waist, he drags you between his legs and stuffs his face into your shirt. He inhales deeply but pulls away after a pause, hands tight on your abdomen. You press a thumb into his cheek and rub fondly at his facial hair, watching the way his eyes close calmly and relax.

“You’re so cute it causes me physical pain,” is all you get out before leaning and pressing a kiss square on his pink lips. They move against yours like they were meant to, one hand sliding up the material of your shirt and onto your warm skin.

“You smell like Subway,” he murmurs, and then the moment’s over.

Typical.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[hangovercurse]

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were  great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

[plush-rabbit]

Shigaraki Dating An Artist Headcanons

A/N: I made it more focused on traditional art because that’s what I do so… yeah. There’s hints to digital but idk how that works so!!

Shigaraki always sees you buried deep in a black notebook with a pencil scribbling over and throwing eraser shavings into a trashcan. He isn’t interested in it at first, brushing it off but when Toga starts to clap and praise on well you draw and how you bow your head and shake your head rapidly, his interest is peaked.

He often comes in when you’re drawing Toga. Despite how bubbly she is, if you ask her to do a pose, she’s more than willing to stand still for a while, as long as you let her keep the portrait that is. He tries to take a peak but you brush him off, telling him you’ll show him later but surprisingly Himiko already took the portrait and you’ve already put away your journal and it’s so late. Well, good night Tomura and you place a kiss on his cheek and snuggle close to him.

He’s a bit peeved that you won’t share your artwork but he’ll roll his eyes and push down the bitter feeling rising in him. That is until Twice and Mr. Compress take a peak and suddenly they want to pose and it practically takes away all of the time, you two have together! No, he isn’t jealous; he just doesn’t want to be waiting ten minutes for you to never show up. He’s not jealous, really!

But then you go up to Spinner and you shyly ask if he’ll let you draw him. You just got these new colors and he has such pretty scales and in somewhere you hear a door slam. Okay so he might be a bit jealous that you’ve shown practically everyone your sketchbook and you’ve been drawing them too and you haven’t asked him but whatever. You also haven’t asked Dabi so it’s fine.

But then Dabi pops his head into his room and holds up a rolled piece of paper and pulls it down so your signature is visible and he has the audacity to smirk as him and give him a peace sign as he leaves the door open. Okay so everyone has seen your sketch book, whatever. He’s not gnawing on his lips and looking at the desk where you tuck away your sketch book.

You’re not home. You’re out doing something- Shigaraki thinks he heard you say you had to get new nubs or pens? He isn’t entirely sure, he was only half listening as his mind was somewhere else. You’ve been gone for a while so you probably wouldn’t be back if he were going to take a peak. He gives a glance at the door, checks his messages and then he’s off the bed and on his knees, pulling out your sketchbook and he feels a bit bad but his curiosity wins over.

You’re drawings are detailed, some have color, others don’t. The texture of the paper is a bit thick and it’s until he comes across a watercolor painting does he realize why. You have different styles of everything, some are sketches of the League together, most separate and with different symbols around some. Others are of people he doesn’t know, some anime characters he presumes and maybe a few original characters with the notes doted on the side. You have different styles, different shapes and things all around.

They’re really good. You’re really good. He likes the colors you use. He likes the imagery and wow, you’re really good. He reaches the end quickly, given each work a glance and appreciative hum. But he frowns. Where was he? You drew everyone from the League and even people who weren’t real so where was he? Surely you must have drawn him at one point. But he keeps flipping and looking in the back of pages and there’s not even a doodle of him.

“Tomura, what are you doing?” You hold a plastic bag of art supplies in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“Where am I?” He gets right to the point, rising to his feet and holding the sketchbook carefully in his hand, pushed outwards to you.

Your mouth is pulled into a thin line and you walk past him to drop the bags on the bed. He follows you with his eyes and you grab the sketch book from his hand and put it against your chest. You can’t meet his eyes and your leg is bouncing.

“You’re not in this one,” you mutter.

“Yeah, I know so—”

“You’re in my other one,” you look up at him and quickly avert your gaze. “I- I like drawing you- a lot- so I have on mainly just for you.”

“Really?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. It’s embarrassing. So—”

“Can I see it?” His eyes are wide and he takes a step closer to you.

“Tomura, it’s embarrassing!”

“We’re dating,” he deadpans, holding his palm out to you. When you look at him shyly, he rolls his eyes. “Please.”

“Admit you were jealous,” you pipe, bouncing on your heels and a slow smile curving onto your features.

“I was not—”

“Then no.” You turn around and begin to rummage through a plastic bag, pulling out the contents and dropping them on the bed.

“Ugh, fine. I was jealous. Now let me see.”

You stand up straight and flash him a grin. You kneel down and pull out a smaller sketch book, holding it out for him. He takes it quickly, going to sit down on the bed and he begins to flipping through it carefully.

As you said, there are drawings of him there. He’s asleep in a few, in others he’s eating, smiling, in a few he’s wearing outfits he doesn’t own and when he looks at you, your head is bowed and you’re clutching the sides of the desk until your knuckles pale. They’re all really good. In a few, you’ve only colored his eyes, other’s you color his hair. He wonders if it holds any symbolic meaning.

“They’re really good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, head still turned away from his. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do. Why didn’t you show these to me before?” His finger runs through the edge of the pages.

You shrug. “It’s a lot of pages of you. ‘Fraid you were gonna get a big ego or something,” you joke lightly, face flushed when you look back at him. “Sorry.”

He nods slowly and closes the sketchbook and hands it back to you. “Well, if you ever need to draw me again,” he scratches the back of his neck, “well, you know.”

You rise and press a kiss against his cheek. “I know.” You lean on his shoulder and run your fingers against the back of his hand. ���And I will.”

[fictionadventurer]

I haven't read any of the Psmith books (yet), but I've read other Wodehouse stuff and goodness does that man have a way with words. I appreciate seeing snippets of his stuff popping across my dash XD

What would you say is one of your favorite works of his?

I think my favorite is Mike and Psmith. It's far from Wodehouse's most polished work, and doesn't have the intricate, over-the-top plots that he's known for. There is far too much cricket. Its intended audience is Edwardian schoolboys, and there's a related atmosphere of immaturity. But I grow more and more fond of it every year.

Part of that is Psmith Pseptember, which prompts me to return to the start of the series every year. This book, with its school atmosphere, fit in perfectly with my literary cravings at the beginning of the school year. I'm inordinately fond of the side characters--the golden-boy Adair who turns out to be surprisingly approachable, the giggly Jellicoe who's both a valuable asset and a source of trouble, the archaeology-obsessed Outwood, the level-headed headmaster, and the domineering villain that is Downing--who make for a memorable, if lightly-sketched, ensemble.

But there's also something charming about this book's imperfections. Wodehouse isn't quite Wodehouse yet, and while that's a defect, it also offers several advantages. We get to see Wodehouse working outside his usual formulas, having a looser, more character-based plot. The story is much more connected to the real world, with more grounded characters, which helps the moments of farce stand out in starker relief. We get Mike Jackson, that ordinary, unflappable boy with reams of common sense. But best of all, we get to watch Wodehouse becoming Wodehouse. There's something magic about the moment when Psmith first shows up, and you can see the switch being flipped that lights up Wodehouse's literary genius. This languid, immaculately-dressed, monocle-wearing schoolboy who can talk anyone into anything makes an immediate, unforgettable impression. His schemes and eccentricities upend the world of the story, and wind up warping Wodehouse's entire literary oeuvre into his image. That process of development, both of the character and Wodehouse's literary voice, is fascinating to watch.

[real-kastek]

Darkened Drabbles: Chapter 6

Human-Like

(Prompt: Noelle brings Kris and Susie to a…"Humie" convention.)

(Author Note: Pretty sure this is what they call a "crackfic". Apologies in advance for this nightmare…)

"Don't they have diseases and crap?"

You shoot a withering look at the dragoness, "Can you not even wait till I've got my back turned?"

Susie shrugs, throwing her hands up, "What? I'm not talking about you." She snickers, "Still can't figure out what you are half the time."

"S-Susie! That's not…" The antlered girl sighs quietly, "No, I believe they would all have their shots before attending."

You turn your eyes back to Noelle as she clears her throat.

"N-Not that they would need them! Or, er-" Her mouth wrinkles as she avoids your gaze, "I just mean that, um, they should all be healthy! So it's…uh, safe."

You roll your eyes, stuffing your hands into your pockets. You knew Hometown wasn't exactly the cultural center of the world, but they acted like they'd never met a human before. Noelle had known you for years now, and Susie was…around. You were a perfect example of what to expect out of your species! Red eyes, blue-skin when exposed to other realities, a consistent wardrobe. All of it was pretty typical.

"H-Here," You glance up past your hair's veil, Noelle's hands clutching a number of lanyards, "Take one of these and keep it around your neck." She quickly shoves the laminated necklace into your palms, "And I know you two must be excited, but let's all try and stay together, alright? I've been told these meet-ups can be very hectic if you become lost in the crowd."

Susie grumbles, throwing a badge limply over her head, the thin ribbon catching on her maw, "Was your idea, I got no interest in any human junk. I get enough from them already." She lightly jabs you in the ribs, smiling all the while.

"Susie! Aren't you at least a bit curious as to the larger world?"

"…no?"

Noelle sighs, "Well, we need to have some research component for our group projects. Ms. Alphys said we have to write about another culture for the paper, so this is the perfect opportunity!" She smiles, "It's two birds with one stone! We don't have to be stuck in a stuffy library all day, and we can finish the essay!"

You pinch the bridge of your nose, "…so, it's some kind of cultural festival?"

The doe begins clattering up the stairs, the giant convention center looming above, "Exactly! From what I understand, the event is held for a few days, all centered around humans!"

You cling to the metal bar at your side, following the excitable doe up to the glass doors, "Well…yeah. But what is it about? Like, is it a historical thing? Do humans host it? Like, you wouldn't just have a convention for weird scaly monsters that eat the gum from under desks, you need more than that."

You feel the dragoness bump into your shoulder, "…it was one time."

You smirk, "Uh-huh."

"W-Well, I'm sure we can ask around and speak with the individuals hosting the event. The advertisement even said they would have artists and traditional human…erm, outfits? I think?"

The girl's hooves clatter past, entering through the double doors, you and Susie following closely behind.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as air conditioning pours through the entrance, blasting you in the face. You shiver. Why did they need it so cold? You shake your head. Probably just too many people heating the area up. It could get pretty sweaty.

You cast your gaze out across the domed room ahead, careful to avoid bustling crowds of monsters scrambling about from stand to stand. The area was surprisingly spacious, each makeshift corridor given ample space between various tables selling kitschy trinkets. Each of the individual counters were hidden away by dark blue curtains, obscuring much from the sides despite your best efforts. You squint past a crowd of cat-like monsters, spotting a number of stands advertising 'Original Character' sketches and drawings. You lean further out, only able to note a seemingly endless collection of pins lining the table, most examples of artwork likely obscured from sight. You recoil, almost colliding with a trio of cyclopean beings, their bulbous eyes darting around as they dash past.

"…lot of, uh…monsters here." You mutter

"W-Well, yes. Perhaps humans are the ones hosting the event itself?" Noelle chatters nervously.

You meander down the tiled path, carefully weaving between bustling crowds. A din of electronic music thrums in your ears as you're suddenly assaulted by a wave of color and noise; stands in the opposing hall having no such curtains hiding their contents. You stare across the way, watching as beleaguered monsters manned each table, many scribbling wildly across thick parchment or adjusting signs for social media links. Artists lined the hallway with their work on full display, most of which were intricate depictions of humans with eye-searing neon skin tones and often times cartoonishly large eyes. The stands were being assaulted by both onlooking monsters and a DJ's set close ahead, ear-rattling bass bellowing out as a crowd awkwardly gyrating in front. Between the painful attempts at dancing, you spot a sign atop the set, simply stating, 'Lo-Fi Beats for Humies'.

"Uh…Noelle?"

"Yes, Kris?" She stared back, a calm smile lining her features, seemingly oblivious to the chaos ahead.

"I…don't think this is a cultural thing. I'm not even sure this is a…human thing." You wince, the DJ seeming to decide now was the time to turn up the volume.

The doe-eyed girl tilts her head, "What do you mean? There's art of humans, human music, I believe I even saw an area for food from your culture." She pauses, a single finger placed to her lips, "Though the meals offered may not be…accurate. I believe they're going with fun themes! Like, I saw one dish that was called 'Soul Food' I think."

You open your mouth, words failing you.

"Holy shit, you should see the stuff they got back there!"

You snap to the side; the mauve dragoness having returned in a huff.

"Man, didn't know you were into that kind of junk Noelle. Is that why you brought us here? I mean, I'm not judging, just…damn." Susie chuckles, a hint of red flushing across her scales.

"I-I'm not sure what you…"

Noelle's hooves clatter across the pale tile, speeding back over to the curtained hallway, leaning past the covers.

You begin to follow, a sudden shriek ringing out as she tumbles back into you. You barely manage to remain standing as the girl's festive sweater slams into your face. She just as quickly turns, face burning underneath her fur, hands thrown up in a panic.

"S-Sorry! I, uh…I mean, maybe we should go study somewhere-" She stutters, "Th-The library! Let's all go to the library, o-okay?!"

"Arrrrright everyone! The costume competition is about to begin! Please make your way down to room A-5 where our judges will pick out the very best personas you've got!" A loudspeaker screeches to life, drowning out the crowd's chattering, "Don't forget to adjust those eyebrows and air everything out before taking a number though. Don't want anyone passing out this year! And for those attending the '18+ Late Night Meet-Up', make sure to respect appropriate boundaries and ask before touching someone's fleshie suit! The event will be held in B-7, please have your ID ready and on hand."

Your eye twitches.

"I-I, um-" Noelle's hand twists across her lanyard, "W-Well, I'm sure that…um, maybe we could just…"

"Hey, Kris," The mauve dragoness interrupts, throwing herself between you and the panicked deer, "You humans really come in all those colors? Some of the art over there is crazy. I didn't think you could grow other arms and crap. Or have that many…" She pauses, mocking grin falling away as further heat creeps across her face, "Uh…well, like, y-ya know-"

"A-ANYWAY!" Noelle roughly pulls the dragoness to the side, Susie's eyes going wide, "I-I think we should go! N-Now…please?!"

You're frozen in place, an inferno burning across your features.

"…s-sorry Kris."

You gaze back above, barely able to face the doe-eyed girl as she stares back, "…I-I…uh, it's okay. Let's just…let's leave."

She nods quietly, eyes dancing across the crowd, "Um…where is Susie?"

"GUYS!"

You peer above the mass of attendees, spotting the violet drake waving back, a plastic, bulbous container held in her claws.

"They sell fake pecs over here!" Her fangs shine against the bright fluorescent lights above, "Well…I mean, I think they're pecs. Kinda lumpy…"

You begin scrambling past a number of attendees, intent on fetching the dragoness before your face bursts into flames. You're almost immediately stopped in your efforts as the crowd balloons in size, sweeping you off from the side and down the hall. You yelp in surprise, struggling to push past the excitable monsters. You find yourself thrown from side to side, bouncing off the surprisingly rubbery forms of those around you. You try to yell out, only for the words to die in your mouth as you peer up.

They were…humans? No, not humans, anything but. They were human-shaped, designed, varied in color and limb count. Their eyes were the size of dinner plates, eyebrows awkwardly stapled in distressing angles, their mouths hung open with a single tongue lolling out. You wince, mind screaming out against the maddening sight. They were monsters? Humans? Monsters in horrific facsimiles of your own kind?

…personas?

You fight past the sweeping crowd, managing to escape to an open booth. You brush off every bit of your sweater and face, hoping what you witnessed could be cleansed in the process.

"K-Kris…?!"

You shake away from the feeling, eyes locking onto the table at your side. You wince, wishing you hadn't. Dozens of hand-drawn images lined the booth, pinned against nearly every surface, depicting humans in a dizzying assortment. Neon green men in business suits, a single woman with four additional arms dressed in a chef's outfit, and even a number of human teachers having what appeared to be a calm discussion around a table.

You tilt your head. Alright, that one could be worse. The shading was pretty good.

"I-I, uh…I mean, I don't think you should be in this section Kri-" The artist pauses, "U-Um, kid! This is an adult's only section!"

You stare back at the monster stationed before you, his face obscured by a bulbous human head, rainbow-colored hair falling down from its scalp. He attempts to shoo you away, waving fluffy white arms in front of you.

"S-Sorry, I-" You stutter.

"There they are, told ya it'd be fine."

"Oh thank goodness. I thought you may have been trampled in that crowd." Noelle clatters up to you, her breath ragged, "C-Can we please leave? Now? Before another wave comes through?"

"I dunno, they got some pretty cool stuff here. Dude back there said I could have these for free."

You watch as Susie shoves her hand in a thin plastic bag, pulling out a black headband. You grit your teeth, noticing rounded human ears attached to each side of the band, now forming tightly to the dragoness' maw.

Your eyes narrow, "…that's offensive."

"Nah, it's fashion." Susie grins proudly.

"A-All of you are too young to be here! You need to leave, o-or…or I'll call security!"

You turn back, the artist at the table rising up from his seat.

"…they even have security in this kind of joint?" Susie mutters, casually digging a claw into the rubber earhole.

"I-I'm serious! You need to go already!"

You feel Noelle tug on the back of your sweater, pushing past you, "S-Sorry! We were just leaving." She turns to you, "Let's go, before we get in trou-"

"AZZY! Come on, get in your suit already! They're already starting to pull numbers for judging!"

A breathless voice calls from your side, barely registering in your mind. You freeze, slowly turning your head towards the fuzzy white monster before you. You tilt your head, watching as they sink back into their chair.

"…don't tell mom."

[desi-lgbt-fest]

Day 5: Platonic

A story I wrote for today's prompt. It's a story about two middle aged men realising the happiness they want can come in many different forms.

1. 8 k words.

Cw: Mild homophobia. Incorrect language. It's indicative of character's understanding, not mine.

...

When Vikram Kumar first transferred to their branch, Nath wasn't impressed. Theirs was a small transport company, still somehow holding on against the giants of the industry. They were doing well for themselves; they had branches in few neighbouring states where the business was concentrated. And yeah, the company policy does state that employees should get transferred around every 4 years or so. But that never really happened. Nath had been working at Gada transport ltd for more than 25 years now and the only way anybody new ever came in the office was if someone died or retired.

That was what had happened. Another clerk, Nisha Bhagwan, had a heart attack at the computer and in came Vikram Kumar, a transfer from Nagpur. The office people took to him like animals take to the new clown at the circus. Nobody was really sad about Mrs Bhagwan's passing. She was old and in an office full of other old people, they were just waiting for the hat to drop on someone. Better Mrs Bhagwan than us.

They inquired after him, after his family, his mother's family, his neighbour's family, his neighbour's dog's family. When they found out that he was divorced and currently living in a sketchy hotel, they immediately turned to Nath.

Nath, or Adinath, as his name was, owned two flats in his society. Two flats side by side, one in which he lived. He very famously refused to rent it out to families or students or single women. Which meant, he never really rented it out. It actually quite suited to his own solitary silent life. But he regretted boasting about it in the office because here came his perfect rent.

"I- uh. The apartment is very dirty and I'd have to clean it," he started making excuses.

Vikram Kumar shrugged. "I don't mind. Better than listening to the sex noises coming from the side wall." Raucous laughter emerged, unhampered by the fact that their only woman employee wasn't there anymore.

Nath couldn't say no.

Vikram Kumar did turn out to be an ideal renter. He was silent. No guests. Rent, which Nath had kept a little high to dissuade, always on time. Sometimes old hindi songs drifted from his flat but Nath didn't mind. As his novelty wore off and office people stopped fawning over him, Nath did find himself to be quite okay with Vikram Kumar's existence.

A distinct mark in his favour was that he didn't laugh when at their regular chai break (5 minute break that always turned into a 45 minute one) the others made him familiar with Nath's title as the resident Bramhachari.

"Never married, never looks at a woman," Bhosle, their manager remarked.

"Hey you remember that time when that bombshell came in complaining about some lost package? Nath did not even look away from her face."

"Pakka gentleman, I tell you. He's not the customer complaint manager for nothing."

Everybody guffawed. Nath gave his regular pained smile. Vikram Kumar smiled back. For a moment, Nath thought it was a smile of understanding.

Eventually, Nath started offering Vikram Kumar a ride home on his ancient scooter. He obliged. When the ride turned regular, Vikram Kumar started contributing for petrol. Another mark in his favour.

13 months later, Vivek Chand, accountant, retired. In came a new hire, Ashalata Waad.

Suddenly many colleagues started turning up in pressed shirts and oiled hair. Nath merely shook his head and laughed at their preening. It was their colleagues' turn to laugh when Ms. Ashalata, recently widowed, took to Nath. Furtive smiles. Sympathy over dealing with difficult clients. Nath of course did not notice. But the other colleagues did. And out of sympathy for Ms Ashalata's feelings, they gently took her to a side after a week or so and directed her towards someone more likely to respond; the new divorcee, Vikram Kumar.

That, Nath certainly noticed.

That evening, Nath left without offering a ride to him.

Next morning, everyone noticed the distinct coldness between Ms Ashalata and Vikram Kumar. It was a long day too. Some trouble with licensing of a large shipment, everybody had to stay behind. It was well over 8 when people started leaving. Vikram came over to Nath's desk and tapped on it.

"I don't think this late I will find a riksha like yesterday. Will you please give a ride home?"

Nath sighed. He wasn't petty after all. Well, not much.

The streets were near empty. Theirs was a small town. One that eats at 8 and sleeps at 10. Nath's scooter cut through the silence and the sickly orange lights of the streetlamps like an interloper. They were crossing the Hutatma Chauk when Vikram asked him to stop.

"What for?"

"It was a long and stressful day. I wanted us a relax a bit at the park bench before we go home."

"I'm not going-"

"Please yaar."

Nath sighed.

Stopping the scooter at side, they both walked to the circle where statue of some forgotten freedom fighter stood, benches around it. Surprisingly, there were some people ambling around. Old couples taking a rest from nightly walk. A group of youngsters.

After having the sound of scooter in the ears for past five minutes, the sudden silence was deafening.

"I don't think Ms Waad would be talking to me again," Vikram Kumar started without preamble, a laughter in his voice.

Nath sighed and ran a hand through in thin hair. "You didn't do any-"

"No no, oh god no! I just said I'm not interested. I think that was enough for her to be offended."

"She's not your type?" he probed gently, curious.

Vikram was silent for a moment and then burst out with sudden emotion, "Why does it matter? Why one single woman and one single man can not stay without having an affair? Ye saala bollywood-" Nath hushed him, noticing the people around.

"Sorry." Vikram said, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"I get it. Years ago, when I told my father I was gay-"

"You're what??"

Nath felt like he made a tremendous mistake in judgement. But he was a grown man dammit, he will hold his ground!

"I said I am gay." Nath held his gaze. Vikram Kumar stared back, unknown range of emotions passing. Eventually he broke the gaze, ran a hand through his own balding hair and sat back.

He shook his head. "I am not gay, if that's why you-"

"That wasn't-"

"I'm NOT. I like women. I- I mean men are good too. I. I don't-"

Nath couldn't help it. He broke into a loud laugh. Like Vikram had performed some excellent comedy sketch.

Vikram punched him lightly on his shoulder, a smile evident on his face.

"I just meant, men, women. All are same to me. Honestly, I didn't mind being married to Sheela. I provided for her, I cared for her wellbeing. Our.. bedroom relations were less ideal but I didn't shut her out. I did my duty."

"I'm guessing she wanted someone who didn't see her as a duty?"

Vikram shrugged. "She was nice about it. Told me plain and simple she found someone else. We didn't have kids. It was easy. Well. As easy as it could be. She told the court I was impotent for swift divorce. I agreed. It caused drama in families though, which is why I asked for a transfer."

"Mrs Bhagwan died at a really opportune moment then."

They both shared a laugh and things fell silent once again.

"So you are... one of those," Vikram tried to say casually.

The elderly couple had left. A newly wed looking one took their place. Nath suddenly felt he was thrown back in time.

"I don't have much family," he started. "Mother died when I was young. Theirs was a love marriage, quite unusual for the times. They had run away and so had lost their families. My father raised me well enough; started pestering me for marriage when I got the job at 22. I kept avoiding for few years. But eventually I had to tell him. I wasn't going to ruin some poor woman's life." Nath looked pointedly at Vikram. Vikram didn't take offence. Just laughed self-consciously. Mark in his favour etc etc.

"Father raged for days. Didn't raise his hand on me, didn't tell anyone else but we fought a lot. It wasn't that he denied my condition. He just wanted a family. On some level we understood each other. I realise it now. I knew he wanted me to marry because he didn't want his hard fought family to die with me. And I guess, he probably knew what it meant to love someone you weren't supposed to.

He died soon after."

"When you were thirty, I remember you telling me."

Nath nodded. "I was free. I had a place of my own. A job. No family to hide myself from. I felt guilty over feeling relieved. I felt angry at being guilty. Then came sadness over being angry. That sadness stayed for a decade."

Vikram asked, "So you never...?

Nath shook out of his trip to memory lane. "Hm?"

"Are you? A bramhachari? Did you ever find-"

"There were some men here and there. Obviously there wasn't going to be a relationship," Nath scoffed. "If you know where to look, you can find release. But after Father died, I don't know, I rarely ever went looking for anybody. I didn't have it in me."

Vikram laughed. "Look at us. Two old men, all on their own, no happy family for us."

"Speak for yourself, I'm barely a day over 40," said the man, almost 50.

Vikram laughed again, looking at him with such fondness in his eyes. Nath felt sharp fear for a moment. Then he decided to be an adult again.

"You look well for your age too."

"Nath..."

Nath shivered at hearing his name. It was an intimate name. People didn't say it much. But it fit in Vikram's mouth.

"I don't want to change anything," Vikram said. "I'm happy as things are. It's ideal. I can't offer anything more."

Nath got up, brushing dust from his pants. It had gotten late. They were alone at the circle. A vehicle passing by to remind them of the world that exists.

"I'll take whatever you can offer," he said, looking away from him.

"Friendship? For as long as I live?" Vikram held out his hand.

Nath looked at it. Big, warm. Hairy. Pale skin where the wedding ring used to sit. He extended his own and took it.

"As long as I live."

... Let me know if you like it enough to see some other prompts involving them... I have so many headcanons for them.

[poutyhannie]

word count: +4k 

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, college!fem reader, college!felix, romantic fantasy

** **

You gaze down at the materializing letters stretching across your palm till your elbow. It was a mixture of Korean and English. The Korean characters were few and far in between but were delicate and even while the English letters were long, messy, and leaned to the right.

I’ll need to turn in Prof Behl’s assignment when I go to class and then explain why I can’t go to the museum research trip.

Did I use all my meal swipes? Chris said he wanted to workout at 3…

These notes would often appear on your right arm, sometimes remaining like a tattoo for weeks or fading before you could even read it fully. These were the thoughts of a person whose soul matched your own. He was a college student who is majoring in English with focus on things like creative writing and poetry and you’ve gathered that ‘Chris’ was his roommate.

For as flowery his major was, the boy’s thoughts were surprisingly plain and boring. However, you were thankful for it. Your friend often had dark circles under her eyes. Her connection with her soul partner was being awake at the same time and you were sure her soul’s partner lived on the other side of the world with the opposite time zone. To be honest, you gleaned almost nothing from the notes. The boy probably didn’t know that his thoughts were being recorded on your arm, which you always kept covered with a sleeve. Neither did you know what connection he had with you. Did he feel the emotions you did? Were his dreams your memories? You’ve laid to waste these meaningless thoughts to focus on your life more, not his. There was little reason to go searching him out; if you truly were tied together by souls, fate could do the heavy lifting for you two.

Leaning back at your desk, you shake out your cramping hands. The graphic design project requires that you draw out the story board by hand rather than digitally and you never wished more to curse for it. The reason was, according to your Professor, head of the project you and your classmates are fighting to be a part of use physical copies in the preliminary section. Because you had started in traditional art, relatively it was easy to get back in the swing of things. Didn’t mean that your hand didn’t hurt like a bitch, though. You had everything riding you getting to participate in this project, you’d planned everything out with your counselor and had little attractive options if you didn’t get it, so you return to your drawing.

Your roommate swings open the door, causing you to jump and tug your sleeve on quickly. She throws her bag on her bed with no regards to the loud thump it emits. Her blonde hair rests on your paper when she leans over to look at your drawing. As always, she gushes at your talents and as always, you remind her that her microbiology major is much more impressive.

The night is a lot hotter than comfortable, especially with the tight sleeve you always relegate yourself to, even while sleeping. Ever since you caught your dad reading the thoughts on your arm when you slept, you sometimes go so far as to sleep on your stomach, with your right arm tucked under you. It was uncomfortable reading his thoughts, much less having someone else read them. Yeah, they weren’t always too juicy or detailed, but it still felt wrong to share something like this with anyone else.

“Even family?” You remember your dad asking to your rage. 

“Even family.” You hissed.

With a groan, you rise out of bed, your roommate looking up from her five inch thick textbook, illuminated by a soft, yellow dest lamp. Her watery eyes gaze up at you from behind her round glasses. “I’m going out. Can’t sleep.” You tell her.

The night breeze whispers through your hair as you sit on an empty bench in an empty courtyard near your dorms. It’s in time like these that you feel peace. When not a soul is around you and you can finally just sit with yourself. Slowly, you unwind the sleeve and are met with chaotic swirl of words. This happens when he dreams.

Worth, friends, others, internships, classes, empty, running, nothing, darkness.

Your heart pangs. He’s having nightmares again. Instinctively, you begin to wrap your arm up again, not wishing to invade him at his weakest point.

Though you don a mask of indifference towards the scrawl on your arm and effectively the boy around others, you can’t help but hurt for him. He seems swamped with so much to do and feels helpless. When you look down, the chilling sentence on your arm burns in your mind and heart.

I don’t think there’s anyone for me. All I see is black. Am I alone?

Two weeks later, they stay. No matter how many times you unwrap and rewrap your arm, those three sentences never leave. Others come and go, but from that night until now, they stay.  And the guilt of not pursuing this boy is eating you alive.

You always assumed he had a connection that allowed him to know of your existence. When you realize that he doesn’t, your passivity almost seems like a sin. How lonely it must be to be alone in a world where everyone has someone. Since then, you’ve been paying close attention to the scrawl on your arm, careful to gather as much info on him as you can decipher. Right now though, in class, you can’t.

Your Professor is announcing the chosen students of the project and you can’t really think about him now. 

“And the last student is Y/n.”

You heave out a sign of relief, making a note to thank you Professor. You’re sure she had a few good words to put in for you. “The students I just called will be working with other student in screenwriting. You guys need to pick five scripts you want to animate and the screenwriting students will choose their preferred artist.”

Walking into the classroom with another female peer by your side, you absentmindedly fidget with your sleeve. She walks boldly up to a male student, who’s dark blonde falls onto his freckled cheeks, sticking her hand out. “I’m Madeline,” you hear her say. His eyes snap up towards yours but he immediately looks back to Madeline as they exchange pleasantries.

Madeline is paired up with the freckled boy and you with a quiet, thoughtful boy named Seungmin. He tells you that he is friends with Felix, the freckled boy, so you combine tables and group up. Because this is a project done in your own time, you all choose to work together to bounce ideas off with each other though with how bubbly Madeline is, you wonder how much you guys will get done.

When the topic of soul partners comes up, you and Felix shift uncomfortably. Seungmin gets visions through the eyes of his partner and has seen her face, he tells you guys casually. 

How wonderful it must be to know who your soul is tied to, you think bitterly, a twinge of jealousy coursing through you.

Madeline’s green eyes shine as she starts, “I don’t know who they are, but I see colors that has to be tied to them.” She’s a romantic, giddy with excitement at the prospect. It’s so easy to live with just seeing colors; it’s pretty and inconsequential, much a contrast to the invasive cryptics on your arm.

When all your eyes turn to Felix, he purses his lips softly, only able to look down at the table. “I actually don’t know what my connection is. Maybe its unconsciousness because I can never fall asleep at nights,” he jokes, attempting to push the attention off of that topic.

A glossy nail taps Madeline’s pink lips as her dark lashes flutter, “I don’t think so. Insomnia isn’t usually paired with unconsciousness connection.”

Feigning disinterest, Felix shrugs, focusing back to the sketches, “Maybe it has something to do with my color blindness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” he mutters, his voice deep and throaty. Madeline gasps, lightly slapping Felix’s arm. He raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Of course that has to be it!” She exclaims, “It’ll be a subcategory color connection, just like me! Maybe you’ll see colors when you see your partner or when some other unveiling instance occurs.”

She goes into depth about connections, her shoulders bouncing in excitement. Thankfully, this distracts them from asking you about your connection. As her movements and words quicken, the stale bitterness in your mouth consumes you. It’s immature, your distaste for anything about these connections. Just because you have a subjectively unfortunate connection definitely doesn’t mean you should shit on Madeline’s obvious interest in the subject. In fact, Felix and Seungmin seem to enjoy talking with her about it as she has extended knowledge about connections. 

However, while Seungmin’s tone that he asks his with questions are amused, his interest piqued, Felix is leaned forward in his chair, his eyes barely concealing desperation. Your heart pangs for him; he’s probably so lost. 

Seungmin and Madeline walk in front of you and Felix on the sidewalk, returning to the dorms. They’re in deep conversation about Seungmin’s connection and with Madeline’s knowledge and Seungmin’s intellect, they quickly and thankfully exclude you and Felix.

“I don’t wanna talk about connections,” you declare to him. A small smile spreads across Felix’s face and he nods knowingly. “What made you want to get into animation?” He asks, a pleasant and refreshing topic.

“I haven’t always been the best at art,” you admit with a shrug. “No way!” Felix exclaims, his eyebrows raised, “Your work is so cool, though.” 

You laugh at the compliment, “Yeah, well it took me a while to get here and I didn’t want to throw away that work, so here I am. What about you? Why did you want to get into script writing?” 

Felix’s eyes soften and he stares off past the line of buildings, into the horizon. “I feel like I can see different things with words. Does that make sense?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “They open up worlds and ideas that I can’t experience and it makes me feel closer to normal. It makes me feel alive.” 

“Like, you can imagine how colors feel or look through words?”

He nods, looking back at you with a playful look, “That’s another reason why I like your work so much. The values are clear and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not seeing color.” 

The genuine, heartfelt comment makes your heart warm and a smile spread across your face, “Yeah, I focus a lot on just greyscale because composition is the most important aspect to my art. Stuff like color theory, while important, it basically inconsequential if you can’t even tell what’s going on in the picture.” 

Felix’s voice quiets as he shoots a look up at Madeline’s back, “Yeah, I didn’t want to choose Madeline’s for that reason, but she really thought that the color use in my script would work in perfect tandem with her style and I really couldn’t tell whether she’s right or not,” he shrugs, his lips pulling into a line.

“Oh, totally,” you say quickly, not wishing to have Felix question his choice, “It makes total sense and in some instances color can tell more of a story than composition and values can. It was wise to team with her.” Maybe your intentions of reassuring Felix was too obvious because his eyes crinkle deeply when he gives you a big, knowing smile.

A week into your work and the very basic shapes for the animation is finished. Working with Seungmin is wonderful as he has a clear direction and even pictures he’s taken to show you what he envisions. Concentration pinches Felix’s eyebrows together and he and Madeline converse as you watch them from the other end of the table.

An hour or two pass and you stand up to stretch, announcing that you’re gonna take a bathroom break to which they agree is a wonderful idea. Coming out of the bathroom, you wrap up your sleeve, peeking to see what the ink says this time. The three words that you’re familiar with; that have been etched into your sink for weeks don’t make your heart stop, but the ones under it. 

Am I alone? She needs to add more clear composition so I can actually tell what’s going on. 

Your eyes snap up to the blond haired boy. That’s exactly what Felix told you a day ago.  Its him?

To your confusion, he now stares, awestruck at Madeline. There’s a sinking in your stomach but you can’t tell why. Gasping, his eyes widen as he takes her hands. “Madeline…I think,” he stumbles over his words, clearly flabbergasted. “I-I’m seeing color now, I think.” 

She squeals, squeezing his hands tightly, “When? Just now? What happened?” His dark eyes look dazes and he steps back. His eyes wander from the ground her hers and he whispers, “When I saw you.” Turning your back on them, you leave quickly, not wishing to intrude on Felix’s revelation. 

You resume your seat next to Seungmin, heaving a sigh. “What’s wrong?” His lips form a slight pout and his head tilts to the side. You shake your head, waving a hand, “Felix and Madeline are soul partners. He just found out.” From your peripheral, you see Seungmin smile widely.  You laugh to yourself, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks at your previous hasty conclusion.  You really are desperate for the person who matches your soul.  

“That’s great,” he taps your arm with his hand, hidden by his sweater’s sleeve, “Why do you look so bummed, though?” 

You purse your lips, “It just sucks to be a late bloomer. I don’t know who my partner is,” you tell him as the bitterness fills your mouth again. Seungmin nods firmly, his fingers tapping your arm again, “At least you know that you have one, though. Felix didn’t even know whether he was alone or not.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt of your selfishness, “it just sucks.” 

“Of course but just give it time,” Seungmin advises, patting your shoulder softly.

You and Seungmin gaze blankly at Felix and Madeline as they both gush over each other. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when Felix gingerly strokes her cheek.

Clapping, Seungmin returns to the story board, pointing at a slide, “I like the idea with this one, but if you’ll look here,” he pulls out a picture he took of a deep, dark green forest that just seems to dissolve into black, “I want the composition to be more dangerous. Like, the characters are being drawn into darkness and they won’t have any way to escape.” Nodding quickly, you add rough shading and lines to your preexisting work to cater to Seungmin’s request.

“Perfect,” he beams his toothy smile at you.

By the time the project is all but done, Felix and Madeline are attached at the hip or the hand or the face. You try not to watch them, jealousy foaming in your throat. Felix’s eyelashes flutter against his freckles and his lips are glossy as Madeline gently strokes his cheek, smiling softly. Such a romantic—it would make sense that her seeing colors would be paired with his past complete colorblindness. He gushes over her work and her use of color, his voice giddy with excitement at finally seeing color, finally being normal.

While your initial bitterness at their fortune has washed away into passivity, you can’t bring yourself to look at your arm like you used to. In a way, you’re foolishly upset at you partner for not giving you anymore clues that would lead you to him. It’s foolish because he doesn’t know you can read what’s on his mind.

You pick up your artist’s hand brace from your dorm bed and begin unwrapping your arm to put it on, barely sparing the black scrawl a glance.

Its not all black anymore. I can see it. I can see her.

Dread clenches your gut as your eyes travel down to the next single word.

Madeline.

There’s a buzzing white in your head as you fumble to get your shoes on, tripping out into the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards Madeline’s dorm, on the other side of the campus. Whirling confusing overcomes your mimd and you feel like you’re suffocating, the only goal is to find an answer. You don’t know when hints of this conclusion plagued your mind. Maybe it was that day, months ago at the bathroom. Maybe it was a deeper jealousy at seeing Felix kissing Madeline. It didn’t matter anymore, you frantically knocked at her door, out of breath and gasping.

Her green eyes are wide and her pink lips are swollen, she’s almost as out of breath as you are. She makes no move to hide Felix, who’s pulling on a shirt behind her shoulder. Nervousness pangs in your throat but you shove past her and shed your arm to Felix.

“Wh-what’s this, Y/n?” He asks, eyes bouncing off your arm to your face, uncomfortable with looking at something you’ve explained to him is so precious and private to you.

“Read it,” you beg, eyes flicking from his face to Madeline’s. She furrows her shapely eyebrows, gingerly taking your cold arm into her soft hands. At Madeline’s brazenness, Felix finds it in himself to look down at your arm.

Her grip is firm but you could rip away from it at any moment.

Madeline’s eyes are wild and horror fills them as she looks up at Felix. You try desperately to explain, “I-I don’t know what this means either, but that day that you first saw color, Felix, there were your exact words to me about your project on my arm.” 

He laughs to deflect how uncomfortable he feels, it comes out too harsh and grates against your neck, raising heat into your face. “Y/n I know you really wanna find your partner, but this is crazy. Don’t try to suggest stuff like this. Madeline and I are partners, everything has been perfect since that day for us.” 

He looks over to Madeline for reassurance, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. A soft, vulnerable look plagues her eyes as she looks up at you. Felix stutters, confused why she wouldn’t immediately agree with him. “Lix,” she inhales deeply, “for my connection, you know how I see colors? Those are actually s-supposed to go away when I meet my partner.” You realize the vulnerable look in her eyes was actually guilt.

“What?” His voice is a breath, like he’s been struck in the chest and is left gasping for air. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet them because I don’t want to loose my color—it’d be like dying for me and I’m really happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me too?” Felix’s lips hang open and his face is frowning in confusion, “So you’ve been using me when you knew I wasn’t yours?” Madeline’s eyes fill with guilty tears and she nods. As much as you can understand why she did what she did, anger and bitterness towards her, towards loosing so much time with Felix consumes you.

“Then you never deserved him,” you hiss, possessively retracting your arm into your body, hiding the words against your bosom.

You and Felix sit wordless on a bench in a park in a part of town you were unfamiliar with. 

“So it was you this entire time?” 

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” your voice cracks and you bite your lip to prevent it from trembling, “I really didn’t know for sure and I doubted what I knew because you just seemed so happy with her.” 

He scoffs loudly, running a hand through his silver hair, “Yeah and look what that amounted to.” 

Quietly, you respond, “It amounted to us realizing. That means something.” 

Felix exhales slowly, turning to face you, his eyes tired and sad, “Yeah, at least we realized now—” he stops abruptly, pausing to collect himself, “God, I was so stupid, just because I started seeing color one random day because she was in front of me?” He scoffs again, slouching into the bench. 

“It made sense though, you were both eager to get your partners and—” 

“But to leave you alone?” His voice is raw and soft, “I left you alone when you were right there.” Slowly, as if he were a hologram or mirage you couldn’t quite reach, you extend your hand to rest your hand on his warm cheek, almost shocked that he’s there. Unintentionally, he leans into your hand, closing his eyes gently. “We can begin now. Rather a late start than never. We have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Felix buries his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing firm, confident kisses and hot, stinging hickies into your neck. You run your hands up the bare expanse of his back and up to his hair. Flush spreads across your cheeks as he lifts himself up to gaze down at your bare chest but you don’t cover yourself up. You have nothing to hide. “Have you ever done this before?” You whisper to him. He shakes his head softly, leaning down to trail kisses from the base of your neck through the valley between your breasts. Lower, his kisses get wetter as he gets closer to your aching hotness. As if you’re made of paper, Felix gingerly spreads your legs. The cold air hitting your core causes you to flinch, but Felix’s warm palm presses slowly against you, calming the sensation into pleasure.

“May I?” 

You whine out a ‘yes’, groaning when his sinks a finger into your core. It sucks his finger in and Felix barely contains a moan at the sensation, imagining how you’d feel around him. Slowly, he begins to pump his single finger into you before adding another and scissoring deep. Curling his fingers, he brushes your sweet spot, causing you to gasp and arch your back. 

Smiling to himself, he continues to work at that spot until you’re gasping and moaning incessantly. He pulls out and you whine immediately but he positions himself above you, gazing down at you with adoration even while his impossibly hard dick pokes against you. “Hurry, Lixie, please do it,” you whine and he hushes you with a kiss, slowly sliding in and caressing his tongue against yours when you gasp. Your face is scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch but Felix can’t help but smile down at you, endeared. His eyes are dark at the sensation of him dragging against your walls. When you begin to relax around him, you start whining again and he giggles, slowly beginning to thrust up into you. There’s nothing desperate or wanton about his movements against you. He’s being gentle, letting you feel him as his drags along your walls though it takes all his self control to not increase the pace. It’s deep and rhythmic, his hips against yours. He fills you up and groans as you seem to suck him up, your juices mixing with his precum.

“Baby, you’re so warm and so—mhg—tight,” he gasps against you, “Can I go faster?” 

“Yeah,” you’re breathless and rake your fingers across his back when he starts to do just that. He positions his hip in a way that has himself dragging across your sweet spot and you screaming with every thrust. He reaches down to rub your clit, stars and lights sparking across your vision as a burning coil begins wind in your gut. The groans and moans he lets out when you unintentionally clench around him paired with the way his movements quicken as he becomes desperate push you closer. “Y/n, I’m g-gonna cum,” he whispers, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Me too, Lixie,” you gasp, running your hands over his body. 

“I love you.” Your high crashes over you, white pleasure electrifying you through your body as you feel Felix shoot into you. The burning pleasure overcomes your senses as he collapses next to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pants into your neck, smiling deeply in pure bliss. Euphoric, you tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the tip of his nose, onto both his cheeks, and finally onto his warm, glossy lips.

“I love you too, Lixie.” He is yours and you are his. That’s how it was predestined and you both have fulfilled destiny.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

For the soulmate au thing how about 2: name tattooed on wrist, for Rohan. Considering how popular he is there is no where near enough content for him honestly. Anyways, I love your blog and hope you have a lovely day!

I'm suprised too, he needs some love.

I hope you have a nice day too!

Chaotically in order

(yandere Rohan X Gender Neutral Reader)

Marioh Cho was a small town but it was also a bizarre one. Not that you could remember any other to compare it to. You just woke up one day in a tree with no recollections of who you were or how you got there, the only identification you had was a bag with the name (Y/n) on it. That's when you met the group of teens that would become your closest friends. Josuke, Okuyasu and Koichi and much like them the town was also just as friendly, besides the occasional rouge stand user of course.

You had managed to get a job in a cafe and a small rental apartment within a couple of weeks and life seemed to go quite smoothly for you. Of course you wanted to figure out who you were and how you ended up in such a predicament but for now you just wanted to plant your roots and keep it steady.

Today was a beautiful Saturday, so you had decided to catch up with Josuke and Koichi at the cafe you usually were working at. You had also invited Okuyasu too but he couldn't make it. You assumed it may have something to do with his father, however despite the lack of Okuyasu you all had a good talk until you looked in you bag in search of a pen to use for a drawing you were working on when your stand Learning to fly had activated and you had ended up with several different ones.

"Hey that's my pen I've been looking for it for weeks!" Koichi exclaimed as he grabbed one of them.

"Welp at least you have it back now, my stand really has a mind of it's own I guess..." You said as you rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand before searching through the handful of pens you had for the right colour until Koichi interrupted again.

"That looks like one of Rohan's pens, don't you think so Josuke?" Koichi said as pointed to a black and gold one amongst the rest.

"Yeah" Josuke agreed as he tried to snatch it out of your hand but you stopped him.

"Wait, Rohan?" You exclaimed.

"Do you know him (Y/n)?" Koichi asked.

"Not really but I've have a tattoo with that name on my arm for as long as I can remember" you said as you pulled it out of your hand and put the rest away.

"Maybe he knows something about how you ended up here" Koichi explained before writing down something on a napkin.

"This is his address, hopefully something good comes out of it" he said as he handed it to you with a wry smile on his face.

"Be careful thou, he's a real creep" Josuke warned with an annoyed expression on his face as he fixed up his hair.

"Josuke you don't have to say something so harsh about Rohan, I'm sure you only feel the way you do about him because he said something bad about your hair" Koichi said as he looked up at the other teen. The looked like they were both years apart but surprisingly they were in the same grade.

"Hey I'm not just gonna let anyone get away with dissing my fucking hair like that, it takes me ages to get it looking like this" he argued with a huff.

🖋️🖋️🖋️

You looked down at the napkin once more before nervously knocking on the door. You were anxious but also hopeful that this Rohan Kishibe knew something about how you ended here. You silently waited for a few minutes until you saw the door creak open slightly.

"I'm not expecting any visitors today, if you want an autograph then you'll just have to wait til the next issue comes out" the male said arrogantly as he peered through the door.

"I'm sorry but Koichi told me to come here" you muttered as you tried to avoid eye contact with his harsh gaze.

"Are you a friend of Koichi?" He asked.

"Yes" you replied. His expression lightened and he opened the door fully. You were able to see the male properly. He had short green hair that was held up by a zigzaged shaped headband and wore a baggy green and purple outfit.

"Well any friend of Koichi is a friend of mine, come in" he chimed as he moved aside to let you in. You quickly took of your shoes and put them aside before entering his home. It was fairly clean except for the occasional bundle of pens, pencils and erasers that littered his home. It was no suprise that he would have lost one at one stage.

"So what brings you here today?" Rohan asked as he brought you into the living room and sat down on his lounge and you followed.

"I think this belongs to you" you said as you pulled out the black and gold pen and handed it to him.

"So you just came here to give me a pen?" he asked in a sceptical tone.

"No... I also wanted to ask you something" you nervously replied.

"Oh you want to get a sneak peek at the latest chapter of Pink dark boy before it's published?" He asked.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know what that is..." You mumbled.

"Wait you haven't heard of my work before?!" He asked in absolute shock.

"No, not as I'm aware of... I can't recall much, I was here to ask you if you knew who I was?" You explained.

"You see I woke up a maybe just over a month ago in a tree with no memory of who I was or how I got there" you continued before lifting your sleeve up to show the tattoo on your wrist.

"I thought that you might be able to explain how I got this" you said.

A smile grew on the males lips as he  pulled up his sleeve to reveal (Y/n) written on it.

"So I assume you are (Y/n)?" He asked.

"Wait assume? how could you have my name tattoed on your wrist and not know who I am?" You exclaimed.

"It's a birth mark" he responded.

"And yours is quite possibly as well" he explained.

"But how could we have corresponding birthmarks?" You asked, you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I believe it maybe a soulmates sign, a symbol that we were meant to cross paths" he said slyly as a mischievous smirk drew on his face as he leaned closer to you, causing you to press yourself against the lounge as you felt his dark gaze violating you. This was what Josuke must of meant by calling him a creep.

"You know, I always wondered what you would be like..." He hummed as he  harshly grabbed your arm.

"Wait what are you doing?!" You screamed as you tried to get his grip off of you before he pinned you down and a creature that almost looked like a little boy appeared, he must of been a stand user. He noticed that your your attention diverted from him.

"Oh... Your a stand user too? Don't worry I just want to have a look at your memories... It won't hurt, I promise" he cooed before grabbing a pen with his free hand drawing across your face causing your face to peel back and. You hated this you felt so violated know that he was going to look through your memories, there may not be many but you still didn't want him seeing into your private life.

He hummed in delight and muttered under his breath as he read your life story like a book.

"Truely remarkable, you'd make a great character in Pink dark boy... A young person with amnisia trying to maintain an ordinary everyday life while also getting caught up in situations that could only be referred to as bizarre, a character with developmental potential... A character that couldn't be hated by the readers!" he exclaimed as he sat up and pulled you up before waving his pen in your face. You wanted to run away so badly, you would already be out the door but you just couldn't, your body was as stiff as a rock, unaware that he had already written his orders on you.

"I know you want to run but I need you to be still for a bit while I sketch you up" he said as he grabbed out his sketch book before pressing the pages on you face til it was closed.

'Oh Koichi, what the fuck did you get me into?' you mentally asked as he pushed you head lightly to the side. Fear just continued to build up in you

"Oh your such a perfect muse already... I could just draw you from every angle" he cooed.

🖋️🖋️🖋️

After all the fuss he made of drawing you he removed the writing he had wrote in earlier. You instantly ran to the door but you found yourself unable to turn the doorknob.

"Please, just please let me go!" You yelled at the male.

"No I have so much more to learn -" he said until his home phone began to ring and he picked it up.

"Oh Koichi hello... yes they're with me" he said. You quickly tried to grab the phone out of his hand but he managed push you to the floor and use his stand on you again.

"Oh (Y/n) are you alright? I'll put them on now" He said as he helped you up.

You grabbed the phone out of his hands and this time he didn't stop you.

"Hey (Y/n) how are you doing? I hope he isn't acting weird?" Koichi asked you.

"No everything's fine... I'm actually getting along with him very well" were the words that came out of your mouth which were contradictory to what you had tried to say.

"Oh that's good, I just wanted to check in on you that's all" he said

"Well good bye" he said.

"Bye..." You sheepishly replied before the phone hung up. You were mentally screaming as you realised how hopeless you were.

"You have such an interesting personality... I just want you to show it to me first hand" he said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind.

[ghostwoo]

“We Scare”

Mentions  →  AJ Siciliani

Date → Saturday October 17, 2020 — 3:43 PM

Setting → Santa Monica Pier

Synopsis  → ( Part 1 / 3 ) — Sunwoo scopes a target.

— october 17, 2020 - 3:43 PM

“Chy! C’mere girl! C’mere!” Sunwoo pats their thigh enthusiastically, gaining quick attention of the large black lab mix who races back to the heels of their feet. They lean down to promptly reward the dog with a scratch between her perky ears. Chy was a little nosy—like just now poking her nose a bit further from their spot on the bench than Sunwoo preferred—but she was a good girl who listened always. It was why Sunwoo didn’t mind dog-sitting ginormus Chy for their neighbor when the time came for her owner to travel. Sunwoo was a cat person, but Chy was probably the only dog that made them reconsider their stance. 

Plus, Chy wouldn’t question why they had paused at this exact spot for the fourth time on their walk this week. 

Leash in one hand and a Capri-Sun pouch in the other, Sunwoo lazed back while taking a bored sip through the thin yellow straw, comfortable with their chosen spot. The juice made them look a bit adolescent, but otherwise gave no other impression than a guy on the pier taking a break with his dog. Sunwoo was completely immersed in the role. 

Remember that one cakepop shop that tasted like shit on the pier? They're putting it right there, right next to the route 66 sign.

Their eyes drift over to find the marker, the Route 66 sign. It was a staple of the pier for families and photos. At first, Sunwoo entertained the sign as part of their upcoming display— it really  could use a burst of color across the black and white lettering. But the more they visited the spot the more Sunwoo realized how much of a hotspot, and a waste of time, coloring over it would be. Right now Sol didn’t want to make any statements, Sol simply wanted to have a little fun.Tagging the pride and joy of the pier would start something Sunwoo didn’t have much of an interest in continuing. It just had been some time since they had left art along the pier, and figured for all the people the bar would bring in, something new would be fun to entertain the masses. 

Then, they drift their eyes to their spotlight target—the glimmering, three story high bar so lovingly named “Monsters Inc.”. 

Sunwoo doesn’t stare at it for too long, attention pulled downward when quick flashes of brown catch in the corner of his eye. Chy’s tail was whirling like a mini helicopter propeller, excited to see the few people who were passing by them. Amused, Sunwoo laughs to himself quietly. He too liked this hour of the day to be on the pier. Lunch rush had long ended, the sun was in the limbo between afternoon and evening, and the crowds were more scarce than a weekend or weekday after 5 PM. Shaking their head at Chy’s antics, they reach down into the pocket of their jacket to pull out a miniature sketchbook. It was time to get to work.

Camera, camera, blindspot, camera—blindspot. Sunwoo didn’t directly look at the cameras they knew were loyally stationed around the businesses of the pier, but he knew where they were. On his first visit to the pier he took a route to note each. The second, he took a longer trail to gauge the scope of the area they surveillance, and on the third he surveyed the spots one last time to be sure of their blind spots. Now, finally, on the fourth visit he could iron out his plans. How big could he make his hit? Would he have much room to move or would he have to kiss the wall as he worked?

We’re working for a better tomorrow...today! — We’re Monsters Incorporated!

Monsters Inc. wasn’t a movie Sunwoo would’ve watched by themselves, but watching it the first time alongside AJ made it a bit more appealing. Colorful characters, dialogue that actually made them laugh, and an engaging storyline within a world vastly different from the  norm was the recipe for Disney charm. In their first watch, Sunwoo watched with appreciative skepticism. They weren’t able to take too many notes then because of their company ( ‘—bro why are you taking notes during a Disney movie??’ ) but that was probably the best thing. On Sunwoo’s second watch ( after quietly checking it out from the library ) they were able to make their notes. Lightly teasing the now empty Capri-Sun pouch with blows into the packet, Sunwoo flipped through their sketchbook that was filled with different types of lettering, sketches, and practice drills of stylized handwriting. Toward the back were the sketches they’d made during their own movie watch. Notes and arrows pointing around exaggerated caricatures of the movie’s main characters Mike and Sulley. Sunwoo had even done quick sketches of the villain, Randall, who he admittedly liked seeing the most. They glanced up from the sketchbook to take a look around and spot the area.

The three story building surprisingly fit in well with the other buildings along the pier. It looked new, but it also looked like it had stood a part of the piers kaleidoscope of businesses forever. How obnoxious. Still, Sunwoo realized that as of today no cameras had been installed on the side of the building that had this pale bare wall. It was a bar, surely it would have cameras at some point, but right now Sunwoo welcomed the invite. Maybe Santa Monica neglected the area for him to come make it prettier.  

Sunwoo squinted at his sketches, now lightly chewing on the straw in his mouth. If they were honest with themselves, their personal favorite were the more grotesque sketches they had done. Mike and Sulley looked terrifying, as they should be for monsters, than Disney’s quirky and cute designs. But, Sunwoo had a little fun too with a more cute design inspired by the prequel that Sunwoo too had watched with AJ. The Bar Crawl was a family-friendly event. Sol could show their nicer side. Hit the bar with their cutesy design to entice families and kids to scramble to the building for pictures and completely defeat the purpose of an adult oriented bar. Sunwoo put a hand over their mouth to cover their suddenly tickled smile at the thought. How frustrating would that be? Kids crying because they can’t understand why sweet Mike and Sulley were on the side of a building they couldn’t get into, parents irritated that they have to explain to their kids suddenly what a bar is, and the business owners becoming frustrated because all of these families are hiving around their Very Adult bar and deterring actual of age customers who probably would stroll in for business if not for the sight of babies and children. It was painfully tempting. 

Suddenly a bark from Chy bark jolts Sunwoo from their deep meditations. Eyes wide, they look to see what’s startled Chy to uncharacteristically open her mouth, only to see two security guards zip by on their bicycles. Maybe a bit too close to both he and Chy’s comfort. 

“God Chy, you scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t expecting that.” Sunwoo put their hand on their chest taking a deep breath. They looked in the direction the two guards went, Chy still unsettled and barking to make sure they’re long gone off. Sunwoo watches her for a moment, settling down from the jump but then the idea hits.

We scare —

Chy’s still barking, and though the reason why is long gone she continues. It’s something she wasn’t expecting, something that she’s not happy with, something discomforting. But her barking got his attention. It was sudden, it was jarring, it made him aware.

With the thought, Sunwoo flips back to their harsher drawings, and how out of element they were to the eye. Their eyes follow the lines of their work a number of times before looking back off to the empty bar.

—because we care.

They still had some time to figure it out.

[thebarrydiariesx]

Halloween Special: REQUESTED

Request: Bill and the female reader, a new SNL cast member, are frenemies playing Morticia and Gomez Addams in a Halloween Special.

“I’m not sure I can do this...” You sighed, pulling your fingers through the black, stringy wig and looking out at the audience. “This dress is a little revealing and I feel like I have candle wax on my face! Does an Addams really need this much makeup?”

“Shh shhhh, relax honey, you’re fine!” Cooed Maddie, the makeup artist for the show. She tucked strands of the wig behind your ears and touched up your lipstick. “And Morticia Addams doesn’t have a tan or freckles, so yes. Now hold still.”

You held your position. This was your 2nd month as a cast member on Saturday Night Live and you had found your stride rather quickly. This worried you, as you were always told never to get too comfortable too quickly with a cast and crew, no matter how sweet they were. And they were! They were all undeniably gracious, kind and-

“Ready, honey? We’re about to go o- Jeeeesus!” A sharp voice called from the door, you couldn’t move your face right now but you knew exactly who it was. You caught a glimpse of him from the large mirror in front of you. “You uh... you look great. Just try not to knock me out with those things.” Bill winked at you from the mirror, adjusting his fake moustache and straightening his bow-tie before flashing you a smile and leaving.

“Try not to pass out when I come on stage!” You retorted.

You relationship with Bill was... strange. It consisted of passing insults, casual degradation and an accidental head butt during a sketch which caused Bill to get a nosebleed. If it wasn’t a “fuck off” during smoke breaks, or Bill doing everything in his power to get under your skin, it was a sour but sweet conversation full of witty repartee’s. He loved trying to make you break on stage. He had scared you by popping out at you in a supply closet in a scene that no one told you he would be in. He hissed at you and playfully bit your hand as Stefon during weekend update. He trapped your legs in his from under the table as Vinny, causing you to almost fall when you left the set and repeatedly ran his hands down your ribs whilst he kissed you during the Vogelcheck scenes because he knew you were extremely ticklish. That was just in the last two weeks! You hated him sometimes, but he was fun to be around and he knew it. Tonight was the Halloween Special and the two of you were playing Morticia and Gomez Addams. It involved a waltz and a kiss. You had both practiced the waltz numerous times but not the kiss. Bill had teased you for being too short to dance, you clapped back at him for being a shitty dancer and almost dropping you when he dipped you at the end but no kissing. You were unusually nervous about it.

The clicking of Maddie’s fingers found you back in the room.

“Hey! Focus, alright?” She adjusted your dress at the shoulders and looked you over. “It’s just one Halloween special, right? One night, one dance, one kiss and you just have to act like you love him. I mean you’ve faked an orgasm, right?”

You nod with a smirk on your face.

*****

“My darling Tish,” Bill exclaimed, waving his arms around and looking you up and down with adoration. He smoothed over his slick black hair and dusted down his striped suit. He looked good, there was no denying that, and he played the part so well that it was like it was made for him. “Do me the honour of giving me this dance by the moonlight, surrounded by nothing but, sweet... delicious...” His large hand cupped your face and the tip of his nose touched yours. “Death.” He smirked at you, slipping his other hand to the small of your back and pulling you in even closer. Something about his confidence, the lower register in his voice as Gomez and the way he was holding you made you feel a little wobbly. You stared deeply into your stage lovers eyes. Those blues seemed bluer tonight and you saw a flicker of an apologetic expression on his face before he straightened himself up. You looked up at him and smiled widely.

“Until the end of the world, my love.” You replied smoothly, caressing his cheek, breathing slowly, oozing seduction. You took his hand and placed your other on his shoulder. You squeezed there for a moment. Surprisingly broad.

You both waltzed on stage behind a beautiful backdrop of a graveyard, the audience cheering in the distance. Both of your mics were cut after this as all that was left was the dance and the kiss. Still smiling, not breaking character in his face, Bill’s normal voice was in your ear.

“You did great,” He murmured close to your ear as he lead the waltz. “Sorry it had to be me. No one else was tall enough.”

“Please,” You giggled. “You’re loving this.”

“And you’re not?” He raised an eyebrow and bowed his face lower, taking in every ounce of the blush rising through your skin and smirking. He squeezed your waist lightly and smiled. “Seriously though, we nailed this. I owe you a beer. It’s the least I can offer for what I’m about to do to you.”

You suddenly felt yourself being swung around and your back was now inches from the floor. He dipped you so quickly that you gasped, trying your best to still be Morticia. You lifted your head and smiled up at Bill who was holding you tightly, grasping on to the back of your neck. With one more devilish smirk, he kissed you passionately, stroking your neck as he did so. You felt your hands shake on his shoulder as you responded to the kiss, matching his ferocity breath by breath. He pulled away with a fresh coat of your lipstick on his lips and beamed at you. The oo’s and aa’s from the crowd followed by the lights fading filled you with relief. You had done it! And it went well! He pulled you back up to your feet and grabbed your hand, running off the stage as the audience applauded.

“We did it, dude!” Bill shrieked, picking you up and spinning you around. You got caught up in the adrenaline of the moment and the feeling of Bill holding on to you again that it took you a few seconds to realise that your dress was pulling down at the chest.

“Bill!” You whispered aggressively. “Dress!”

He put you down in seconds and took off his suit jacket to cover you as you adjusted the dress, looking away the whole time.

“Such a gentleman.” You gave a stilted laugh, trying to get your breath back.

*****

After the show, you were both back in normal clothes and having a smoke out by the steps.

“Now that’s how you do a Halloween show...” You exhaled the smoke, smiling up at the sky. You rested your head on Bill’s shoulder and relaxed finally.

“Oh yeah,” Bill nodded, absentmindedly stroking your hair as he slung his arm around you. “You were fuckin’ great, man. Like really great.”

“Me? You were fuckin’ incredible as Gomez! I didn’t know you had that in you. I could barely get my lines out I was just, like... in awe. Good for you.” Your voice was croaky and tired and Bill’s fingers playing with your hair seemed almost too comfortable. He turned his head to look down at you.

“Did we just compliment each other?” He grinned. His fingers walked down your head to your ears, all the way down to your neck and he tickled you gently. You struggled slightly but decided you were just too exhausted to fight back.

“Don’t get used to it, pal.” You teased, your nose almost touching his again.

“Cara mia...” He purred in a low, raspy voice, twirling a phantom moustache. His face inched closer and closer.

“Fuck you...” You groaned.

Bill gave warm and genuine smile, a tiny, musical giggle in his throat. Without thinking, you reached up and gave him a gentle kiss for no other reason than it just felt right. He responded, taking your face in one hand and massaging his mouth with yours with feather light precision.

[holdmekhh]

I Like You, Do You Like Me? -Pt.1 (Jealous!Seungyoun / Enemies to Lovers)

Artist/Person : Cho Seungyoun/WOODZ

 Group/Crew : UNIQ/X1

Genre : SMUT/ Semi-Angst/ Fluff

Words : 3.6K

Requested: “ hi can you please write a super jealous seungyoun smut w daddy kink 🥺 i love your writing sm 💕💕”- Anon

A/N; I’m soooo sorry this was posted so late, I was on the road... But enjoyyy!

____

If looks could kill, Seungyoun would’ve been a goner. Her eyes were set ablaze at his grinning face. He stuck his tongue out, laughing obnoxiously when she stuck up her manicured middle finger. “Fuck off, Cho!” She hissed, her friends grabbing at her arms when she started to march towards the boy and his group of friends. “Is princess angry?” He mocked, a fake pout on his lips making her growl softly and fight against her friends’ hold. “Just let it go, he’s dumb.” One of her friends muttered, making the other one nod. “Let’s go get some lunch.” They nodded, glancing to each other and forcing her around as they led her away from the area. “Have fun, princess!” She heard him call to them, making her groan softly. 

“Why do you idiots do that shit? Just fucking ignore him.” Her friend, Kendall rolled her eyes. “You know why.” Her other friend, Erin, laughed as she wiggled her eyebrows. “They’re gonna end up fucking. We all know it’s gonna happen eventually.” The look of absolute irritation took over her face. “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “But, nevermind that topic, are you guys gonna help me with my art assignment?” She muttered, half focused on pushing the bobby pins back into her hair to keep it neat, but keep them well hidden. “Of course, we’re helping you. The only person I’d let paint my fat ass.” Erin laughed, head falling back.  The three were best friends, all having met in middle school and stuck out together up until now, their second year of college. There was Kendall, a dark chocolate goddess. She was tall, standing at 5 '11, and thin. 100% stereotypical model material but was a complete tomboy, top it off with a genius scientist brain. Then, there was Erin, a gorgeous Mongolian queen. She was average height and was curvy as hell, though she wouldn’t agree with that statement. And, last but definitely not least, there was Y/N. She was introverted and didn’t like many people, and usually looked at people in the light of an art piece. Which isn’t always the best, or healthy way, to look at others when she didn’t fancy them too well. 

“Yeah, stay like that.” She muttered softly, looking at her friends through her camera lense before snapping away. “Turn your right side in just a little more. Shoulder forward. Yes, just like that.” She whispered at the end, adjusting the camera before snapping away for more photos. “Why’re we taking pictures instead you painting?” Erin muttered, raising an eyebrow at Y/N just as she snapped another picture. “Because if I just painted you guys and had y’all standing there, then it would take too long of y’all standing. With pictures-” She moved around and got close, snapping a few more before stepping back to look at the shots on her camera. “I can search through them and find which one I like the best and want to paint. We’re done by the way.” She stated, making the two rush over and look at the pictures. “Ugh, I’m so fat.” “Shut up, Erin. You look good as hell. Like, yo-look at that ass!” Y/N laughed and Kendalls words, nodding along silently as she glanced to her blushing friend. “Alright, go get dressed you two. Y’all can stay here and chill, order food and watch me paint, if you want.” She sat at her desk, connecting her camera to her desktop and transferring the photos. She’d become a master at these motions, getting the pictures transferred and a couple of them printed onto large pieces of photo paper in no time. Standing, she moved to set the photo down on a part of her eisel, against the canvas. “We’re gonna head out. Skype sesh in a few hours, so we can see how far you’ve gotten.” She hummed out in confirmation, looking back as her friends left. Overly exaggerated waves and blown kisses were exchanged until they disappeared, leaving her all alone in her studio.

It’d been almost 7 hours since Kendall and Erin had left, and she still hadn’t gotten to the actual painting. Melanie Martinez was blasting in the room, here eyes focused intently on the canvas as she continued to sketch the body and attire of her friends. She’d decided to make it into a greek renaissance kind of style, draping the drawn figures in soft strokes of silks. She was so into her painting, she didn’t hear the knocking on her studio door until the song ended and left a pause before the next one started. Her head whipped around to stare at the intruder through the glass barrier, eyebrows furrowing. Moving over, she lifted the needle from the vinyl and halted the music. Standing to make her way over, she pulled open the door with a soft grunt. “What?” She deadpanned at male in front of her. Wooseok was his name, he hung out with the asshat Seungyoun, but for the most part never gave her issues. “H-Hey...um, I wanted to ask um- I was told by the professor that you would be a good art history tutor...and I need a tutor for this upcoming test.” He stuttered along his whole speech, cheeks getting redder and redder the longer she stared at him. She nodded softly, “Okay. My pay rate is 10 an hour, so if you’re cool with that, I’m down to help.” Her voice was still emotionless, stable and clear as she stared at him making his stomach do backflips. He nodded, hold tightening on his backpack strap. “Would it be a problem if we did our first session now? It’s okay if not! I don’t want to intrude...I know you don’t really have the best impression of my character.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as it heated up. She merely looked at her watch and shrugged. “I planned on being here for a few more hours, so why not.” She opened the door wider and stepped to the side, allowing him in.  

The look of pure wonder took over his face as he looked around the room at all of her paintings. They were masterpieces. Pieces that could easily go for thousands. “You can pull out a chair from over there or you could sit on the couch.” She sat back down in front of her eisel, starting to sketch again. He watched for a few heartbeats, eyes intently watching how she held the pencil and stroked it lightly across the fabric of the canvas. “So, what level are you on? 101, 102?” Her voice made him jump back into reality, rushing to grab his material out his backpack. “U-Uh...101.” He stated, ear heating up in embarrassment, and nervousness. She was one of the top art students, he didn’t want her to look down on him because of his level in the subject, especially because he was a year above her. But, she simply nodded, asking him questions about the topic of the test. She stayed neutral throughout the whole session, explaining things that he needed extra understanding of. She even halted her drawing to give visual examples a couple of times. Then, she looked to her watch and stood from her seat and stretched. “Well, Wooseok, it’s almost midnight and I have to get back home.” She stated, watching the male nod and start to pack his things. Grabbing her bags of books and materials, she led him out of her studio, shutting off the lights and locking the door. “I’ll have the payment for you in cash tomorrow morning, promise.” He smiled after walking her to her car, making her nod as she got in. “Okay, see you around.” She started the vehicle and pulled out, going back to her apartment.

“Oh, look who’s here. Did you miss me, princess?” Seungyoun’s grinning face almost made her regret walking over, but the awaiting payment in Wooseoks hand made it worth it. “As if. I just came to get my money, then I’ll be out of here.” She deadpanned, walking to Wooseok as he slipped it to her with flaming cheeks. “My studio, tomorrow at 6.” She stated, making the blushing boy nod, before turning and walking away to her other class. “And what the fuck was that?!” Seungyoun stared confused as Hangyul started to poke at their friend for answers. “She started tutoring for my art history test…” “Since when?!” “Last night…” Seungyoun felt his face contort into one of disbelief. “Look, my professor suggested her to me and told me where to find her. She said she’d do it, and her pricing isn’t that bad. And, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass with her helping me.” And though Wooseok’s words made sense, Seungyoun couldn’t help the intense feeling of irritation as he clenched his jaw.

“So you do tutoring?” At the sound of the familiar voice breaking the silence that surrounded her, made her huff in annoyance and roll her eyes. “I’m doing work right now. So, kindly, fuck off.” She stated bitterly, keeping her eyes trained on the books and laptop that sat in front of her. But, her eyes squeezed shut as the chair across from her was pulled out and he plopped in it. “What do you want, Cho?” “For you to tutor me.” The laugh that slipped through her lips was genuine as her head fell forward. “Fuck off.” “I’m serious.” He deadpanned, making her raise an eyebrow as she looked at him with complete amusement. “Is this because I’m tutoring your friend?” The chuckle that left her as his ears turned pink was soft. “I’m only tutoring him for the cash. And because it’s easy shit that I know. We’re on the same intellectual level, you and I, surprisingly. You don’t need my help, and even if you did, I wouldn’t help you.” She spoke so softly, he almost didn’t process her words because the tone made his heart flutter. “Now, leave me alone. I have work to do.” 

As expected, the male never left from his spot across from her, but he did stay silent as she worked. She could feel his eyes on her most of the time, but he didn’t speak another word to her. At one point, he’d even started on his own tasks, headphones covering his ears completely as he worked diligently on his activity. When she looked up from her computer screen, her eyes red behind her glasses as they rested low on her nose. Stretching, her lips parted in a satisfied whimper as her muscles pulled and bones popped. Her eyes shut as she rolled her neck and cracked her fingers. She’d been sitting in the same position for hours, working sedulously and unmoving, so the tug and snap of her body was very welcomed. Both to her, and to the male across from her. The soft sounds that slipped from her lips didn’t go unnoticed by him, having stopped the track he’d been working on to add some more things. His heart fluttered and his stomach did backflips as the sounds flowed to him, making his breath catch in his throat. 

Days had gone by, Y/N and Wooseok becoming a bit closer through the process making it easier for her to tolerate him and his friends that sometimes came to pick up their friend. Today was the final tutoring session, ending the two weeks, and to say that Wooseok was nervous was an understatement. Y/N could tell, immediately trying to talk down his nervousness, even getting a few words of encouragement from Seungyoun who’d invaded their session. Y/N didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t interfere because this wasn’t just a hang out, she wouldn’t allow people who weren’t her best friends into her studio just to hang out. She was doing business in the situation, and also helping out an art-ignorant fellow student. “Look, think about it this way… As long as you get a 75, you’re not a complete failure.” She states simply, eyes still focused on her canvas as she slowly stroked her brush over the material. The piece was almost done, needing a few more finishing touches before she would put the finishing gloss on. It’d taken so long to get the piece done, as she had actual work for school to finish between painting sessions. But, the time was worth it to get the perfect result.

“Okay! Well, I have to get out of here. I have night shift tonight.” Wooseok muttered, standing and stretching before packing his things. “See you.” Y/N called over her shoulder, barely pulling her focus away from her art. After the door shut, it was silent for a long time. She’d even reached over and placed the needle of her record player onto the vinyl that rested on the inside, letting the soft jazzy instruments fill the space of her studio. The lights were dim, she had a couple candles lit, and she had incense burning in a small corner of the room where she kept a few gems. Soft hums left her lips as she swayed softly to the tunes, completely in her element. She thought she was alone, until she felt  breathing on her exposed shoulder making her freeze. Slowly turning her head, a loud gasp left her lips as she came face to face with Seungyoun. “What the hell, Cho?!” She squeaked, hand resting over her chest as her head fell back, giving the male an heart fluttering view. “What?” He muttered, smiling gently as he eyed her. “I thought you two left!” “Wooseok did, I wanted to stay back and watch you finish. It’s intriguing, seeing you in your element.” He stated, straightening himself to go look around at all of her works. She was still settling back after the scare he’d given her, merely watching him with shaky eyes. “You’re really talented.” “Thanks.” She muttered, feeling her insides twist as he studied each piece. “Can you explain these to me?” He asked gently, making her stand and walk over. She was nervous, stomach doing backflips as she approached his figure, because no one had ever asked her to explain her art work to them. “Which one?” She muttered, standing next to him as he pointed to a piece of two people morphing into one another. “That one...I did my freshman year, I think. I was going through a really hard time, figuring out who I was at the time and who I was becoming.” The soft hum of acknowledgement made her look to him as he pointed to another one. “That’s my sister...my favorite person. She was reading in the middle of the libary and looked so intrigued with the book she was reading, which peaked my interest and I had to capture the moment. I sketched it and later on resketched it on a canvas and painted it like a greek sculpture.” She chuckled at the end, making him smile as he pointed to another and another before finally turning to her and eyeing her. “And what about your outfit for today? What inspired this one?” The shock was evident in her features as her ears started to heat up. “M-My outfit?” He nodded, “I always notice your outfits are usually dark and very grunge-like. Today, though...seems super sexy and elegant…” She cleared her throat, looking down as her ears heated more. “I had a showing today…” “M’okay...tell me about your outfit. What fabrics? Tell me about the pieces you chose.” Suddenly she felt small under his gaze, clearing her throat again. “So...my top is actually a silk slip dress that I thrifted for like 3 bucks. My skirt is a silk, a vintage piece I got from my granny...and the shoes that I wore with it were a treat to myself, because they were almost 200. Oh! I also wore a cute pinstripe blazer over it, so I could cover all of my tattoos.” He nodded, smiling as he watched her, “You also left your hair out.” She subconciously ran a hand through her afro of curls, humming softly. “I like them…” He muttered, having moved closer to tower in front of her. She gasped softly as she looked up to him. The way he was looking down at her made her stomach twist and heart race; it was filled with such adoration. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, making her nod without hesitation as he smiled gently.

His hand raised slowly, burying into her curls as he leaned down slowly to gently brush his lips against hers. Finally, pressing their lips together completely, he stood still as he waited for her react. The slight pressure of her pushing her lips closer to his made his heart swell and his other hand to move to cup her waist, pulling her to his body. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, like beautiful, full clouds. And her hair, so soft and bouncy as it curled around his palm. Pulling back slightly, he smiled against her lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, princess.” The nickname, along with the kiss, made her head go fuzzy. “Princess…” He muttered softly, chuckling when she whined softly. “Stop calling me that…” “Why?” He smiled as she pushed face into his chest. “It makes me tingly…” She muffled out. “Now it does....after all this time.” “Always has.” At that, his chest tightened and his stomach knotted, body stilling as it heated up. “Really?” He squeaked, making her nod as she chuckled into his shirt. “Why were you always so mean about it then?” “Because it made me tingly…” The loud laugh that ripped through him shook her, making her whine.

The days after that were mutually less aggrivation filled, and she’d almost thought that he liked her until she saw him flirting with another girl at a frat party the weekend after. She knew that shouldn’t be so hurt, because they just kissed and everyone just kisses, but she was. Add that to her being high as hell, and petty as hell, it was a big uh-oh moment. Walking up to Wooseok, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her to the dancefloor. “Woah...you okay?” He asked making her nod, though a soft pout played on her lips. “Is it because of Seungyoun-ie?” He leaned in to mutter in her ear, unknowingly giving her the advantage of seeing over his shoulder slightly. She made eye contact with Seungyoun, a sly smirk finding purchase on her face as she silently nodded to Wooseok’s question. Pulling away to look her in the face, he kept his face close enough for her to hear him. “She’s been flirting with him all night, but I don’t think he’s really interested.”He stated just as they heard a throat clearing, pulling away to turn to the interrupter. And there, in all of his fuming glory stood Seungyoun. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” She shrugged stubbornly, rolling her eyes as he gently grabbed her hand and led her to one of the bathrooms. Shutting and locking the door, he turned to lean against the door. She sat on closed toilet, his low gaze on her form as she looked to him with reddened sclera. “What was that about, princess?” His voice was stable, calm and relaxed. “I don’t know, ask your little girlfriend.” She snipped back with an icy tone, eyes rolling when he chuckled softly. “You saw that, huh?” He pushed off the door, and crouched in front of her. “Is that why you acted out with Wooseok, princess?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes again making him clench his jaw. When she turned her head, he caught her chin between his fingers gently to turn her back to look at him with a couple of soft ‘tsk’s. “Listen, princess, she was nobody. She came up to talk to me, but I wasn’t interested. Wanna know why?” He made her stand up by slowly pulling her to him by her chin. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered, leaning down to peck her lips. “I’m only interested in fucking, kissing, and loving my princess. M’okay?” He muttered, kissing down the column of her neck to latch onto her throat as she whined. His hands cupped her butt, rubbing it gently before gripping it and lifting her up. “You’re so light, baby.” He chuckled, nipping at the skin of her neck softly, smiling when she whined. “So cute…” He cooed, sucking at the skin with a grin. 

Setting her on the sink, he pulled her head back by her hair. “So pretty.” He hummed, staring down at her before running his nose over her jaw. “I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” The growl in his voice set waves of arousal to her core, causing her to whine as she clenched around nothing. “Daddy…” She cried as he tugged on her hair a little, making him freeze. “What’d you call me?” He muttered, feeling his adrenaline spike and heart speed up. “D-Daddy…” She muttered, face flushed and eyes blown as she stared at him wide eyed. His head fell back, eyes squeezing shut, as he growled lowly. “You’re gonna make me ruin you,  princess.” He stated, voice having dropped a couple of octaves in a raspy groan. “Let’s go back to mine?”