#and i overuse the word mush

[insertsickusername13]

You get no summary as to what this is about. It's around 2k words, but it only took me like 30 minutes to write so. it's. it's a bit confusing. but it's cute and happy!!!

 “I don’t even know where to start,” Chloe whined, slamming her forehead against the library table. Jake winced involuntarily at the noise, but Chloe didn’t even seem to notice what she’d done. “She’s just so pretty, Jake. Have you seen her? Those eyes—”

 “Yes,” Jake replied, an odd mix between bemused and annoyed. He had homework he was happy to ignore just to listen to Chloe’s excessive rantings on her most recent crush (there’d been three this week—she was struggling with the whole ‘not being in love with Brooke anymore’ thing), but it was still homework that he’d have to do later if he didn’t finish it now. “We get it, she’s hot and you want to fuck her, but did I factor this right?”

 She barely glanced over his paper before giving him a half-hearted thumbs up and continuing on with, “I just want to be able to talk to her, you know? Be confident and tell her she’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

 “Then do that,” Rich seethed. He was even more impatient than Jake, sitting red-faced with his arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at his computer with a familiar fiery gaze Jake was accustomed to being on the receiving end of. Jake’s heart did a flip.

 “Shut up. You never confess to your crushes," Chloe shot back.

 “Because I’m busy writing reports for my stupid research class, and I’d prefer if I could do it in silence.”

 Jake leaned forward on his elbows and propped his chin on the heel of his hand, just close enough so he could feel the edges of Rich and Chloe’s argument like electricity in the air. They were both pissy today—Chloe because she was upset about her crush, and Rich because he had a three thousand word report due that night that he’d totally forgotten about until two days ago. Though Jake would usually have little patience when it came to Rich’s moods (uncommon now that he was unsquipped—most of the time it was either dorky ramblings or hesitant dad jokes), he was well enough adapted to Rich’s behaviors to know that hadn’t meant to put it off, really, it was just a thing that happened sometimes. He knew Rich had seen it in the color-coded agenda Jake had made for him, it simply didn’t register that it was real. Rich spent the past two days busting his ass off and Jake understood why he wanted silence so he could get it over with.

 “No,” Chloe shot back, “You’re a coward. And I am too. I’m usually so confident, this genuinely hurts. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

 Rich tilted his head back to cast a glance up at the sky, probably a prayer of some sort, before he closed his computer and turned to Chloe, expression cold. Jake watched his every movement.

 “Five minutes,” Rich spat, “Five minutes, and then you shut up for the rest of the period and let me work. Deal?”

 Chloe stuck out her hand and shook his. Rich set a timer on his phone and immediately Chloe was off. The color of this girl’s eyes (Jake wasn’t sure of her name, he’d been too busy watching Rich bite his lip while he focused to catch it), her hair, the way she made her feel.

 “I can’t even think when I'm around her," Chloe sighed, borderline wistful, “My stomach gets in knots and everything gets fuzzy and warm. It’s like I’m melting inside, and not in a horny way. I want to take her away to some perfect place where she can never get hurt and teach her how to paint and feed her cherries. How am I supposed to talk to her when my brain is literal mush whenever she gets too close?!"

 Rich laughed for the first time all day. Jake frowned.

 “I don’t get it,” Jake said slowly, trying to decode Chloe’s words even as he was speaking, “Aren’t you doing that now?”

 Chloe and Rich immediately turned to him, surprised by not only his sudden contribution to their previously exclusive conversation but also by his hesitance. Jake wasn’t hesitant. Jake always knew what he was talking about.

 Even now, he was sure of himself. He knew Chloe was talking through that feeling now—Rich was sitting right next to her, and Rich was practically the embodiment of that feeling. He walked into the room and overwhelmed everyone with a giddy, sunshine feeling that made their vision blur and their heart beat too fast. It was a Rich thing, he brought it everywhere he went. Even when he walked in with a too-big sweatpants and oily hair after weeks of either studying or laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and convincing himself he was worth more than the persona he used to present, Rich ignited butterflies in everyone he met. Every single day.

 Chloe didn’t make the connection to the Rich Effect (as Jake had dubbed it), though. She shot to her feet, eyes wide and panicked.

 “She’s here?!!?” she whisper-yelled, spinning in circles and scanning the library for her mystery crush, “Where?! Why didn’t you tell me—”

 “What? No, calm down, I was talking about Rich.”

 If Jake’s earlier statement had confused them, this broke them. Chloe sat down, her back rigid and eyes narrowed. Rich simply tilted his head slightly to the right, an innocent show of curiosity. Even that was enough to make the room flush pink, and somehow Chloe seemed perfectly fine talking through that, he didn’t see why this new girl was any different.

 “Rich?” she echoed, “I don’t have a crush on Rich? It’s fine to talk around him?”

 “Yeah, obviously. But he’s got the whole Rich thing, y’know?”

 They did, indeed, not know. Jake looked between the two of them, searching for any flash of recognition, but he was met with empty stares and questioning looks. Rich made a small, confused sound.

 “Like, Rich-walks-in-a-room-and-everything-lights-up? That thing? The butterflies? C’mon, you have to know what I’m talking about, he’s been doing it since the fire.”

 Jake’s nerves somehow coalesced into an awkward, stunted laugh made just to fill the silence that followed his observation. Rich seemed weirdly flustered, as if he’d somehow been unaware that every single person he met was enthralled by the sound of his lisp or the way he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves whenever he got nervous. This was normal—Jake knew it was normal. Everyone felt that, everyone knew it, it was just such a fact of life it remained unspoken amongst the masses.

 “…no,” Chloe said as if she was explaining some foreign concept to a toddler, “Most people do not get butterflies at the sight of Rich. No offense.”

 Rich shook his head as he muttered ‘none taken.’ He was studying Jake with the same lost expression Chloe was, lips parted, and it was only when Rich’s cheeks flushed a cute pink that Jake realized maybe he’d fucked up.

 Rich clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Even worse, Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. Not only was Rich not purposefully torturing the entire population with his inexplicable ability to turn everything into gold whenever he smiled, but apparently his accidental magic only affected Jake.

 A phenomenon most would describe as a crush.

 Jake did not have a crush. He was straight, Rich was his best friend, and he’d never risk ruining that. But Chloe was slowly coming to the same realization he had and he watched the exclamation form on her lips before he had the chance to stop her.

 “You like him?!”

 Jake didn’t have time to form a defense before Rich was falling out of his chair, face red and eyes bulging. He popped back up almost immediately and screeched, “WHAT?!”

 “No!!! Stop! I don’t! Slow down! It’s normal, okay?! Stop looking at me like that, Jesus. I’m not—I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?! It’s clearly not the same. Just—the normal amount, you know? Don’t you give everyone butterflies? C’mon, it can’t just be me.”

 Maybe it was just him, come to think of it. He didn’t remember many other people getting tongue-tied around Rich, or blushing simply when he entered the room. The only reason Jake could keep his cool around Rich was because he’d spent months adapting to this constant glow-y feeling. The first few weeks after meeting post-fire Rich, Jake had practiced talking in the mirror just to make sure he hadn’t had a stroke in his sleep and lost the ability to speak or something. Other people… didn’t seem to have that reaction. They didn’t act like Rich was made of pure sunshine, or his voice a melody, his eyes entrancing, his lips—

 Jake searched Rich’s face for an answer, eyes darting from place to place helplessly. From his eyes to his eyebrows to his cheeks to his freckles to his hair. He was met with curiosity and excitement and tension—something that terrified him more than anything.

 He didn’t think Rich would say no, not when he was looking at Jake like this. Like he was afraid to be happy, unbelieving that things could possibly go the way he wanted them to. Jake could ask Rich to kiss him right now and… and he might get that. He might like that.

 “The normal amount,” Jake repeated, his voice trembling. Too fast. He was straight ten minutes ago, this was way too fucking fast.

 “The normal amount is no amount, Jacob,” Chloe said. Unlike Rich, she didn’t sound afraid to be happy. She looked excited. She was finally free from Jake’s lingering attraction. She could go off and date this new girl without wondering if her ex-boyfriend would be okay with it. Because he had a crush on his best friend. Apparently. Fuck. No—

 “Okay?! Then I don’t feel it any amount! It’s only sometimes—well, most of the time—but there’s no way—how can you look at him and not—?”

 Chloe had the audacity to laugh at him, elated and unbridled. That, of all things, should’ve had Jake’s heart melting into his lungs.

 But instead, it was Rich’s small, “Jake…?” that made the sky turn pink.

 “Don’t. I don’t like you, okay? I don’t. It’s—”

 Jake would kiss him if Rich asked him to. But, because this was post-fire Rich instead of pre-fire Rich, Rich didn’t say a word, didn't lean forward and offer Jake the sweet relief of letting all this built-up excitement out into a kiss. Rich sat back down, mouth clamped shut and eyes trained carefully on the table in front of him.

 “Okay,” he murmured, his face flushed, “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Go out to dinner with me.”

 Rich refused to look up. Still staring at the table, he whispered, “What?”

 “I don’t know?! Apparently, not everyone thinks you’re the most beautiful person to walk the planet?! And I mean, if I get to keep you all to myself, then fuck me if I don't. So. Dinner. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m not a fucking coward. I’ll go for it. You’re pretty, you make everything warm and happy, and I think I really fucking like that feeling, so.”

 “You’re straight.”

 “Maybe not?” Jake offered, his voice small and on the verge of cracking.

 Rich’s hands clenched the edge of the table. Jake, disoriented and desperate, reached out and threaded their fingers together just to loosen his grip.

 “Please?” he whispered, “I think—I think I really like you.”

 “Okay,” Rich replied.

 “No, I’m serious. I—”

 “I know you are. But I’m sure I like you. A lot. Why don’t you go fuck around a little and experiment a bit before you decide to go and break my heart?”

 “Oh, shit,” Chloe said. Jake shooed her off with his free hand, not even bothering to look at her. His full attention was on Rich and his trembling hands.

 “I don’t wanna experiment. I want to go out to dinner with you.”

 Rich shrugged. Jake made a small sound of frustration.

 “C’mon, you can’t—I like you! I have all the feelings people get when they like someone. Hell, I probably have more, considering I literally cannot see anyone else whenever you so much as brush up against me. I was raised to be fucking president of Model UN and the archery team, Rich. My brain never managed to compute that liking guys—liking you—could even be an option. But it is an option, and I like you, and now that I know it I don’t think I will physically be able to handle being in the same room and not kissing you. Dinner. Please. One date. Then you can decide I’m a slut who just wants to experiment.”

 Rich squeezed Jake’s hand, tight and unwavering. When he looked up, all Jake could think about was how grateful he was Rich hadn’t done it earlier. He already knew he was fucked—just from Chloe’s confusion, from Rich’s embarrassment—but damn. Damn. Jake wished he was more poetic. He’d trained himself to write succinct essays and informative contentions, not stanzas about the exact shade of gold the perfect mix between green and brown could make.

 “One date.”

 “And when I prove you wrong, we can go out on another.”

 Rich let out an awkward laugh that sounded somewhere between pained and excited.

 “Sure,” he said, “Then we can go on another.”

[conazo]

Valentino writing tips: language

I’m not an expert by any means, but I thought I might provide some insight into how I, personally, handle the nasty moth's dialogue.

Like all languages, Spanish is highly regional. We don’t really know Val’s actual background as a Sinner, so your guess is as good as mine. Given his VA is Puerto Rican, however, I write Valentino as someone who speaks Caribbean Spanish (like me!). The three Spanish-speaking countries/territories in the Caribbean are: Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and Cuba. I'm not familiar with Cuban Spanish, so we'll focus on the first two for now.

Some of these are more specific to one place than the other, but I’m mushing them together for simplicity’s sake (don't come at me).

Fun quirks of Dominican and Puerto Rican Spanish:

A habit of shortening words, like “ven pa’ca” (“come here”) instead of “ven para acá.” We frequently eat the letters “r,” “s” or “d” toward or at the end of some words.

Pronouncing “r” as “l” in some words.

Pronouncing “t” as a soft sound between a “th” and a “d.” Although this voice has a Spanish (from Spain) cadence, you can hear the modified “t” sound in “Valentino” here.

Fun Dominican and Puerto Rican words and phrases:

“Coño” as a casual curse, typically used as an expression of frustration (like “fuck!”). My username is basically a really intense version of coño, and is a very Dominican phrase.

“Diablo,” which means “devil,” is also commonly used as an exclamation.

“Hijo de la gran puta,” a classic that roughly parallels "son of a bitch," but literally translates to “son of a great whore.”

“Papi” or “papi chulo” (“cute daddy”) as a term of affection. “Papito” is the diminutive version of this phrase.

On that note, you can add “ito” to the end of just about anything to make it a diminutive (cutesy/smaller version). “Chulo” means cute, for example. “Chulito” is the even more affectionate/smaller version of that.

“Dique,” which is used to express doubt. Vox might say, “I am not obsessed with Alastor!” Valentino might mutter “diiiique” in response. This is a Dominican thing.

“Wepa,” which is something usually shouted in excitement. This is a Puerto Rican thing.

“Vaina,” which kind of means “thing,” often with a negative connotation. So, Valentino might look at one of Velvette’s designs, find it hideous, and say, “que vaina más fea, oof” (“what an ugly thing, oof”).

“Fó,” which is sort of “ew” or “gross,” usually re: bad smells. You shout it.

“Mano,” short for “hermano” (“brother”). Used between friends.

“Dímelo” (“tell me”) as a greeting. Something that would be said when answering the phone, for example.

“Cojer” as a means of saying “to take,” like taking something from a table. This word has a very different context in other regions. In Mexico, for example, the verb “cojer” is vulgar and means “to fuck.”

“Ahorita,” which in my experience means “later.” In other regions, it can mean “right now” or “later” depending on context.

Commonly used phrases in Mexican Spanish.

You’ll want to avoid these if you’d like his dialogue to be consistently Caribbean-inspired:

“Pinche”

“Verga”

“Wey”

“No mames/no manches”

“Qué padre”

“Chingar”

Calling acquaintances “primo” or “jefe”

I mention this Spanish dialect specifically because it's the most common one in the world. And hey, Val could be canonically Mexican or Mexican in your headcanon! That's cool, too. I'm just providing insight for consistency's sake.

Other insight:

“Ay dios mío!” is a generally overused phrase, in my opinion, and not actually said IRL as frequently as TV makes it seem. Just my experience, though.

“Ay” or “uy” are good filler sounds. You hear Val shout it when Niffty snaps at him.

Valentino canonically squeaks like a moth when passionate!

His voice takes on an echo/growl when he’s particularly angry.

Mixing English and Spanish is tricky. Spanglish is not uncommon in PR, DR, and the US, but usually only when speaking with someone else who is fluent in both languages. Valentino seems plenty fluent in English; he uses lots of contractions, complex sentence structure, and slang. He doesn’t need to inject Spanish phrases in favor of English ones when conversing with another English speaker. He does do it sometimes for emphasis (“the devil’s princesa” or “this chiquita”).

As cliché as it is, defaulting to a Spanish phrase in moments of alarm, anger, frustration, or affection is also not uncommon if you grew up in a Spanish-speaking home. If someone surprises me, I shout “coño” by default, for example.

Valentino uses pet names when referring to others, like "amorcito" (“little love”) and "Angie" over voicemail.

Generally speaking, Val likes to stretch his vowels to be theatrical ("he mooooved!"). He sometimes eats the ends of English words, like “fuckin’” instead of “fucking.” He also sometimes rolls his “r” for English words, like in “ungrrrateful whore!”

Val's accent isn’t consistently strong, which could be a stylistic choice, or he could just be prone to a kind of unique code switching, for lack of a better term. My friends say I speak English with a Spanish accent when conversing with my family, for example (it’s not intentional).

Okay that’s it, bye!

[consciouscarrot]

day 18 - pumpkin [j.maybank]

jj maybank x fem!reader

content warnings; one gag but no v*, throwing pumpkin guts on eachother, just them being silly, overuse of the word guts (bc wtf else do i call it), very slightly suggestive ending

notes; no s4 spoilers in this (bc i still haven’t gotten around to watching it yet), a shorter one tday!! but super early :3

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

orange stained the table beneath where you and jj were carving pumpkins, guts and seeds covering its surface. you’d chosen to go for a simple yet classic design- a cute face, whereas jj had chosen to do a weed leaf. he was now heavily regretting that, because his ‘weed’ somehow looked more like a balled up hedgehog with a weirdly long dick, not that he’d admit that to you.

“see, i told you we should’ve matched but you didn’t wanna hear it! and now mine looks perfect and yours looks like… well that,” you said, turning around to grab another carving tool.

you squealed when you were suddenly alerted to the revolting feeling of slimy pumpkin guts hitting your bare arm, sliding off when you shook it in disgust, gasping sharply.

“jj! what the fuck?” you shriek, spinning around towards him.

“that’s what you deserve for criticising my beautiful pumpkin,” throwing you a lopsided grin, pride radiating off him.

you lunged, grabbing a handful of the pumpkin entrails from your pile, before chucking it in his direction, laughing when it landed with a big splat on his chest, slithering down to drop wetly on the floor.

his jaw gaped, completely speechless as you giggled nervously, “oh i’m so gonna get you for that,” he threw more guts at you, chasing you around the table, almost slipping on a mushed up pile of it on the floor.

you were both in a fit of giggles, throwing whatever bits of pumpkin you could find at eachother, screaming when one handful landed on your head and face, pushing you over your limit of filth.

“okay, okay, no more,” you panted, hands going up in a defensive stance, “you win.”

“of course i did, i always win,”

you throw a pointed look at his pumpkin, instantly regretting it as he broke your truths, grabbing you and shoving some of the goop down your top.

he gave you a satisfied nod, letting you go with a gross kiss to your unsullied cheek, slobbery lips matching the texture of the pumpkins.

swatting him, you let out a breath of relief, leaning forward against the table, before quickly pulling back with a grimace at the mess under your hands.

the two of you tried to get the worst bits off, but the slime coating you would absolutely need a couple of showers to get off, at least.

“it’s all in my hair,” you whined, picking a particularly slithery piece out with a gag.

“aw my poor baby, c’mon i’ll help you get it out in the shower, we’ll save water if we do it together,” he said with a wink and a slap to your ass, guiding you towards the bathroom, leaving the mess of a kitchen to be dealt with later.

[tenkobitch]

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ

Kaminari Denki x G/N Reader

Genre: Established relationship, fluff, study date

A/N: I thought I would write a short oneshot of a random MHA character just so I wasn't too sucked into writing my series, so I hope y'all enjoy!

Kaminari isn't dumb, but he's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. He is often praised for wearing himself out completely with his quirk – sending huge electric shock waves through any object – but he's also heavily made fun of for the side effects. His brain goes haywire, and he's nothing more than a dumb potato. His friends make fun of him the most in that state.

But you always take care of him. Even when Bakugou is angrily yelling at your boyfriend to, "Stop being a dimwit", you always manage to pull Kaminari far enough to allow him some rest. He often doesn't remember most of it because he's either spacing out, or his brain has been turned to mush. But no matter what, you always make it your duty to keep him on track.

So, you asked your boyfriend to study with you.

"Honey, sugar, lemon, sweetie pie," you called out to him, hoping to make him cringe with your overuse of silly nicknames. But when you finally reached him, he had a huge smile on his face. No disgust in sight. You sighed, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, right beside him. You both sat in silence for only a few seconds before you asked him the big question.

"Denki, I know you're not doing too hot on your school work," Kaminari was ready to deny your statement until you put your hand up, telling him to wait. "So, I propose that we study together!"

Kaminari shook his head, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in defiance. He really didn't like studying. You put on your brightest smile and tried to convince him.

"I'll bring your favorite snacks and drinks, and after we're done, we can watch a movie or your favorite show." You clasped your hands together and leaned in closer to his face. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel your breathing on his cheek.

"It'll be like a study date!"

Kaminari opened one of his eyes, clearly excited, but not wanting to give into you so easily. He cleared his throat and finally spoke up.

"All of my favorite snacks and drinks?" He said in a whisper, suspicious of your promises. You nodded, wishing that he would stop resisting the idea of studying.

"Any movie or TV show? You'll watch anything I wanna watch?" You nodded again, already feeling tired from this interaction. He was really starting to get on your nerves. He leaned in with both of his eyes open, assessing the situation.

"So, what's in it for you!"

"I'm leaving."

"No, no, no, WAIT!" Kaminari bolted from the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room. He caught up to you easily, turning you around in his arms. His face was inches away from yours as he looked into your eyes to see if you were really angry. You tried to hold your composure, but seeing your boyfriend's reaction to you leaving almost made you crack. You couldn't help but let a small smile reach your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, the gold haired boy finally spoke.

"Do you really wanna help me study? Do you really wanna do a study date?" You couldn't hold back your laugh as you saw the boy's sad eyes look back at you. You reached up to pat his head, which he gladly received. You nodded once more, and you gave him a response.

"Yes! Why would I be asking you if I didn't actually wanna help you study?" He yelped in excitement and shook you back and forth like a little kid. Things like, "Thank you," and "Oh my gosh!" were the only words you could comprehend before you felt your butt hit the ground. You looked up to find a seething Bakugou holding back an excited Kaminari.

"Dunce face, your mouth is running all over the place!" Your boyfriend's face lit up as he stared back at you. You gave the angry boy behind him a disappointed look, only to receive the same booming voice.

"Don't look at me like that, smart face! You're the one making him jump for joy like a dog!" You laughed out, only making Kaminari's face light up even more. Bakugou loudly huffed and dropped the happy boy into the floor with you.

"You both are a bunch of fools. That's it, we're all meeting in the common area!" You and Kaminari continued to laugh as Bakugou gathered the rest of the Bakusquad by their shirts and dragged them to the living room. He finally dragged you both to the couch and pulled out his notebooks, ready to teach.

After your successful study session came to a close, you all went your separate ways. As your other friends left, you heard quiet whispers from Mina and Kirishima while Sero still had a confused look on his face. You laughed and turned back to gather your things, only to see an unusually calm Kaminari. He stared at you as if you were royalty, causing you to look away with a blush on your face.

When you looked back, he was still smiling at you like you were perfection, and you couldn't be embarrassed anymore.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Your boyfriend only shrugged, keeping his face on you and your movements.

"Because you're really pretty," he sighed out, leaning his head on one of his propped up hands. You decided to look at anything else but your boyfriend's handsome face, but he continued.

"And you always help me out. Even when Kacchan wouldn't explain how to do something again, you were always helping everyone else, showing us all how to do the problems again." You turned back to the gold haired boy as he stared back at you with no embarrassment in his eyes.

"Bakugou would kill you if he heard you call him that."

"Then I'll die happy." You rolled your eyes and laughed at the audacity of the boy. You gathered your things and pointed at him with your laughter filling the room.

"Okay, weirdo!" Kaminari smiled as you walked away from him to put your things away. His bubble only popped when he heard a quiet snicker behind him.

"You're damn right! Dunce face is a weirdo!" Kaminari's smile disappeared as he felt Bakugou lean closer to him. "And y'know what I do to weirdos, don't you, dunce face?"

Kaminari tried to get up and run to safety, but the boy was pulled back by the blonde.

"Get ready to charge all of the cooking equipment, cuz I'm gonna be cooking for a while!"

And that's how Kaminari ended up in your room again, tucked into bed as you let his mushed brain get back to normal.

*Bonus*

You: "So... Do you wanna tell me what happened last night?"

Kaminari: "... Bakugou made me charge all of the cooking equipment..."

You: "And why did he do that?"

Kaminari: "Because I'm a weirdo."

You: "No! It was because you called him 'Kacchan'!"

Kaminari: "Tomato, tamato, let's just say that I did both things!"

You: "Well, you are a weirdo."

Kaminari: "I'm your weirdo~"

You: "Where's Bakugou when you need him?"

Kaminari: "Please don't get him-"

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

[4joonkookie2]

Live!

Pairing: Namjoon x Jungkook

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Jungkook interrupts Namjoon's livestream to take advantage of their free-use arrangement :)

Tags/Notes: smut, free-use, butt plugs, teasing, anal sex, oral sex, blowjobs, swallowing, slut, vlive, weverse, public sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, kissing, JK is irresistible, Top!NJ, Bottom!JK, established relationship, Joon is down BAD, JK's ass prevails, better to overuse names than be unclear.

UNCENSORED MOODBOARD

---------

After a long day of work, Namjoon sits down in his studio and starts a Vlive. It’s the last thing he’ll have to do today before he can go home. 

The stream gets going, comments invading and scrolling down the screen. Namjoon scans through as best he can as they zoom downward.   

He greets his fans and sorts through questions about his hair, his projects, and the other members. 

Your hair is getting so long!

Yoongi Marry me!

When is your album coming out???

Namjoon is startled by a knock at the door, not expecting anybody. Visits from other members are typically planned and Namjoon thought he was alone today. 

“Please, wait for me,” he says. In caution, he aims the camera at the ceiling. 

He opens the door to Jungkook, who stands in the doorway, effortlessly beautiful in his baggy shirt and sweatpants. 

“Hi,” he says. Just the sound of his voice has Namjoon's pulse racing. 

He pulls Jungkook inside, shutting the door behind them. He presses him to the door and greets him with a kiss on the lips.

Hunger takes over Namjoon. He presses his body against Jungkook’s, exploring his mouth with his tongue, and running hands down the length of his back and over his ass. Jungkook whimpers in his grasp.

He has to step back and gain his composure, almost forgetting where he is and what he’s doing. Every encounter with Jungkook is like falling into a deep hole that he can’t crawl out of. It’s intense and all-encompassing in the best way.

When he's alone, he can be normal. He can think. But the moment Jungkook comes around, it's like his brain turns to mush. It makes the nature of their free-use arrangement thrilling, but it also makes Namjoon susceptible to Jungkook’s whims at the worst moments. 

“I’m live right now,” Namjoon says in his most hushed voice, reminding himself too. 

“Oh?” Jungkook looks only half surprised. 

In more caution, Namjoon runs to the computer and mutes the microphone. 

“Maybe give me 20 minutes? I’ll finish early.” He gets his lips on Jungkook again. He holds his face in his hands, feeling himself drowning. 

“No,” Jungkook hums, shaking his head sweetly, voice going up at the end. He wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck. 

Namjoon titters nervously. He understands their arrangement, but he’s literally live streaming.

“That’s the agreement, Hyung. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere,” Jungkook quips. “I’ll be quiet,” he says. “Unless you want to use the safe word.” 

Namjoon gulps and shakes his head. He couldn’t possibly resist Jungkook. 

“Will you join me?” Namjoon asks, in a last-ditch effort. “ARMY would love to see you.”

Jungkook slyly shakes his head. 

Namjoon has a sneaking suspicion that Jungkook has planned this. He makes his way back to his chair to sit, hesitant. He angles the screen away so as not to expose Jungkook.

Jungkook arranges himself on the couch, out of view and behind the camera. 

He removes his shirt, tossing it to the side. “Go on, Hyung. They’re waiting.”

Namjoon nods, taking a deep breath. Has to get back on or management will be breathing down his neck.

He says a silent prayer before pointing the camera to himself again. He reconnects the audio and continues. Comments have flooded the session. 

Where are you????

What happened????

Namjoooooooooooon!!

“Sorry, I had some technical difficulties,” he explains, easing the virtual crowd. “It was just a staff member.”

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook rubs hands over his bare chest and nipples, caressing down the washboard of his stomach. 

It's everything Namjoon can do to keep at least one eye on the screen. 

Jungkook’s cock grows in his sweats. He licks his fingers and keeps one hand tweaking his nipple, gasping a little. He rubs over his crotch and gets ahold of his cock, sheathed by fabric. He looks down at it, then at Namjoon. 

Jungkook’s face is a bit flushed now, lips parted as he rubs over himself. Namjoon's mouth waters .

Jungkook keeps his eyes locked on Namjoon. Removing his sweatpants, he reveals a lack of underwear. He drags his fingertips between his thighs, tickling himself before stroking at his hardened shaft and swiping pre at the tip. 

Namjoon squirms in his seat. Time isn’t moving fast enough. He has to be live for at least a half hour and there are still 15 minutes left.  

He does his best to focus, putting both eyes on the screen. He reads comments and answers questions as Jungkook lies stark naked on the couch. It’s their little secret. 

Dissatisfied with the attention he’s receiving, Jungkook stands and approaches Namjoon, still out of view of the camera. 

Namjoon looks up at him, trying to do two things at once. 

'Back up,’ Jungkook mouths. Namjoon scoots his rolling chair back, doing his best to appear casual. He panics when Jungkook gets to his knees just under the camera. 

“What are you doing?” Namjoon whispers, aiming the screen at the ceiling and muting the audio. 

“Relax,” Jungkook soothes. “Just a little longer,” he says, settling between Namjoon’s legs. 

Who’s with you???

What are you looking at?

Show us!

They’ve made use of this arrangement endless times, but it was always at least behind a closed door. How could they do it like this in front of fans? What if management catches wind of this? It’s terrifying and thrilling, all at once.  

But he can’t bring himself to stop Jungkook. He’s irresistible . 

Settled between his knees, Jungkook gently caresses Namjoon’s thighs at first. Resetting the equipment, Namjoon focuses his attention on the viewers again.  

Jungkook signals for him to lift his ass slightly so he can lower his sweatpants. Namjoon riffs, seemingly shifting from the waist up. 

He maintains composure and reads comments, thinking less about Jungkook and feeling comfortable just having him below.  

"Yes, the track list will come out soon."

"I worked on it for a long time, I hope you enjoy it."

Jungkook massages Namjoon’s cock and places little kisses through his briefs. He rubs his face and mouth against the clothed shaft. Jungkook’s warm breath and the friction of the fabric create a unique sensation. 

It’s soothing, in a way, and puts Namjoon in a more relaxed headspace. He muses with fans over his last trip to the art gallery and his Instagram photos.

What’s your favorite gallery?

Yoongi Marry me!

His stomach drops when Jungkook pulls his shaft from the slit in his shorts. He places gentle little kitten licks at the top, so soft they almost tickle. Namjoon’s face and body heat up, cock fully erect. He does his best to carry on. 

He tangles encouraging hands in Jungkook’s hair and nearly chokes when he feels his warm mouth wrap around him. Jungkook is merciless, even letting out a little moan as he takes him in. Namjoon clears his throat over the noise. 

What was that?

You look flushed, Joonie.

Who’s with you??

Are you feeling well?

Namjoon stops him, placing his hand on Jungkook’s. It’s a signal to slow him down and Jungkook does, creating a new rhythm. 

“I’m ok, just very tired. I’ll rest soon.”

Namjoon relaxes, answering easy comment questions while Jungkook softly sucks below. He pretends to look down at his phone so he can see Jungkook. He looks proud and beautiful, like his lips were meant to be wrapped around Namjoon's cock. 

Namjoon looks at the clock: 4 minutes to go. 

Jungkook eventually stops sucking. He just sits prettily with Namjoon’s cock in his mouth, occasionally shifting and swallowing pooled spit, keeping his cock warm. He patiently traces sweet circles on Namjoon's skin with his fingertips, resting his cheek on his thigh. 

Jungkook looks up, batting his eyelashes and smiling around Namjoon’s shaft.

“Well, I'll need to end this soon. I have more work to do,” Namjoon says, cutting the stream a few minutes short. 

He quickly blows kisses and waves to fans before ripping the audio cable from the computer. 

“Fuck, Jungkook, tell me you didn’t know I was live,” he whines, pushing his chair out. 

“Of course I did,” Jungkook smiles, wiping his mouth. He pulls Namjoon’s sweats around his ankles and reaches a hand up to get help off the ground. 

They share a sweet kiss before Namjoon tangles a hand in Jungkook's dark locks and yanks it back, causing him to yelp.

“You knew what you were doing by coming here,” he growls, shoving his tongue in Jungkook’s mouth to taste him. “Such a fucking slut.” 

Jungkook whines, nodding in his grasp. 

Namjoon laughs. This isn’t a thing. He said it in the heat of the moment but didn't expect Jungkook to agree . 

“Yeah? Are you a fucking slut?” The words encourage him. 

Jungkook unlatches Namjoon’s hand. “Your slut,” he whispers, taking a step back. He gets to his knees on the couch, facing away. He grabs the edge and bends over, arching his back as best he can to expose a plug, lubed and stuffed between his cheeks. 

Namjoon groans. “Fuck, Jungkook,” he says, groping at his cock. It’s leaking and angry red at the tip now. 

“Wanted to be ready for you, Hyung,” Jungkook coos, playing with the base and gasping as he pushes it in and out of himself. “Do you like it?” 

Namjoon walks over to him, hypnotized by the sight. Jungkook’s pretty pink hole clenches around a slippery plug and the idea that it’s been inside him this whole time sets a fire off in Namjoon. 

He nods, leaning down to kiss and lick around the plug. He turns it and watches Jungkook squirm. “I like it.”

He yanks the plug out and lets it thump to the ground, watching Jungkook’s hole wink and clench around nothing. 

“My slut,” He hums before replacing the plug with four fingers, stretching him even further. Jungkook yelps, trying to adjust. Namjoon gently tilts Jungkook’s head back from behind for a languid kiss. 

 “Get on your back,” he instructs, removing his own shirt. 

Jungkook lies on his back, body splayed across the cushions. He brings his knees up higher, wrapping hands around the outside of his thighs to pry himself open. Namjoon stands and watches him for a moment, stroking himself at the sight. He’s perfect, open, and waiting for him. 

Jungkook whines at Namjoon’s hesitation. 

“Oh, you’re a desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Namjoon taunts, and Jungkook nods feverishly again. 

Namjoon teases, leaning down to drag teeth over Jungkook's neck. He grinds their cocks together, desperate for any friction. He prods the tip at the opening and barely slips inside. 

“Namjoon,” Jungkook whines. 

“Say please ,” Namjoon instructs. 

Jungkook drags Namjoon’s bottom lip between his teeth. He looks right into his eyes, bucking his hips up. 

“ Please , fuck me,” he begs. 

Namjoon pulls Jungkook's bottom closer to him, lines up, and plows his thick cock inside. Jungkook groans when he slams into the hilt.

He grips Jungkook’s delicate waist, pushing himself in until his balls knock against Jungkook’s flesh. He grinds his hips, stretching him thoroughly. Draping Jungkook’s ankles over his shoulders, he pounds, gaining speed. 

Jungkook has his arms up and over his head, palms wrapped around the arm of the couch as Namjoon fucks him into it. The couch bangs against the wall and shifts on the ground as his hips piston into Jungkook.

He pounds into the deepest part of him, making up for the nearly thirty minutes Jungkook taunted and teased him. He was egged on by how perfect he looked beneath the chair and the way his doe eyes looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. 

“Joonie, ah, Hyung!” Cum oozes from Jungkook’s aching cock and Namjoon drills into that spot, willing more to spill. 

The sound of his name riles him further. He folds Jungkook in half, pressing his thighs flush with his tummy. He thrusts and buries himself as deep as he can go. 

“Where do you want me to come?” Namjoon asks, feeling himself get close. 

“Inside, please, Joonie, fill me up,” he pants. “Need your cum.”

Namjoon loops his arms around Jungkook’s thighs, pulling him even closer to use his body. 

He grunts and groans as a powerful orgasm bursts from him. He fills Jungkook to the brim as fingernails dig into his back. 

He slowly pulls out, admiring Jungkook’s messy hole, blown out and sensitive. Namjoon leans down to kiss him again and gets hold of his cock. He uses his hands and mouth to finish Jungkook.

Namjoon swallows him down, loving the taste of him on his tongue.

Focusing on the tip, he flicks his tongue over the top and strokes the shaft. Jungkook’s whines get higher and louder, hips bucking up. Namjoon increases his pace and holds his tongue out. Beautiful sounds emerge from Jungkook as he shoots into Namjoon’s open mouth, swallowing every drop. 

Namjoon collapses on Jungkook’s chest, and they lay, used, and spent. Namjoon makes a trail of kisses down the line of Jungkook’s neck. They kiss and cuddle, happy in their post-coital bliss. 

Namjoon’s hand rustles at the ground and he replaces the plug, reveling in the idea of his come lingering inside Jungkook.

Jungkook glances just past Namjoon and lets out a slight gasp. “Hyung,” he whispers.

Namjoon turns to where Jungkook is looking and sees the reflection of themselves in the camera. The stream is still live.  

Viewers have skyrocketed and comments move twice as fast down the screen. 

can’t hear you, but we can see you!

Jungkook’s so good!

Yoongi, marry me

what that mouth do, Joonie?????

Wow! thighs…

You guys are all red! So Cute!

[jello-bbq]

Oel Nga'ti Kameie

(Platonic! Tsu'tey x Avatar! Reader) (Platonic! Jake x Avatar! Reader)

Jake is not the only avatar the Omaticaya decide to take a chance on. A failed government experiment must also prove themselves alongside him. Will this prove too much for an already overflowing cup? Will their insanity be cured? Or will they spiral further with Tsu'tey as the one assigned by Mo'at to teach them?

Listen. I know the child as the government experiment with an obviously traumatic backstory who also has frequent nosebleeds is so overused but it had to be done.

Part 2

They had only meant to observe. To watch. To guard Grace and Norm as they took a few samples from the trees. And yet here they were, stuck on top of a tree. How had they gotten there?

Fuck if they know.

Jake had been playing with some plants, motioning them over when he'd seen them watching curiously.

Without hesitation, they followed, barely dipping their hand into the curved divots before the plant shrunk. It had brought out a laugh from both of them. "Fun, right?"

And then it wasn't. The plants reacted in chains, all plunging in a way that had them laugh again. Jake raised his gun, aiming behind them.

When they turned, a large creature stared right at them. They reached for their gun.

"Don't shoot!"

The creature did not break eye contact, and neither did they as Grace continued.

"Trust me marine, you cannot pierce that hide. You'll only piss it off. Don't run either, stand your ground."

They felt it more than heard it. The tension lowering every so slightly as Jake put the gun down. Or at least they hoped he did, because they could only take so much of knowing a gun was at their back.

The creature snorted, swinging its large head and smashing the nearby trees. Cracking sounds filled the air. Wood splintering to fine pieces.

Grace was still talking in a low voice, sharing facts that certainly did not help the threat of being crushed to mush. Or their spine splintering like the trees had.

As they stared they felt something in their gut. Instinct. A feeling telling them to act on it. And so they did, stepping forward and hissing at the large creature, hammerhead tita-something, Grace had said.

The 'angtsik stepped back ever so slightly, letting out an almost relenting snort. Iridescent fans flared out at each side of its large flat head and it bucked forward, showing that it would not give up so easily.

That seemed to spur Jake on. He ran out from behind them, waving his hands in the air and yelling as he did.

That made the 'angtsik halt, fans folding back. It bowed slightly and turned.

Jake laughed, unbelieving that it actually worked. "Yeah, that's right! Who's bad?" He whooped, yelling at the creatures retreating backs. "That's what I'm talking about, bitch!"

They shook their head, smiling. You'd almost believe there were two children on this mission.

The victory was short-lived.

As Jake went to shout more curse words, they felt a prickle at the back of their neck. They ducked. Just in time to catch a glimpse of something black flying over Jake's head.

"What about this one?" Jake rushed, raising his gun again. This time, they followed his lead and raised their own.

The new creature turned to them. This one was smaller, but something about it screamed that it was more dangerous. They say prey should know how to identify a predator. "Run, don't run? What?"

"Run! Definitely run."

And so they did. The palulukan fell behind them, choosing to go after Jake, but they didn't know that. No, every echoing footstep rattled behind them. It was close. It was gaining. Its teeth were just inches from their neck.

Maybe it was the new environment. Or the lab experiments fresh in their mind. Perhaps another defect to add to the list. But they fully believed the palulukan stayed right at their heels.

Instinct took over reason. Screaming that every sound in the forest was the palulukan after them.

Nothing made sense after that. And so, they woke up in a tree. How had they even fallen asleep? Where was the palulukan?

They felt too tired to ask. Cogs in their brain freezing together as their surroundings sunk in.

Pandora. At night.

A beauty they had never seen. Until now.

Bioluminescent moss clung to the branches. When they peered over the edge of the tree, the glow dotted the forest floor below. A constellation shining so brightly it drowned out the sky.

They almost made their way down, startled instead by some small animals huffing around in the undergrowth.

A bit too late, they noticed the lack of a gun. Nothing to defend themselves with but a knife tucked away in their boot. And so they decided not to push their luck. They stayed in the trees. Trying their best to weave through the forest on the branches, but their best clearly could not compare.

As they tried to gather the courage to jump from one branch to another, they didn't hear the rustling in the trees.

"Come on," they muttered, trying not to get distracted by their glowing surroundings. Or else they'd never make it out of the forest. That sounded agreeable still.

A figure in the shadows, cleverly hidden, draws its bow. A clear shot at one of the Sky People that dared to roam in fake forms. There is no hesitation, and his grip almost loosens before a different glow fills the air.

Startled, the figure stares at the atokirina. Seeds of Home Tree. Sacred to Eywa. It flits right over the blade of his arrow, still aimed for the killing shot. It moves up the carved wood and rests in the air in front of him as if making sure it would be seen and understood.

And he has no time to dwell on it as the seed flies away, accompanied by the sounds of what could only be a person falling to the ground.

They had fallen. Slipped on a patch of moss as they ran forward for a headstart. So much for staying off the forest floor. "Fucking hell," they grumbled, wiping a bit of shining moss from their face.

It isn't long before they notice. Figures surrounded them. In the haze, they can hardly tell, but they all hold something sharp-looking and shiny, pointed straight at them.

It is also instinct to raise their hands. A fleeting show of peace as they stand slowly, blinking fast to get the blur out of their sight. Were they crying because the fall hurt? "I'm-" they try, words catching in their throat as one of them moves forward.

Clearly the leader of what appeared to be a hunting party. He sits tall on the direhorse. Imposing. Demanding respect. Arrow drawn directly at their heart.

"Why do you venture into our lands?" He asks, and it shocks them for only a moment that they could understand the words.

"I didn't mean to, I got lost-"

The Na'vi scoffs. "Of course, you are lost." He leans in slightly, if only to dig the tip of the arrow against her collarbone. "You Sky People are in 𝘰𝘶𝘳 home."

They say nothing. For what can you say against the truth? Nothing. So they take a different route. They step forward.

The Na'vi on the direhorses shift, holding their bows tighter, pulling at the strings more. They see it even as they keep their eyes on the one in front of them.

The blade pierces skin and in the light the shade of red is beautiful. However, no one pays attention.

"Kill me then." The words aren't said lightly. They carry a weight that the leader almost reaches to understand. "I am one of the Sky People, shoot me."

Four fingers grip the string tighter. Golden eyes narrow, and again he finds himself nearly releasing the killing blow.

This time, he is not interrupted by one atokirina. This time, they flood into the small clearing.

Their eyes widen in awe. No idea of the situation's weight. Not knowing anything but whispers of prayer, a soft exclamation of wonder. They don't understand why breaths hitch when one touches their hand. Or why the bows drop to their sides when more start to find their way to them.

One hovers over the wound on their chest, still dribbling crimson. It hovers as if in disapproval, then moves to fly in front of the Na'vi whose arrow made the cut. Hugf

They stand painfully still, afraid to move and scare them away. Though they still did not know what they were. Or why they were here.

The moment is beautiful while it lasts, but eventually one starts on its way, and they all do. They leave behind nothing. Nothing but the memory of their feather-like touches.

Only then do they notice how much the air has changed. There is still the tension, now more of a background note as confusion takes the lead. "What?"

Something is said in Na'vi, a quick beat of words. An order.

The words prick at their brain. A feeling all too familiar. But they have no time to dwell on it as arms grasp them and they are hoisted up onto a direhorse.

It is instinct again that has them wrap their arms around the one in front of them, who they recognize immediately by the way he grunts.

When they deign to pull away and take their chances, the Na'vi speaks. "Do not move unless you want to fall off."

And with that, the direhorse is rushing through the trees.

Their hands tighten at the sudden movement, a leaf slapping them in the face. A slight rumble felt in their fingers has them sure that was intentional. Though there is no time to hold a grudge.

The forest whips past them, a blur of color that has their head spinning in the best way. It isn't long before the gallop slows to a casual trot and the blurs turn into figures. Plants, trees, large arches of roots. A soft stream here and there.

The beauty isn't lost on them, their head swiveling to try and take it all in. Hair flies everywhere. The Na'vi they cling onto grunts again and despite wanting to mouth off, they shut up and move slower.

They'd love it if the plants were the last things they would ever see, and they were sure they would be.

The hunters were taking them somewhere a body could be disposed of easily. And that body would be theirs.

Pain courses through their shoulder. A flash of color accompanies it, a moment of red. The feeling is so clear that they flinch, turning sharply.

"Stop that," commands the Na'vi in front of him, "𝘴𝘬𝘹𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘨." The last part is added under his breath.

Briefly, they wonder if the Na'vi had hit them. But their shoulder remains untouched. No sign of crimson, not even of the pain they'd felt just a moment before.

No, they knew what it was. The ever so present hauntings of her past.

To some people, the past haunts through unrelenting memories. You see something, anything, and are somehow reminded of the past.

To them, memories had nothing. The past haunted them with aches. By brushes of searing pain, echoing all that they had ever felt before. And their life had plenty of pain to portray.

A cry signals their arrival. Drums follow, welcoming the hunting party back. The sound brings them back, and the pain is almost completely forgotten as they stare.

Roots so tall they resembled mountains. Sheets of glowing moss coating everything in soft light.

Hometree, standing tall and proud. Crafted so beautifully by Eywa. The love of the people almost tangibly flowing through it. If there were words to describe the sheer awe in face of it, they had yet to learn to them.

The same people gather, sneering as they realize meat isn't the only thing the hunters have brought back. And the avatar is reminded it is not their place to be in awe.

"Demon," some of them hiss, making sure to say it in English.

They realize they still hold tight against the Na'vi, and releases their grip. The horse moves slowly enough that they do not fall off.

The crowd follows, even as they dismount and weave through them, pulled along to the Olo'eyktan.

When they reach the front they meet the eye of Jake, who mirrors the look of confusion. Jake is being pulled through the crowd as well, and the crowd reacts similarly.

"𝘖𝘦𝘭 𝘕𝘨𝘢'𝘵𝘪 𝘒𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘦, 𝘖𝘭𝘰'𝘦𝘺𝘬𝘵𝘢𝘯."

Their attention turns back to the conversation happening beside them. They know the greeting but hold off, thinking they would not take kindly to it seeing as they were a demon.

"𝘖𝘦𝘭 𝘕𝘨𝘢'𝘵𝘪 𝘒𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘦, 𝘛𝘴𝘶'𝘵𝘦𝘺."

The foreign language itches at their brain. They try to fight the feeling, knowing what is next, hoping that they can hold it off.

Jake is pushed alongside them as the greeting is returned. They spot the Na'vi who had been pulling him. For a moment the itch stops. She had moved to stand a bit farther away, which piqued their interest.

Especially as the other Na'vi, Tsu'tey, keeps his grip on their forearm firm. His other hand held a spear as if ready to plunge it into their chest at a moment's notice.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴?"

The words are forcing their way in. Squirming as the itch intensifies. And their efforts at repression are futile. Their eyes clamp shut. Information floods the front of her mind. Phrases. Words. Infixes. Crowding their thoughts and drowning them out.

Only Jake seems to notice, trying to hide his concern. "You okay?"

It lasts a second but feels longer. Like time had slowed and each millisecond brought more pain. And then they understand, but the pain doesn't go away. Like needles piercing through bone.

They understand the previous words now, even with the fog of pain.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦." The words are solid, unmoving. Tsu'tey clearly thinks the same as he struggles to spit out words to say otherwise.

They were curious too. They had almost accepted that they were to be shot and thrown off a cliff far away. Instead, they were here. At the very heart of the Omaticaya.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘌𝘺𝘸𝘢." It is the other Na'vi that speaks up.

"𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦! 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦!"

Absentmindedly, they sniff the air. This does not go unnoticed by Tsu'tey, whose glare and grip become firmer.

"𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘴𝘶'𝘵𝘦𝘺."

"What's going on?"

For a moment, the English sounds foreign. Their brain falters, like it has been worked to overdrive and is sputtering to cool down. Which, they suppose, is exactly what it is.

The pain starts to subside, slowly, as if it doesn't want to leave. And they are reminded of what comes next. The blood. This time, they know they have to hide it. They sniff.

"My father is deciding whether to kill you."

The blood begins to drip.

"Your father?" Jake moves from their side. "Nice to meet you sir-" Instantly he is surrounded. Spears surround him, the hunters hissing as the blades glint.

Tsu'tey is among those that stepped forward to threaten his life.

They sniff again. The blood drips.

"𝘌𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!" A voice rings out. "𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘴."

Everyone turns, and the distraction is enough for them to wipe at their nose, their hand coming back with a smudge of crimson. No one notices, hopefully.

The pain has dulled enough that they can look up and see the one approaching them. Her gaze is severe.

"That is Mother. She is Tsahik- the one who interprets the will of Eywa." The Na'vi speaks softly, bending down as if worshiping the ground to be walked on when the Tsahik draws near.

"Who's Eywa?"

They tap at Jake's hand, shaking their head lightly without looking at him. How was he so stupid?

The Tsahik stops in front of them, looking at them in disdain. "What are you called?"

"Jake Sully."

An expectant look is thrown their way and they almost ask why before Jake says their name for them.

"Do you not speak?" The following gase seems even harsher. Or do you not wish to?

She moves to them first, procuring a long thorn and noting the wound tracing just below their collarbone. They don't flinch as the thick edge of the thorn comes up to trace it. Quickly, harshly.

Their blood is tasted, and she moves on to Jake, striking his chest with a flourish. The sharp end is brought to her lips this time, and his blood is tasted as well.

He hopes Jake is smart enough not to comment.

"Why have you come to us?"

They decide to leave the talking to Jake. He was better at that. Besides, they were fighting the next drop of blood slowly making its way down their nostril.

"We came to learn."

"We have tried to teach other Skypeople. It is hard to fill a cup which is already full."

They almost react at that. Their captors had certainly tried. And succeeded, his mind reminded him.

"My cup is empty, trust me. Ask Dr. Augustine, hell, ask them. I'm no scientist."

"What are you?"

They brush a finger under their nose, hoping to play it off as natural.

"I don't know," he faltered. "I was a Marine- a uh, a warrior. Of the Jarhead clan."

That almost has them snort. Tsu'tey laughs outright. "𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳! 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺!"

"And you?" All reaction ceases as the Na'vi look to them.

"I was-" they clear their throat. "I am also a warrior." An oversimplification, sure. But they did not feel like baring all the nuances of what they were.

More reactions. Jeering. Laughing. "𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴!"

"𝘕𝘰!" That one word is enough to silence all reactions. The Olo'eyktan speaks again. "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯. And the first child. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦."

"What's going on?"

"𝘋𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰."

She goes to retort but the Tsahik turns to Tsu'tey, effectively cutting her off.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸." She turns back to her daughter, conveying the same message.

They feel Tsu'tey would argue if he could. But instead, his gaze hardens, not even trying to plead like the other.

Finally, she turns to them. They almost don't notice, another drop of blood slowly creeping down. "You will be taught the ways of the people."

The sound fades momentarily, as if someone's turned down the volume. Thankfully, she is talking to Jake and when she speaks again, the words are clear. "Tsu'tey will teach you. Learn well. We will see if your insanity can be cured." She gives them both a final look before turning away.

Staring at her retreating back, they wipe at their nose again. More crimson.

[asknarashikari]

So...I know you've never really liked Lucky's "Yossha (Literally His Namesake)!" or AkaNinger's "Moete Kiita!"...or King's overuse of the word "Brave" albeit to a much lesser degree since you got through that show (it was your first sentai show iirc) in the first place.

Apart from maybe pre-battle or post-battle catchphrases...is Jeremy's "Well now..." technically one of the very few catchphrases that actually work for you? (Although then again, like with Houtaro's "Gotcha", he doesn't necessarily say it almost all the time and he tends to say that phrase when it makes sense to so obviously there's nothing to compare to the other negative examples)

Honestly...this does help me realize in interesting lesson regarding people's tastes in something. How one thing of a something (shows in the case of Geats, Ninninger, and Kyuuranger for you) can be so bad to someone that it practically overshadows everything that may have been good or interesting that you no longer differentiate that one thing you despise about the content from literally anything else like it's all just the same. Like the red rangers' catchphrases for Ninninger and Kyuranger were so bad, and the way Geats was written (Takahashi is up there with Mr. I-Wrote-Donbro/Faiz/Jetman/Kiva Man for you anyways) as the show got worse in the final fourth was so bad... it basically completely overshadows anything else that may have potentially been interesting or likeable. The one thing you despise basically kinda reduces your brain to mush and then you couldn't care less about the said shows anymore because the most frustrating and grating negative(s) are naturally the first thing that comes to your mind about the said shows that you can't bring yourself to like it again even if you tried to differentiate the bad with the good. But then again in the case of your two least favorite sentai shows, that annoyance was there from the get go whereas Geats just tanked hard in the second half and became a massive underwhelming disappointment as a result. At least that's I'm assuming...or I'm just overthinking it with the analysis on how even one single bad thing can overshadow everything else. Basically the negatives (even if it's just one) an severely overshadow literally everything else, including positives, you can't bring yourself to care nor like anymore even if you try to differentiate the bad from the good and okay. Everyone has different tastes and I respect that, you've just showed me an interesting lesson on this so I'll give you that. So thanks, I didn't need to think much on this but I did so here you go. (Okay, wtf? How did I completely shift the topic from asking your thoughts about Jeremy's catchphrase to this deep analysis shit?! Sorry about this but ah well... ^_^')

Well, you're not wrong. I'm not tagging this post for reasons that will become clear under the cut

In the case of the catchphrases, yeah, they tend to be dealbreakers for me. If they annoy me enough it really ruins the whole experience of the show for me. Heck, "Yossha Lucky!" nearly ruined Sentai as a whole for me, that's how much of a dealbreaker it became.

It also became the shorthand for a certain character type I don't care much for to begin with- and if that character is the focal point of the show... yeah.

As for Geats... well, it's true that the season tanked hard for me right during the JGP arc and that Takahashi used tropes that annoyed me (specifically the lack of a buildup to proper redemption arcs, or forgiveness/redemption arcs for those that don't really deserve it at all). I'm a bit more forgiving of the latter tbh, but only because Takahashi isn't the only one guilty of it.

What really ruined it for me wasn't the show itself... it was the Buffa apologists. It was the first time other fans ruined the show for me. At some points all I could think about was, "Oh great, Buffabutt's done [insert horrible thing] here, I wonder how they'll justify this bs again?"

And of course, the same people who justify him murdering Keiwa and Ace and scores of other people for his wish to have the power to beat all Riders with "it's okay, they all get revived anyway, what's the point getting mad about it"... are the same ones who harass the ones who point out the absurdity of their arguments by accusing them of sending anon hate (as if it being supposedly anon means they have no actual proof of the fact).

So yeah. Geats would've been just meh to me if not for those assholes. Maybe I would've cared for it more. But because I've come to associate their nastiness with Geats, I preferred to just move on with my life and the new show than dwell on it (and by extension them assholes).

[crissiebaby]

DiapOut: Chapter 25

DISCLAIMER: This series contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation, hypermessing, sissification, WAM, mental regression, and other ABDL themes. If you haven’t read the first chapter and want to catch up, be sure to check out the link in the description. I hope you enjoy!

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“UUuuuuuUUGGGHHHhhH!” moaned Rupert as he lay on his back while a team of two emergency response members looked over him. It had been a terribly long walk from the green room to the studio, where upon arriving, Rupert was too feeble to even stand on his own. All the while, he continued to blow out his ass, sending a wealth of mush directly into the seat of his pampers.

Not wanting the audience to see the nitty-gritty of Rupert’s recovery, the rest of the Messers, led by the ER team, escorted Rupert backstage. With a stethoscope pressed to Rupert’s tummy, the ER woman spoke candidly, “Yup, just as I thought. Overuse of CrissBaby products has caused this a couple of times. What we’ve got on our hands is a cut-and-dry case of Hypermesser’s Syndrome.”

“W-Wait, what does that mean?” asked Kyoko, who knew perhaps the least of everyone here. She’d arrived in the studio a handful of minutes before her friends, only to watch Rupert collapse seemingly out of nowhere, “I-I don’t get he was fine when I left! What the heck happened?!” She looked to Zeke, her eyes demanding answers that he did not have.

Thankfully, the ER woman was there to put racing minds at ease. “It’s not harmful, just a real harsh kick to the tummy,” she said candidly, giving Rupert’s messy rear a gentle pat, “It’s an issue we sometimes see when Lightning Laxatives combine with Bowel Busting Formula to create a feedback loop within the bowels. At the same time, his brain is struggling to reconcile with what the body is doing, creating the illusion of what is commonly known as Little Space. He should recover in a couple of hours once the laxatives and formula have fully vacated his system.”

“Yeah, but what about right now?! We need him to play in the next round, which we’re already causing a delay on. Isn’t there something you can do?” said Kyoko, unaware of how cold and unfeeling her words appeared.

Standing only a foot behind Kyoko, Zeke was taken aback by how much their team’s fearless leader was living up to that moniker in all the wrong ways. Looking over at Cade, he could see just how hurt he was that Kyoko was so willing to brush off Rupert’s ailments for the sake of the game. He placed a hand on Kyoko’s shoulder, knowing that someone needed to talk some sense into her, “Kyoko, it’s just a game. Maybe they’ll postpone the third round until tomorrow or something. And even if they don’t-”

“SHHHHH! I’m in the middle of something, Zeke,” said Kyoko, not hearing a single word of Zeke’s calming statement. Instead, her focus was lasered in on Rupert and the medical professional treating him, “Be straight with me doc, can he play?”

Placing a hand on the back of her neck, the ER woman sighed, “In theory, I could perform an emergency enema to clean his system out, as well as give him some magnesium supplements for the brain fog, but I can’t promise he’ll be in any condition to compete. That’s a lot of stress on the body for what should be a natural process and will likely result in irreversible damage to his bowel muscles and mental capacity.”

“Do we have a choice?” asked Kyoko, her eyes darting over to Keelee, who had been standing by silently with a hand covering her mouth to disguise her fearful expression. All at once, everyone standing around Rupert turned to look to her for answers.

“Well…to put it simply, no. You really don’t. We’re already blowing up the schedule at this point,” said Keelee starkly, pushing her emotions deep down to say what needed to be said, “If he can’t compete, then we’ll still have to get the final round with the Wetters shot tonight and script Round Three to be filmed during tomorrow’s planned reshoots to avoid paying for a third day of production. It’s a bummer but that’s show business.”

Crouching down so that her face was at eye level with Rupert, Kyoko placed a tender hand on his cheek. “Y-You’re okay, right, Rupert? What’s one little enema, right?” she said, desperation baked into every word she said.

The other contestants and crew members averted their gaze, unable to watch Kyoko resort to begging. All except for Zeke, who was caught in the middle of being worried for his friends and furious at Kyoko. Taking a deep breath, the temper he’d managed to keep a lid on all day finally reared its ugly head. “It’s over, Kyoko!” he said sharply, causing everyone’s eyes to turn to him, “It’s over. We did our best but we’re not going to encourage, nay, force Rupert out onto that stage based on nothing but greed.”

A stunned silence filled the area backstage. Even passerby crew members stopped working and talking, tuning in for the real-life drama that was unfolding. Kyoko opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. Could she really defend what she was doing? Had she become that heartless?

“I want…to play.”

Suddenly, all eyes landed on Rupert, who had broken through his brain fog enough to speak to understand what was going on. “W-Whatever you gotta do…do it…” he said, his words instantly taking the weight off of Kyoko’s shoulders.

“See?! He wants to play!” said Kyoko excitedly. She leaned in and planted a big, wet kiss on Rupert’s forehead, “We’re gonna get you back on your feet, you beautiful bastard.”

Once again, the backstage area was lively as the production crew got back to work preparing to shoot Round Three while the ER specialists began prepping Rupert for his emergency enema. The two people not buzzing around were Zeke and Cade, who could only offer each other looks of dreadful concern.

Meanwhile, a far different sort of drama was unfolding with the four Wetters in the main studio space. Standing stiffly on opposite sides of their team’s starting mat with their arms crossed were Mia and Misa, neither of whom was willing to be the one to bend first. Not that their obvious disdain for each other was stopping Lelaya from running back and forth in hopes of patching things up. “Misa, pleeeeeeease! Just hear out was Mia has to say!” she said, jogging in place with hands clasping Misa’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing I need to hear from that traitor. I hope she gets thrown in the trash with all the other dirty diapers from this place so I never have to hear from her again,” said Misa, punctuating her sentence with a sharp head swivel and a well-timed, “Hmmph!”

Lowering her head like a downtrodden puppy, Lelaya backed away from Misa slowly. “O-Okay, I’ll be sure to let her know,” she said, her bunny ears drooping slightly as she tried to maintain the pep in her voice despite the dire situation. Rushing to the other side of the platform, she tapped Mia on the shoulder, prompting her to strain her peripheral vision toward Lelaya, “Misa wanted me to tell you that she hopes that you uh…something, something…end up in a dirty diaper pail? I dunno, it was a lot and she was talking super fast.”

“Don’t worry, I heard more than enough,” said Mia, puffing out her cheeks as she geared up to say the harshest thing she could think of, “You tell that little crybaby that if she’s expecting an apology, she can go searching through that diaper pail she wants me thrown into.”

Sulking back to Misa, Lelaya was not built to handle this kind of conflict. “H-Hey Misa, Mia said that-”

“You tell her that I wouldn’t even want her stupid fucking apology if she gave it,” said Misa, cutting Lelaya off mid-sentence as she’d already heard everything Mia had said.

Without saying another word, Lelaya began crossing back over to where Mia was standing, only for Ayaya to stop her midway. “Oh, will you three just stop!” she said, groaning as she let her head slouch back, “I do not give a FUCK who started it, who finished it, whatever! You two don’t have to like each other anymore to work together. HOW DO YOU THINK THIS ENTIRE INDUSTRY OPERATES?!” Exhaling deeply, she let her words hang heavy in the air over Mia and Misa’s heads.

Ayaya wasn’t far from wrong. In an industry made up of hundreds of thousands of people, the bulk of Hollywood managed to stay functioning in spite of the fact that everyone was constantly clawing over each other for acting roles and vital crew positions. If all of these people with knives pressed to each other’s backs could work together, then nothing was stopping Mia and Misa from putting aside their differences for the sake of winning $500k.

“I think we all just need to take a deep breath together and let out all the meanie energy floating around,” said Lelaya, gripping Ayaya’s hand as she took in a big breath of air, only to exhale dejectedly as none of her friends joined in.

Rotating in place so she could stare down Mia, Misa was ready to do what she needed to do. “Whatever, I’ll play nice. But after this is all over, I am done with you and with diapers for good,” she said, pointing a finger firmly at Mia.

Feeling her years of friendship with Mia and Misa slipping through her fingers, Lelaya’s hand tightened around Ayaya’s. If Misa was that serious about never interacting with diapers again, what did that mean for the two of them?

“If that’s how you feel then whatever. Just don’t expect any help when you find yourself filling another diaper,” said Mia, her eyes meeting Misa’s unflinchingly. trying to avoid acknowledging the pain she and Misa were causing their dear friend. As Ayaya did her best to comfort Lelaya, the two girls bottled up their guilt and steeled their nerves. There was still plenty of game left to play, something both Mia and Misa were begrudgingly aware of.

TO BE CONTINUED…

« PREVIOUS l FIRST l NEXT »

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Edited by AllySmolShork

[koba-baboba]

ok ok so here’s my autistic reader requests :3

one where reader is very visually overstimulated so their eyes hurt. dom!loki helps them by blindfolding them during sex. the lack of vision calming to their eyes and the sensory of sex w their lover helping a ton. for aftercare loki would let them keep the blindfold on for a bit and dim all the lights until r is ready to take it off

aaaand one where reader has been understimulated all day. they’re looking for good densities to fix it but they just end up stress fidgeting. dom!loki introduces them to the concept of sexual overstimulation :p

you can take all the time in the world to write, no pressure! you also don’t have to write these at all if you don’t want to. have a good day! <3

Pairing: Loki x AFAB!reader

Warnings: mentions of overstimulation and sensitivity to lights, discussion of sensory overload, blindfold, smut, PROTECTED sex this time, dirty talk, soft dom!loki, fingering, oral, 16+ please

A/N: okokok this prompt sent me. I absolutely loved writing this and I will absolutely write the second half so don’t worry. Also I finally figured out how to use bold and italics so of course I’m overusing it

Requests: open but slow

“What’s the matter love?” Loki’s voice cut through the pillow you currently had mushed over your face. He could see that even despite the pillow muffling your vision you still had your eyes clamped shut.

“The lights are fucking bright” you grumbled, your own voice grating to you. Everything was too loud, too bright, just too much right now. You felt the bed dip as Loki sat next to you, he laid himself out so he wasn’t touching you, but you could hear him. Loki knew many of your boundaries, many of them requiring softer sensory inputs around you. Loki knew that when you were upset or overwhelmed he shouldn’t touch you until you invite him. He knew lights could be aggravating but didn’t know just how hard it could be for you.

“Can I touch you dove?” He hummed softly, his words no louder than a whisper. A little grumble of a yes left your lips, still smushed by the pillow. Loki chuckled and pressed a delicate kiss to your shoulder before rolling off the bed. He flicked the lights off and closed the the curtains slightly, leaving the room in a soft yellow glow.

Loki placed himself next to again, a little warning touch gracing your hand before he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Loki placed a hand over yours and guided you to lift the pillow slightly, allowing you to see a now much dimmer room.

“Better?”

“Better.”

———————————

“I’ve been thinking-“ Loki started, plopping himself unceremoniously next to you on the couch. You hummed, a signal to continue, as you cuddled closer to him. Loki chuckled at you softly, you were always so wanting of his touch.

“Yesterday, the lights were painful to you yes?” He began, almost nervously. You nodded, not entirely sure where this was going.

“are they always like that for you?” He asked softly, pressing his lips into your hair. He was nervous for that answer, afraid he wouldn’t have noticed your own struggles. You hummed out in thought, tipping your head against his shoulder from your place at his side. It was hard to describe, yes they were always annoying but not always painful.

“Kind of. They’re only really painful when I’m overwhelmed but… yeah lights are always hard for me. They buzz and are bright and sometimes they’re colourful- which I don’t know why that’s a thing” you started explaining, a deep frown on your face as you remembered all the god awful lights you’ve encountered.

“Ours aren’t too bad since you always let me buy the bulbs but they’re still not great” you finished, cocking your head to look up at him. Loki looked deep in thought, a very familiar expression for him. Loki hummed softly before getting up and walking towards your room. You just sat there, listening to the distant shuffling.

Loki re-emerged with what looked like a tie in his hand, a little grin on his face. “How is a tie going to help with the light bulbs” you asked, your face screwed up in confusion. Loki chuckled and kneeled in front of you, making himself smaller for you.

“I would like to test something. When I ravish you, I don’t want you distracted or upset by the lights. So, I want to blindfold you.” He explained like it was the most casual thing ever. His words sent sparks through your body, a shiver running down your spine at his sultry words. Loki ran a gentle hand over your knee, silently prompting you for words.

“I really wouldn’t be able to do much blindfolded” you mumbled, slightly unsure about not being able reciprocate your pleasure. Loki tutted and ran his nimble fingers over your jaw. “There are other times for that, tonight I want you to enjoy yourself” he hummed. You sighed and looked at the tie he was presenting you with. You knew it would help, you wouldn’t be distracted by the lights. But, you also couldn’t help Loki in his pleasure. The look on Loki’s face told you that perhaps he didn’t really care about that tonight.

“Fine, but promise me I can at least do something for you at the end” you said with a little pout. Loki chuckled and muttered about how adorable you were before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He beckoned you up to follow him to your shared room. He had a firm but gentle grip on your wrist.

“Strip” one simple word had your head reeling. Loki wasn’t usually bossy, he was always the one in charge but rarely bossy. Your small moment of hesitation earned you Loki’s fingers wrapping around your jaw. “Did I stutter darling” he breathed oh so softly. You whimpered and shook your head, quickly doing as you were told.

Loki enjoyed the show as you peeled your clothes off, your beautiful body exposed for his eyes. He swatted at your hands before you could take your bra and panties off. You giggled at his insistence that he would strip the rest off of you. You folded your arms behind your back and rocked back and forth on your heels, smiling up at your lover.

Loki leaned down and pressed a gentle and loving kiss to your soft lips. Gods he loved how you tasted, possibly the only sweet thing he loved. He pushed you back onto the bed with a little shove before climbing on top of you, tie still in hand. He gave you one last questioning glance, wanting you completely on board with this. You gave him a reassuring nod, prompting him to tie it over your eyes.

The feel of the silk over your eyes was strange, not terrible though, just new. Loki tied it loosely, making sure you can take it off if you really wanted too. Loki sat back on his heels and looked you over. Your chest was rising and falling swiftly, your legs were wrapped around his hips and bucking slightly. You looked like a dream and it was all for him.

He had to admit, you did look more relaxed. Your arms were slack beside your head, you were squirming less than usual. He sighed softly as he ran his hands over your body, he relished in the sight of your beautiful body. Gods he loved you.

“What should I do with you love, you’re all pretty laid out. Just for me” he purred, it was strange not being able to see him. You sighed and pulled your hands up to try and touch him blindly. Loki chuckled and grabbed your hands, guiding them to his chest. He groaned when you ran your nails across his pale skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

“Whatever you desire my lord” you purred, rolling your hips against his hardening cock. A sultry moan left his lips before he pulled away from you completely. You grumbled at the loss but still waited patiently.

“How much do you like these panties dove?” Loki asked, his fingers ghosting over the hem. “Not much but-“ a tearing noise and a sharp pressure against your hips left yet another pair ruined. You whined at Loki, a whine he elected to ignore today.

Loki wasted no time in touching you now. He pressed two fingers against your weeping cunt and hummed in approval. He slotted himself between your plush thighs as he pressed two long, slender fingers inside of you. Your moans and whines left him breathless. You weren’t usually so vocal, he usually relished in your pants and huffs but today was different.

He couldn’t help but speed up his fingers, dragging and forcing more noises from you. You were squirming and shaking against him, he didn’t even bother to keep you still this time. He leaned forward and attached his lips to your clit, a high pitched whine echoing through the air.

Loki was eating you out like a starved man, his fingers pressing against a spot deep inside of you over and over again. The blindfold covering your eyes was making you feel your pleasure even more. Loki looked up at your face, your mouth was hung open, your cheeks flushed and sweaty. Loki pressed his fingers into you roughly just to watch your face scrunch up.

“Fuck- Loki PLEASE” you cried out, shocked by your own volume. Loki chuckled against your cunt, the vibrations snapping the spring in your stomach. Groans of his name mixed with several explicits, you could feel Loki smiling against your skin. Loki released your clit with a ‘pop’ and pulled his fingers out of you gently.

“Open” Loki cooed, his fingers pressed against your lips. You wrapped your lips around his digits, tasting yourself on them. He let out a little groan at the sight, the image going straight to his cock. Loki pulled his fingers out of your mouth and spread you saliva across your swollen lips.

You felt Loki attach his lips to your neck, broken noises falling from his lips as he bucked his hips against yours. “I’m going to take you now. Do you need a minute to calm down first?” He breathed, his self restraint thinning by the seconds.

“No no, I’m ok. Fuck please Loki I need you” you groaned out, his touch intoxicating at this point. You felt him grin against your skin before pulling away. You heard distant shuffling as he stripped and probably pulled a condom on. A little whine left your lips as he pressed the head of his cock against your opening.

“Relax my sweet, I’ll be slow like always” he cooed, running his fingers over your thighs. You moaned when he started pressing himself inside of you, inch by inch. Loki watched as your breathing picked up again, little pants leaving you parted lips. Loki reached up to palm your still covered breasts, watching you smile and squirm at the feeling.

Loki bottomed out, pressing his hips flush with yours. You both let out broken and desperate moans, Loki pressed his head into your neck. Loki gave you second, waiting for your breath to even out again before moving. His pace was slow but pointed, moving his hips in little circle 8’s.

“You’re so pretty and you’re all for me” he panted into your ear, sounding almost desperate. You whined at his words, threading your fingers through his hair. A practically deep thrust had you tugging at his raven locks with a shout. Something about his soft pace was almost better than when he was rough. It was easier for you to take and process, each thrust making you quiver.

“Tell me how good you feel baby.” He groaned into your skin. Right when you opened your mouth to praise him he snapped his hips roughly, pulling a shriek from you. Each drag of his cock against your walls sent sparks up your spine. He kept switching between gentle rocking and rough thrusts, keeping you constantly on edge.

“Are you close darling?” He hummed, bringing a hand down to circle your clit slowly. Your back arched and your hips twisted violently at the sudden stimulation. You nodded and brought your hands to grip his biceps, trying to keep yourself on earth. Loki could feel you gripping him like a vice, he was desperately trying to keep his composure.

“Loki I’m so close. Please don’t stop” you cried out. “Then cum” he hissed, thrusting into you roughly, rocking you down into the bed. A broken moan escaped your lips as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You felt Loki swell before he came with you. He continued rolling his hips, riding both of your orgasms out.

Loki sighed and pulled out of you softly, trying not to hurt you. You grumbled at the empty feeling he left you with. You reached to pull the blindfold off but stopped when Loki gripped your wrists, stopping you. “Patience dove” he breathed, setting your hands down beside your head.

You huffed but waited for Loki to do whatever he was doing. You heard Loki walking around, distant noises filling your ears. You jumped at the cold washcloth Loki pressed against your thighs, but relaxed eventually. Loki smiled to himself as he took care of you, enjoying the dazed look on your face.

Loki flicked the lights off in the room and cracked the blinds, the room filling with a gentle golden glow. Loki sat next to you, the bed dipping at his weight. He lifted your head to undo the tie softly. He saw you squint, adjusting to the light of the room. The little smile on your face as you took in the dim space. You tipped your head to look up at Loki who had a proud look on his face.

“I love you baby” you hummed, resting you head on his shoulder. “I love you too my flower” he sighed, pressing kisses to your head. You relaxed into him, letting your exhaustion take over. Loki wrapped his arms around you and held you close, relishing in your warm soft skin.

———————————

Part two coming soon besties 😎

[slutzandcuckz]

Title: Sundays Are The Best

Rated M 18+ (MINORS ARE NOT WELCOME TO READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS POST. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED)

Content Warning: all characters are 18+, soft!bakugou x bratty(ish)reader (gender-neutral language used, reader has a vagina and breasts), long haired bakugou, established relationship (they in love or whateva), overuse of the word baby, wake up sex, fingering, grinding, squirting, nipple play, could maybe possibly be interpreted as dub-con but the sexual encounter is completely consensual (reader is just being a brat), aftercare, maybe some editing errors but I hope not 😩, idk lemme know if I missed anything.

Estimated Word count < 2200 * I edit my writing too often to commit to a static number 🥴

Sundays are the best. You and Kastuki have no obligations or unwanted tasks. You could stay in bed all day if you really wanted to, and being that it’s nearly noon, you’re on the right track. The only reason you rouse from sleep is the gentle thumb caressing your cheek. The touch is too soft to hold any resentment, and how could you when your eyes flutter open to a perfect image: Bakugou Katuski on his side facing you, just barely awake himself, eyelids heavy from sleep. His long blonde tresses blanket half of his face, and his gaze leisurely roams your across your face. He looks so content; it brings a sleepy smile to your lips.

“Good morning, baby.” He says it like this every morning—with that same husky voice that brings a flutter to your tummy. And like clockwork, he cradles the back of your head and brings you into a long yearning kiss.

His greeting is returned once his lips part from your own, and you promptly burrow your head beneath his chin. Your limbs intertwine, and your breaths fall in sync. He radiates so much heat from his unclothed chest. You feel so warm and comfortable. This is your favorite part of every day. It is never skipped nor is it rushed. If you had it your way, you two would stay like this all day. You’ve coaxed him into it a few times before. He would do it more often if he didn’t have to work all the time. He enjoys cuddling just as much as you do, despite what others might think. And he always looks a little sad when he has to get up to get ready for work. Luckily that’s not the case today, and you can hold each other for as long as you want. Today your cuddle session lasts well over thirty minutes and is only interrupted by the gurgling of your tummy.

“M’so hungry but I don’t wanna get up.”

“Idiot,” he scoffs. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Stop,” you drawl, and you playfully swat his butt. “You know m’sensitive.”

He can’t see it but he knows you’re pouting— can imagine that plump bottom lip poking out. God, you are adorable, and it’s funny how easily you get worked up. It’s because you're so soft. He absolutely loves it.

“I know,” he sighs, adjusting himself to cradle your face and mush your foreheads together. “M’sorry.”

He apologizes so easily. He’s come a long way. He’s humbled himself, especially for you.

“You’re cute when you’re fussy.”

And yet, he still finds a way to be an ass. He could at least wait until you’ve had breakfast for the banter. His jests hit different on an empty stomach.

“Hmph.” You turn your nose to the air and roll over to your right to scoot from his side, leaving Katsuki to stare at your back. “Cute my ass,” you mumble.

“Hmmm.” His voice is so deep. You can feel the vibrations of his hum even with the distance you have. But he doesn’t stay far for long. His fingers have migrated to your ass, massaging each globe with a heavy hand. “Your ass is pretty cute.” Especially with those little pink panties you got on. Most of the fabric is hidden between your cheeks. You let him massage you a bit, humming contently from the feeling before remembering you’re supposed to play mad, and Katsuki gets a smack from your manicured fingers.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”

He’s much closer now, having slid you back against him, his frontside tightly molded to your back like an air-lock seal. His left hand holds your hip while his right arm slithers beneath to wrap around your torso and tug your camisole down, freeing your breasts. You can feel his long golden strands tickling your shoulder as he leans down to your ear. His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine.

“Lemme make it up to you.” It isn’t a whisper but he says it so quietly, like he’s talking to himself.

His left hand strokes the outside of your thigh. It becomes heavier and heavier, creeping further and further to the warmth between your legs, but as much as he tries to wiggle his way in, your thighs are closed shut. It’s cute how you play coy, but he knows how to play your game.

“Spread these thighs for me, baby.” He kisses those words right into your ear, each syllable loosening the reins to your tightly held pride. “Wanna play with that pussy.” You absolutely melt. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Your thighs part like the sea. He kisses beneath your ear in thanks, left arm bracketing your thigh to keep it in place. He’s adjusted you both so he can see what he’s doing and still be able to grope at your breasts. His dick is neatly seated in the crack of your ass.

His fingers dance along the frilly edges of your panties, a cute little lip poking out from the side. He ignores it for the most part, wanting to tease you a little. He even plays with the hairs unhidden by your underwear— absolutely loves how hairy your pussy is. He can remember the first time he laid eyes on your kitty. His brain nearly fried from the sight: perfect glistening folds gifted in an untamed bush of hair. God, you are perfect.

He senses you are restless for more friction, and finally takes mercy. He glides his fingers to the center of your core, sliding them up and down from your clothed hole to your gradually engorging clit. Whenever he reaches that cute little button he takes a moment to really wag his fingers from side to side, placing soft kisses to your cheek and shoulder all the while. He cycles this routine over and over, dragging the wetness seeping from your entrance further up to meet your clit. His path is growing increasingly more damp with each pass, your panties are nearly soaked through . It’s so fucking hot, he can barely keep eyes open from the pull of arousal. And the subtle humping of your ass has grown into a hard grind.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Of course it feels good. Why else would your hips rut and chase after his touch? “Does it feel good?”

You whimper ‘cause he must be teasing you. You know he knows it feels good.  You’re dripping, and whimpering, and spreading your legs as wide as you can—but you know he won’t let it go until you answer. It’s quiet and indignant, but you give a “yes,” nonetheless.

“Yeah?” He’s not teasing you, he just needs to know he’s doing well; yearns to hear how good you feel—loves to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you whimper.

Satisfied with the sopping of your underwear, he quickly moves it aside, hooking the right side of the fabric on your left butt cheek to reveal your glistening vulva.

Deft and callus fingers make quick work at tracing your fluttering ring and marinating his fingers in your silky wet texture. He can feel you clenching; every cycle around the perimeter of your entrance is met with a hard wink. You’re practically begging him to fill that pretty little hole. And it’s so cute how you wiggle and buck, attempting to will his fingers into your depths. It’s fun to watch you struggle.

“So sexy, baby,” he says. “Make my dick so hard.” He should reward you for your patience.

His middle and ring finger fuse together and wiggle inside your hole. He explores for a while, completely gluttonous in his actions. It’s an adventure each time he is inside you. He likes to map out every bump and ridge, and always discovers something new to make you purr.

He finds a steady rhythm: wrist loose, fingers curling against your top wall, palm bumping perfectly against your clit. It feels so fucking good you could cry.

“Sh, sh, shh. S’okay, baby.” You are crying, chest hiccuping with each inhale. His pretty baby is so sensitive and soft, and hasn’t spared him a single glance. It makes him hard as a rock. “I know. I know.” He coos, placing a kiss to your cheek in apology before increasing the speed of his hand.

It’s so fucking sexy how your hips chase after his touch, how they swivel and hump patterns into the palm of his hand; he can feel how hard your clit is. Your movements have gone a bit frenzied, and he’s going absolutely crazy trying to keep up, attempting to follow your lead and keep his dick slotted between your ass cheeks. With each upward thrust of his hips, the head of his dick collides with his hand. He’s gonna cum in his underwear at this point, and from the look of it, you’re not far off either. You’re drooling, and your eyes keep fluttering shut. You alternate between whimpers and moans, either sound completely uncontrollable. Your nipples are so fucking hard from his pinching and pulling.

“Look at me, baby,” he pleads, left hand steadily increasing in speed. “I wanna see you!”

“N-No!”

God, you are so prissy. It drives him absolutely wild.

Suddenly, your body seizes from an unanticipated pressure building behind your clit. Your toes are curling so hard it feels like your feet will cramp. Katsuki senses that something is coming. Your wet warm walls are contracting so hard around his fingers, and you’re panting like a dog. His stomach clenches.

“Fuck! You’re getting so tight,” he whines.

“I-I—”oh fuck.

“Yeah, baby?” He sounds so desperate, and he’s humping so chaotically. His dick is so fucking hard, his boxers are nearly soaked through.

“I think I’m—” —Literally getting finger-fucked within an inch of your life. “I think! I think! I think!” You’re delirious. And something is building so quickly you don’t have time to brace yourself. It’s coming, coming, coming—

“Cumming!”

The dam breaks. Your eyes cross. Your mind is absolute static. You can’t register anything other than the strumming through your body; not how you contort, or how you sob, or how you squirt everywhere within a two feet radius.

“Yes, baby, yes!” He cries. “Fucking squirt all over me, baby, yes—”

Fuck, he’s cumming. His eyes can’t stay open to see you finish making a pool of the bed. His body tenses and his rhythm fumbles, but his hand never stops moving.

One. Two. Three more ruts against your ass and his balls drain what feels like gallons of cum. It’s thick, and gooey, and seemingly never ending, making a pathetic puddle in his underwear. It feels like he’s having a spiritual experience with how his soul literally leaves his body.

It’s like you are both frozen in time; shocks of pleasure zapping down each of your spines. And it’s precious how you cling to each other, right hands having laced together over your chest.

The come down is gradual, both pairs of limbs leisurely falling like leaves. Your heartbeats slow. You eventually regain cognizance. You can feel the heat radiating off of your bodies in contrast to the cool A/C, and it’s silent save for your recovering breaths. His fingers are still inside you, probably soft and pruned. Neither of you can muster any movement, but you’re not in a rush—the edges of reality are slowly coming back into focus.

“Fuck,” you break the silence. “I can’t believe I squirted.”

“Why,” he inquires, voice muffled by the back of your head. “You’ve done it before.”

“I know, but god, that was really intense.”

He hums in agreement. It feels like his body is falling deeper and deeper into the mattress. If he doesn’t get up soon he fears both of you will fall asleep in the mess that you’ve made.

He begrudgingly removes himself from your body, and makes his way to the en-suite. The pitter patter of the shower is heard shortly after. He was right to get up when he did because when he returns to the bedroom, you’re half conscious. He’s on your side of the bed leaning over you, gently stroking your cheek to coax you from sleep.

“Wake up, baby.” His voice is so soft and his touch is so warm. He’s just lulling you further to dreamland. “Gotta shower and eat.”

“But I’m sleepy,” you whine.

“I know,” he counters. “I promise after we’re done we can go back to bed.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The shower is needed. You pet each other gently, and exchange small kisses between rinsing the grime from your bodies. And when your shower is over, and your bellies are full, he keeps his promise and tucks you both into bed.

DO NOT REPOST, MODIFY, OR PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT.

DO NOT SHARE MY CONTENT ON TIK TOK

[kingkatsuki]

Okay, piggybacking off my last ask! It’s always okay to take my asks and run with them, Especially because you perfect them. 😤❤️

Okay, my heart meeeeelted at the tattoo bit. Like 😭😭😭

Also, the wearing it around his neck struck me too. Like… what about both? He refuses to risk maiming or destroying the link to you, his heart, and wears it around his neck. But he still wants something on his hand, something he can look at when he’s doing reports and stuff he wouldn’t normally enjoy. And then a little smile curls those lips of his, and content curls in his body, and he makes sure to check in frequently with you, whether in person or over the phone.

I think about him and his hands frequently, because oh lawd. And yes, it’s definitely a deeply ingrained part of the relationship. Always reaching for you, pulling you in, having you close. And the way you just melt into it, even during spats, makes him fall for you all over again. Every single time. To have someone so trusting of him, of his hands that are the main source of his quirk- which is extremely powerful, makes him a ball of mush internally. And at this point, he’s a grown ass man. Still a little emotionally stunted, but we love him all the more for it, and he definitely isn’t afraid to tell you how he feels. Hero’s like him get the hard, the painful, the harsh lives every single day. So he learned to appreciate the good things, and never let them go. Like I know he’s not a poet with words all the time, but I can just imagine him going “Wow. That’s my girl.” Mentally every time you just come so willingly to his touch…

And now my minds running off to nsfw land. Imagine it being a gentle but firm touch, entirely possessive and possessing but completely loving. His possessiveness is hot as hell, and him knowing how it gets you going when he basically marks his territory in others faces when they try going for what’s his.

And in the bedroom? That hand becomes your collar, stg. His thumb on the back of your jaw, massive palm wrapped oh so delicately over the front of your throat, long fingers curling around the side to the back of your neck??? Phew 🥵🥵🥵 just the growls, the snarls, the rasped “Mine”. And what person could argue in the face of such a delicious man?

Long story short, I have an obsession with this mans hands apparently 🤷🏻‍♀️ I can roll with that. I can totally see his hands being sore and stiff when he overuses his quirk, and just think about massaging those massive, scarred, deadly but so gentle hands for him after a long day. His groans, the way he melts into your touch, you begin to understand the thrill he gets when you melt into his touch.

OH MY GOD. He doesn’t want to destroy his link to you? I’m fucking sobbing😭😭😭and just thinking about him looking down and seeing the tattoo that wraps around his ring finger and just smiling as he thinks of you? No words. My heart is full!!

There was a fic that Annie wrote about Bakugou’s hands and it’s honestly one of my favourite fics of all time. Because to most his hands are seen as a lethal weapon but to you they’re that symbol of feeling safe, secure and loved.

His hand as your collar? I am salivating holy shit. It’s so true, it’s like putting your complete trust in him because again to most his hands are a weapon so the fact that you trust him enough to be a little rough with you shows that you don’t fear him at all.

[joonsrack]

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY: 

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi​ for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult. 

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

+

 His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen. 

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be. 

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out. 

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature. 

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average. 

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.) 

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now? 

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

+

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung. 

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

+

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule. 

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them. 

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition. 

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces. 

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move. 

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing– 

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video. 

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

 “A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here. 

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand. 

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle. 

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?) 

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces. 

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid. 

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming. 

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder. 

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard. 

+

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

 Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am    ur crazy

9:40 am    CRAZY

9:40 am    This is hilarious

9:41 am    That’s why i love u

9:41 am    That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am    Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its  owner

10:26 am  All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am  It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am  omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am  you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am  You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

+

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too. 

It’s 100% his dick. 

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after. 

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far? 

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town. 

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick.  And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night. 

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

+

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

+

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him. 

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive. 

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster. 

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.” 

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch. 

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.” 

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

+

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?” 

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping. 

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.” 

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them. 

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

+

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much? 

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

+

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore. 

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints. 

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt. 

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

+

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

 Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm    I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm    can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

                                       4:59 pm    You sent a picture

 5:01 pm   Yeah it’s really similar 

5:01 pm    Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop. 

5:02 pm     He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold. 

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.  

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture.  “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence. 

“Thank you. Is it yours?” 

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.” 

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?” 

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

+

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

+

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him. 

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants. 

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness. 

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself. 

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

+

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking. 

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him. 

The solution is right underneath his nose; 

His penis. It was always his penis. 

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

 Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm  ‘ Suck on that’

 Hyungie:

6:45 pm    why are you asking me idk

 Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm   “ Long lost lover”

 He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone. 

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

 Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm  “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm   Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm   that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm   Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm   after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm   Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm   that’s all

7:17 pm   Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm  idk

9:56 pm  im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm  you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm  im really proud of it

 So not much more help on that side either.

+

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece. 

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

   Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay  

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

  “ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition. 

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

+

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day. 

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head. 

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing. 

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work. 

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there. 

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

 Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm   Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm   I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm   I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm   But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm   Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm    he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm   Nice dick by the way

 He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

+

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions. 

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation. 

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment. 

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in. 

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

+

 2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo. 

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung. 

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon. 

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time. 

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt. 

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap. 

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly. 

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words. 

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?” 

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can. 

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care. 

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face. 

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

+

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love. 

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

+

 Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience. 

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved. 

 He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks. 

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants. 

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.” 

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up. 

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees. 

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy. 

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it. 

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not. 

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally. 

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?” 

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it. 

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

 After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin. 

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back. 

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber. 

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass. 

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot. 

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him. 

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold. 

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.” 

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again. 

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.” 

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.” 

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken. 

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison. 

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–” 

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed. 

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

[gohyuck]

↠ na jaemin; assassin in florence, italy, year 1469

the brotherhood: guide

pairing: assassin!na jaemin x renaissance artist!reader; based on assassin’s creed

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive (explicit allusions to sex)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: minor characters die, excessive overuse of the term “my love”

“i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” - sarah williams

↳ personality: he’s flirtatious, almost too flirtatious, as he walks through the streets of florence, decked in the beautiful and extravagant cloths of italian nobility; you don’t mind it, though, not when he pulls you from your fruit stall in the central market and into a neighboring alleyway to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, tugging your own, coarser neckline down to access the skin he wants to nip at. there’s a tiny hole at your waist where your skirt starts, one you haven’t mended yet, and he doesn’t fail to exploit it, placing his thumb against your skin to rub circles into it as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

there’s something arrogant, but bearable, about the way he carries himself. he’s boisterous, impossible to ignore when out with others. you’re dragged along to lavish parties, draped in dresses he gets specially made for you, even if it’s a life you’re unused to. still, with jaemin, you’re the center of every party. though people whisper about you - how you do not belong to any family, how you stay alone and all by yourself - their badly hidden passing glances bounce off of you when you’re with jaemin.

sometimes, he’s loud even when you’re alone with him, vocal in his pleasure as he forces you deeper, deeper into his mattress, which is a luxury you yourself cannot afford. you firmly believe that he’s the most beautiful in these moments - bare in front of you, larger than life and still so very human all at once. you run your fingers over his collarbones to ground you as your eyes roll back into your head, his own grunts and gentle, loving words muffled against your neck. 

other times when you’re alone with him, though, in the little space of your home that you use as a makeshift studio, he’s quiet. jaemin insists on sitting crosslegged in the corner, elbow on his knee and chin in his palm, as he watches you paint. sometimes it’s a sunset, dazzling against the open sky. sometimes it’s a bird you’d seen while peddling your foodstuff. often, it’s jaemin himself - his eyes, especially. there’s something playful but serious, sweet but cunning about them. he’s not one to hide his feelings, but his eyes tell stories nobody else will ever get from his mouth. you always make sure to listen. 

↳ origin: you’re forced to watch from the back of the crowd and through a flurry of tears, hand over your mouth and shoulders shaking, as jaemin’s brothers and father are hanged in the center of town, not a stone’s throw away from where your stall usually operates. jaemin himself is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn’t stop worry from pricking at the back of your mind - could they be torturing him extra? the florence nobility are ruthless, even amongst themselves, and you don’t even know what the na’s had done to deserve such a cruel end.

jaemin’s mother had died years ago. he is now all alone in this world. you may be the only soul he has left.

still, even as the bodies are cut down and thrown carelessly into an awaiting cart, you know that you can’t go looking for jaemin. he will come to you when he’s ready, if he’s ever ready. you pray that he’ll be ready.

you sit at home, and you wait. 

he drops in through your window that night, scaling your walls by moonlight. jaemin is stoic, silent, and that’s how you know that something, everything is wrong. the air around him is still, and for the first time since you’ve known and loved him, you feel almost suffocated. he has a hood drawn over his head, nowhere near as rich or flashy as the clothing you’re used to seeing him in, and you can just make out glinting metal against his clothes and skin.

you have no time to ask anything, no time to get out a word. he forces what looks like a document - you later find that it’s a letter to you - into your hands before pressing a quick, chaste kiss that holds more meaning than you want it to to your lips. you can’t even move and reach out to touch him before he’s gone, back out the window he’d come through.

in your disarray, something on the document catches your eye, drawing your eyes down towards it.

discard after reading is scrawled on top of the folded parchment.

↳ i have loved the stars too fondly...: you gather up the rainwater from the storm that night in the closest thing to a small tub you have. as you thoroughly soak the paper - tear-stained, already, as it is - running it under the water over and over again as the words into the paper and all of it dissolves into a mushy, inky mess that falls apart in your fingers, you can’t help but wonder why it’s your life that is like this, why it’s your jaemin that must face this. 

the words swim before your eyes, running through your mind even as you destroy them.

my father was hanged as he discovered a plot to... displace the medici family, he’d written. the very people he trusted with his knowledge were the ones that had the ropes tied to his neck. i must go - it is no longer safe here for me. more importantly, i must go so they do not come for you. i must go, and train for revenge. you deserve much more than a killer. 

the paper is practically destroyed by now, the water entirely murky and a grayish color. still, you continue kneading whatever you can grasp, if only to maintain the little composure you have left. 

i will not be back for a long, long time, my love. i should not even be telling you of this, but i have business to attend to far, far away from florence. it is not business you need to find yourself a part of. i will pray nightly that you do not find yourself a part of this aspect of my life. i know you will want to be with me, to care for me, but the best thing you can do for me is live without me. you let out a small whimper as you go over the letter, again and again and again, in your mind’s eye. whatever ‘aspect of his life’ he was talking about is consuming him, you know it because you know jaemin. it’s possible - too possible - that he is no longer a part of your life and that you are no longer a part of his. 

you are all that i have left. i cannot promise you much, but if i can promise you anything, it is that i will keep you safe. be well, my love, my adoration, my flower. apple of my eye. be well for the both of us. 

forever yours through distance and through time, 

jaemin, house of na 

you don’t quite want to part with the letter, knowing full well that it may be the last thing you ever get from the love of your life. still, you know you must kill the fact of its existence somehow. the next morning, you throw the leftover papery mush out with the rotting old fruits that remain at your stand after a full day of selling. you ignore the way your hands tremble, the way you wipe your hands hastily on your skirt to be done with the whole affair.

you use the inky water as paint, sheer and gray against your canvas. thicker paint goes on top of it as if to hide your bare soul, your truths, your sins, and though your days are far emptier than they had been, once, you find some respite in your art.

you paint jaemin with the words he’d written specially for you. it takes months, twisting itself into a project with a scale unprecedented to you. you paint a larger-than-life portrait of his face, his hand holding a bitten-into peach - it was meant to be an apple, though you’d miscolored the inside of it - against his thin lips. there’s boredom in his eyes, something you’d never truly seen in them in person. if you give his eyes the feelings you remember seeing reflected in them, you think that you’ll break for good.

the painting of jaemin becomes a symbol of your compartmentalization. 

in the mornings and throughout your days, you’re the same fruit vendor you’ve been for ages, trading whatever is in season for much-needed money or amenities. you give children free apples when they run up to you, chat easily with the woman who sells bread right next to you. all is well. 

in the evenings, you speak to the painting. it’s no substitute for the real man - jaemin, your jaemin, always responded to your woes by pulling you close and holding you closer - but at least the artwork can’t be made to leave you. you have no anger towards your love - not when you know why he had to go, not when you’d witnessed the gruesome deaths of his family members - but you do have a never-ending sadness. you tell it of your day, of how you grit your teeth subconsciously when you see the people who’d caused the real jaemin to leave. you speak of the things you would’ve painted in your life before what you’ve mentally dubbed The Departure - there was a young child who looked so angelic in the sunlight this morning, a droplet of water against an old man’s beard. your fingers twitch when you speak of creating art, but you make no move to actually do so. you have a feeling you’ve already created your magnum opus.

the nights are the hardest. no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape them - the dreams. flashes of jaemin’s bright smile, snippets of his teasing laughter, soundbytes of his voice against the side of your face as his lips brush against your earlobe, they all haunt you. the feeling of his fingers dragging across your jawline, running down your side, pushing into you as he stares into your eyes with all the love in the world pooled in his own. no matter what you do - covering the painting before going to sleep, switching positions, sleeping fully clothed - you cannot get them to stop.

you ignore the fact that you don’t really want them to.

↳ ...to be fearful of the night.: in the end, over a full year later, it’s your evenings that get you. 

there’s not much of an explanation to be gleaned from the men that barge into your living quarters, pull you up from your bed, and tie your wrists together. you’re too harried to make out what they’re saying, but you’re present enough to realize that the painting isn’t covered. 

jaemin had been a member of one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in florence once. most everyone knows his face. 

you don’t struggle - you can’t, really, but you refuse to even make an effort - because you find no reason. you feel fear, great fear, yes, but there’s nothing you can do about it. from the snippets of harsh conversation that float around you between the men who are twisting your arms, you realize that someone must have heard you speaking to the painting, referring to it as your lost love, not long ago. 

you’d never closed the makeshift shutters of your one window in the hope that, someday, jaemin would climb through them again. 

before you know it, you’re tossed into a prison cell, wrists raw from rope chafing but finally untied nonetheless. to your surprise, you’re confined alone. this realization almost makes you laugh.

you’re a vip - very important prisoner. 

you hope your death is worth it for whatever greater good is out there. 

↳ full circle: they decide to hang you at night, under the stars of the city that’s given you so much and taken so much from you. you’re glad - you don’t want an audience to witness your end. you wonder if you’ll join jaemin in the afterlife, or if he’ll join you. 

the bag is already over your head and the rope is being placed around your neck by coarse hands that crush purposefully against your windpipe when it happens. 

a soft thwack, followed by another, and then two low groans and drawn out gurgles. the pressure against your throat lets up, but you don’t hang. the box underneath your feet remains there. your hands are still tied behind your back, and the itchy bag remains pressing against the skin of your face, but you’re still alive.

why are you still alive?

before you can try to figure out what’s happening around you, someone’s soft breath appears against your neck, and nimble fingers work at pulling the noose off of you and undoing the ropes around your wrists. the bag is lifted last, and your heart jumps to your throat. 

although it’s what you’ve been waiting for for all this time, you’re still shaken at seeing jaemin in front of you in all his rugged glory. 

he sets his hands on your waist, pulling you off of the box and into his arms at once. although his white robes feel foreign against your skin as you burrow your face into his chest, he still smells the same. the way his hands trek over your back is the same, the way you feel in his arms is the same. you’re overcome, overwhelmed with emotion, and judging by the steel grip he has on you, jaemin feels the same. 

“how did you know?” you manage to ask, voice tight with nerves as you survey him and he surveys you. he doesn’t seem to expect you to be afraid; he’s unperturbed by your lack of hysteria. out of your periphery, you can see that the two men who were fated to kill you are now dead, crossbow arrows piercing through both of their throats. you assume the arrows had come from the gauntlet that adorns jaemin’s hand, though you don’t voice this out loud. he smiles down at you - a genuine smile, one that leaks into his eyes - and you realize that he’ll never tell you. 

he’s so different from the man you fell in love with, yet he is still so much of the same. 

“i’m here to stay, my love, at least to leave my roots here. the danger that forced me to leave no longer exists.” he finally speaks, deflecting your question as you knew he would. jaemin takes one of your hands in one of his, and your fingers trace over the rough callouses of his palms as if it’s second nature. you hear his breath hitch at this, and you realize how likely it is that, whatever he’s been doing, he hasn’t felt the touch of someone that truly loves him in a long, long time. 

“even if you leave, you’ll come back, right, my love?” you ask, startling yourself with how your voice wavers at the prospect. the moon illuminates jaemin’s face as he raises a hand to cup your cheek, tracing a thumb against your cheekbone. it comes back wet, and you realize that, sometime in between seeing him for the first time in so long and now, you’ve begun crying. he nods, belatedly answering your question. 

“you know,” he starts, and you realize that tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes, too. still, you’re more drawn to the way his lips quirk up. “i always liked to see you cry. for different reasons, of course.”

the tension in the air is not broken entirely, but with his in-character quip, jaemin eases both of you into being around each other again. you smack a hand against his sturdy chest indignantly, though you can’t help the grin that splits your face in half. 

“you’re utterly indecent,” you claim as you both finally step off of the base of the gallows. he pulls you into the shadows almost immediately, placing his arm around your shoulders and practically attaching you to his side as he does. his body language screams that he’s worried, but he still cracks a smile at your response. jaemin leans in, his lips brushing your ear. 

“take me back to your home and i’ll show you how utterly indecent i can be.” he whispers, and the smirk is audible in his words. as the moon begins illuminating your world and jaemin’s brilliant grin outshines it, you can’t help but think one thing.

maybe everything will be alright, after all. 

[irrelevantsunarin]

things people need to stop saying in fanfiction

this first part if mostly about explicit or mature content so if that bothers you you can skip to the end - I will label it in pink!

"wet cavern" - does not sound like it should be describing a mouth (and so overused)

globes of flesh (usually in reference to a butt) - yucky

plush lips - no thank you

on that note, also: surging forward into a kiss - totally fucks with the flow of the story every time, and just makes me die inside

"mound" - bad in any context except a pile of dirt

"heat" (usually in the context of "his/her/their heat") - I think this one is pretty self explanatory

Two in one:

and on that note, please keep words for crotch bits simple - if I see one more fic that uses a different word every sentence I'm going to shrivel up and waste away. it's cringe, please stop.

some common ones that annoy me are as follows:

member

length

shaft

core

heat

hole

if you're gonna write p*rn you really should be comfortable enough to talk about the peepee parts without avoidance. you don't have to say p*nis but please avoid the ones that make people (read: me) gag.

I feel like this one goes without saying but... anything about "pain and pleasure" whether the pain turns into pleasure or both at the same time - it's terribly overused and I honestly don't know if anyone still uses it anymore outside of wattpad (but I just read it in something so I guess it's still relevant)

I just want to point out one thing that bothers me specifically - I see a lot of kissing scenes go like this: kissing passionately with mouths closed -> someone gasps, allowing the other one to sneak in some tongue and force the other person's mouth open -> full out frenching - like, correct me if I'm wrong but making out usually happens with mouths open even before tongue, if their mouths were closed it would just be a lot of mushing faces together

making things anatomically correct is important

where did the idea come from that lady cum is sweet and dude cum is bitter/salty? - I've asked friends about this and I don't think it's really a thing (it could be more bitter or taste different based on what you eat) but I think comparing it to food flavors doesn't really make sense... which brings me to another, more uncomfortable topic. abo fanfiction. for whatever reason, it's always in weird animal/abo shit where they take this stuff to the next level - slick always tastes like some specific pastry or food and the character's scents are always described like mall candle scents. to clarify: people secretion tastes and smells like people, people don't smell like specific things (woodsmoke, freshly cut grass, etc) unless they are often around those things and their genitals certainly shouldn't taste like them

I apologise, that last one was a little nasty, but now...

this next part is about general stuff and not the dirty

"the _____ boy/girl" (the blue haired girl, etc. I've even seen it using character distinguishers referencing the story like: "the explosive boy" - bakugo from bnha) - please, it doesn't hurt the story to just use their name or pronouns (and if you feel like you're saying those too much you should probably take a step back and talk about something else other than the characters)

adverbs! - not inherently evil but I would like to remind you all that GOOD adverbs are ones that contradict whatever they're describing (ie. killing me softly instead of harshly or what not) otherwise, use them sparingly

please don't describe skin colors with food words - it's disrespectful and kinda gross, especially because it is usually only used for POC characters (ex: chocolate, caramel, mocha, coffee, etc.)

"something more" - in literally any context (a promise of something more, [x] wanted something more, it felt like something more) you know what just don't say "more" in any situation like that - find another way to say it and it will be better I promise

i feel like these are all cliches that everyone makes fun of but i'm putting them in anyway:

[insert color] orbs - just say eyes, it's fine

blushing (this includes turning red, flushing, and any other way to describe it) - there are other ways to show embarrassment

when a female (or more feminine) character is described as a lot smaller and physically weaker than the male/masculine character - glorifies and fetishizes the stereotypes of feminine people being submissive and weak. basically it's gross.

I have seen a lot of people talking about the phrase: "they let out a breath they didn't even know they were holding" - and while I agree that it's overused I don't think it's unrealistic. it is a thing that can happen in a particularly stressful situation and it does a good job of letting the readers know that the pace of the story is changing and that they too can stop holding their breath at whatever wild thing is going on. definitely don't overuse it but once isn't the end of the world.

smirking - no explanation necessary

s-s-s-stuttering - when people stutter from nerves they tend to repeat whole words, not just the first letter.

This:

Also remember to please use line and paragraph breaks and don't write in first person unless you're really confident because I have never in my life read a good fanfic that was written in first (or second) person

[loser-writings]

A 7 Deadly sin based quirk

A/N: I only did a few of these and I am willing to make a part 2 with other characters with new quirks. I only did these ones since it was all I could think of at the time!

Characters: Dabi, Kirishima, Endeavor, Midoriya

Dabi || Lust-This quirk allows the user to heighten the senses of their target, easily overstimulating them. Overuse of their quirk results in the user becoming overheated as well as blurs their own senses.

You had always wanted to be a hero, but after being branded a “Sin” by your mother for the quirk you developed, you ended up losing sight of your dream. Your mother had adored you before your quirk had developed but once it had finally showed itself, your mothers’ opinion of you had changed. 

She would refuse to let you touch her, causing you to become severely touch starved. Your father was unknown and your mother wasn’t willing to let you know anything more. When you finally had enough of it, you ran away from home in hope that you could find someplace better.

You did. You ended up in the arms of the League of Villains, but to you they were family. You specifically gravitated towards Dabi due to your similar homelife situations, but you also found yourself clinging to him at night when you had nightmares about your mother. His natural warmth always managed to help you relax. 

Toga was the other one you were around quite a bit. Due to her clingy and obsessive nature, she was one you always found giving you affection and attention. It originally made you uncomfortable, but you grew used to it quickly and even found comfort in her clinginess.

You huffed softly as Toga snuggled into your side, watching as Shigaraki mumbled to Kurogiri while playing his video game. You look down at the blonde under your arm before moving to pull her a little closer. She simply hummed since she seemed tired before she snuggled closer, dozing off slowly..

Dabi walked into the room moments later, huffing at how quiet it was, but then again it was past midnight and everyone had been awake for a while. He wasn’t that tired, but he could tell you were resisting sleep since your eyes would slowly shut before your head fell against Togas. 

He slowly moved to separate you from Toga, little resistance coming from her since she had fallen into a deeper sleep. Shigaraki had turned his attention to Dabi for a moment, smirking slightly as an idea came to his mind. 

“Dabi, Why don’t you take them to their room. I bet they would be oh so uncomfortable sleeping in their clothes~” He cooed just to irritate the man. Dabi simply glared before moving to pick you up in his arms. “Shut it. Why are you always so annoying?” Dabi bickered before carrying you to your room, abandoning Toga on the couch to rest. Despite Shigarakis words, He had a point. Sleeping in your clothes must be uncomfortable. 

He ends up undressing you after grabbing your pajamas, but he forgot about something. The second his bare hand brushed against your leg to pull your pants over your body, he felt himself growing much more aware.

Aware of how your chest seemed to rise and fall calmly. How your scent seemed to linger on everything in the room. How soft the fabric of your pants were and how the taste in his mouth went sour as he realized that your quirk was affecting him.

He couldn’t help but shiver as his eyes focused on your body. He couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t attracted to you, but god did your quirk make it harder to resist his urges. His hand moved back over to caress your leg once more, a soft hum escaping you which forced him to look up at your small smile. For once you looked at peace, and it made him wish that your lives were different.

He found himself daydreaming as your touch became intoxicating. His burned hand laced with your own and he stared at it as he imagined what it would’ve been like if you had achieved your dream of becoming a hero. Him seeing you so happy and content with your life, unlike now. Now you live in fear.

He felt a sudden heat rush through him which forced him to pull away in order to shed the jacket he was wearing. Your scent just got stronger and he swore that was what was making his head fuzzy. He looked down at you again, seeing you roll onto your back. It was a position he couldn’t resist. He moved to crawl on the bed, biting his lip as he fought the urges to kiss you until you were whining, but he managed to hold himself back. Instead, he laid carefully on your chest, face buried in your neck so he could get as much of your scent as possible. His hand moved to slip into yours, focusing on how your hands contrasted his own. They were so soft and comforting, yet his were rough and caused so much destruction. He sighed softly and shut his eyes as he let himself become a victim of your quirk.

He felt you slowly shifting and knew you were waking up, but he couldn’t pull himself away from you. He heard the soft yawn and felt you stretch, but he pretended to be asleep in hopes that you wouldn’t kick him off. He was shocked when you didn’t react, but instead your hand found itself in his hair. He had to bite his lip to hold back any noises since the feeling of your hand massaging his scalp turned him to mush. He felt safe, content and happy in your arms. It wasn’t until you giggled when he finally pulled away to give you a questioning look. You just smiled and kissed his head before pulling him close once more. 

“Dabi, if you wanted to get in my bed, you could’ve just asked me.” Your giggle sounded like heaven to him. For once, he didn’t have it in him to tease or fight back. He just nodded and moved to kiss your neck softly. “Sorry Doll…” He mumbled a soft apology only to feel you grab his hand and squeeze it. “You’re fine baby. I’m just glad I woke up to your handsome face.” His cheeks burned and you felt him bury deeper in your neck. It was precious to see him so weak since he was normally the one to do all of the firting.

He let out a soft whine as you continued to tease him before he just pulled away, moving to shut you up by kissing you softly. You couldn’t stop the giggle as you kissed him back, laying down again as he sighed. You were used to this sort of reaction when it came to your quirk. Tons of affection, the desire to hide in a quiet room since it was overwhelming, but also the clinginess. Your hand tangled in his hair while he clutched the fabric of your pajama shirt. He whispered your name and it made you grin, not expecting him to move to hold your hand a bit tighter. 

“I love you so much…” He whispered, confessing while under your power. It made your heart ache terribly since your feelings for the burned boy were so real, yet his were most likely caused by your quirk. “Go to sleep Dabi...Those feelings will go away soon.” You mumbled, feeling him clutch you more after hearing your words. “No...I’m serious…” He mumbled against your skin. You shut your eyes and shook your head, denying his feelings since he had touched you. “I love you too Darling...but you should really sleep. We can talk about this later...when you’re in the right mind.” Your voice forced his eyelids to grow heavier, earning a soft huff as he let go, falling asleep in your arms. 

He might have feelings for you, but your quirk would never let you believe them. After all, you are a sin and it would be too good to be true if his feelings were real. He would have to confess at a better time, but for now you just enjoyed having the normally tough man in your arms.

Eijiro Kirishima || Sloth-This quirk has the user steal energy from other people via skin contact. If the user doesn’t touch anybody and gain energy, they become exhausted and sluggish. The user can only recover if they sleep or steal other peoples’ energy.

You couldn’t help your drowsiness. As your head bobbed down slightly, a soft whine came from your lips. You weren’t able to sleep much thanks to some gaming you decided to do last night with your friends but unlike them, you didn’t manage to recover like they did.

Kirishima had watched you out of the corner of his eye, your head slowly bobbing down before shooting back up in a weak attempt to stay awake. He looked up as Present Mic continued on with his lesson, sighing softly since he knew it was only a matter of time before you ended up passing out.

He turned back to you before seeing your head dip down once more. This time though, You didn’t catch yourself and sit back up. Kiri held his breath as his eyes widened, moving quickly to have you land on his arms instead of slamming your head on your desk.

He bit his lip and moved to carefully lay your head on the desk, moving back to his own to continue listening to Mic. He took notes for you since he knew you would be irritated over falling asleep. He debated on holding your hand so you would wake up, but what good would you both be if he was sleepy too?

He let you rest as Mic finished his lecture for the day, letting everybody pack up and get ready to leave. Kirishima knew that you wouldn’t be waking up, so he carefully moved your things to pack your bag up for you. When Mic dismissed the class, Kirishima sighed and moved to ask Denki for a hand. 

It was simple. Denki would take the bags and Kiri would take you. Denki watched as Kirishima moved to slide his hands under your legs before picking you up. He knew he had maybe 3 minutes til he passed out completely from you taking his energy, so he ran quickly to the dorms, Denki trailing behind with a cheeky grin.

By the time Kirishima hit his destination, roughly a minute had passed. He already could feel himself growing sluggish as you absorbed his energy, but he knew he didn’t have to go much farther. Denki took the lead and opened the doors for you, even helping Kirishima into your dorm which sat on the second floor. Kirishima carefully laid you on your bed, sighing as he sat on the edge as Denki sat the stuff down by the door. 

“You good?” “Yeah man...I just forgot how strong their powers are.” Kiri chuckled and moved to rub the back of his neck as Denki just nodded. “Well, good thing we have the rest of the day off.” Kirishima nodded at that before turning to look at you. “Dude...You know that you could just take a nap in here. We both know that they won’t mind.” 

Kirishima sighed before just nodding. Denki chuckled and waved back before moving to shut the door as he left. Once he was gone, Kiri just looked over at you and huffed softly. He moved to move some hair out of your face before yawning softly. “Shit…” He mumbled to himself, feeling his body grow heavy.

He moved to carefully lay beside you, carefully reaching over and grabbing your hand. If he was going to sleep, he might as well do it quickly. He moved to watch how you reacted only to see that you just smiled a little. His eyes grew heavier with each passing second, but that didn’t stop him from lacing his fingers up with yours. He felt himself yawn before he moved to carefully roll on his side so he could hold your hand comfortably. Within another minute, he fell fast asleep.

When you woke up, you stretched slightly before noticing how somebody was holding your hand. You gasped softly and looked over to see who was clinging to your hand only to find your strong best friend lying beside you. Your cheeks blushed as you put two and two together, figuring out quickly that he had carried you to bed so you didn’t sleep in the classroom. You couldn’t help but grin a little, carefully letting go of his hand to lean over and kiss his forehead. You could definitely get used to waking up to his face.

Enji Todoroki || Wrath-This quirk allows the user to see a persons’ weaknesses and flaws. Words will float to the side and injured areas will glow red.

You had taken notes over the hero’s for as long as you could possibly remember. Drawings of the top 10 with red ink splashed about the pages is what made the League of Villains believe you were so important. You had revealed physical weaknesses of heros, like All Might had a weak spot on his left side or Aizawas’ eyes, but you had also revealed the mental weaknesses of heros as well. When you thought of a hero that you could manipulate easily, the one you instantly thought of was the flame hero, Endeavor.

Endeavor had very few physical limitations, the only one that had appeared to you was in the center of his body. His core. You naturally assumed, thanks to some help from Dabi, that he must overheat if he uses his quirk too often which could result in some burns as well as internal damage. When you see him using his quirk, the words “Blood Boil”  would appear. 

When you told the League about this, they expected that to be his only downfall, yet when they opened your notebook, they were shocked by the amount of red on the page. “Mental weaknesses are much more valuable when fighting him compared to his physical weaknesses. Yet you can’t just insult his hair like you could Best Jeanist and believe that he will react. You have to manipulate him.”

Luckily, you were the Leagues little puppeteer. You moved out on the streets since you didn’t have to worry about getting arrested. To the public eye, you had a clean record. You followed the laws, were kind to most, and even earned money by working at your job. Despite your “Violent” quirk, you worked at a small flower shop that your family had owned for years. You honestly adored your job, especially because it allowed you access to something that could easily be overlooked. 

“Family” was the first thing that appeared on Endeavors list of weakness. You had grown close to the Todoroki family since all of the kids would come in to buy flowers for their mother. Natsuo was a bit of a flirt yet a really sweet kid. Fuyumi was a bit quiet yet seemed like a sweetheart as well, very oriented around her job as a teacher as well as her family. And of course, Shoto. He was maybe the quietest of the Todoroki family yet definitely your favorite. It seemed like the years of coming to you had rubbed off on him and you found him occasionally walking in your shop just as a place of comfort. You never cared much since he was a good kid. A hero, yes, but a good kid who deserved that sanctuary that he never seemed to have.

It was one of the days you had expected Shoto to come in, having a small bouquet ready for him that consisted of white roses as well as a variety of other white flowers. When the bell rang, you naturally assumed it was Shoto. You grabbed the vase of flowers and walked in the front room, smiling as you spoke before looking at who it was.

“Shoto! You seem to be here early-” You cut yourself off when you notice the tall, muscular man staring back at you. The silence made your ears ring til the other man sighed, moving to rub the back of his neck. “You must know who I am, and I must apologize about what you hear about me.” You instantly glared as you saw his flaws.

“Violent,Uncooperative,Family,Jealousy, Pride” You sighed softly and moved to sit the flowers down, knowing that Shoto would want them later. “What is it you want Enji?” You ask as you examine his body, not seeing any part of him glowing red. 

“I would like a bouquet of orchids. Preferably white ones, but any will do” You raise an eyebrow. “Apologizing? I assume you know the meaning of those flowers, and you want to seem sincere so you chose...white orchids?” He nodded and sighed. “Natsuo was right, you are observant.” You just hummed and rolled your eyes, moving to start on the bouquet. “I assume you have no price range? You Todorokis tend to go all out when it comes to your flowers.” He huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by your small talk. “Just make them appealing. I don’t care about price.” You simply obeyed, making the bouquet without questions.

When you were finished, about half an hour had passed and you had made a beautiful bouquet of white orchids. You moved to finish them up by adding a red ribbon around the vase before turning to Enji. “I assume these are for Rei?” You walked over and sat down the bouquet for his approval. He hummed and just gave a curt not before reaching in his pocket to throw a few hundreds on the counter, not really counting. You sure as hell weren’t either since this meant food for the League as well as maybe a gift or two. 

“You know, My family may never forgive me, but that won’t stop me from attempting to make things right.” You raised an eyebrow before putting the money in the register. “Well, I won't lie. You will need more than one bouquet and a half assed apology.” You huffed and He just rolled his eyes, being surprisingly patient with you. 

“Enji, I won’t lie.” You stated honestly before turning to him once more. “I don’t really care for you. I can actually see right through you, but I can also tell you aren’t the same hero as before. You are the number one now and your vision is starting to clear up since it isn’t blinded by jealousy.” You crossed your arms as he just listened. “But that won’t make up for the fact you sent your wife to a hospital because of your abuse. In my mind, any abusive man is worse than a villain. Especially when he is praised for being the opposite.”

He listened to you and simply sighed before grabbing the vase. “Since you were honest, I will be too. You have every right to dislike me. Especially with that viewpoint. I will admit I was a horrible husband, and I know that my marriage broke years ago. I will not try to fix it, but I will apologize. Same with my children. I will not force them to have a relationship with me, but I will apologize.” You simply hummed and rolled your eyes before sitting on your stool. “I will believe that when Shoto tells me. Until then, you are no better than a villain.” He simply hummed before heading out to leave before stopping at the door.

“If I am truly worse than any villain, then why don’t you get to know me personally before saying that so boldly.” Your eyes widened before glaring. “That sounds like a proposition for a date.” You huffed before a small smirk appeared on his face. “It is because that is what it is.” He stated before backing to open the door. “Do not worry, you don’t have to answer now. I will be back next week. You can tell me if you accept it.” He spoke before leaving. Your eyes were wide with shock before you quickly grabbed your phone to let Toga in on what had happened. Sure, you may not like him much...but the chance to get on his good side was too good to be true.

Izuku Midoriya || Gluttony-This quirk has been around for centuries. This quirk doesn’t really benefit the user, The most it does is heighten their senses as well as make them a little stronger, but if they do not drink blood or eat any meat, an overwhelming hunger comes over them. This results in becoming “Feral” which causes them to go hunt on any living creature. This includes humans and animals.

To many, you seemed quirkless. Your appearance was comparable to a normal person and you didn’t have any special features at a first glance, yet over time Izuku had managed to notice many things as well as take notes on them. 

His eyes glanced over his page about you one more time. Your diet consisted of red meats that are usually cooked rare, the bloodier the better. You would only eat vegetables or fruits if there was no other option. He couldn’t confirm any theories as to why your diet consisted of this, but he assumed it had something to do with the blood. Maybe the blood helped your quirk.

He looked over at the scribbles on his notebook, sighing softly. Your senses seemed to be better than the average person as well as your memory. You also seemed to have a slight sensitivity to the sun, but you blame that on genetics since your whole family were hermits due to a supposed allergy to sunlight. He stopped for a moment before going to his computer. Did your lack of vitamin D cause you to base your diet in such a way?

He didn’t know this but outside of the dorms, you sat clutching your stomach. The moonlight only made your skin shine as your stomach cried out, your hunger growing stronger with each passing moment. 

AB positive. You were AB positive, unlike your parents who were A and O respectively. You grew up hunting for yourself as well as for your mother, so the strong craving for Type O blood wasn’t really unusual. Your brain ran a thousand miles a minute, trying to think if you could break into a nearby blood bank or if you could remember recovery girl having any blood bags. 

Your teachers of course knew about your dangerous quirk, and most had bags of blood on standby just in case something were to happen, but it was too late at night to just go ask one of them. Your mind suddenly flashed with different people who had O blood. 

“Aoyama, Ojiro,Denki or Kiri, Sato and Todoroki..” You could feel your fangs starting to grow out as another wave of pain shot through you. “N-No...God they’re all so gross..” Just the idea of feasting from their body disgusted you. You groaned out one more time in pain before slamming your hand against the ground. “Fuck!” You yelled out, catching the attention of the boy who kept his window open. 

Izuku looked out only to see you clutching your stomach. “Hey! You okay?!” He called out before moving to lean over the window. He was only on the second floor so he could easily hop down and help you if you needed it. You sat up to try to reply back only for the scent to hit you stronger than before. 

Izuku Midoriya also had type O blood, and your body reacted to it before you could even warn him. You clutched your stomach and cried out once more which only caused the boy to jump down from his window and start running over. 

“M-Midoriya run Away!” You yelled as one hand gripped the grass under you. You had bitten your lip so hard that it busted, teasing your stomach with the taste of your blood. AB Positive was Not what you wanted.

Izuku had always been a bit clueless, so he ignored your request at the chance to help you out. The closer he got, the more feral you felt yourself becoming. “Izuku-” “Don’t worry! I’m here to help you!” he chirped before dropping to his knees and carefully wrapping his arms around you. Curse him for trying to be helpful all of the damn time. 

When he finally saw you, he noticed how your nails seemingly grew out into claws. How  your teeth had fangs and how the look you gave him was so Hungry. He felt himself gulp and as he realized his mistake, you jumped on him to pin him to the ground. 

He gasped loudly and struggled for a moment, not using all of his strength since he was curious about your quirk and what it would do. He watched as you would lower yourself but hesitate. You were fighting yourself and your instincts and he saw right through it. For a moment, you seemed to break free from your own grasp and looked up at him, pushing yourself away. “Fucking run away Midoriya.” You said as your mind cleared up slightly. 

“N-No! What’s wrong? What can I do?” He asked before sitting up which only made you groan in annoyance. “For fucks sake! If you d-dont…” you groaned and clutched your stomach again. He put two and two together and his eyes widened. “Y-You’re like a vampire…” You scoffed. If you had a quarter for every time you heard that, you’d be able to pay for groceries for over a month. 

Your eyes shot open and glared at him once more. He was clearly in thought yet on his toes. His eyes were fixated on your trembling form before he moved foreward and moved to pull on his shirt collar. It was an offering and your body knew it, yet you had to keep control.

“Y-You…” “You can feed off of me. Just...Don’t take too much.” He chuckled and moved closer to you. Even know, he trusted you. You didn’t realize that you had zoned out on the exposed flesh, carefully moving closer as if worried that there was a catch. “ ‘Zuku…” You mumbled and moved your hand to caress his neck, eyes staring hungrily. “When you get dizzy…squeeze my arm. I’ll try to stop.” You said before shoving your nose in his neck, sniffing the area to find the best spot. 

He giggled a little since it tickled but he quickly stopped when he felt you sink your teeth in his neck. A soft groan came from the other, but your hands held Izukus’ waist. A hum of your own escaped your lips as you fed off of the other boy, his blood dribbling down your chin and making a mess on your pants.

He couldn’t describe the feeling if he tried. It wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be, but at the same time you managed to keep yourself from losing control. A soft sigh came from him as he felt himself getting a bit tired. He leaned back a bit in your grasp so you made sure he leaned against you instead. He realized that if you kept this up, he was going to ass out so he weakly squeezed your arm which made you instantly detach from his neck before moving to cover the small wounds with your hand.

You honestly felt so much better, but you knew you would have to run to Midnight in the morning to get more. You examined Izuku to make sure he was okay before carefully standing up, bending down to carefully put your arms under his legs before walking back into the dorm rooms. You stopped to grab a bandage and some snacks as well as a bottle of water before going back to Izuku’s room. 

You laid him down on his bed before sitting on the edge, handing him the snacks and the water before sighing softly. “Thanks for that…” “It was no problem. I wish I woulda known you were hungry. I would’ve grabbed steak for you at the market.” He joked as you cleaned the bite before placing the bandage on top. “I thought I’d be able to make it to morning...guess I was wrong.” You sighed before looking at your hands, noticing how your nails had went down. 

Izuku knew that you were beating yourself up over it. “Hey...Don’t worry. You’re okay now and if you’re worried about me, how about you stay in my room for the night to make sure?” You felt your cheeks burn but you just nodded. “Fair enough. I don’t see why not.” You moved to stand and turn off the light before moving back to the bed, seeing Izuku crawling under his covers. He rolled on his side before smiling at you. “Oh...And if you wanna cuddle, I won’t stop you. I love being held and I guess it helps me sleep.” He knew the last bit would get you and he quickly found your arms around him with his head on your chest. You huffed, knowing that this was what he wanted, but it didn’t stop you from moving to kiss his head. “Goodnight Izuku. Please rest well.” He wrapped an arm around your waist before grinning. “Goodnight. You sleep soon too.”

[kindasleepyofc]

McDonald’s + Snow: Albert (Modern)

on the eleventh day of christmas my true love gave to meeee albert with a side of fries

words: 448

prompt: “we’re stuck at mc donald’s on christmas eve”

warnings: cussing, mentions of jigsaw, mentions of serial killers, overuse of commas

a/n: reader insert. i love me some modern albert, it always fulfills my soul for some reason (aside from sprace, mush, and skittery). hopefully this is better than my crutchie imagine, i can write about albert, and for albert, way better than crutchie.

“Shit, there’s ice coming down now,” Albert paced around, his shoes squeaking against the floor. You glanced out the window, hopping down from your position on the counter to get a better view. 

Two feet of snow had piled on the ground within two hours. The window was blurry from the snow piling up against it, then melting. You could barely see, but from what you could tell Albert was right. 

You and Albert were stuck at Mc Donald’s on Christmas Eve.

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken this shift!” Albert leaned against the wall and slouched, pouting his lip.

“We’ll get home, it’s just a matter of when,” you said, patiently. Pulling out your phone, you tried to send another text to your mom. 

But of course it wasn’t sending. The powerlines had to have been covered in snow by then.

“‘We’re gonna die here,” Albert groaned, pressing his head into his opened hands. 

“Shush, we have water.” You slid yourself across the counter and jumped off, gesturing to the soda dispenser. It held a lot of different sodas, but also some water. “Plus, I know how to cook the fries.”

You could probably live off of downgraded fries and water for a few days. Probably. 

A scream erupted from both of you as you heard a loud bang come from behind the restaurant. 

“It’s hopefully nothing,” you flashed a nervous smile to Albert.

“Fuck, the last thing we’re both going to see is the goddamn Jigsaw Killer!” 

“Isn’t he dead?”

“I didn’t see the last movie, I don’t know.”

You frowned, cursing under your breath. Jigsaw hadn’t looked like a good movie, so of course you hadn’t seen it. Up until that point, you thought Albert had. “Well, he’s supposed to be fictional.”

“But people copy fake serial killers all the time,” Albert tip-toed his way to the back, peaking through the window to see if anyone was there. “Oh, it’s just snow snow that fell off the roof.”

You didn’t respond, instead opening your phone. 

“My texts sent! My mom’s on her way!” You jumped around, adding in some fake dance moves simply out of excitement. 

“Can I have a ride? We live close by,” Albert jumped over the counter, grinning at your dance moves and overexaggerating them to mock you.

“Yeah.” You checked your phone again. Your mom said to go to the main road that was outside of McDonald’s so that she could drive by. “We have to go outside, the parking lot is too filled with snow.”

“Now we’re really going to die,” he rolled his eyes by slipped his coat on and zipping it up.

“Ready?”

“No. Let’s do this.”