#paparazzi silver earrings

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[lqveharrington]

Winter Gala | C.S.

summary: Coriolanus’ first winter gala as Panem’s President and your first winter gala as First Lady.

pairing: young, president!coriolanus snow x fem, first lady!reader

includes: literally just fluff and kissing. (and some hints to reader being pregnant.)

a/n: some winter love for my favorite (aka coryo bb)

“Don’t you look gorgeous, my First Lady.” Coriolanus wraps his arms around your waist as you clip your earrings on, smiling at him through the mirror.

“You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. President.” You turn in his arms and lace your own behind his neck, eyes flickering around his face. “First winter gala as the President, Coryo. That’s exciting.”

He lowers his arms down to your hips, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Let’s give them a night to remember.”

You let one hand drift to his lips, wiping some of the lipstick off. “Perfect.”

Truly, everything in the Snow Manor was perfect. The help decorated the walls and halls with the lights you deemed the best, and the cooks made the most delicious foods for those to come eat. There were christmas trees present in almost every room, with waiters holding champagne glasses on silver platers. Coriolanus and yourself made sure everything was perfect for the first winter gala as President of Panem.

All of those who held status in the Capitol were invited, along with the past district mentors whom you both attended classes with. There was press inside and unwanted paparazzi outside, immediately becoming the talk of those who arrived to the manor.

As the Snow manor filled with distinguished guests, you were hooked around Coriolanus’ arm like a beautiful trophy, conversing with only those you wanted to.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Livia.” You give her your best smile, removing yourself from your husband to give her a brief hug. “I’m sure Festus has been a pain, as usual.”

“Don’t say that.” She quietly laughed, giving her own husband a glance before looking at the manor in awe and grabbing two champagne glasses of a server’s plate. “Here.”

“Oh no, thank you.” You decline politely, folding your hands together.

“Suit yourself.” She placed one back onto another plater. “The place looks wonderful. The lighting is everything.”

“Thank you. I do love a—“

“Excuse me, ladies, but could I borrow my wife for a bit? It’s time for my speech.” Coriolanus cut in, sneaking an arm around your waist.

Livia nodded, gesturing toward you. “Of course.”

You give her one last smile before following Coriolanus. Sure, you wanted to converse with old classmates, but as the most popular couple in Panem, you had other duties to tend to.

“See Tigris yet?” You murmur in his direction as you ascend the stairs, Coriolanus’ hand placed on the small of your back.

He shook his head, “She didn’t show. She called and said she was busy with work.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to speak to her about an important matter.” You frown and mumble the last bit, your ringed hand lightly moving to your stomach. “Anyway, you must mention how you were delighted to see everyone come here today.”

“Of course, I will. You think I don’t remember that, beautiful?” He kissed your cheek as you reached the balcony looking over the foyer. “Ready?”

“Always.” You lace hands with him.

Coriolanus instructed someone to shut the main lights off and flash the spot light on you both, earning awed noises from the crowd below.

��Thank you all for coming to our first winter gala!” Coriolanus started and got applause from those in the audience.

He went on to thanking everyone who came and spoke about his time as President, calling out those who helped him win the election.

“And of course, I would not have done this all with my lovely wife. Give it up for her, yeah?” He spoke, your name flawlessly living his lips. You flush from the praise but wave to the people below, squeezing Coriolanus’ hand.

“Want to say anything?” He murmured as the applause quieted. You shook your head, resting your hand on your stomach again.

Coriolanus kissed your cheek once more before wrapping up his speech, raising his glass as a final gesture. Everyone else followed suit, your own glass of water being lifted.

“Wonderful speech, my love.” You show your pearly whites as he whisked you away to a hallway.

“That’s because you wrote it, darling.” He met your lips, feeling your grin widen in the kiss.

You let one hand rest on his chest while the other comes around to his neck, Coriolanus’ hands firm on your waist.

“I love you.” You mumble in between kisses, holding your urge to not slide your fingers through his slicked back hair.

He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “I love you more.”

read more about coriolanus here !!

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

How to Suck Your Best Friend’s D*ck 🍆💋

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x Eijiro Kirishima 💋

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Hurt/Comfort

CW: MDNI!, Characters are in their mid-twenties, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, hand job, lemon, making Out, Blow Job (giving + Receiving), Smut, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, Anxiety / Panic Attack, Mental Illness, OCD, Hurt/Comfort

💕Link to My Master List 💕

How to Suck Your Best Friend’s Dick

Kirishima runs his hand through his bright red hair in frustration as he looks himself up and down in his floor length mirror. He’s going out with the class 1A crew tonight to celebrate Bakugo’s 25th birthday and he can’t find anything to wear.

He’s currently wearing his typical dark skinny jeans; a charcoal waffle patterned long-sleeved tee and an oversized puffer vest. A long silver chain dangles at his side, clipped across his right pant pocket for aesthetic. He’s popped on a pair of steel earrings, with a matching industrial bar across the shell of his left ear.

He admires himself from a few different angles. “Ugh…so tacky.” He groans, pulling off his jeans to try something else. Katsuki is always telling the red haired hero to step up his style game. He’s constantly calling Kirishima out on his lack of fashion sense. But the thing is – Kirishima loves whenKatsuki notices what he’s wearing. He lives for the little moments when the explosion hero is nitpicks his outfits. Making fun of him for “dressing so tacky” or for “overdressing for the event.” It feels good to be looked at by Katsuki – to know that the blonde’s eyes (if even for a brief moment) are crisscrossing Eijiro’s toned body, appraising him.

Maybe tonight he’ll surprise Katsuki for once. Eijiro opens his closet again and grabs a shopping bag that’s shoved to the very back. Earlier that month, Mina took him shopping to buy what she called a “more low key” outfit to wear on dates. He had been complaining that the paparazzi always noticed him when he was out. He loved being acknowledged for his hero work – but there were just some nights when he wanted to fly under the radar. Mina had pointed out that his distinct punk style made him stick out like a sore thumb everywhere he went. Red Riot the hero had a style and a personal brand that was so strong; it made it impossible for him to blend in with a crowd.

“Red Riot has a brand, but Eijiro doesn’t need to stick to just one style.” Mina had told him as she searched through the racks of Abercrombie at their local mall. “Let’s start building up your civilian wardrobe. You’re 24 years old, it’s about time you started experimenting with your look. You don’t always have to wear the same pair of black skinny jeans. Let’s find some outfits that make you feel hot and confident!”

And that’s how he ended up with the shopping bag. He reaches down and pulls out a pair of soft corduroy pants. As he steps into the textured fabric, he wonders what Katsuki might think about them. They’re so different than what he usually wears, but they hug his ass much more nicely than his usual baggy clothes. Next he shrugs into a dark blue button down, leaving it unbuttoned over a white undershirt. He swaps out his steel earrings for a pair of small black studs. Lastly, he adds a pair of dark brown Chelsea boots to complete the look. He’s surprised at how comfortable the shoes are – he always thought boots like this would be stiff and unyielding.

He turns to look at himself in the mirror. Not bad – he smiles as he admires his new look. He cuts an impressive figure – the clothing hugs his figure in all the right ways, showing off his toned Pro Hero body. Mina really knows her stuff – he snaps a selfie and sends it to her, praising her fashion know-how. She instantly replies with a dozen smiley faces with heart eyes and the words “Wonder what Bakugo will think?” With a side eye emoji.

Kirishima grins at the message before looking back into the mirror. He unties his hair from its messy bun, letting it fall to his chin. On a typical day, he’d style and spike it up with an unholy amount of hair gel. But for this new look he’s trying…maybe tonight he’ll just leave it down. He grabs a hairbrush off his bedside table and smooths it out as much as he can. He’s having fun trying something new!

Feeling confident with his new duds, he checks his watch. Shit! Running late as usual. He hastily grabs his wallet and phone and all but sprints out the door.

The crew is meeting in their usual spot – The Wallfish - a grimy dive bar 4 blocks over from Kirishima’s apartment. The bartender is friendly and the place is always filled with locals. It’s low-key and no one pays any mind to the group of top ranked Pro Heroes and UA graduates that regularly frequent the establishment. It’s a special place – a holy place. The kind of spot the group can go to unwind after a long day of being Pros.

Kirishima arrives at the tiny dive out of breath, bursting through the door 20 minutes late to the party. He sees his friends crowded at the far side of the bar, all smiling and laughing in the long, dimly lit room.

Most of Class A is there – Mina and Hagakure are making heart eyes at the hot bar tender as he pours them drinks. Midoriya and Todoroki are sitting at the bar, laughing over tall glasses of some craft beer Eijiro can never remember the name of. Shoji and Oijiro are bent over Shoji’s cell phone near the jukebox, trying to remember the name of a 80s song they had heard earlier that day on the radio. Momo and Uraraka are chatting animatedly in the corner, the anti-gravity hero is clutching a cloud of “Happy Birthday!” foil balloons with All Might’s face printed on them. Other members of the class are scattered around the room – swapping work stories and sharing life updates. They’re all smiling, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

And then there’s Bakugo – his best friend of all. The explosion hero has his elbow propped up on the bar, a low glass of whiskey in his hand. There’s a smile stretched across his handsome face and he’s snorting at some dumb story Denki is recounting. Katsuki is wearing a tight grey polo and a pair of dark navy joggers that perfectly shape his taught ass. His thick blonde hair is just the right amount of ruffled, and he’s looking gorgeous as all hell. Feeling someone’s eyes assessing him, Katsuki looks up and meets Eijiro’s gaze for a moment. His searing ruby eyes give Eijiro a quick once over and he smirks before turning back to Denki. Eijiro’s heartbeat quickens.

The sturdy hero quickly shakes his head to clear it and then looks back around the room at all of his dear friends. Seeing all his buddies in one place causes a feeling of warmth to well up in Eijiro’s fast beating chest. He smiles fondly at them all. It’s incredible that even years after graduating UA, they’re all still close like this. He doesn’t have long to bask in the glow of his love for his friends, because soon enough – they notice him.

“Oh my God! Eijiro, you look so CUTE!” Hagakure squeals, pulling Mina in his direction. “Mina told me she helped you go shopping – but I had no idea she had picked out something this hot! I want to strip you down and eat you up!

Kirishima blushes bright red as Momo and Uraraka take notice of him as well – rushing over to gush over his new ‘fit.

“Eijiro – you look wonderful!” Momo says, taking him in. She’s wearing a black backless dress that’s as sexy as it is expensive. “I love your Chelsea boots – so fashionable!”

“I just figured it would be nice to try something new.” He stammers, trying not to draw any more attention. “The paparazzi have just been hounding me lately – I want to be able to have a low-key night out for once without ending up in the tabloids.”

“His dinner date last week ended up on the front page of the paper.” Mina whispers conspiratorially to the other girls. “The paparazzi recognized Red Riot’s trademark look right away and wouldn’t let him enjoy his dinner in peace.”

“Oh no! That’s awful.” Uraraka gives him a sympathetic look. “How did your date react?”

Kirishima’s shoulders slump. “Well she liked the idea of going out with a Pro Hero…until the paparazzi knocked her wine into her lap and ruined her dress.” The girls gasp in horror.

“Did it stain?” Momo asked, dismayed. It is common knowledge that in Momo’s opinion, a ruined outfit should be punishable by law.

“Oh, yeah.” Kirishima makes a face. “It was red wine and she was wearing white. She left the date right then and there. Billed me for dry cleaning the next day.”

“Oh nooooooo!” Hagakure wails dramatically. “I’m guessing there won’t be a second date?”

Kirishima shakes his head no. “I knew that being a Pro would be challenging…I just never thought it would be so difficult to date in the spotlight. So I’m trying a more toned-down look. I don’t know if this outfit really screams “Kirishima,” but it’s nice to try something new!” The girls all nod approvingly, clearly proud of Kiri for pushing himself out of his comfort zone. They catch up for a bit – sharing bad date stories and swapping style tips. Hagakure has recently hooked up with a hot B-list Pro and is thrilled to share the details. Momo is hiring her first sidekick and is looking for referrals. Uraraka is looking for the perfect leather jacket but can’t seem to find anything nice under $400. After a half hour of chatting and swapping advice, Kirishima bats a few All Might balloons away from his head and excuses himself so he can go greet the birthday boy.

He sees Bakugo has moved to sit with Midoriya and Todoroki. He’s on his second whiskey and he’s grinning widely – a sure fire sign that he’s buzzed and happy. Katsuki’s gotten better at chilling the fuck out over the years, but it still takes a bit for him to let his guard down – even amongst friends. But with Kirishima, Bakugo is always comfortable. When it’s just the two of them, the vibes are immaculate – they can chill, have deep chats, and just enjoy silence together. It’s one of Eijiro’s favorite things about their friendship – how natural it feels to just do nothing together.

Tonight, though…tonight is an event. The entirety of their friend group is out and loud and ready to party. Kirishima makes a beeline towards his best friend, waving hello to other members of class 1A as he does so.

“Happy Birthday, man!” He claps a hand on Bakugo’s back, trying not to notice how toned and muscular the explosion hero’s shoulder feels beneath his grasp.

Katsuki looks up at him with intense ruby eyes. Once again, his eyes dart across Eijiro’s body as he all but drinks in the new outfit. Katsuki takes in the fitted pants and the new shirt before hovering on Eijiro’s loose red hair. For a moment he seems – speechless? Kirishima smirks, and Bakugo’s eyebrows knit together in an angry reply. He opens his mouth to make a comment on Kirishima’s ‘fit, but is quickly cut off by Izuku’s enthusiastic welcome.

“Kirishima! Hi! You look great – I don’t think I’ve seen your hair down like that in a while!” Izuku babbles, waving to get the bar tender’s attention as Kirishima pulls up a bar stool.

Bakugo rolls his eyes at his green-haired friend before turning back to Kirishima. His cheeks have the tiniest tinge of pink as he says: “Yeah, it’s nice to see you without that shitty hair style for once.” Kirishima smiles at the backhanded compliment and Katsuki looks away, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

The bar tender plants a martini in Kirishima’s hand without giving him a glance. As a regular, Eijiro hasn’t had to place an order in years. He sips the drink and grins as his friends start recounting stories from their first internships. Todoroki and Midoriya laugh as they mock Bakugo, remembering the way Best Jeanist had forced him to style his hair.

“I have sensitive skin – I’m allergic to hair products!” Bakugo groans as they pass around Midoriya’s phone to admire photographic evidence. Kirishima leans across Todoroki to see the photo – a young Bakugo stares daggers at the camera, his hair slicked back in a comical replica of the Fiber Hero’s signature coiffure. Best Jeanist looms behind him in the pic – tall, denim and in his prime as the Number 3 hero. Kirishima can’t help but notice the softness that touches Katsuki’s eyes as he glances over at the photo – Jeanist had been an invaluable mentor in their first year.

Eijirou marvels at how complex of a person Katsuki can be. Over the years, the explosion hero has definitely mellowed out. He’s calmer now, less angry. He’s a loyal and true friend. Katsuki is now the guy Kirishima calls for empathy after a particularly bad day at work. The friend he spends every Saturday night with playing video games and eating vegan nachos. Katsuki has always been in his corner – standing with him through good times and bad. Pushing him to become his best self as a Pro Hero and as a man. Katsuki has so many layers and sides to him – and Eijiro fondly realizes he likes each and every one.

“Why are you looking at me like that, shitty hair?” Katsuki’s low voice shakes Eijiro from his train of thought. With a start, he realizes that he’s already finished his first drink and the alcohol has made him hazy. He’s been openly staring at his friend for a solid minute.

“Damn, that’s strong.” He compliments the bar tender before turning back to his friend. “I dunno man, I was just thinking about how glad I am that we’ve been friends for so long! Happy to be out here celebrating you.”

“You’re too corny, Eij.” Katsuki says roughly, but he’s still grinning. The smile is unguarded and genuine – a sign that Katsuki is a drink or two in as well. They spend the next few minutes catching up about the latest video game releases and whose apartment they’ll go to for game night.

An hour goes by, then two. Eijiro can’t remember the last time he’s had so much fun.

Soon enough, he’s got three drinks in him and is dancing with the girls by the jukebox. He’s won a game of drunken charades against Tokoyami and has arm-wrestled with Shoji at least twice. Now as he’s dancing, he feels loose and warm and fuzzy. Mina grabs his hand and twirls him in a quick circle before pushing him towards Denki. The two bump their hips together in sync, eliciting squeals from the girls. Uraraka has acquired a hot pink-feathered boa from who-knows-where and has used it to ensnare Midoriya and pull him onto the dance floor. The green haired hero tries to remember the dance choreography from the school festival that they performed at all those years ago.

Everyone is comfortable and happy and beaming. It’s definitely shaping up to be one of his all time favorite nights out when Katsuki lightly grabs his arm and pulls him off their self-designated dance floor.

“What’s up, man?” Kirishima runs his hand across his forehead to wipe a thin sheen of sweat from his face. He’s a bit flushed from the dancing. “Having a good birthday so far?”

Katsuki’s arms are crossed and he’s looking down at Kirishima appraisingly. He ignores the question.

“Meet me in the bathroom in 5 minutes.” He says mysteriously, before turning and stalking away. Kirishima feels a burst of excitement in his belly as he watches his friend go. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. He swings by the bar and downs a quick glass of water before making his way to the restrooms. The girls try to beckon him back to the dance floor and he waves them off with a laugh.

 “I’ll be right back – gotta take a leak!” The lie comes to his lips smooth as molasses. He’s pulled this disappearing act before.

He slips into one of the unisex bathroom stalls, flipping the lock so that the outter knob reads “occupied.” He barely has a second to breathe before Katsuki has him pressed against the wall and at his mercy. Eijiro groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of his friend’s body press against his chest. Bakugo’s hands are all over him – on his chest, at his throat, inching up his shirt.

“This damn outfit.” Katsuki mutters gruffly in his ear before smashing their lips together. The kiss is both searing and demanding. Kirishima leans into Katsuki’s hot mouth, desperate to savor every moment their lips are connected.

This is something they do every once in a while – when they’re both buzzed and horny and single. They make out in bathroom stalls and dark alleyways. They press their bodies together until their limbs become so tangled up it’s impossible to tell where one person begins and the other ends.

And then…they never discuss it.

Eijiro’s breath hitches in his throat. “You…you like it?” he stutters out as Katsuki kisses down the sensitive skin of his throat, pulling Eijiro’s undershirt collar aside for better access. He receives a low growl in response.

“Your ass in these pants…” Katsuki’s hands wander down to the swell of Kirishima’s ass and squeeze. Eijiro yelps in surprise, and feels Katsuki smile into the curve of his shoulder. “Is that my birthday present?”

Kirishima feels himself flush at the praise. The new outfit has him feeling bold – “Actually I’d like to give you your birthday present somewhere more private.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem to hear him, as he’s preoccupied licking a hot stripe down his best friend’s collarbone. His hand has slipped into Kirishima’s back pocket for a better grip on the sturdy hero’s ass. Eijro’s legs feel like jelly, and he activates his quirk – hardening his shins and thighs to keep himself standing upright.

“Mmm…love it when you use your quirk.” Katsuki whispers hoarsely.

Eijiro feels his pants tighten. He wraps his arms around Katsuki’s neck and stuffs his fingers into his friend’s thick blonde hair. Katsuki lets out a soft sigh at the contact and bites lightly into the soft flesh of Eijiro’s shoulder.

“Listen, come back to my place. It’s right around the block.” Eijiro whispers, pushing lightly on Katsuki’s head, encouraging him to continue nipping a his sensitive skin.

At his words Katsuki breaks away from him, looking uncertain. They have never touched each other like this at either of their apartments, in either of their beds. They hang out often enough – meeting up for weekly gaming sessions with the other guys or grabbing takeout together while streaming an action movie. Katsuki is a constant presence at Eijiro’s apartment. And yet – the two had been careful to never cross any lines in their living spaces. Kissing at Kirishima’s place would carry an implication – the hookup would have to actually mean something.

Kirishima holds his breath for a moment, waiting for Katsuki’s answer. The explosion hero looks thoughtfully at Kirishima’s face, and then at his lips.

“Yeah…okay.”

Kirishima lets himself break into a grin. “Okay!”

He pulls himself away from Katsuki to take a quick look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He smooths the creases out of his shirt and makes himself presentable before unlocking the door and stepping back out into the social scene.

Out around the bar, the birthday party has clearly devolved – everyone is tipsy and buzzed. Their friends are laughing and chatting, all in various states of inebriation. The difference in how Class 1A handles their alcohol as staggering - Todoroki looks like he is falling asleep in his chair at the bar, meanwhile Ida has taken over the dance floor and is executing quick, sharp dance steps alongside Ochaco. Denki and Izuku are giggling over their latest round of beer, as Mina flirts shamelessly with their favorite bar tender.

“Birthday boy leaving already?” Denki calls out, drunk off his ass. “I didn’t get to give you a round of birthday shocks yet!”

“Katsuki’s pretty wasted!” Kirishima calls over lightly. “He’s gonna sleep it off on my couch.”

Katsuki looks pissed at the implication that he’d let himself get wasted this early in the night, but the excuse is undeniably a good one. He pretends to stumble and Kirishima catches him easily, wrapping an arm around the taller man’s waist. He feels a jolt of electricity run through him at the intimate touch. F

rom across the bar, Mina gives Eijiro a knowing look and he feels his face heat up in response. She’s the only person who Eijiro has ever confided in about his clandestine make out sessions with Katsuki. She smiles slyly and points to her phone, a clear request to be texted updates later.

Denki and the rest of the group wave hazily as they leave, a broken chorus of “Happy Birthdays!” ringing out into the night as the pair stumbles out the door and into the street.

“Our friends are so great, aren’t they?” Kirishima smiles as Bakugo lets his weight sag against him. They walk slowly on the cobblestones towards Kirishima’s apartment building.

Katsuki, in a rare moment of softness, looks up into the flickering streetlights and murmurs “yeah, they really are pretty great.”

Eijiro smiles widely as he looks down at his best friend. Katsuki’s grip around his shoulders tightens for a moment. It’s the most intimate they’ve ever been out in the open before. Eijiro knows that to any passersby they look like two good friends walking home after a night out. But if their friends from Class 1A were to see them like this…would they know?

It doesn’t take a special quirk to notice the way that Eijiro’s face flushes when Katsuki brushes his fingertips along Eijiro’s pulse point. It doesn’t take a master of stealth to figure out why the two are constantly disappearing together during late nights on the town.

Eijiro is pulled from his thoughts as they arrive at his apartment building. Katsuki detaches from him and the sturdy hero finds himself shivering with the sudden loss of his friend’s body heat. He reaches into his pocket and fumbles with his keys, nervously jamming them into the door’s lock.

“Eh? Is that what I think it is?” Katsuki peers curiously over Eijiro’s shoulder as the sturdy hero clumsily unlocks the door. Dangling from his silver key is an officially licensed Dynamight enamel keychain shaped like a grenade.

“Oh, yeah…” Eijiro says sheepishly. “Your assistant always sends me and the guys the first versions of your merch before it hits the market. I thought this design was pretty sweet – sorry if that’s lame.”

Katsuki smirks and reaches into his pocket to pull out his own keys. He holds them up for Eijiro to see – dangling from Katsuki’s own cluster of keys is a rubber keychain of a red stylized “RR” logo.

“Funny – your agency sent me a sick Red Riot crewneck last week along with this. I’m not usually one to rep hero merch, but sometimes I’ll make an exception.”

Eijiro’s heart ricochets around his chest. He takes a steadying breath before jokingly saying “I didn’t realize you were such a big Red Riot fan.”

“Of course I am, idiot.” Katsuki avoids his gaze and moves to push the door open since Eijiro has frozen in the doorway. “You’re my favorite hero. After All Might, of course. And maybe also after Best Jeanist if I’m feeling sappy.”

Katsuki leads the way to Eijiro’s second floor apartment, taking the stairs two at a time and keeping his face hidden from his friend’s view. Eijiro wonders if Katsuki is blushing as furiously as he is. You’re my favorite hero. Goddamn Eijiro’s never been so simultaneously turned on and lovesick in his life.

At the top of the stairs, Katsuki easily opens the door to Eijiro’s modest one bedroom apartment. Eijiro knows he’s an absolute idiot for never locking his door, but at this point he’s too turned on to care. He follows Katsuki into his comfortable living space. A charcoal colored sectional dominates the center of the room, dividing up the living room and kitchen areas. A large television is mounted across from the couch with an array of gaming devices stacked neatly in the shelving unit beside it.

Eijiro is particularly proud of his kitchen – a clean area defined by white subway tile and jet black appliances. A slick dark Kitchen Aid mixer sits at the ready on the sparkling counter. A collection of mismatched barstools sit beneath a stretch of countertop. A framed poster of Crimson Riot hangs above a cheap bar cart in the corner. Home, sweet home.

“I’ve always liked that you have the money to own this whole building, but you still rent this crappy place.” Katsuki smiles over his shoulder at Eijiro.

“Hey, hey – it’s not crappy. It’s well loved!” Eijro makes a face at his friend, but then notices the paint that’s chipping around the kitchen window. “Okay…admittedly it could use a fresh coat of paint. But being a Pro Hero doesn’t exactly leave time for me to work on home improvement!”

“Your place is great, Eij.” Katsuki says, moving to cup Eijiro’s face in his strong hands. “It’s perfectly you.”

Their lips connect, and Eijiro swears he can see stars at the contact. He’s almost giddy with delight – they’ve never been intimate in complete privacy like this before. All of those stolen kisses in bathroom stalls have been uncomfortably public and quick. Now, they can take their sweet time with each other. Katsuki kisses him slow and deep, as if he’s realizing the same thing. Eijiro realizes with a start that they’ve never kissed somewhere so quiet, either.

They stand like that for a while, just kissing in Eijiro’s homey living room. Katsuki pushes his fingers through Eijiro’s bright red hair before brushing his fingertips along the base of the sturdy hero’s scalp. Eijiro smiles into the kiss - it feels like heaven to be touched so tenderly.

Eijiro moves his hands to rest on Katsuki’s chest, feeling his friend’s rapid heart beat. He breaks away from the kiss and dips so that he can kiss along the tendons of Katsuki’s neck. The explosion hero sighs and seems to revel in the attention Eijiro is giving his sensitive skin.

“Maybe we should…uh…take this to the bedroom?” He grunts out as Eijiro nips at his earlobe.

“Yes.” Is all Eijiro has time to say before Katsuki grabs his hand and drags him across the apartment and through the threshold of Eijiro’s bedroom.

Eijiro’s room is a safe haven from the world of Pro Heroes and villains. The walls are a warm cream color and the décor is simple. It doesn’t fit at all with the punk aesthetic of the civilian clothes that are safely tucked away in his closet. There’s a small desk in the corner that houses his sleek laptop and the personal journals that he uses for therapy. Over the desk hangs a bulletin board filled with postcards and letters from friends and special fans.

A few framed pictures hang on the walls showing scenes from Eijiro’s life and childhood. Several hold beloved photos of his UA friends and mentors. One particular picture catches Katsuki’s eye – it depicts the two of them as first year students. They are wearing early versions of their hero costumes and look so incredibly young. Their arms are wrapped around each other and Katsuki has a fierce expression on his youthful face. Young Eijiro is displaying his trademark shark toothed grin. They look fresh and unburdened, two kids on the precipice of manhood. Two children about to be used as soldiers in an ugly war. Katsuki shakes his head to clear it of shadowy thoughts.  

Most of the room is taken up by a plush king sized bed that’s across from Eijiro’s closet. It’s stacked with pillows and sports a dark navy duvet. A large IKEA Blåhaj shark plush rests upon the soft duvet.

The space looks like a standard bedroom for a man in his mid-twenties. It’s sparse but clean. Aside from a few letters tacked to Eijiro’s bulletin board, the room holds no evidence of his Pro Hero career.

Katsuki flops down on the comfy bed like he owns the place and grins up at Eijiro. He pats the space next to him as an invitation. Eijiro smiles and places a hand on Katsuki’s chest, pushing him onto his back. He climbs on top of the explosion hero and resumes kissing down his neck.

“Doing this on a bed is a nice change.” Eijiro exhales, his breath ruffling the hair at the nape of Katsuki’s neck. Katsuki hums in agreement before rapping his arms around his friend and rolling them over. Eijiro’s eyes widen in surprise as he finds himself pinned down by Katsuki’s muscular frame.

Katsuki leans down and kisses up Eijiro’s strong jawline before recapturing his lips. It’s not long before he’s deepening the kiss, adding his tongue into the mix so he can get a taste of Japan’s sturdiest hero. Eijiro melts at the contact, letting his own tongue tangle with Katsuki’s.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long.” Katsuki breathes as he breaks the passionate kiss. He looks down at Eijiro with a hungry look in his eyes. “Look at you…all mine.”

Fuck.

The piercing look in Katsuki’s ruby eyes is just too much. Eijiro is so turned on he can’t help himself - he rolls his hips and grinds against Katsuki and their hard dicks collide in the most delicious way. Eijiro’s never felt anything quite like it and he finds himself moaning softly at the contact. Katsuki responds with a thrust of his own, shifting slightly for a better angle. For a few minutes they just kiss and grind against each other. It’s like they’re teenagers again- all awkward lust and experimentation. Katsuki wants nothing more than to rip off Eijiro’s clothes right then and there.

Soon, both men’s breathing has grown ragged and Eijiro thinks that if they keep going on like this he may very well cum in his pants. He puts his hand back on Katsuki’s chest and lightly pushes against him to signal that he needs a break.

This is completely unknown territory for both of them, after all.

They’ve both been with girls in the past – hookups and girlfriends and one-night stands that have taught them the basics of pleasure and sex. But neither of them has ever slept with another man – and the thought of touching each other intimately is almost terrifying now that they are about to do it.

Katsuki sits back and takes a deep breath. “Let’s take a break for a sec.” He says, his voice husky as he shifts to adjust his hard cock in his pants.

“Are you nervous, too?” Eijiro asks him with wide eyes, unsure of what else to say.

“Of course I’m fucking nervous.” Katsuki says harshly, causing Eijiro to wince. “Sorry – sorry.” Katsuki amends, reaching forward to place a hand on Eijiro’s shoulder. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while. With you. But I’ve never fucked another guy, let alone one of my best friends. I don’t want to make things weird between us.” He says gruffly, his voice sincere despite the intense look on his face.

“Listen, man. It feels like we’ve been into each other for a while, so I don’t think that acting on our feelings is gonna change much. I’ve always liked you because you’re…well…you.” Eijiro reaches out to place his large hand over Katsuki’s. “I know you don’t like any of this mushy stuff, but I think we need to get it out into the open before all of the physical stuff. Clear the air.”

Katsuki groans in frustration, as if this conversation is physically challenging for him. And maybe it is.

“Ugh, fine.” He grunts out, turning over his hand so he can interlace his fingers with Eijiro’s. “I think you know how I feel. But if you need me to say it out loud, I’ll say it dammit.”

In the pregnant pause that follows, Eijiro realizes that he’s been holding his breath. He looks down at their intertwined hands and exhales softly. He’s waited so long for this moment, for these words.

“I’ve liked you as more than a friend for years.” Katsuki’s face softens, losing its typical tough mean mug. His expression is gentle, almost loving. Eijiro has only seen this look once or twice on his friends’ face, and his heart squeezes deliciously when Katsuki’s eyes dart up to meet his own. The look that passes between them is so sincere; it makes Eijiro’s head foggy.

“I don’t think I really understood my feelings fully until last year. That night at the bar when we first kissed…I was drunk and all I wanted to do was feel you against me, to feel your touch. When I woke up the next morning and remembered the way that we’d kissed in the bar bathroom… Eijiro I was a fuckin’ mess. I thought I’d ruined everything between us. But also…I didn’t care. I just wanted to kiss you again.”

Katsuki pauses to catch his breath. His face is flushed a deep, deep red and he looks embarrassed as all hell. But then he sticks out his chin defiantly and says “I kept trying to date girls and move on, but I always kept coming back to those feelings. I kept coming back to you. For months and months we pretended everything was fine. We’d get meals together, team up at work, go out with our friends…but any time we got a little alcohol in us it was game over. Every time we’re drunk, we can’t keep our damn hands off each other.”

“I’ve had a massive goddamn crush on your shitty ass this whole time. You’re my best friend. You know me better than anyone on this fuckin’ planet. You’re the first person I go to when I can’t get out of my own head. You’re one of the only people who understands what I went through in that shit war when we were kids. And on top of all of that…” Katsuki’s mouth quirks into an unexpected grin. “On top of all that, you’re hot as all hell. Dammit, just look at you.” Katsuki gestures at Eijiro vaguely with his free hand. “Sometimes it pisses me off how fuckin’ attractive you are with that shitty hair and your stupid piercings. Your stupid punk outfits.” Katsuki blushes impossibly deeper. “Eijiro shut me the fuck up I’m just embarrassing myself over here – “

Eijiro cuts him off with a kiss so deep it leaves them both breathless. He grabs Katsuki’s face and moves to straddle the blonde’s lap. Between breathless kisses he manages to say “That’s Exactly.” A kiss. “How I Feel.” Another kiss. “Katsuki.” The name comes out of Eijiro’s mouth as more of a moan than anything.

Katsuki grins as he moves to kiss down Eijiro’s neck. He revels in the way he can make the sturdy hero moan so easily, so freely.

“I’m fuckin’ done talking.” Katsuki says as he runs his hands across Eijiro’s toned chest. “Lose the shirt, idiot.”

Eijiro doesn’t need to be asked twice. He pulls off his navy button down and the white undershirt along with it. Suddenly, he’s bare chested and a little self conscious as Katsuki takes him in.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Katsuki mutters as he kisses down the hard slope of his best friend’s chest. Kirishima’s never been one for nipple play – that is, until Katsuki runs his tongue in lazy circles around his chest.

“Shit!” Eijiro cries out in surprise at the sparkling sensation that shoots straight to his groin. “Y-you can keep doing that.”

“Oh, can I?” Katsuki says teasingly. He’s got a classic Bakugo shit-eating grin on his face as he lowers his mouth to Eijiro’s left nipple. He takes his time to suckle the hard nub before releasing it with a small pop! Kirishima whimpers in response.

Katsuki continues to lick and suck his way across Eijiro’s broad chest, his calloused fingers reaching up to run across the red head’s smooth jawline.

“You should take off your shirt, too.” Eijiro finally manages to squeak out in a much less-than-manly voice than he’d like.

Katsuki looks up at him with hazy eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The explosion hero leans back and carefully strips off his charcoal colored polo. He tosses the shirt to the floor unceremoniously and allows Eijiro a moment to appreciate the hard, rippling muscle that’s left in its wake. An angry red scar winds across his left shoulder and down his chest. Eijiro traces the path of the scar reverently with his fingertips.

“Did it hurt?” He breathes out, letting his fingers wander across Katsuki’s healed flesh. “Is this one from the war?”

Katsuki lets out a deep breath as his friend traces a light fingertip across the ragged flesh. “Yeah.” He says softly. “It hurt like a bitch. And it’s ugly as all hell. But, hey, I’m still here.”

“Yeah.” Kirishima leans forward to kiss along the rough skin. Katsuki shivers in response, no one’s ever touched his scars like this. Kirishima’s lips brush across the scar tissue so lovingly, so reverently, that it makes something in Katsuki shatter inside like a dropped dinner plate.

“You’re still here.” Kirishima says under his breath, moving to capture Katsuki’s soft lips. The two kiss more slowly now, more deliberately. Bringing up the war has brought a strange kind of stillness to them both. They know how close they each came to dying, how precious these quiet moments are in the grand scheme of things.

Kirishima has never seen his friend so tender. It’s strange, he thinks, that this is the manliest Bakugo has ever looked to him. His features are so soft and open – it’s as if his typical scowl has been wiped clean off of his face, leaving nothing but sweetness. Kirishima knows that true manliness – true chivalry – can only come about when one is completely open about whom they are. In this moment, he feels that he’s finally seeing Katsuki for all that he is, and all that he can be.

Katsuki moves his fingers to Eijiro’s hair, softly combing through it in a way that is so loving it makes Eijiro want to die. The sturdy hero leans into the touch and finds he almost keens with pleasure at the way Katsuki smooths a thumb behind his ears. Katsuki moves to leave a wet trail of kisses down the sturdy hero’s neck.

“You’re so goddamn cute.” Katsuki breathes as he surfaces for air. “Fuck how have we not done this sooner?” He slowly fans out his fingers on Kirishima’s exposed abs. Kirishima laughs as Katsuki’s fingers hit a ticklish spot on his stomach.

Katsuki continues to kiss his way up Eijiro’s neck while moving his fingers further down the sturdy hero’s stomach. “God I’m so turned on right now.” Katsuki whispers. His hot, wet breath in Eijiro’s ear causes the red head to shiver. He feels Katsuki’s fingertips tracing lower and lower on his belly.

Katsuki ghosts his hand over Eijiro’s waistband and spreads his fingers wide over his friend’s crotch. He feels the hardness under the fabric of Eijiro’s pants and his hand jumps back, recoiling from the feel of his best friend’s hard cock. They both scramble away from each other awkwardly, both wide-eyed.

Eijiro feels as if he has been doused with a bucket of cold water. He realizes with a shock the magnitude of what they are about to do with each other. Kissing is one thing…but actual sex is a whole other playing field altogether.

“Eij…” Katsuki starts tentatively. “I didn’t mean to, like, withdraw like that. I just don’t know what to do.”

Eijiro nods, grateful to be blessed with another rare moment of vulnerability from Katsuki.

“I know, dude.” Eijiro consoles. “I always had a vision of how this could go down in my head. But being here with you right now…there’s nothing that could have prepared me for this.”

Katsuki lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. So what’s our next step?”

“You’re usually such a know-it-all, Kats.” Eijiro teases, moving to get closer to his friend again. “I thought you were the big bad leader of our group.”

Katsuki scowls at him, but reaches out to wrap an arm around Eijiro’s shoulder all the same. He draws the red head to his chest fiercely. “Yeah, well, it takes time and experience to become a gay sex god, doesn’t it?”

This sets Eijiro off in a fit of giggles. He leans into Katsuki’s bare chest as he laughs, taking in the warm cedar scent of his friend’s body.

They sit like that for a minute – wrapped up in each other and grinning at Katsuki’s stupid posturing.

“Listen, man.” Eijiro says after a moment of comfortable silence. “We can just stop here if you want. Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

Katsuki’s not having any of Kirishima’s gentle and generous platitudes.

“I don’t wanna stop until I make you motherfucking cum, shitty hair.” He huffs, the old Bakugo fire flaring up. Eijiro’s heart does a somersault.

“You wanna…make me cum?” He says in a quiet voice.

“Of course I fuckin’ do! I thought we got all of the sappy shit out of the way already. Why else would I be sitting here with you half naked? You idiot. I’ve been jerking off to the thought of you cumming for literal months.” Katsuki squeezes his friend’s bare shoulder.

They sit in silence for a moment, processing all that Katsuki has just confessed. A blush blooms brightly across the explosion hero’s cheeks and he moves to wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. Eijiro’s nose picks up the strong sent of caramel.

Katsuki is notoriously self-conscious about his sweaty palms – his quirk causes him to produce flammable nitroglycerin-like substance in his sweat that has a very distinct scent. The Explosion Hero developed a nasty OCD habit a few years ago that caused him to repetitively wipe off his palms when stressed. After months of Katsuki being frustrated while trying to get rid of the tic on his own, Eijiro had contacted an old friend from the support course to help out. Hatsume had been thrilled to take on the project, and worked to develop a special pair of non-flammable gloves for Katsuki that would absorb his sweat without issue. Katsuki had pretended to hate the gloves, but they gave him a sense of security and safety that he had been missing when in his civilian clothes. The war had fucked everyone up, and the gloves had been a tool in helping Katsuki process his posttraumatic stress disorder and OCD alongside a trusted therapist.

But here, in Eijiro’s bed, Katsuki’s hands are bare and the Pro Hero is clearly stress sweating all over his clean cut pants. Eijiro knows Katsuki well enough to recognize the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. He gets up and crosses to the other side of his room, sliding open a dresser drawer and retrieving a washcloth-sized swatch of fabric. He returns to his bed where Katsuki is rubbing his hands up and down his legs, still trying to erase any trace of sweat from his warm palms. Katsuki is absolutely locked in on the motion, staring down at his hands as he runs them across the thick fabric of his pants again and again.

Eijiro reaches out and places a hand on top of Katsuki’s to stop him from continuing the repetitive motion.

“Hey, Kats. It’s okay.” He wraps the small rectangle of fabric around his friend’s hands. Katsuki looks up at him, embarrassment ringing his eyes. He’s extremely self-conscious of his OCD repetitive motions, and Eijiro is one of the only people who know how bad his tics can be.

“This is a fabric sample that Hatsume sent over before she made your gloves. Look – it can absorb everything no problem. You’re okay.” Eijiro says softly, encouragingly. Katsuki sighs in relief as he sinks his hands into the fabric and lets it do its job. “Everything is okay. There’s nothing to be insecure about. I know you.”

Katsuki closes his eyes at the words, grateful. He takes a few calming breaths just like his therapist taught him to do all those years ago, back when he was trying to recover mentally from the war. He lets his breath out in a low hiss. Eijiro puts his hands on Katsuki’s arm to help ground him. They sit quietly for a few minutes. Eijiro eventually moves his hand to the small of Katsuki’s back, where he rubs soothing circles into his friend’s taught muscles. Katsuki continues to focus on his breath work, flowing through the beginning of the anxiety attack the best he can.

As Katsuki tries to re-center himself, Eijiro feels selfish for the way his brain repeats Katsuki’s words with relish - I’ve been jerking off to the thought of you cumming for literal months.” Eijiro has been doing the same for the better part of the year – getting off to hazy fantasies of a fucked out Katsuki. He tries to refocus himself so he can be helpful to his friend as they get through the anxiety attack at hand.

“Let me go get you a glass of water.” Eijiro says soothingly, rising to go to the kitchen. Katsuki nods thankfully as he continues to go through his breathing exercises, he’s finally starting to calm down.

Eijiro walks through his kitchen and grabs his biggest Owala water bottle and begins filling it with filtered ice water. Katsuki has a tendency towards getting dehydrated with his sweat-based quirk, so this isn’t the first time Eijiro has had to water his best friend. This also isn’t the first time he’s had to coach Katsuki through an anxiety episode.

Once the bottle is filled to the brim, he retreats back to his bedroom where Katsuki is sitting cross-legged and looking a hell of a lot better. He gratefully accepts the silver water bottle from Eijiro and starts gulping it down.

“Hey – slow sips! Slow sips!” Eijiro chides him, sitting down on the bed a few feet away from his friend. Katsuki scowls but obliges, taking gentler, measured sips until he’s drained half of the bottle.

“Better?” Eijiro asks, careful to give his friend some space.

“Yeah.” Katsuki breathes out slowly. “Thanks.”

“Always.” Eijiro smiles and grabs Katsuki a Red Riot branded coaster from his bedside table. Katsuki takes the coaster, smirking at the huge stylized “RR” that adorns the cardboard circle, and sets down the bottle on Eijiro’s bedside table. He then unwraps his hands from the square of special fabric so he can lay the rag to rest on the table as well.

“You always fuckin’ know how to handle my stupid ass.” Katsuki says weekly, all tough guy bravado long gone. In fact, Eijiro guesses he probably left the last of his faux-machismo at the bar alongside their friends.

“That’s what friends are for.” Eijiro says automatically. Katsuki reaches over and nervously covers Eijiro’s hand with his own. The sturdy hero can tell that his friend is still self-conscious about his sweaty palms, but is trying to move past his moment of anxiety.

“You and I – we’re more than friends, Eij. You know that.” Katsuki says softly. “Do you think we can keep going?”

“I don’t know if we should, Kats. This is a lot. It’s a big step. Maybe we need some time to breathe and regroup. We want whatever this is between us to be healthy.” Eijiro knows he’s sounding an overly cautious mother hen, but he can’t help himself. He doesn’t want to ruin their shot at being together.

 Katsuki looks at Eijiro with sparkling eyes. “Yeah I get that. But I think I’m good now. I really want to see this through…to touch you.”

Eijiro nods. “Are you sure? If you just want to go to sleep, I can take the couch. We can try again when we’re both in a better headspace.”

“Dammit, I’ve waited literal years for this. For you. I’m not going to let some shitty PTSD from a shitty war ruin a perfect night.” Katsuki scowls.

“Alright. Then let’s keep going.” Eijiro smiles softly. “But if you need to take a break at anytime you let me know.”

“Ever the chivalrous hero.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but Eijiro can see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s me.” Eijiro puffs out his chest and strikes a mock-heroic pose. “Why don’t we slow down a little and, like, cuddle?” His cheeks heat up at this suggestion. He feels like this is a perfectly reasonable thing to ask for, but he thinks Katsuki might think the idea is dumb.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Take it slow for a sec and ease back in.” Katsuki agrees. He scoots himself up the bed so that he can rest his head on Eijiro’s pillows. Once he situates himself comfortably, he opens his arms out to Eijiro expectantly. The gesture is so sweet and strangely innocent for Katsuki. It’s a testament to their closeness, as well as to the fact that Katsuki is still coming out of his PTSD anxiety attack headspace.

Eijiro crawls up the bed and settles himself down in Katsuki’s arms. He marvels at the way his best friend’s arms wrap so securely around him. He feels so safe, so relaxed in the embrace. They lay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth of each others’ bodies before Katsuki turns his head to capture Eijiro’s mouth in a tender kiss.

This kiss is different from the others – it’s soft and slow and Eijiro can feel himself absolutely melting into Katsuki’s muscular frame with each brush of their lips. Katsuki moves one of his hands to cradle the back of the sturdy hero’s head, binding them together. Eijiro shifts so that his hands are pressed against Katsuki’s strong chest. He’s falling so incredibly hard right now – he’s so stupidly in love with this man that he feels as if he’s drowning in fizzy, sparkling stars.

With time, the kisses become fiercer. They’re both guys with wild hormones, after all. It doesn’t take much for them to get back to a frenzied state of lust. Their hands roam each other’s bodies freely now, getting more and more comfortable with each caress. Katsuki boldly reaches between them and runs his hand along Eijiro’s clothed cock, causing the red head to moan softly with want. Eijiro’s strong hand finds the curve of Katsuki’s ass and squeezes. The explosion hero hisses at the contact, feeling his weighty dick twinge with need in his pants.

Katsuki pauses for a moment, hand still resting on Eijiro’s strained crotch. He seems hesitant, unsure of what his next move should be. It’s so unlike Katsuki that Eijiro takes notice.

The sturdy hero breaks their lips apart and places a soft kiss on his friend’s smooth cheek.

“I think I’ve got an idea that we can try to kind of take the edge off.”

He slides off the bed and moves to retrieve his laptop. He props it up at the edge of the bed and flips it open, typing in a website address at Katsuki watches on curiously. It only takes him a moment to work out what Eijiro is doing.

“You think watching porn is going to help?” Katsuki says skeptically, despite the excited throbbing that’s occurring in his boxers.

“I do.” Eijro says, queuing up the site’s most popular video of the day.  An attractive heterosexual couple saunters on screen and begins to make out furiously. He gets up and walks to his nightstand, sliding open the drawer to reveal a fresh bottle of unscented lotion. He flops onto the bed next to Katsuki, and sits with his back against the headboard, legs strewn out in front of him. He pours a generous glob of lotion into one hand and holds the bottle out to Katsuki.

“We’re going to jerk off together like two normal guys and just see where things go from there.”

Katsuki tentatively reaches out a hand, palm facing up. Eijiro pours out another liberal portion of lotion. Katsuki accepts the lotion and hovers his hands uncertainly over his pants, looking to Eijiro for instruction.

Eijiro steels himself and gathers his nerve. This was his idea, after all. He takes a deep breath before shoving his pants and boxers down his muscular legs with one hand. He’s not particularly graceful as he shimmies out of the garment, but who gives a shit. He tosses his boxers to the ground and settles into a comfortable position. He looks down to see his thick cock standing at attention, flush against the hard planes of his Pro hero abs.

Katsuki looks on almost hungrily as Eijiro stares straight ahead his computer screen. The couple in the laptop screen are now stripping off each other’s clothes with abandon. The woman drops to her knees and begins to suck off her male counterpart. Eijiro feels his dick throb with need in response to the visual.

Nervously, he moves to grab his cock with his hand. Instant pleasure floods through his nervous system as he coats his dick in a thick layer of lotion and begins to jerk himself off. He throws his head back into the headboard of his bed and groans with satisfaction as he squeezes his fist lightly around the shaft of his hard member. He gets lost in the sensation for a moment before he remembers with horror that he has an audience.

With some trepidation, he peers over at Katsuki to see his friend working to remove his pants one leg at a time. Katsuki’s dick is so perfect that Eijiro’s mouth almost waters when he sees it – it’s flawlessly long and has some weight to it. The tip is flushed dark and leaking beads of pre-cum before Katsuki takes it in his hand and starts to slowly jerk himself off too.

They sit like that for a few minutes – watching the porno while slyly watching each other. With each passing moment, Katsuki becomes more vocal. He sighs, moans and groans along to the film as the porn star couple continues to get physical. He shyly glances over at Eijiro as he gets in a particularly good stroke, sighing as he does so.

It’s when Katsuki starts replacing his wordless moans with Eijiro’s name that things start to get particularly steamy.

“Eij…” Katsuki groans out as he fists his hard cock. The sturdy hero’s face flushness he turns to give Katsuki his full attention. They are sitting a foot apart on the bed – a distance that feels simultaneously both too far and too close. Eijiro decides to bravely close the gap, dropping his dick for a moment in order to scoot clumsily towards his friend.

“Kats…is it okay if I…?” Eijiro holds up his hand, motioning towards Katsuki’s crotch in an offering that needs no further elaboration.

Wordlessly, Katsuki nods and slides his hand down to his thigh. Their eyes remained locked as Eijiro reaches across to put his own hand on Katsuki’s throbbing cock. Electricity shoots through Katsuki’s body as Eijiro confidently flexes his fingers around his friend’s dick.

“Is this alright, man?” Eijiro whispers, his mouth barely moving as he stares at Katsuki’s toned, naked body in reverence. He revels in the way that every nerve in Bakugo’s body seems to be alive and ticking in response to Kirishima’s capable touch. There’s a small tremor running through the explosion hero’s legs. With relish, Eijiro realizes that Katsuki is desperately fighting his body’s natural instinct to thrust up into his fist.

“Yeah, whatever.” Katsuki says sarcastically, but his eyes are desperately begging Eijiro to keep going. Ever the people pleaser, Eijiro obliges. He slowly drags a fingertip up his friend’s lubed-up dick and watches as the member twitches in response. Katsuki blushes, almost ashamed of how turned on he is at the simple gesture. Eijiro smiles and a look passes over his face that’s almost wicked. The explosion hero almost shivers at the way his friend’s crimson eyes light up with mischief.

Eijiro continues to pump his dick and slowly gains a good rhythm. After a few minutes, Katsuki is absolutely blissed out. His eyes are half lidded as he watches his friend slowly work at his cock – each thrust pushing him closer to his limit. The sound of the porno has faded into the background; all Katsuki can hear is the gentle wet sound of Kirishima jerking him off.

“Faster.” The explosion hero mutters breathlessly, and Eijiro is more than happy to indulge him. “Ugh…” Katsuki’s moan is like a song Eijiro wants to hear on repeat. He continues to run his hand up and down his friend’s thick shaft, stopping every once and a while to concentrate on the head.

“If you keep going like that…I might…” Katsuki whispers, and Eijiro stops dead.

A beat. “Why’d ya stop?” Katsuki’s voice is almost a whine and Eijiro smiles.

“Because I want to use my mouth to make you cum.”

“Oh.” Katsuki’s mouth has gone dry. “Have you ever…?”

Eijiro’s cheeks heat up. “No, never with a guy.”

“Ok.” Katsuki isn’t really sure what to say aside from: “Neither have I.”

“Alright, we’ll be each other’s firsts then.” Eijiro says mock-enthusiastically, but he’s sweating.  This is so goddamn nerve wracking! You’d think that being best friends for the better part of a decade would make this kind of thing easier.

Surprisingly, Katsuki is the one to break the tension. He’s sitting there – naked and handsome. He moves to pull himself up so that his back rests against the headboard of Kirishima’s large bed. His cock standing at attention, slick with the lotion and pre-cum. It’s practically begging for Eijiro to wrap his lips around it.

“Jeez, I wish there was some sort of fuckin’ manual for this. Something like “Blowjobs 101,” or “Fucking Your Best Friend: For Dummies.” Katsuki says, his mouth quirking up at the corner the way that Eijiro loves.

Eijiro chuckles. “Hmm or even: “How to Suck Your Best Friend’s Dick.” A comprehensive guide!”

“Now that is a title that would make me buy a book.” Katsuki lets out a laugh. His voice softens. “It’s just me, Eijiro. Just two buddies hanging out and fuckin’ around.”

Kirishima smiles and runs a hand through his dark red hair. He scoots up the bed towards Katsuki, his eyes laser-focused on his friend’s stiff cock. He feels his own dick twitch with need and tries to ignore how fucking turned on he is.

“Now get over here Eij.” Katsuki beckons him closer, reaching out to pull him in for a soft kiss before whispering with a wolfish grin: “It’s not gonna suck itself.”

For some reason, that turns on Eijiro even more. He reaches down and gives his dick a few satisfying pumps. “Shit, Kats.” He moans, and Katsuki just smiles at the way he’s tearing his friend apart with words alone.

“Fuckin’ get to it already.” Katsuki says almost lazily, seeing the way that Kirishima’s body responds to being bossed around. “I don’t have all day here.”

Eijiro doesn’t need telling twice. He slides down the bed and positions himself between Katsuki’s fuzzy blonde legs. From where he’s sitting up against the headboard, Katsuki surveys his friend with an intense look in his eyes.

Eijiro gulps and takes in the man before him – Katsuki is all hard muscle and angles. His chest is toned and bare, but a wispy golden happy trail runs from his bellybutton down to his groin. Katsuki has a surprisingly slim waist that tapers down into a muscled “V” shape. He’s well endowed – in Kirishima’s opinion; his dick is the perfect size. Kirishima slowly licks his lips as he reaches out to take Katsuki’s length in his hand once more.

Katsuki’s eyes slide closed with pleasure as Eijiro begins to pump his cock again. Before he has time to register what’s happening, Eijiro leans forward and rolls his tongue across the head of his penis. Katsuki’s thighs jump with the unexpected sensation.

“Oh!” He lets out a small noise of surprise, and Eijiro takes the response as encouragement. He runs his tongue in a circle around Katsuki’s tip, before sucking the entire head into his mouth experimentally.

Here’s the thing – Eijiro has been on the receiving end of a lot of blowjobs in his adult life. He tries to remember the tricks that his past partners have performed that made him moan the most. He recalls being most impressed by women’s ability to multitask while performing oral.

Okay, he thinks as he continues to suck on the head like a pacifier, I can do this!

As he continues to suck, he uses his right hand to jerk Katsuki off, while moving his left hand to lightly fondle his friend’s balls.

“Holy shit Eij…” Is all Katsuki can say before Eijiro moves to take another few inches of cock in his mouth. He slides his lips down Katsuki’s rigid shaft as he continues to pump. It takes a moment or two, but soon Eijiro has the perfect rhythm going –he’s moving his hand and mouth in tandem in a way that’s making Katsuki see stars.

Katsuki is in absolute heaven. The view of Kirishima going down on him is enough alone to get him off. Kirishima pulls his lips off of his friend’s cock with a resounding “pop!”

“How’s that, Kats? Everything okay?” It’s so damn chivalrous of Kirishima to check in with his partner, and Katsuki’s heart rate quickens in a way that he’d be embarrassed about if he weren’t so fucking horny.

“Yeah keep fuckin’ going.” Katsuki almost whines, lacing strong fingers into Kirishima’s hair and forcefully pushing him to get back to sucking.

Eijiro’s eyes glaze over a bit at the harsh gesture, indicating to Katsuki that he likes to be pushed around in bed. This isn’t surprising, given how much of a people pleaser Kirishima tends to be. Kirishima resumes the blowjob, sloppily licking and sucking his way down Katsuki’s penis. Experimentally, Katsuki gives his friends’ hair a little tug. Eijiro moans in response, the vibrations from his mouth rippling up and down Katsuki’s cock like a vibrator.

“Ya like hair pulling, then?” Katsuki doesn’t wait for an answer before yanking a fistful of Eijiro’s hair a bit harder. The resulting moan from his friend’s throat is all the answer he needs. “I didn’t realize you’d like it so rough. Just wait until I fuck ya, shitty hair.”

Eijiro feels his cock twitch almost painfully at that comment. He can’t even imagine how amazing it would feel to be fucked hard by his best friend.

After only a few minutes, Katsuki is barely hanging on. As it turns out, Kirishima is excellent at giving head. Eijiro is absolutely filthy in his blowjob execution – he’s hollowing out his cheeks and making sloppy slurping noises every chance he gets. Katsuki is so caught up in the whole thing that he almost forgets to breathe.

Eijiro pulls his mouth off of Katsuki’s cock with a wet pop! A small thread of drool clings to his lips as he lifts his pretty face up to look Katsuki dead in the eyes.

“Breathe, Kats. You’re wayyy too tense right now.” He smooths a hand comfortingly across Katsuki’s fuzzy thigh. Katsuki obeys and takes a deep breath, bringing himself back to Earth a bit.

“I just got lost in it for a sec.” He says, his eyes blown wide with desire. “I can’t fuckin’ get over you. You’ve never done this before and you’re already so fucking good at this.”

Eijiro smiles at the compliment, using the moment to sloooooowly stroke Katsuki’s dick as the explosion hero continues to catch his breath.

“Ahhh.” Katsuki doesn’t even try to hide his moan as Eijiro pumps his cock. They’ve made it this far – there’s nothing either of them has to hide anymore.

“I’m gonna finish you off now, babe.” Eijiro says nonchalantly before licking a stripe up Katsuki’s shaft. Katsuki’s dick noticeably pulses at the pet name. “Would you like that?”

“Whatever.” Katsuki pretends to mean mug and put on his usual gruff persona, but it’s impossible to hold onto his tough guy act when Kirishima is looking up at him so openly with those fiery crimson eyes. Katsuki cracks a smile at his friend. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Kirishima stops his ministrations and breaks into a grin. “I know, right?”

And suddenly, they’re both laughing. Deep belly laughs that carry through the apartment. Eijiro is climbing up Katsuki’s body and kissing him so, so sweetly. Their lips meet again and again and again until they’re grinning stupidly into each others mouths.

Then Kirishima’s pulling his friend off the bed and to his feet. He shoves Katsuki lightly, his palms hitting the explosion hero’s toned chest soundly as he pushes him against the wall.

“I want you to concentrate on me, babe.” Kirishima whispers as he drops to his knees and starts sucking Katsuki off again. He slurps greedily before smacking his lips together. “I want your eyes on me the whole time.” All Katsuki can do is nod “yes” as he winds his fingers through his friend’s hair and gives a light pull. Kirishima groans and takes Katsuki’s dick in his mouth again, resuming his haphazard blowjob. Katsuki tries his best to keep his eyes trained on his friend, but the pleasure is far too much. He lets his head fall back against the wall with a light “thud” as he moans with abandon.

“That’s it, Kats. Give it to me.” Eijiro is licking and sucking and reveling in the way he’s making Katsuki come undone. The blonde’s legs are shaking and he struggles to hold himself up as Eijiro eagerly pleasures him – bobbing up and down on Katsuki’s cock with frenetic energy. It’s so fucking good that Katsuki cries out when his pleasure hits its peak.

“Eij! Eij…I’m g-gonna…I’m gonna cum!” Katsuki waves his arms in an awkward,  helpless motion before trying to push Eijiro off of his dick. He’s not sure what to do. Would it be weird to cum in his best friend’s mouth!? He hasn’t thought this through enough and now he’s trying to back away to pull himself free from Eijiro’s hot, wet mouth – only to realize his back is literally against a wall. Now Katsuki is squirming around awkwardly and Eijiro’s mouth drops in surprise. Right on queue, because as his dick flies out of Eijiro’s mouth, Katsuki cums vigorously - spattering the sturdy hero’s chest and chin with sticky liquid.

“Fuck!” Katsuki reaches down and strokes himself through his orgasm until his dick becomes too sensitive. Eijiro watches in awe as he notices the foreign feeling of hot cum rolling down his chest.

For a moment, the two stare at each other in disbelief of what they’ve just done. Both are absolutely stark naked and sweaty – Eijiro’s hair is sticking up in odd places from where Katsuki has pulled at it, and Katuski’s legs quiver with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Thick ropes of hot cum are sliding down Kirishima’s face and chest.

Breaking the tension, Kirishima grins and uses the back of his hand to wipe his face.

“Fuck, Kats.” He is all he can say as his friend struggles to catch his breath.

Katsuki is red in the face and dripping with sweat. Eijiro gets to his feet and grabs a towel out of one of his dresser drawers. He slowly wipes the hot planes of Katsuki’s muscles clean as the blonde looks on sheepishly.

“That was so fucking hot.” Eijiro says a moment later as he finishes cleaning Katsuki off. He tosses the towel at the hamper on the other side of the room and it disappears inside, nothing but net.

“I’m sorry man.” Is all Katsuki can manage to say, his face burning as he moves to cover his naked body.

“Sorry?” Eijiro frowns and joins him back on the bed. “How come?”

“I…I fuckin’ came all over you. I hope it wasn’t a gross feeling or anything…” Katsuki trails off, his fiery eyes filled with something akin to shame as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

“Listen, Katsuki…this is our first time doing something like this so it’s bound to feel weird. But what we just did – what just happened between us? That felt so natural. And honestly – I can’t wait to make you cum like that again. Next time you can even cum in my mouth.” He grins, revealing a row of sharp sharky teeth to his friend.

Katsuki’s eyes rake across his features, double-checking that he’s sincere. He takes a deep breath and lets his face relax into a sleepy smile. “Well thank God, because that was awesome.”

“Fuck yeah it was.” Eijiro nods enthusiastically, leaning in to kiss the side of Katsuki’s face sloppily. The explosion hero laughs at the contact and reaches out to hold the side of Eijiro’s face.

“You got any tips for me?” He asks cheekily as he sits up on the bed.

“Tips…?”

“For giving head.” Katsuki reaches out to wipe his hands again on the square of special cloth that can absorb his quirk. “Obviously I’m going to return the favor.”

Now its Eijiro’s turn to blush – he feels patches of red bloom across his cheeks.

“O-oh, I mean, ugh – you don’t have to!” His words come up in a jumbled rush, which makes Katsuki’s grin widen.

“Shut up, idiot.” Katsuki says affectionately as he pushes Eijiro onto his back. Eijiro doesn’t put up a flight. He lets himself fall easily into the sheets and sink into the plush mattress. Katsuki gently passes him a pillow and he gratefully accepts, using it to prop up his head and shoulders as Katsuki moves between his legs.

The explosion hero places a hand on each of Eijiro’s knees and moves upward so that he is slowly caressing his friend’s toned thighs. Eijiro looks up at his friend’s face, transfixed as he melts beneath the Pro Hero’s calloused touch.

So here’s the thing about Katsuki – he’s given a lot of head. Up until this moment, he had only gone down on women, but he’s hoping that some of the same basic moves apply to all. He gently traces a fingertip up the inside of Eijiro’s right thigh and around his crotch, teasing. He does this a few more times, focusing on the delicate skin of Kirishima’s inner thigh. He tries to identify potential weak points on his friend’s impossibly fit body. Spots that will make him come undone.

After a few gentle caresses, he finds one such area – Eijiro’s hips are sensitive. Katsuki feels a glow of satisfaction settle in his stomach as he traces a light fingertip across Eijiro’s right hip and watches his friend shiver. He leans down to kiss the area – applying soft lips to the thick cords of muscle he finds there. He experimentally sinks his teeth lightly into the flesh, eliciting a gasp from Eijiro. The red head watches as his best friend continues to bite and suck at the area until he leaves a sizeable trail of hickies across Eijiro’s fair skin.

“Kats…” Eijiro moans as Katsuki’s fingers trace across his chest, find their way down, down down….wrapping themselves slowly around his thick cock and giving a gentle tug. Eijiro moans loudly at the contact, a reedy sound that matches up exactly with Katsuki’s fantasies.

Katsuki comes back to Eijiro’s thighs and begins to trail light kisses up and down the area as he strokes his friend’s dick steadily. Eijiro is absolutely melting at the touch – he’s loving the feel of Katsuki’s battle-callused fist and the harsh way his friend is handling his manhood. When Katsuki’s tongue darts out and across the head of his dick, Eijiro hisses in surprise. Katsuki looks up at him with a searing gaze, his mouth set in a serious line. His eyes are clouded over with a lust that’s so deep and dark that it makes Eijiro’s heart splutter and spark. The visual of Katsuki kneeling over him is so incredibly hot that Eijiro almost cums on the spot.

Katsuki continues to pump at Eijiro’s cock, running his tongue along the tip as he does so. “I’m gonna take such good care of you Eijiro.” Katsuki breathes out, his voice the most tender Eijiro’s ever heard it. “I’m going to make you all mine.”

Eijiro’s heart backflips in his chest, his stomach is all butterflies. Every time he’s imagined being fucked by Katsuki, he’s pictured it rough and mean, hot and heavy. He has never imagined, never hoped that they could share a sensual moment as gentle as this. It reinforces all of the sweet words Katsuki has shared earlier – he wants Eijiro, has always wanted Eijiro. This isn’t just some passing hookup; this is a deep-rooted connection. Eijiro wants to just drown in all of his mushy, fluttering feelings. He’s feeling so comfortable, so loved up, that he does. He lets himself sink into a blissed-out state. He gives Katsuki his trust, complete control. And Katsuki happily accepts.

Katsuki moves so that he can kiss along Eijiro’s stomach. Each caress is deliberate, delicate. When Katsuki finally takes Eijiro in his mouth, it’s smooth and sweet. He slides his lips around Eijiro’s girth slowly, giving his friend time to adjust to the sensation inch by inch. Eijiro closes his eyes and lets Katsuki get to work.

The explosion hero experimentally swirls his tongue around Eijiro’s cock as he continues to take it in his mouth. After a few moments he bottoms out – careful to breathe through his nose as his friend’s length twitches in his mouth and throat. He takes things slowly so that he can minimize his chances of gagging. He tries to relax the muscles in his throat and use his hand at Eijiro’s base to compensate as he begins to bob up and down.

Eijiro is in absolute heaven and can barely last as Katsuki gets a good rhythm going. Of course Katsuki is going to be the fucking best at anything he tries. Eijiro feels his orgasm come on suddenly and roll through him. Shit! He frantically attempts to push Katsuki’s mouth off of his dick, but in classic Katsuki fashion, the explosion hero has to go the extra mile. He holds firmly onto Eijiro’s hips and continues to suck at an even pace.

Eijiro can’t help but let out a soft moan of satisfaction as he cums cleanly into Katsuki’s mouth. His hips roll and stutter as he rides out his high, Katsuki continuing to use his mouth to pull the orgasm out of him all the while.

 Katsuki’s never given a blowjob, but he’s been on the receiving end of enough to know that it’s so goddamn fucking hot when the someone swallows. The foreign feeling of hot cum running down his throat causes him to gag for a moment of uncertainty – but remember Katsuki has been working his entire life to master and train his body. He’s able to quickly adjust to the new sensation and is soon swallowing greedily as Eijiro comes undone.

When Eijiro’s finally finished, Katsuki takes a moment to lick up Eijiro’s overly sensitive cock. The sturdy hero winces at the feeling of being over stimulated, and Katsuki grins wickedly. He uses his finger to tease lightly around Eijiro’s thick head, causing the red head to whimper.

Eijiro’s cheeks are flushed and burning hot. He desperately needs a drink of cool water – but in this moment all he can do is watch as his best friend continues to play with him. Katsuki tortures the hero for a few minutes more, waiting until Eijiro finally reaches out to move the explosion hero’s hand away. Katsuki gives in easily, pulling himself up so that he’s eye level with Eijiro.

“Hey.” He whispers, giving his friend a moment to catch his breath. Eijiro reaches out and wipes a drop of sticky fluid away from the corner of Katsuki’s mouth.

“Kats, that was…” Eijiro can’t come up with a word to describe the ecstasy of receiving head from Katsuki Bakugo.

“Yeah, I know.” Katsuki says smugly. He reaches out his arms and Eijiro folds into them easily, as if they’ve been doing this for years. For a moment, no words need to be shared. They bask in the feel of each other, each reveling in the fact that they finally pushed their relationship out of the goddamn “friend zone.”

They lay there for a while, tangled up in each other and staring at the ceiling. Eijiro looks absolutely blissed out, his red hair splayed out beneath his head like a fiery halo. Katsuki, however, is chewing on his lip nervously. Eijiro raises an eyebrow at Katsuki, openly questioning his lover’s anxious expression.

“So…what do we do now?” Katsuki asks his friend, turning so that their noses almost touch.

“Now – we shower.” Eijiro wrinkles his nose at the explosion hero. “You smell like sex, Kats.”

Katsuki pushes at Eijiro’s shoulder playfully. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Eijiro turns over onto his back again, pulling Katsuki bodily towards him. They’re a sweaty, sticky mess all jumbled up together.

“I don’t really know what comes next.” Eijiro says to the ceiling, staring up as if his ceiling fan will be able to provide some guidance. “I can tell you that when I was younger I always fantasized about us going public together – being one of those Pro Hero couples on the magazines and in the news.” He smiles quietly to himself.

“It always seemed so lovely and glamorous the way that Pro couples take on the world together. But now that I’ve been a Pro for a while and I’ve seen how difficult it is to date in the spotlight…I would actually prefer us to stay out of the media. I know how you feel about gossip magazines and news outlets. And besides - I want for this to be ours, and ours alone.” He reaches out and blindly grabs Katsuki’s hand. “I think maybe we just keep things on the down low for a while, feel things out between us. Go on a few dates, maybe tell our friends. See what feels natural. And if someone leaks our relationship to the press – well we’d cross that bridge if we ever come to it.”

Katsuki takes this in for a moment, his brain sluggish and sleepy. “I’m gonna be honest…I think it’s gonna be fuckin’ hard not to show the whole world that you’re all mine.”

Eijiro smiles so widely at this statement that he feels his cheeks ache. His jaw throbs a bit as his muscles recover from giving Katsuki such an intense blow job. “I think you’ll manage.”

“You know I have a legendary short fuse.” Katsuki reaches up to wipe a bead of sweat off of his brow. “We go to so many press events and I always see girls hanging all over you – asking for your number, fawning over your muscles.” Katsuki shifts so he can look at his friend’s toned body appreciatively. “It’s been driving me nuts for years. But now that we’re actually together – if someone was all over you I think I’d punch their lights out.”

“Well you’re going to need to exercise some self control then.” Eijiro says flatly, moving towards Katsuki so he can boop his nose. “And besides, I’ve seen the way your sidekick is always making doe eyes at you. If we want to maintain some illusion of privacy, we’re both going to need to put up with some crap.”

Katsuki grumbles something unintelligible.

“Sorry – I didn’t hear that, man.” Eijiro teases. Katsuki lets out a small huff.

“I said…I’ll do anything to make this work. To make us work.”

“Same here.”

And after the wild night the pair have had together, that’s all that needs to be said.

They’re both exhausted and stinky and dehydrated. Eventually, Eijiro gets to his feat and reaches down to pull up Katsuki behind him. The explosion hero lets out a loud yawn and reaches over to check his phone. He squints as he scrolls through a wall of missed texts.

“Shit, Izuku is blowing up my phone. He said they are all going to Mina’s to continue the party.”

Eijiro peers over his shoulder and lets out a low laugh. “It’s already 1 AM!? Jeez, based on the spelling in these messages, Midoriya is drunkkkk.”

Katsuki reads aloud one of the text messages with a smirk as the pair makes their way into the kitchen. Eijiro puts on a pot of tea.

“Kacchannnnn r u feelin btr? Com prty @ Mnaaaaa.” Katsuki reads aloud with a smirk.

“You know, it’s funny.” Eijiro muses, running a hand through his bright hair. “I always thought you and Izuku had, like, a thing going on between the two of you.”

Katsuki looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, as if making a quick decision. He chooses his next words carefully. “I think that there was a time in our first year of where maybe I…ugh…wanted there to be something with Izuku. But I was so twisted up and full of resentment and fear and hormones. I didn’t fully understand what I was feeling and it made me so angry. Izuku and I never had a chance – we’re just friends now. And that feels right.”

Eijiro nods, knowing the two as well as he does, this explanation makes complete sense. The kettle starts to sing and he pours them each a steaming cup of tea.

“My weird fucked up relationship with Izuku is actually what made me realize that I’m attracted to guys.” Katsuki says thoughtfully, accepting a cup of tea with callused fingers. “You know I started to get a crush on you around our third year at UA.”

Eijiro marvels at how chatty an orgasm makes his friend-turned-lover. He notes this for the future.

The red headed Pro hero blows on his tea to cool it. He takes a snapshot of the scene in his minds eye for future dissection - they’re both stark naked in his tiny kitchen, discussing their intertwined fates. Katsuki’s bare ass is pressed up against the snack cupboard. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Katsuki grabs a clean Red Riot merch glass off the counter and fills it with tap water before chugging it back. “I caught a glimpse of your ass in the locker room and my whole body felt like it was on fire.”

Eijiro splutters into his tea laughing. “Really!? It was my ass that caught your eye?”

“Yeah your towel slipped and there it was. A perfect fuckin’ peach.” Katsuki barks out a laugh as well. “And obviously the fact that you were my first real friend played a role, too. You’ve always known me better than anybody.”

Eijiro is touched by these words. He wishes he could articulate just how much the blonde’s friendship has always meant to him. He recalls the moment that marked thr shift in his own feelings for Katsuki.

“I caught feelings for you wayyy back in our first year – remember how we saved you in Kamino Ward?” He takes a sip of his tea and sighs in contentment. “When you took my hand as we were flying through the air over All Might and those villain bastards…my heart just about exploded.”

“Huh.” Katsuki smirks. “How about that?”

They sip at their drinks for a while, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

“So should we go meet up with all the rest of them?” Eijiro asks. “I’m exhausted but I’m kind of riding a weird adrenaline high from everything that’s happened tonight.”

“Same here.” Katsuki holds up a hand and Eijiro notices with a start that he’s shaking.

The sturdy hero closes the distance between them so he can grab Katsuki’s hand. He massages lightly at the wrist where he knows Katsuki aches from his quirk. After a moment of light touches, he brings the back of Katsuki’s hand to his lips for a quick kiss.

“If we go, we’ll probably end up crashing at Mina’s place when we come down from the high. Plus, it’s so late.” Eijiro continues to massage up Katsuki’s arm, reaching all the muscles that bear the brunt of Katsuki’s explosive quirk.

“I think, maybe…” Katsuki sighs as Eijiro works at his overused muscles with sure fingers. “We stay in. Go shower, do some deep breathing and try to wind down. Keep tonight just for us.”

“That sounds perfect.” Eijiro flashes his signature sharp-toothed grin at his friend. “I’ll text Izuku back from your phone.” He releases Katsuki’s arm and reaches for the abandoned device. He channels his inner Katsuki as he replies with two simple words “Fuck off.” This makes Katsuki laugh and laugh. Izuku replies with a string of crying face emojis - which just seems to add to the hilarity.

They continue giggling as they share a shower – hot steam on sore muscles, shampooed fingers running through thick hair. When Katsuki switches off the faucet signaling the end of the shower, Eijiro pulls the blonde into his arms and rests his face in the hollow of Katsuki’s neck. His brain can only muster a few simple words, but they reverberate over and over in his head: mine, all mine.

They towel each other off and change into a few of Eijiro’s oversized band t-shirts. Eijiro forces another glass of water down Katsuki’s throat before they end up back in bed, wrapped up in each other. It feels so natural, so safe. Katsuki’s phone continues to buzz in the background, alight with messages from their friends.

They both ignore it.

Katsuki yawns and whispers in a gravely voice: “I’m glad you wore that goddamn outfit tonight.”

Eijiro tucks himself into Katsuki’s arms and sighs in contentment. He gazes around the room where he had painstakingly chosen his new look mere hours earlier. Said outfit is currently lying in a heap on the floor alongside Katsuki’s discarded clothing.

He feels himself starting to drift off to sleep as he says “Yeah, man. Me too.”

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

Notes:

Ahhh I can't believe it's finally finished!! Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this fluffy spicy mlm fic!!

Check out my Master List for more fun, flirty & dirty fics!

XOXO,

RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

[starshapedb0x]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✧˚ · .

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and carlos sainz have had your eyes on each other for so long, but the more you think about the each other the more jealous you get for others who get to spend time with the other. Who will fall first in this little game you’re playing?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 18+ (minors dni and read at your own discretion.), jealousy, semi-public sex, party, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), poorly written smut (first timer guys), mirror sex, Rudy Pankow involved because I need a random celebrity

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2K+

𝐀/𝐍: very much inspired by “boyfriend” by ariana grande and social house music video. first time writing something like this, I might write more, requests always open.

There you stood in front of the big, dark wood door of the huge mansion where the party you’d been invited to was happening. Your stylist had picked a black sparkly short dress with stars on it, paired with under-the-knee high heel boots. Your ears and neck are adorned with silver jewellery, matching the bracelet around your wrist. The invite said to be there at around 21:00, but you are Y/N Y/L/N. You didn’t need to arrive a little late to make an impact on whoever was in there, but the team that worked with you knew how doing so reinforced that effect. And even if it was a private party, the paparazzi were going insane with your image spread on their cameras. Y/N, the epitome of beauty, the woman every magazine wanted on their covers, every designer on their runway, and every photographer in their studio.

You gave wide smiles to the paparazzi as you walked into the house. Other than the lack of light and the loud music all around, you noticed the main guests this party was for: all of the F1 grid. You were acquainted with them, but from the first meeting, you found them to be a nuisance to your job, to your image, and most importantly, to you, there were a few you tolerated but the way they messed with anyone that was involved in modeling threw you off. But.. him. Carlos Sainz, the one man you’d danced with on those warm summer nights in clubs, parties, or anywhere you were invited that enhanced your reputation. The black classic suit he was in, and to make it a little more informal, without the tie. The dress shirt unbuttoned the right amount, showing off just enough of the chest you’d rested your head on before. And under the lack of light, his eyes looked even shinier.

Throughout those months, Sainz and you had your eyes on each other. You only spoke to each other in person never through texting, but the amount of time both of you spent just looking at each other’s social media pages was too much to be safe for the average person. You saw every picture posted on his account, along with every one he was tagged in. But so did he. And every picture you took holding a man that wasn’t him a little closer than usual had him gritting his teeth and holding his phone a little tighter than usual. To be fair, you knew what you were doing without looking at it; you helped pick the photos for your social media, thinking about what reaction you’d get from the driver if he were to see them.

Of course, you greeted every one of them, talking loudly so you could be heard over the loud music. What a season! They deserve the break and whatever party is thrown for them, although you were sure they’d rather sleep. The other driver you actually got along with was Lando, so as soon as you went and said hello, the conversation went smoothly, catching up with the last few months. You couldn’t help but eye the Spaniard from the corner of your eye, sliding the tip of your fingers along the side of Lando’s arm as you laughed lightly at a joke he cracked. Carlos couldn’t just walk over and snatch you away from his friend and colleague, slapping his hand away even if it wasn’t touching you, so he decided to play your game.

Approaching another guest, she giggled as you watched the Spaniard move his lips, finishing with a grin playing on them. He eyed you almost directly, but somehow the woman in front of him didn’t notice. At this point, the conversation with Lando had faded out a bit, and he offered to go get you a drink, which, after turning back to him to stop looking at Carlos, you accepted. You stood there for a second. You weren’t going to let Sainz win the game you started. To your luck, Rudy Pankow walked right past you and, upon noticing, greeted you right away. Looking back at the Spaniard, who now had his hand placed very lightly, almost not touching the hips of the woman in front of him, as they both laughed, you hugged the blonde actor tightly and longer than usual. You held his arms, asking him how he was doing and how everyone was. He replied to you, but everything you could focus on was the Brunette man giving you a quick look, your eyes meeting for just a millisecond as the woman hugged him tightly while telling him something he genuinely didn’t care about at the moment.

"Rudy, that’s so nice." You said this as he told you all about what he was filming at the moment. He lowered his head slightly to hear what you needed to say, and reaching your mouth to his ear, you continued. "I really need to go touch up; I won’t take long, promise."

With that, you walked to the bathroom. It didn’t take you long to find it, but to your surprise, the bathroom was huge. There was a long counter with a sink and a vase with flowers placed on the other end, two round mirrors along that wall, and not one person was in there. Right after you left his field of vision, the one and only Carlos Sainz rushingly left the embrace of the woman, whose name he didn’t even remember, and without saying goodbye, basically ran after you.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, carefully running your fingers through your hair to fix it up, a silhouette showed up behind you. And without even looking carefully, you knew exactly who it was. "Carlos Sainz. You looked like you were having fun over there."

"Cállate, Princesa." (Shut up, Princess.) He says it in a more joking way than anything else. He makes his way over to you, shutting and locking the door behind him swiftly. You turned to him, and the moment your eyes met, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The Spaniard’s hand flew to your hips, roughly gripping them. You threw your arms around his neck, letting your hands run along his dark hair. Both of your lips crashed into each other abruptly. Both of you lost the game. You lowered your hands to his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders under the black blazer he was wearing. It was far too hot in here for him to be wearing that. You slid your hands down just slightly, and Carlos placed his arms back, letting the blazer fall off, landing on the cold floor. His hands fell right back on you, and they roamed along your back. Every touch of his fingers against your skin made you press up against him, closing every air gap between you. He lowered his hand to the back of your thighs, picking you up and setting you down on that counter. As he set you down, you grabbed his shirt’s collar and pulled him towards you. It all felt so desperate and somewhat rushed. Both of you felt hot and in a trance; you both pulled away from each other. Carlos looked at you with those brown eyes of his, and you held your breath at the sight in front of you, his mouth slightly open, panting quietly, his once neat hair now messy. But you weren’t the only one in awe. Carlos looked at your face, lips red and swollen from the previous kissing, cheeks visibly warmer than before, and eyes carefully watching his every move. Nothing else mattered right now; the music was significantly lowered in volume in here, and all you could hear were your company’s panting along with yours. The Spaniard didn’t take long to place both of your lips back together, and you roughly roamed your hands on each other, moving almost savagely on the counter—CRASH! Only you looked at the fallen, now broken, vase on the floor. "Wait, Carlos—"

"It doesn’t matter, cariño." He said, his hands reaching the zipper on the back of your dress, sliding it down and placing his hands under it, sliding one of the straps down to reveal more of your neck, then sliding the other one down to reveal your breasts, your nipples hardening at the contact with the cold air. He trailed kisses down your jawline and neck, reaching them. He worked carefully on both of your nipples, giving them equal attention. His hands rested on both sides of your waist. You rested your head back on the mirror behind you and intertwined your fingers with his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, breathing shakily. His hand moved to the side of your thighs, sliding to the inner side of them, and not long after, right under your dress, lightly touching your clothed clit with his fingers. At which point you gasped, feeling almost dizzy. He rubbed it on top of your black lace panties just the right way—enough to keep you shaking from pleasure in his hands but not nearly enough to make you cum. "Carlos.."

"Dime, niña bonita." (Tell me, pretty girl.) He whispered lowly in your ear.

"Please, please make me cum." You desperately told him he slid your panties down your legs, you whining at the loss of contact in between your legs, and threw them near his blazer, and in a second he got on his knees in front of you, leaning his head against the inner side of your thigh. Your hands still rested on his soft hair as he pulled you towards him, sliding you on the counter. He pulled your dress up and guided his finger on your folds, hovering over your clit before pressing down. His finger slid slickly inside you, earning a choked moan out of your mouth. His tongue started working on your clit, and at the contact, you abruptly gripped his hair and practically screamed. As he got quicker, Carlos added two more fingers, and you could do nothing but let him, at this point only seeing stars. His pants were getting tighter as your moans became louder and your legs shook under the influence of his actions. Your legs instinctively closed around him as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a string of moans, calling out his name. The Spaniard pried your legs open and got up. "I don’t remember saying you could cum, cariño. Fucking the obedience back into you doesn’t sound like a bad idea."

You panted, fucked out, and were sensitive from the orgasm you’d just had. Carlos didn’t seem to care as he slid you down from the counter and turned you around to face the mirror. You could see him with his hands lowered in the mirror, but what confirmed he was unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants were the noises, the clinging of the metal part of the belt and the unzipping of the dress pants. After doing so, he looked up at you, placing his hand near your mouth and resting his fingers on your lips. You took them in your mouth, sucking gently on them and coating them with the saliva built up from simply looking at the male behind you. Carlos stroked himself a bit, sighing, before pressing his cock against your pussy. "Fuck. Carlos, just do it." You moaned out, lowering your head with both hands to your sides and supporting yourself on the marble counter of the bathroom. He stopped himself.

"What do you want me to do, Princesa?" You shivered under his touch, one of his hands going up to your breasts, flicking the hardened skin of your nipple between his fingers, the other under your chin, almost wrapping around your throat from the front. He made you look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at you. I bet none of those guys have ever left you like this, have they? I know you posted all those pictures just for me. You get off at the thought of me getting jealous over you, huh? Princesa?" 

You looked at yourself in the mirror; the mess you were in under his touch was unmatched. Fucked out and breathless, still waiting and begging for more, your hair falling on both of your shoulders, your skin glistening with sweat and desire, He was right; no one to ever touch you had touched you like he did; you were ruined for other men after today. "I need you right now, please, Carlos, please." You begged, looking at him through the mirror.

"Only because you asked nicely, niña bonita." He slid his cock into your pussy slowly, groaning.

"You had to put it all in, you fucking asshole." You said that, struggling to keep your legs still so you wouldn’t fall.

"Perdóname, but I’m not halfway in." (Forgive me.) He cooed, leaning against you and tightening the grip on your throat to hold your head up still. Your knees gave out slightly, and you tried to keep your strength on your arms. The unstoppable noises slipping out of your lips could only encourage Carlos more, as he finally thrust in everything he could, earning sharp panting for you underneath him. He started thrusting into you at a slow pace, although it didn’t take him long to speed up, and it didn’t take long for you to feel that pit in your stomach again. Finally, it hit you—that sweet spot you liked so much. Your whole body trembled as Carlos hit it, and noticing it, he angled his thrusts towards that same spot. It was being used and abused, and you couldn’t hold out like this much longer. You were practically screaming; no one outside could hear you both with the loud music and chatting of everyone, but even if they did, at this point you couldn’t care less. "Y/N, Y/N.." Carlos chanted, his thrusts getting sloppier, his breathing getting heavier, and his moans getting louder.

"Please let me,.. ugh.., please let me cum, Carlos." The way his name slid off your tongue drove him wild. "Cum for me, Princesa." He almost begged in your ears; you felt yourself tense up, and from there you were lost, crying out his name, gripping on anything you could around you, and your legs shaking from the wave of pleasure that shot through you.

As you rode out your high, you felt Carlos halt and pull out, spilling his seed onto your thighs, holding you against him, and pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach on your skin.

__________________

Carlos was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out, his blazer on the floor next to him. You sat on top of him, head leaning against the counter; you were dressed now, and you innocently giggled at whatever he was saying. He had his fingers running along your cheek, and you had your fingers gripping the collar of his shirt. Your lips inches away from his.

"Estás tan hermosa—"

An unlocking noise was heard, and Lando walked in. Both of you halted and leaned back away from each other’s touch. Lando looked at the both of you, still you sat on Carlos’ legs, furrowing his eyebrows and visibly gritting his teeth. He looked at the broken vase on the floor and at the way you were now adjusting the strap of your dress while Carlos buttoned his shirt back up. And before any of you could speak, he just backed away.

[bokutosbabe]

I have no idea if this is where asks are sent but I am CRAVING some Oikawa or Ushijima figs rn 😍 OR EVEN DAICHI IM DESPERATE ID EAT UP ANYTHING YOU WRITE I BEG

AHAHA YOU FOUND THE PERFECT PLACE TO COME i love literally ALL of these characters but i chose to do ushijima since i’ve been wanting to write for him😻 i can always do the others if you want!!

Greatest in the League

a/n — i def put my own spin on this so i’m so sorry if it’s not exactly what you imagined😭🫶🏼 also made reader gn since a gender wasn’t specified . ALSO YES I MADE USHIJIMA OBLIVIOUS HE LITERALLY THOUGHT HINATA WAS GRIPPING ONTO BRAZIL BC HE WAS ON THE “OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD”

content — ushijima x gn! reader, ushijima and reader are married , fluff, set in time skip (at the olympics actually), secret relationship, honestly not much to talk abt, i think that’s it- lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — Ushijima Wakatoshi, wing spiker and outside hitter for the Olympic men’s volleyball team, has a secret. Something only two people in the entire world know of, including him.

✿.｡.“ where’s the trophy? ”.｡.✿

one point.

one point was all that separated Japans men’s volleyball team from the champion title. a singular point that rested on Japans side of the net. Ushijima watched as the other team served

one. komori’s perfect receive- no one expected any less

two. atsumu’s terrifyingly beautiful set, every spiker they had running for the ball.

three. straight to ushijima wakatoshi.

the ball smacked against his palm, and boom. The other team had no time to even react as the wing spiker all but slammed the ball onto the other side of the court.

23-25

“AND JAPAN TAKES IT ALL!!” the announcers could be heard from the booth they were seated in. While the other team had shuffled off the court, the japan’s team was celebrating- many arms thrown around Ushijima, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

where were you?

The paparazzi had flooded the court, taking pictures of all the players while the giant trophy of the world’s best team was brought out, and yet ushijima needed to see you first.

“good job wakatoshi!” the males ears caught the three words, turning around as he heard your voice- spotting you standing at the railing that separated the many onlookers from the court.

“hey ushiwaka we need to take a pic with the trophy- hey where are you going?” he heard hoshiumi’s voice loud and clear, but his focus was on a familiar face in the crowd—yours. Without a second thought, he pushed through the throng of reporters and fans, his powerful strides carrying him swiftly toward you.

if there was one thing you hadn’t expected from ushijima after all the years of being together, it was this. you watched in awe as he came running over, the determined look on his face softening the moment he reached you. He didn’t say a word, simply enveloping you in a tight hug, causing many eyes and cameras to be turned towards the both of you.

After getting married two years ago the two of you had decided to keep your life out of the public eye, i mean- ushijima wouldn’t want his beautiful partner to get bombarded with all the questions that were sure to come their way, but as of right now he couldn’t care less.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, much rather showing his feelings through actions, so that he did. the star player leaned down before pressing a kiss to your lips, the camera flashes going off in the split second the two of your lips were connected.

“what’s with the photos?” he asked you as his hands rested on your waist.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, so when he had a post game interview with many bombarding questions about the person he had kissed, he’d decided actions would speak louder than words.

let’s just say, twitter and all news articles were buzzing about the outside hitters showing his left ring finger being adorned with a silver wedding band during the interviews.

✿.｡.“ he just comes running over to me ”.｡.✿

it’s super short and i actually hate it. i’m so sorry it took this long😭

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[atmostories]

Terry Silver x Reader

Tags: NSFW, Female Reader, Exhibitionism A gift for @terrence-silver 🖤🖤🖤 An Evening At The Opera

You were out like a light. Was the opera really that boring? Terry sniggered to himself as he possessively caressed your hair, fingers twirling and wrapping around the strands. You were napping on his lap while Reginald drove the limo back home to the hills. The lights of LA streamed past him in an unintelligible blur, the events of the evening still rushing through his body like two fresh hits of ketamine in his bloodstream. He could do with a cigar right now, but didn't want to disturb you with any movement. The celebration could wait. There was a growing urge to take you the moment you entered the mansion's threshold, or hell he could even fuck you right on the entranceway, smear his come and yours on the front door to mark this home as both his and yours forever. Like two king cobras marking the entrance to their den, a declaration of their mated nature, a warning to strangers to stay clear or face the consequences. Love and death all intertwined as one. However, his beloved needed to rest. He'd have you again first thing in the morning, wake you up to the sensations of his body desperately rubbing against yours. "We missed over an hour of the opera, my dear, we'll simply have to go again." He'd whisper and giggle into your ear, no doubt thinking of what transpired.

/ / / La Bohème was completely sold out. So of course, Terry had purchased the biggest box of the theatre, best seat in the house. The previous holder of the box had been outbid, much to their distress Margaret had assured him. Well, if you wanted something, you took it. Why was that so hard for people to understand? Just like he took you. Somehow you were both easier and harder to take than he thought it would be. Easier because your feelings for him were so potent even from early on. That made his toes curl just at the thought, how much you wanted him, how your devotion shone through you like a reflection of his own, more blinding than the sun itself. And it was harder because he needed to earn your trust. Trust had never been something he'd needed to foster when he was seducing someone. Usually all he'd need to do was give the right look, mutter an innuendo here or there, and his body would do the rest of the work. He never had to chase someone before. Whoever peeked Terry's interest, already wanted him. There was never any hesitation involved. He never realised how exciting the thrill of the hunt would be. Forever being thrown prey into his cage, fat and lazy from the endless offerings, until the day he spotted you beyond the threshold of his contained dominion. He couldn't just take your body, that was too easy. He needed your mind, your heart, your fucking soul cradled against him to keep for all eternity. When you both arrived at the theatre, Terry ensured you went through the staff only entrance. You simply looked too ravishing tonight, he couldn't allow the paparazzi to have up close shots of you. He guided you through the back area like he owned the place, which he of course did now, past the stage hands and technicians, past the dressing rooms of the performers. They cooed and greeted you like you were both the star lovers of the show, wishing that you enjoyed the evening.

"Break a leg." Terry announced to them. He smirked at you then, enjoying the amused but almost reprimanding expression on your face. His heart panged with desire, fuck he wanted you so badly. The waiting area was buzzing with guests and conversation, the excitement palpable in the air, but the noise noticeably quietened when the two of you came in. Many faces turned to you, Terry subconsciously tightened his grip around your white faux fur capelet-covered shoulder. Your capelet matched the white ribbon adorned on his ponytail, which you had tied yourself. Your blood red tailored dress matched his cravat and waistcoat underneath his jacket. He ensured that it was the exact shade of your blood from the cut he most definitely didn't purposefully cause by prodding your finger against a rose thorn in the east wing greenhouse almost a month ago. His mind was filled with the image of sucking your finger for almost half an hour, the heady metallic taste of you ripe in his memory. Heading to the box, he led you up the stairs, hand in hand. An announcement was made over the speakers that the performance would start shortly. Right on cue. You were shown into box by a personal butler who he immediately dismissed after you'd taken your seat. He wanted the two of you alone, undisturbed. After all, he wasn't here for the damn opera. The box was extremely luxurious, it had its own bar in the corner, its own bathroom. Rather than two separate seats, the two of you sat on an eighteenth century Chesterfield that he'd had specially procured for the evening. He asked whether you liked the box and you were gushing out compliments to him, eyes wide with excitement as you took in view of the theatre, the perfect central location with the best view of the stage and the orchestra in front of it. "Have I told you how beautiful you look, my dear?" Your cheeks reddened like he was summoning your blood to the surface like a satanic blood ritual, your skin almost splitting open upon a rose thorn. “Yes you have, Terry, thank you. And you look very handsome.” "Do I?" He feigned, his hand reaching up to rest on your neck. The lights of the theatre dimmed, his thumb rubbing along your throat. It was his explicit gesture to you that he was hard and desperately needed to be inside of you. A gasp escaped your mouth before you stuttered out a yes. His eyes flicked down to his lap, his silent command for you to place a hand on his cock, to feel how much he needed you, for you to dare question his desire for his beloved. Your motion was slow, delayed, you weren't entirely comfortable doing this here, but you obeyed, you always did. You were so good to him. You gasped again, feeling how hard he was over his slacks. You never could exactly grasp the depths of his want for you, the hardness of his cock physical proof that words couldn't quite place. La Bohème began its opening act with its star lovers rather too preoccupied, he mused before shifting his body like he was paying attention to the performance. You followed suit, though your soft, gentle hand kept up its teasing motions, fingers rubbing against his length.

His hips lazily kept raising slightly to meet your touch, the music and singing mere noise in the background. He slid an arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down your throat, I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, he conveyed to you over and over and over. Branding his desire onto your body. Were you wet yet? Were your thighs aching? Were you finding it impossible to take in a deep breath? Was your clit twitching? His other hand rested on your thigh, and your free hand shot out to his with surprising speed as you began urgently rubbing his inner wrist. Now this was your explicit gesture to him. I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, you begged him, you screamed at him with your wordless gesture. He shot up from the Chesterfield, wrenching the privacy curtains closed as far as they would go. Climbing on top of you, his mouth devoured yours, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to meet your own before he began to suck on your own tongue. He growled at the way you groaned in surprise at the sensation. He pulled away. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all, would it? He hurried you to your feet, ready to carry you out of the box and down the theatre stairs if you weren't fast enough. But you were up and being pulled by him out through the door like the box had been set on fire. “Mr. and Mrs. Silver?” The butler called out, concern heavy in his voice. Terry knew you'd want to satiate this complete stranger, purely out of the goodness of your heart. He sighed internally. "Pressing business!" Terry shouted back, pulling you around the corner. He looked back at you, inflamed by the smile on your face for him knowing just what you wanted. He immediately stopped at the top of the stairs, out of sight from any of the staff. His hand slid under your dress, cupped your cunt and squeezed, forcing a squeal out of your hot, wet mouth. "Pressing indeed." He murmured, capturing your lips for a brief moment before forcing himself to take you down the stairs. Otherwise he'd be fucking you right there and then. He told hold of your waist, taking some of your weight to keep you balanced, how could you not be weak at the knees for him? He came to a halt in the waiting area, head flicking side to side as he took in his options, body shaking in need, cock straining against his underwear, hand gripping onto yours like a lifeline, it was too far to the limo, the back area was busy with people, hmm. . .coat closet? Practically shoving a wad of cash at the attendants, he ordered for them to leave and slammed the door shut behind them. With no time to waste, he stripped off the fur capelet that was covering your bare shoulders and ripped the top part of your dress down, the sound of tearing material made his balls ache. As you stood frozen in shock, his mouth immediately attacked your nipples, he manoeuvred you against one of the coat racks, your back cushioned by real fur coats. He nipped and sucked and nibbled at you without breaking away, you were more out of breath than he was. Something had to be done about those real fur coats, he thought to himself, letting out a chuckle as he pulled back, giving you a second to take in oxygen. Taking to his knee, he wrenched up the dress to your hips, knocked apart your legs and shoved his mouth into your wet cunt like a man dying of thirst and god he felt like it. You squealed and desperately grabbed onto his shoulders for support. He played with your clit with his tongue, incensed by your constant stream of moans and cries. Working a finger inside of you, he began a relentless pace, rubbing your clit side to side, fucking you deep with one finger before working in another, and then a third. Your legs were shaking by then, your eyes kept rolling back, your hand mindlessly gripping onto his hair, undoing the meticulously neat ponytail you'd tied back earlier that evening. His white ribbon fell onto the floor.

He was too selfish to let you come first, he wanted to come with you. Pulling his mouth and fingers away from you, he rose off the floor to stand. You looked like you'd been fucked out of your mind and his cock hadn't even been inside of you yet. As he scrambled to release his cock, he lifted up one of your legs and you cried out together when he sunk into you. He growled at the wet, tight, hot sensation, relishing it for a fleeting moment before he began to move. Leaning down, his forehead pressed against yours, his tongue licking up the side of your face, his lips laying kisses on your cheeks. He could taste your come, your sweat, your skin. He fucked you hard and fast, your bodies laced together, the mated king cobras deep in the throws of heat. The two of you as one, like it was always meant to be. His hips kept thrusting into you. He knew you were close, he was close to. Weeks and weeks had been spent tuning himself to your rhythms, learning how to delay his pleasure and the effort had paid off tenfold. He upped his paced, feeling that you were about come, his body clinging onto yours. Falling silent as you climaxed together, the sound of you orgasming was music to his ears. He slowed his pace after you reached the peek, emptying himself inside of you. He looked at you then, his thumb coming up to rub against your throat. The touch made you come back to reality, you looked back at him, mouth open, expression spent, someone needed a nap, rest her head right up against his cock. Pulling out of you, he took to his knees again to admire some of his come drip down your thighs. He wiped it off your skin with his hand and wiped it on the fur coats behind you. "My dear doesn't like fur." He commented casually as you stared at him quizzically. After collecting more come leaking from you, he wiped it on another coat, and another. He was doing his part after all, ruining these horrible people's coats. The curiosity on your expression was replaced by concern, your eyebrows furrowing when he took to his feet. “Angel, your hair,” you muttered, regret on your expression, hand reaching out to tuck some of it behind his ear. He snatched onto your hand, staring at you for ten long seconds before sniggering and falling into a fit of laughter.

[grandestheart]

LYRA KANE FASHION HCS

★ characters - Lyra Kane.

★ synopsis ~ just some fashion Lyra fashion hcs about what she would wear ❤︎︎

★ taglist 🏷️ ~ @nqds @urbanflorals @sophiesonlinediary @lxvebelle @x-liv25-jamieswife // it will only let me tag five people at a time so thats why tags are split up <3

@shuhuaspookie @sunsetovertheocean @never-enough-novels @lanterns-and-daydreams @inmyheaddd lmk if you want to be added

★ request by @nqds

★ a/n this is just a few hcs on what I think lyra would wear/her style, also I dont know anything about fashion so please dont come at me 😭

she wears gold jewellery, but looks great in silver too

her colour palette is like dark reds, maroon, black, white, gold

her style is kind of like a slightly edgier version of the downtown girl aesthetic

she’s either big top, little pants, little top, big pants or both little, but not big and big

SHE WEARS LEATHER JACKETS!!!!

she loves stacking necklaces, but not so much it looks tacky

RINGS!!! this girl loves rings and you can’t convince me otherwise, her and grayson have matching rings except hers are all in gold, and his are in silver

she wears t-shirts with unhinged phrases on, especially when she’s out with Grayson and she knows paparazzi will be watching 💀 when Grayson sees the types of things she has written on them he probably has an aneurysm

hearts and kisses on everything, like heart earrings and shirts with lipstick <3

[mikashisus]

OLDER : O4. movie premiere

The blinding, continuous flash of cameras was starting to give you a migraine. First, your manager had yelled in your ear the whole way to the premiere because you had been so careless as to leak a part of your private life to the public, and now this.

Your night had been shaping up to be undeniably shitty, yet you kept an innocent smile plastered on your face for the paparazzi. They ate it up— your youthful glow, innocent smile, and attractive figure. It all made you sick to your stomach.

Not even two years into your professional acting career, and your life no longer belonged to you. You didn’t regret this path, you really didn’t. You had always dreamed of becoming an actor one day, yet you failed to think about all the side effects that came with stardom.

Now, after your second most notable role that provided you with fame you couldn’t mentally handle, you were learning how to deal with the weight of everything all around you. The only thing keeping you going was the support of your friends, and the presence of your coworker, Mr. Zhongli.

You met him for the first time on set on your first day of filming. Back then, you hadn’t realized just how big of a role you landed. The series would cover each nation eventually, but so far, it only covered Mondstadt and Liyue.

The very first movie was about the Archon War in Mondstadt. The second movie was meant to cover Liyue, but the director made the wise decision to split it up into two consecutive movies. The history of the Archon War in Liyue was too extensive to just numb it down to one movie.

Part one had already been released two years prior, and at that time, there had been a different actress for Guizong.

The original actress for the role had faced an untimely death. Because of the suddenness, the casting director had to find someone else to fill the role immediately. Since most of the scenes with Guizong had not been finished at the time of the previous actress’ death, all scenes that had already been filmed had to be redone.

You weren’t exactly sure what the casting director saw in you, but you were more than grateful for the opportunity to take on such a big role. Of course, you held a deep respect for the woman who previously had this role, and you promised yourself that you would do the role justice for her.

One of your main worries had always been what the public would think of you after finding out that the role of Guizong had been passed to another actress. You worried about not being as good an actress, or not playing the role the way it was meant to be played.

There were so many doubts: were you really cut out for this role? Would you really be able to fill the shoes of such a great and beloved actress? Would the viewers like you as much as they loved her? Would they hate you?

That was when your on-screen lover entered the fray.

Mr. Zhongli was a renowned actor. He had been acting for most of his life, and was favored particularly by younger female audiences because of his handsome looks and gentlemanly attitude. With his comforting voice and soothing presence, you quickly relaxed and began to open up.

Looking back on everything, you were incredibly thankful for his help.

A gloved hand placed itself on the small of your back as a tall figure came to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Looking up, you caught the gaze of the coworker you had just been thinking about. He always seemed to show up when you were thinking about him.

He sent you a dazzling smile, and you could feel your knees buckle. You returned it dumbly, your eyes shamelessly trailing down his figure to study his outfit choice. An elegant suit and tie ensemble with gold embellishments and silver engravings on the shoulders. It looked nearly identical to one of the outfits his character wore in the movie. It really, really suited him.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he lightly squeezed your waist and focused his amber eyes back onto the paparazzi. Clearing your throat in embarrassment, you knew the public would begin to question the long stares the two of you had been giving each other for quite some time now.

You knew they’d shame you for liking a man that was old enough to be your father, but you really couldn’t help it when he was just so… so…

He tugged you away from the cameras, turning his body in such a way that shielded you from their view. “You look absolutely stunning,” he muttered into your ear, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “That color suits you, my dear.”

He had a habit of calling you “my dear” ever since the two of you got closer during filming. The rest of the cast would continuously tease you about this whenever it happened.

Letting out an involuntary giggle, you smiled up at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself, grandpa.” You snickered as he exhaled deeply.

It was a running joke among the cast that Zhongli was a grandpa because he was older than most of you. Of course, he didn’t mind the jokes one bit. Sometimes he even participated in making them.

He squeezed your waist again, another small habit that formed during filming. Whenever you were about to start a scene, he’d promptly squeeze the side of your waist or your hips and smirk at your little yelps. Then, he’d walk away with this smug look on his face while you yelled at him.

“Y/n!” The voice of your close friend, Ganyu, called out.

Zhongli’s arm retracted from your waist, not without giving a final little tug first. You sent him a small glare before greeting Ganyu with a smile.

“Ganyu! Oh, look at you! You look absolutely gorgeous! I’d get on my knees for you, but I don’t want to ruin my dress.”

Ganyu was wearing a tight, black and blue dress with sparkles littering the hem. The dress reached her feet and billowed out at the ends, and had a slit on one side. The top of the dress had a sweetheart neckline, with thin red ropes lining the edges. Her sleeves billowed, allowing her arms room to breathe. The outfit was completed with black heels and an elegant hair piece that kept her hair tied back in a bun.

She usually didn’t fancy these types of dresses, as they weren’t really her style, but it looked magnificent on her.

Pink dusted Ganyu’s cheeks as she waved you off. “Oh, stop! Have you seen yourself!? The guys won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you!”

Zhongli interjected before you could say something in response. He chuckled, “They won’t be the only ones, it seems.” His amber eyes settled on you once more. He was staring at you so intensely that it made you feel smaller under his gaze.

You let out a small laugh of disbelief as Ganyu’s eyes widened. She cleared her throat awkwardly, “Well, ready to head inside? Almost everyone is in there already. We were just waiting on you two.”

Zhongli slid his arm around your waist once more, pulling you close to him. “I think this calls for celebration,” he said, sending you a smile. “For a job well done on the movie.”

You nodded. “I agree. You were amazing, as always.”

He chuckled, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. “I meant you, my dear. You were absolutely fantastic in that role. I think you lived up to everyone’s expectations.” He paused. “So… will you take me up on that offer?”

Moments before the two of you had stepped outside, Zhongli offered to buy you dinner and asked if you would like to spend the rest of the night with him. You agreed, for obvious reasons.

Your breath hitched. “Of course. How could I turn down Mr. Zhongli?” you teased. “Jokes aside, yes. Where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about Xinyue Kiosk. The food there is most exceptional.” He had a nervous look in his eyes, one that you knew all too well.

He was nervous about not being able to impress you. Luckily for him, you were already impressed by his charm.

With a newfound confidence surging within you, you eagerly took his hand and held it tightly, intertwining your fingers. You brought your other hand up to rest over the back of his. He smiled sweetly at the action, giving your hand a small squeeze.

“I trust your judgment,” you told him. “After all, you are a distinguished man.”

He clicked his tongue and let out a small laugh. “You jest. I enjoy simplicity as well.”

“Simplicity, huh?”

The word reminded you of your hometown and your parents, who preferred a minimalistic lifestyle. Some of their ideologies had passed to you, though you hated to admit it, and you liked a simplistic life as well.

However, being a famous actor meant you couldn’t have that kind of lifestyle that you wanted. It meant that you would always be shoved into a life of expectancy and glamor.

As the limo driver opened the door for you and Zhongli, you slipped inside and crossed one leg over the other. Still having a firm grip on Zhongli’s hand, you rested it on your lap and let out a small sigh.

The man beside you rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand in soothing circles. “You have a look on your face.” He muttered.

You glanced at him. “I was just thinking about home. And food.”

That prompted a small huff of amusement from him. He raised a brow. “Care to tell me about ‘home’ during dinner?”

Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Only if you’re willing to listen.”

prev. | next | masterlist

NOTES: written chapter this time. i’ll be doing this from time to time since originally this fic was not supposed to be a smau at all. this chapter was supposed to be released WEEKS ago but this fic isn’t my top priority, so i didn’t edit this until now.

SUMMARY: when your acting career booms, the stress of the spotlight and your every move being watched starts to drown you whole. the only escape from a complete all time low comes in the form of your attractive coworker, zhongli— a distinguished and slightly older man that you can't seem to stop thinking about.

TAGLIST — open @theprinceofkhaos

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Choi San x F!Reader TW : mentions of past cheating ;slight possessiveness ; fighting ; manipulation ; Word Count : 4.4k

She’s got everything she could ever want, she’s got the man of her dreams, the house of her dreams, she’s living a dream. The entire world envied her, the way her man looked at her with such love in his eyes even when she wasn’t looking back at him, the silver bands that adorned her fingers worth more than most peoples house and cars put together. She’s the luckiest girl in the world, and she is you. 

The necklace that perfectly complimented your outfit was draped carefully around your neck and clasped in the back, delicate fingers tracing lightly over the exposed skin of your neck as you stared at yourself in the vanity mirror. “You don’t think I’m too overdressed, do you?” You asked, meeting Sans gaze in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“Of course not, babe. You look amazing.” San hummed, his hands running up and down your arms that would soon be covered by the thin knitted cardigan that hung on the back of the chair. “I’m so lucky I get to sit beside you tonight.” He murmured against the shell of your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You couldn’t help but admire him as he stood up straight, the crisp white button up that he was wearing hadn’t even gotten wrinkled while he was leaning over. He always looked good, even when he wasn’t dressed up, but right now, he looked amazing. “The people who run the event… They know that I’ll be there with you too, right?” You asked, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before getting up and following him out of the room. 

This was an important event for both you and San, him and the guys were being nominated for an award tonight, but this would also be the first event that you and San would be publicly seen together after getting married. There had been a lot of unofficial photographs from reporters and paparazzi that had been released over time, but none of them were truly trustable, this time though, everyone would know it’s true. 

“Of course they know you’ll be there, babe.” He walked over to you as you slipped on the heels that you knew would end up forgotten on the floor by the first half of the event, letting you use his shoulder to hold yourself steady as you stood up straight. “I made sure they remembered to put an extra two seats at the table, one seat for you that’ll be right beside me, and one seat for your purse.” He took a step back, his eyes scanning over you as a warm smile graced his features. “You look absolutely stunning, I’m so lucky.” 

You whispered a soft thank you, always feeling shy whenever he complimented you even after having been with him for so long. “Are you ready to go?” You asked, grabbing your bag off the hook and walking closer to the door, but San held his finger up, motioning for you to wait as he ran to the bedroom, quickly returning with your cardigan. “Ah… thank you, honey.” 

He held it out for you as you slipped your arms in, smoothing out the fabric once it was on your body, his smile growing wider as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now we’re ready to go.” He said softly, flicking off the lights as his other hand stayed on your lower back, leading you out the door. 

You wouldn’t say that San was controlling, you were allowed to do things, you were allowed to go out and hang with friends. San was just… very possessive of you. When you were out, he was constantly texting you, asking for pictures, making sure no one was getting too close to you, sometimes he’d even call you and ask you to keep the call going in the background just to hear your voice and make sure nothing was going on. It’s not that he didn’t trust you though, he just didn’t trust the world and the people that lived in it. The distrust wasn’t just targeted towards strangers or your friends though, he didn’t even trust his own groupmates, hence why there would be the “purse chair” as he called it, specifically there to keep the space between you and whatever unfortunate member would be on the opposite side of that chair, on the receiving end of Sans side eye for a majority of the night. 

The event venue was packed already, people showing up fashionably early, along with the reporters whose cameras flashed repeatedly in everyone's faces. San didn’t mind at all though, he was more than happy to be seen with you on his arm, your outfits perfectly matched to make you look like the perfect couple, and as of now, it felt like you truly were. 

Once the two of you made it through the front doors it was just a matter of finding the table that you’d sit at, and that wasn’t a problem considering most of the other guys had already shown up, jumping up from their chairs and waving you and San over. “You finally made it! It’s a mess out there, how was it getting through?” Wooyoung said when the two of you made it to the table, Sans hand was now gripping your own, holding it so tightly and so close to himself that he might as well have put your clasped hands in the pocket of his suit jacket. 

“What do you mean finally? We’re an hour and a half early?” San teased as he looked around the table, counting the chairs and then quickly claiming three for you, himself and your bag. “It’s crazy out there though, those flashes almost blinded Y/N.” He said your name with such reverence, smiling to you as he pulled out your chair and then took your purse and placed it on the chair beside you before any of the guys could take the seat. “Speaking of… This is my wife.” He took his seat, his arm immediately draping over your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as his other hand lifted the glass of water that was on the table. 

“I’m glad we get to meet in a more formal setting this time.” Seunghwa said with a smirk, and you couldn’t help but be confused since this was the first time you had met him and the other guys in general. “It only took San three months of sneaking you in the dorms to finally marry you, that must be true love there.” Seunghwa raised his glass and the guys all followed suit, the seven of them wearing smiles as they looked at you and San. “Congratulations.” 

It was crazy how Seunghwa, who was just trying to be a little funny, had essentially ruined your marriage, ruined your relationship, and broken your heart all at once. It didn’t take deep thought or some confusing equation for you to add things up. You knew that San and yourself had been together way longer than three months. The marriage certificate had been filled out two months ago, and you had been engaged for five months before that, and even before that, the two of you had been dating steadily for a year and a half. It wasn’t even just the math though, it was the fact that you had never even stepped foot into the dorms, and surely if you had, you wouldn’t have to be snuck in. 

Sans body was tense, and you could feel him staring at you out of the corner of his eyes, awaiting your reaction. He knew he fucked up, but there were so many people around, he didn’t want to make a scene and go off on Seunghwa for dropping the bomb. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” You said, already pushing your chair back, trying your best to hold onto the calm composure that you had been carrying before you were hit with such news. 

“Y/N…” San whispered, grabbing your hand and looking up at you with wide eyes that were screaming at you to stay. He knew you were pissed, he just didn’t exactly know what that would mean. You used your free hand to grab your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you tried to pull away without making it too obvious. “Why are you taking your purse, I can watch it?” 

“For lady reasons…” You whispered right back, proud of how quick your mind was able to come up with an excuse while being so frazzled. “I’ll be right back.” You said to the guys at the table, but you and San knew better, you wouldn’t be back at all. His eyes watched you as you walked away, knowing that this view would be the last he’d have of you, at least for the rest of the night. 

Of course you weren’t just going to sit there beside him, pretending to be the happy wife of someone that you had just found out cheated on you. It sucked, but what made it worse was the fact that he had done it a month before you got married, and you weren’t sure how long he had been doing it before then either. San didn’t value you, he didn’t cherish you, and you were beginning to believe that he was only so possessive of you because he had a guilty conscience, and he was scared that you’d do the same thing he did. 

Both your wedding and engagement ring were promptly slid off and left on the sink counter at the venue before walking out and calling yourself a cab. You needed to go home, you needed to think, not about how to fix things, but how to end things without it turning into a big argument. You wouldn’t have been able to do that at the venue, you needed to be alone with your thoughts. 

How were you going to end things? It wouldn’t be easy, you knew that. He wouldn’t leave willingly, you knew the kind of person he was. He’d make all kinds of excuses, and then he’d try to soften you up, make you forget all about it. You couldn’t let that happen, you knew there was a chance, he was so charming, so manipulative, you wondered if he even knew. You needed time, time to prepare yourself for what was to come. 

You started with the hardest task, packing up all of his clothes into his suitcases, and when the suitcases ran out of room, you started tossing his clothes into bags that all ended up lined up at the front door. It would be the first sight to greet him when he walks in. Award shows lasted pretty long, and there were often after parties, although you weren’t sure if San would go to this one. Maybe he would, just to grab a couple drinks before walking into the storm that was awaiting him at home. 

Next to go were the pictures, pictures of you and him when you were so happy, so naive, so clueless as to what he was truly doing. He was happy too, and why would he not be? He hadn’t been caught yet, and he was probably under the assumption that he never would be. That’s the thing about cheaters, about cheating in general… It’ll only be so long before things come out, whether it’s from their own slip up, or from an unaware friend who has no idea. 

The pictures in the frames were promptly trashed, replaced with the original pictures that had once been in there. Pictures of you with friends and family, surrounded by people who loved you, people who would never hurt you. The pictures would serve as a constant reminder to you that even without San there, you still had people there for you. 

It didn’t change the fact that you were devastated though. You could remove his clothes from the bedroom, you could remove the pictures from the frames, but you couldn’t get rid of the memories, not this quickly. Anger had fueled you in your quest to pack up and get rid of everything that was his, but once you were done, the only thing you could do was cry. Cry over the years that you wasted, years that had you falling deeper and deeper in love with him until he slipped those two rings on your finger. You had been so excited, planning the wedding venue and looking at wedding dresses, making a list of all the people that you were going to invite. It was all for nothing though, everything that had to do with him was just a waste of time. 

That’s when he came in, of course it would be. He couldn’t walk through the front door when you were emotionally stronger, no… He came back when you were weak, sobbing on the couch as you gripped onto the throw pillow. “So that’s it…? You don’t want to talk about it?” He asked, looking around at the bags on the floor, knowing damn well that his stuff was inside of them. 

“What’s there to talk about?” You mumbled, turning your head to glance at him over the back of the couch. Your vision was blurry from the tears that filled your eyes, but you saw him, standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped as he watched you. “You cheated… I have nothing to say to you.” 

He watched as you got up off the couch, letting you take a few steps before practically running to you, grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him. “You really want to end it like this? How do you know Seunghwa was telling the truth, huh? You really think I’d cheat on you after proposing to you? You’re too trusting… You believe anything…” 

“Is that why you panicked?” You retorted, trying your best to hold your head high although you were beyond embarrassed, you were humiliated. “You knew that he was telling the truth, that’s why you got so tense. That’s how I knew it was the truth.” You weakly pushed against his chest, sobbing softly as your head shook. “As if it wasn’t bad enough to be cheated on, it had to be by you. The whole world is going to find out soon enough and…” You sniffled loudly, wiping your tears on your sleeve. “And I’m going to be the fool! Not you! So just… take your stuff and go… please.” 

His arms dropped to the side, completely defeated. “I’ll go…” He muttered, backing up slowly as his own tears began to fall. There was no point in arguing with you, not right now, not when the wounds were so fresh. You were right, and you had every right to be angry with him. “I’ll take as much as I can… I’m sorry…” 

Anger took hold of him as he sped through crowded streets, making his way to the dorms where the guys were most likely just now getting in. One mistake, it was in the past and that’s where he wanted to keep it, but Seunghwa just had to bring it up. What was the point of bringing it up? It was a mistake that he wanted to forget about making. He wasn’t proud of it, he hated himself for doing it, that’s why he clung to you, doted upon you, practically worshiped you. You were Sans everything, and now what? Were you truly done with him? Did you really not want anything to do with him? It was all Seunghwas fault… him and his mouth… 

San stormed into the dorms, the doorknob slamming against the wall and then bouncing back, slamming shut and just further holding the attention of the other guys who sat around in the living room, still slightly drunk from the afterparty. “Yah! San, what are you doing?!” Hongjoong called out, the only one who looked even slightly sober in the group right now. 

The few bags that he had been able to take with him from the apartment were dropped onto the floor as he stormed over to Seunghwa, his finger in the older man’s face, his hand shaking with his anger. “You… You did this! Why do you talk?!” San shouted, the other guys finally catching on enough to try to pull him back. “You ruined everything! I love her! I do! Why…?!” He was breathing heavily as tears streamed down his face, the guys finally able to get him as far away from Seunghwa as possible in the short moment of weakness. 

“What are you talking about?” Seunghwa was genuinely, and rightfully, confused by the sudden outburst, but it was soon replaced by panic as he jumped up, his eyes going wide. “Did I embarrass her? What happened, is she okay?” His head shook as he ran his hands over his alcohol induced reddened face. “I really didn’t mean to upset her… Did something bad happen?” 

Everyone in the room was now looking to San for answers, but he could only chuckle humorlessly as he pushed the guys back. “Did something… did…” He could barely get the words out as his breaths quickened once more, his nostrils flaring as anger evolved into pure rage. “I’m losing my fucking wife! She… She kicked me out because…” And as quickly as that rage had lit up inside of him, it was burnt out, guilt and regret crashing over him like waves during a storm. “It wasn’t her… I fucked up… And I wanted to… to forget… I didn’t want her to know…” His voice became a whisper as he slid down the wall, falling to the floor and curling up into himself. “I was drunk… and she was out of town… and I felt awful about it immediately… that’s… that’s why I made her leave so early. I didn’t think anyone would be awake… I don’t… I don’t even drink anymore because I’m so… I’m so scared of something like that happening again and… I love Y/N… I don’t want to lose her…” 

Seunghwa fell back onto the couch, his face in his hands as heavy sighs escaped him. “It’s not my fault… How was I supposed to know?” He muttered, taking a deep breath as he lifted his head to look at San. “You didn’t tell us anything… You didn’t even tell us that you were getting married. We didn’t find out until that meeting with the manager before the show. Then… Then you have the nerve to come in here getting mad at me because… because I assumed that she was that girl… It’s not my fault that you hid your wife.” He stood up, eyes like daggers glaring at San. “And it’s not my fault that you cheated on her either.” 

“I…” San started, his breath shaky as he pushed himself up off the floor. “I hid her because she was mine! I love her… I… I didn’t mean to cheat on her, it just… It happened and I know that it doesn’t make it any better but…” He sniffled softly as he leaned against the wall, his head falling back as tears streaming down his face. “But I don’t want to be without her… I…” A sharp gasp shot through his lips as he turned to go into his own room, a room that he hadn’t been in in three months, a room that he’d much rather forget even existed along with the memories that lingered beneath the sheets of his bed. 

You knocked quickly on the door, a few of the bags that you were able to lug into the building by yourself on the floor beside your feet as you waited for someone to answer. It’s not like no one was home, you could hear the tv from the other side of the door… Maybe they just couldn’t hear you? So you knocked louder, your fist hurting from the force behind it. “Yah! Open the damn-” Before you could get the last word out, the door swung open, and there he was. 

“Y/N…” San whispered your name, his eyes wide and already welling with tears the moment he looked at you. “You’re here…” A shaky hand ran through his hair as he took a step back, motioning for you to come inside. “I’m making ramen… If you want some. I have other food too, I always keep all your favorites… I’ve been waiting for… I… I miss you.” 

God, why were you crying? He hurt you? And why should he be crying when you were the one who’s gone through three months of pain because of him? “I just came to drop off the rest of your things.” You said, avoiding eye contact, knowing that the more you looked at him, the more you’d be hurt. “I was only able to carry up a little… The rest is in my car. You can come down and get it… Or not. I don’t care. I’ve waited for you to come pick it up long enough though.” 

“I didn’t want to pick it up… I thought that you’d ask me to come back at some point.” Of course he’d think that. You didn’t have time to play this game with him, and going back and forth would only cause you both more heartache. You quickly turned on your heel, if he wasn’t going to get his stuff, you’d just give it to people who need it. “W-Wait… Don’t leave… Don’t leave me…” He grabbed your elbow, yanking you back to him until you crashed against his chest. “You don’t know how hard it’s been… Without you… I feel like I could die… I hate it… I hate not being with you.” 

“I… don’t know how hard it’s been?” You repeated breathlessly, scoffing as you pushed him back. “You don’t know! First I get cheated on by you and I find out about it three months later and then… I can’t even leave my own house with reporters and paparazzi shoving their stupid cameras in my face and asking why they haven’t seen us together and why I wasn’t still at the award show when you made your speech. And for some reason I care about you too much to tell them the truth… So I’m the bad one…” You watched as his face fell, his arms still outstretched as if to wrap around you. “You feel like you could die… But I wish I would. You don’t know what it’s like to constantly be attacked and not be able to say anything… I don’t know why I still protect you… Just… Get your things so I can go.” 

“I’ll tell them… I’ll publically announce what I did just so they’ll leave you alone.” He grabbed your hand again, this time just holding it tightly, terrified that if he let you go once more that you’d finally leave. “Just stay with me… I want to work this out… I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care what happens with the group or anything, I don’t care what the fans think of me, or what the agency says… I made a mistake and I’ll pay for it, but I swear on everything, I’ve never made that mistake again. I don’t even drink, I don’t go out unless it’s with you.” 

He kept pulling you closer, and you were tired of trying to pull away, it’s not like it would do any good, he’d just keep pulling you back, and as much as you tried to ignore the feelings, you missed him, you missed his touch, his hugs, his kisses. You missed everything about him. “Why do they hate me so much… They don’t know me… They don’t know what I’m going through. They don’t know what you did to me…” You allowed yourself to fall once again against his chest, and this time he pulled you further into the dorms, shutting the door behind you and moved you to the couch. 

“They hate you because they’re not you.” He responded matter of factly, brushing his hand over your hair as he pulled you down onto the couch beside him. “They’ll know what I’ve done, and they’ll know how lucky I am to have a wonderful woman that sticks beside me, even though I’m an idiot… I know I don’t deserve you… But I don’t want to live without you either.”

“Yah…” You muttered, sniffling softly and pulling back to look at him. “Wh-Who said I was still your wife? You’re an idiot… Choi San… And I don’t marry idiots…” You mumbled, turning your back to him to stare out the window. 

You felt the couch vibrate with his silent laughter, his arms snaking around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. “Well… Maybe you can give this idiot a chance… Just one? Just one chance to prove that he’s madly in love with you, and would do anything to keep you… Please.” His lips pressed against your neck, and you swore it felt like electricity coursing through your veins. 

“Such an idiot…” You grumbled, although you felt yourself instinctively leaning back against him until you were leaning once more against his chest, his arms still tightly surrounding you, and truthfully, in his arms was the only place you ever wanted to be. 

“Ah… but you’re also madly in love with this idiot… so let me help you out here.” His tone was lighter now, and you could still feel his body shaking with his laughter as he fumbled in his pockets. “My beautiful wife, your hand looked so empty without your rings… How could you possibly forget them in the restroom?” He teased, grabbing your hand and quickly slipping the band back onto your ring finger. “Much better… Right?” 

You turned your head to stick your tongue out at him, but his lips quickly crashed against yours and you hated how much you realized you needed him at that moment, how happy you were to finally have him back. You trusted him though, and as much as he had hurt you and humiliated you, you loved him. “Mm…” You hummed once he finally pulled back, holding your hand up to look at the rings that were finally back in their rightful spot. “Let’s go home… We have a lot of unpacking to do.” 

[kissagii]

From the start, you and Isagi Yoichi agreed to keep your relationship quiet. The media attention just wasn't something you were ready to deal with, not until your relationship was stable.

Every interviewer that brought up his love life got the same answer:

"So, Isagi-san, do you have a girlfriend?" They'd ask, growing more and more persistent with every passing month.

"No." he'd say blandly, steering the questions away from the topic.

He always thought questions about his love life were pointless - he was a soccer player after all, why wouldn't they talk to him about that?

The two of you found your way around the paparazzi, made your friends promise to not say anything about your relationship, and loved each other dearly. And like that you were happy.

You had been together for two years when the interviewers posed a new and intriguing question - "Isagi-san, you've been wearing a necklace lately, is there a story behind this new fashion statement?"

"Oh this?" he asks, pulling the necklace out of his shirt, "it's my engagement ring!"

The silence was palpable as Isagi showed off the silver band with a wide grin. You knew that if the question ever arose, he'd answer truthfully. But you didn't expect today to be the day.

"You're engaged?" the woman with the microphone asked, eyes blown wide.

"Mhm!" Isagi craned his neck to look into the crowd, eyes lighting up when they found yours. He waved you over towards him with a smile. Hardly anyone noticed as you wormed through the crowd: they were all too shocked by your boyfriend's - no, fiancé's - revelation.

The interviewer continued to splutter out questions, but they fell on deaf ears. Isagi was focused on you as you emerged from the crowd, watching the love of his life with a schoolboy-like excitement. The news was out, and there was no point in holding back, so you threw your arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"There you are, pretty boy! Did you see my last goal there?" he giggled, hands resting on your waist.

"Of course I did, Yoii, I wouldn't miss it for anything!" being so affectionate with him in front of so many people felt so foreign, but at the same time so liberating.

"So- so this is the mystery fiancé?" the microphone stuffed into your face was unpleasant, to say the least.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," you said, waving at the camera. the silver ring on your finger glinted in the light.

The media was far from satisfied. "Isagi-san, all this time you've secretly had a boyfriend?"

"Yes! For two years now!" Isagi boasts proudly, a protective hand around your waist, keeping you close to his side.

"And how did you manage to hide it for this long?"

Isagi shrugged. "You just never asked the right questions."

"Well, Isagi-san, you do make a good point there. So, what's your favorite thing about your soon-to-be husband?"

"My favorite thing? Probably... everything."

i need to stop being so gay

[lukesvangelista]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐓ᵉᵉ⁷³

in which y/n is a famous actress and ethan is there to provide comfort before they make their red carpet debut as a couple.

warnings; possible angry fans

You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your satin red dress, red lipstick prominent on your lips. Your hair was done in a tight, slicked back ponytail, sprayed with so much hairspray that no flyaways were visible. Silver diamond earrings hung from your ears, and as you stared down at the silver heels you were currently wearing, you felt a pair of hands snake around your waist. Ethan.

“You look stunning, princess. Everyone’s going to love you.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Focusing your attention on him, you gripped his hands that were currently around your waist, “I know that, E. I’m just nervous about how people are going to react to us.”

You were a fairly new actress, but your talent was practically unmatched. Within three years, you had landed roles in shows such as Ted Lasso, Defending Jacob, The Bear, and The Summer I Turned Pretty. Most recently, however, you had starred as Natalie Blake in The Black Phone, older sister to Finney and Gwen Blake. You were even nominated for Best Supporting Actress for that role, an accomplishment that you were extremely proud of. Along with the success, however, comes die hard fans. And some of those die hard fans aren’t the nicest when it comes to respecting personal relationships.

Ethan had his fair share of die hard fans as well. He was a decently known hockey player at the University of Michigan, with connections to the New Jersey Devils, and his looks (and talent, but mostly looks) didn’t go unnoticed by a lot of teenage and college-aged girls. Meaning that when Ethan reveals a relationship, a lot of those girls aren’t going to be happy. You were nervous about the possible hate that would surround your guys’ relationship when you went public.

Ethan sighed, unraveling his hands from your waist and gently grabbing your chin to force you to look up at him, “I know you are, Y/N, and that’s okay. It’s totally understandable to be nervous. But I want you to know that I’m here for you every step of the way, okay? I don’t care how people take our relationship, because I know that you’re in love with me and I also know that I’m in love with you.”

You simply nodded, a small smile growing on your face as Ethan’s words somehow reassured you. At the sight of your grin, Ethan’s own smile widened and he pulled you in for a quick kiss on the lips. After he pulled away, you quickly spoke up, “Ethan?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Say it again,” you asked. Ethan had told you that he was in love with you plenty of times before, but this time it felt different. More comforting, perhaps.

When Ethan realized what you meant, a small smirk grew on his face, “I’m in love with you, okay? Now, are you ready to go and proclaim our love to the world through paparazzi photos?” he asked sarcastically.

“Hell yeah.”

“That’s my girl.”

[bay-sil]

Hello everyone, I'm here to deliver my offering to the masses as a Halloween treat. Also let me know if you like this head cannoning sort of style! I'd love to hear more feedback from you all!

Enjoy~

Jordan - Would be a Werewolf because he is big and protective. If the two went as a couple to a Halloween party he would spend days and days trying to get her to be little Red Riding Hood. While at the party he would have his arm wrapped around her growling in her ear whenever she attempted to escape.

Maria - Would be the little Mermaid as that's she is every year. She loved her red hair, why not show it off? While at the party she'd then bring up how tight the shell bra made her boobs look (clearly fishing for compliments from Y/n).

Michael - He'd by default be Prince Eric, not that he was complaining. He liked the simplicity of it and his heart swells seeing how well he matched his wife. Y/n would end up being Vanessa. She begged to be anything else but the couple had said no.

Christoph - This is his first Halloween and he doesn't want to fuck it up. Letting Y/n pick his costume. The two end up being Fred and Daphne. He has no idea who the Scooby Gang is but loves seeing how happy it made Y/n. Though he hates the amount of men who say "Jinkies!" when they see them together.

Stephan - Would be Sabrina Carpenter, he's been planning this costume for months and now is so excited to show it off. He's overjoyed when he eventually tricks Y/n into agreeing to be Barry Keoghan from the Please Please Pleasd music video. The entire night he is showing off the lipstick kiss print she made on his neck (just like the Album cover).

Wyatt - He hates Halloween. Would literally never dress up, would much rather stay at home and cuddle, but understood that you enjoyed this in his opinion stupid holiday. Would end up being a cheap devil and you a gorgeous angel. Which in itself would inspire a new book.

Tara - Would be a ghost. She is not usually one to participate in Halloween a real leave the bowl at the door kind of girl, but with Y/n she forced her to match as a ghost and her as a ghost buster. Her meticulous costume was a strong contrast to her literal sheet.

Cameron - Would be an astronaut. Wearing a plastic fishbowl on his head and a silver suit he'd be so ecstatic. Halloween was brand new for him and he couldn't believe the concept when it was first told to him. Free candy?? Not to mention how adorable Y/n was as the space alien. He may or not be covered in green paint by the end of the night.

Saylor - Saylor would be having a 24 hour Halloween Stream and would have Y/n open on a different monitor. She was dressed in a classic Zombie costume that he found cute. After the many compliments he received from her it would be hard to get him out of his Hatsune Miku costume at the end of the night.

Ellis - He'd be Ron Weasely like every other year since he first say the movie. Being compared to him since early childhood. He had sent many Facebook messages requesting Y/n to dress up as Hermione Granger to match but it seemed her computer was deleting his messages..?

Brandon - Would be fake paparazzi and Y/n would dress as any celebrity she wished. Was this whole costume just an excuse to take as many photos of her as possible? Yes. Did he care? No. He would at one point step away to upload the photos on a hard drive only for Ellis to barge in on the verge of crying, asking to have some photos.

Vincent - Would simply be a vampire. He digs up all his old romantic clothing and just uses lipstick to make it looks as if his lip has smudged lipstick. Y/n would be Van Hesling much to his disappointment. The ugly cross around her neck warded him off and he pouted all evening.

Tanner - Would dress up as Victor Frankenstein and Y/n would be the Bride of Frankenstein. He would practise hid evil laugh in the mirror as he drew cracks on his prop glasses. Every time someone would attempt to talk to Y/n he'd "summon" her with said laugh.

Pedro - He would be Michael Myers and not talk all evening. He loved the feeling of making people around him uneasy. He had Y/n dress up as Jason Vorhees to sort of match. The masked killers were a hit despite no one knowing who was under the mask.

Lee - Would be Victor from the Corpse Bride. He would be almost silent at the party. Many women approaching to flirt with the man only for him to extend his hand to show the faux wedding ring and explain how he was taken by the woman dressed as Emily, only to see her dressed as a witch.

Odessa - Would be Wanda from the Fairly Odd Parents. She'd explain her pink hair as dye and totally not that she just used her abilities to turn it pink. The entire night she'd be confused on what she really was doing, but had a good time anyways.

Raphael - Would be Cosmo and not happy about it. This is far from his first Halloween party and he wished he could have made it special but spending the night with Y/n but alas they were at this party filled with humans who he didn't want to see.

Damien - He'd asked to wear his coat and just be a doctor but Y/n refused. Twisting his arm (both metaphorically and literally) until he agreed to be Alice and the Mad Hatter. At the party whenever he strayed too far he'd feel a familiar and delicious shock go through him. The collar around his neck was covered by the ridiculous ascot he was wearing.

Monty - Would be Johnny and Y/n would be Mavis. The circus would have an early and shorter show on Halloween with the pair needing to do a scene as their costumes. It put too many awful thoughts into the poor guys head. Little did he know Y/n and her boyfriend were going to have different costumes at the party they were attending :/

AND THERE WE GO!

All Eighteen little critters got a costume and a little nibble of a scenario. I think if I got the chance to see any of them in their costume I'd want to see Stephan as Sabrina Carpenter, he'd totally rock the purple dress and blonde wig lol.

Happy Halloween!

[mlmxreader]

An American Werewolf In London | Johnny Cage x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Is it all in my head?

- Male reader with Johnny Cage ❞

: ̗̀➛ Johnny brings his boyfriend on holiday with him, but as perfect as things may begin, they soon turn sour.

: ̗̀➛ body horror, swearing, blood & gore

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

A holiday in London. It was just what Johnny needed, in all honesty, getting away from the spotlight for a couple of weeks to recharge after his latest film; he had no idea that playing a werewolf would be so taxing. But maybe that was just the prosthetics that they covered him in. Either way, he was tired and a holiday was needed.

Naturally, he took you along with him; his agent turned boyfriend of nearly six years. The newspapers still called you close friends, which never failed to make you laugh.

Even though Johnny wanted to see the city, you insisted on staying in a rural area outside of it; a little village called Llanfaintypridd. He could never say no to you, so he agreed. It was nice, plenty of moors around, very little people around to alert paparazzi, he could snuggle up to you at night and didn't have to ensure that the curtains were closed tightly or that the light was off.

It was so different from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood, he could see himself getting used to it, even if it was only for a couple of weeks. Of course, the locals at the pub warned you both against the moors at night; they said that something terrible lurked out there, some kind of creature that spared no man or beast.

You both figured it was just folklore, some old myth that refused to die, some old legend that was passed down from father to son. Nothing to worry about, not really.

The local pub was called the Full Moon, and although the name struck you as odd, you and Johnny still went there every day for something to eat and something to drink; the locals were… they weren't hostile, but they weren't exactly welcoming and warm, either. Mostly giving you and Johnny odd looks and stares when you first walked in.

"Don't go on the moors when you leave," the barkeep, Ameesha, would say. "Stay on the roads."

But you let Johnny talk you into it, and upon leaving the road, you found yourselves trekking across the moor; the grass was short and brown, exposing the grey rocks that were scattered around. Johnny nudged you, grinning ear to ear as he turned his gaze to the sky.

"Full moon," he hummed. "Where's that beast they all mentioned?"

You shrugged, putting your arm around his waist and leaning into him. "Probably nowhere. It's just an old myth."

Johnny scoffed, putting his arm around you as he dared to steal a quick look. "You're not scared?"

"Of a landscape where you can see for miles?" You asked with a scoff and shake of your head. "No."

A soft howl in the distance grabbed your attention, but you assumed it was just a local out with his dog and nothing else; you brought your attention back to Johnny, smiling at him as you watched the silver stars glitter in his eyes.

Your love, your darling; you loved him for such a long lonely time before he admitted he felt the same. Six years later, and you were glad that it had gone by so slowly; to still be his and to know that he was still yours meant everything.

But when he gently kissed you and hummed, breaking away from you, you immediately missed him.

"I need a whizz," he admitted. "I'll be right back, just wait here."

You breathed out a sigh of relief as you nodded, sitting down as he wandered off without you; you didn't think anything of it as he disappeared behind a large cluster of rocks. You figured he just drank too much in too short a time.

Nothing new. You turned your attention to a lonely daffodil, smiling as you traced its bright yellow petals. If you were ever going to marry him, you would want daffodils at the wedding.

Johnny was just finishing up, tugging his zipper up as he looked around for a moment, admiring the view across the moors; they were certainly beautiful, he couldn't understand why the locals were so against people walking across them at night. Odd.

He was about to turn around and head back to you, when suddenly, he was knocked to the ground; gnashing and snarling teeth met thin flesh, something like a large blade sinking into his face and his chest. Blood. So much blood.

Garbled and gargled, Johnny screamed as he thrashed around, trying to hit and kick and punch and shove whatever he could get his hands on. But it was too fast, and Johnny was losing too much blood as he became weaker and weaker, succumbing to the bites and scratches.

"Johnny!" You screamed, bounding over as quickly as you could. But it was too late. The beast, whatever it was, had disappeared, and left Johnny to die on the moors.

You screamed and yowled, howled and moaned, until the locals from the pub found you; they were kind enough, getting Johnny an ambulance and insisting that you had to go with him; the paramedics did their best to stabilise him, but he had lost so much blood.

They said they doubted he would wake up before the end of the week. You refused to leave him. The doctors had to get you a chair to sit next to his bed, but they understood; they had seen it before, how the boyfriend wouldn't leave.

The police interviewed you, but you couldn't tell them much; one minute, Johnny was going for a quick piss behind a rock, the next, he was screaming and there was something seemingly shredding him to pieces. They marked it down as an animal attack; plenty of moors had a record for it, everybody in the world knew about the Bodmin moor and the creature that lurked there.

It wasn't unheard of. Kuai Liang and Bi-Han visited you a few times, just to make sure that you were eating and drinking; Kenshi checked in as often as he could, same with Kung Lao and Raiden.

It took six weeks.

When you opened the curtains, Johnny groaned, and turned onto his side.

"It's too early, baby, five more minutes."

You smiled, sitting beside his legs and gently laying your hand on his thigh. "How you feeling, Hollywood?"

He glared at you, but then smiled sweetly. "Well, I can't complain about the view…"

"You hungry?" You asked. "Thirsty?"

Johnny shook his head, still a little bit weak.

It took another eight days before he was ready to go home, although the doctors warned against air travel for another two weeks at least, so you rented out the cottage in Llanfaintypridd and told them that you would rent it until Johnny was well enough to go back to Hollywood; they wouldn't say no to the extra cash.

But when you first brought him home, you realised that you didn't have any food in the fridge, and although it was already the evening, you knew you had to do something. With Johnny sitting on the sofa and reading a book, you smiled as you grabbed your keys.

"I'm gonna go get us some food," you told him softly. "You gonna be alright?"

Johnny nodded, grinning. "I'll be fine - don't you remember I do my own stunts?"

You rolled your eyes fondly, and scoffed as you reluctantly left him. He turned back to his book, but before he could finish the page, he suddenly dropped it; a sharp, stabbing pain in his head.

"Fuck!"

He grabbed his temples, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he whimpered softly; but it only grew worse, making him grip his hair tightly as he stood up.

His skin was on fire.

He wasn't sure what was coming over him as he tore off his shirt, exposing his toned chest and the tattoo of his own name across it just beneath his collarbone.

"Fuck!"

He grabbed the waistband of his jogging bottoms, and hastily tore them off, leaving him naked as he dropped to his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

His bones were squirming, something licking at the underside of his skin. Something was digging through his gums.

He wanted to keel over, to give up and give into the pain and hope that it ended soon; but it didn't. No.

The flesh of the backs and palms of his hands wobbled and rippled, as if flicked from the inside, and as he stared at them, he could only whimper as he held back a sob.

Agony, white hot agony.

Johnny watched in disbelief and shock from the pain as his hands stretched. Elongated palms, his bones pulling against themselves as they tried not to snap under the tension. He could feel the bones in his fingers as they squirmed and sunk in on themselves, leaving fat and upward pointing knuckles that made him flinch when the air hit them.

Sobbing, Johnny collapsed onto his side, but when he tried to pull his knees up to his chest, he could only feel them bend and snap so that they were facing the wrong way. Johnny couldn't even make a sound, silently sobbing as he tried to take his mind from the pain; to think of you and how he had planned to propose that night on the moor.

He looked mangled.

His limbs were too long, his hips too narrow, his skull pointed near the middle of the back, his nose sunken and rounded. His mouth… oh, fuck, his mouth was on fire.

His jaw broken and shattered, itching as a new set of teeth slowly inched down and pushed out the previous ones; blood dripping from his gums thickly, sticky from saliva. He couldn't even cry anymore, the tears dry as he heaved and let bile push its way up, burning his throat before it dribbled and dripped from his mouth.

Why did it feel like he had fleas under his skin?

Why did it fucking feel like they were slowly digging and scurrying through his skin?

Fuck.

Johnny thought he was dying. Lying there limp and lifeless, his breath hot as it streamed from a mouth that was too long to be human. A cold, wet nose that wasn't his own sitting at the end of it.

He couldn't even speak, only garbled and gargled whimpers that sounded too eerily like human speech yet too animalistic all the same. For a moment, Johnny laid there with only one thought: Is it all in my head? Am I dreaming? I must be…

He wasn't sure how long he had been laid there, even a split second felt like a thousand hours, but when the door opened, he dared to raise his head weakly, his neck snapping loudly and making him whimper before he shuddered and put it back down again.

You paused, dropping the plastic Tesco bag before diving down at his side, your hand on his shoulder. "Johnny? Johnny, what the fuck happened?"

Johnny glared at you, wondering how you were so calm. Maybe it was all in his head.

You let out a shaky breath, hand trembling as you grabbed your phone and pulled up a number. Johnny heard two rings, then static. "Kenshi? Kenshi, can you hear me?"

"Yes. Is everything okay?"

"It's Johnny," you explained frantically, "get Liu Kang to get his arse down here now."

"What is it?" Even Kenshi sounded scared.

"Johnny isn't human," you replied, voice shaking and breaking. "He's not… I went to the shops and-"

"Liu Kang said he'll be ten minutes," Kenshi told you softly. "Hold tight."

"Tell him to hurry!" You pleaded. "Please, Kenshi! Johnny needs help!"

Gently, you pulled Johnny's mangled and canine head onto your lap, softly cradling him as you swallowed thickly. "It's alright, Hollywood, it's alright. Liu Kang is gonna get here and he'll… he'll know what to do! Yeah… he'll, he'll know what to do."

Johnny looked at you, wishing that there was some way he could reassure you; he might have been in utter fucking agony, wishing that he had died just so that he didn't have to deal with the sharp ache all over his body, but he hated seeing you panic over him, he really did.

Maybe once Liu Kang fixed him, he could try and propose again.

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (6)

The black tie dinners are the one thing I don’t think I’ll get used to - the rest of it, the lounging about and the swimming in the lake and the day drinking, just feels like a regular vacation, but the black tie dinners… there’s something about dressing Venetia dressing me up like a doll that is a sharp reminder of the differences between us. 

There’s a contemplative look on her face as she holds up two floor length dresses, one backless, black and sequined, the other a deep blood red with a large slit up the leg. I watch as she holds one under my chin, and then the other, eyes squinting as she imagines what I’ll look like in each one. Finally, she comes to a decision. “I think the black.”

She hands me the hanger the dress is on, and walks back into her closet to return the red one to it’s proper place. I begin to strip out of my daywear, tossing it at the foot of Venetia’s bed. It’s lucky that we’re the same size - otherwise I’d have nothing to wear to dinner.

“What should I wear?” She calls from the interior of her closet.

“Whatever your heart desires.” I call back, taking the dress off the hanger and stepping into it. I pull the fabric up over my hips, ignoring how the sequins scratch through the lining. I toss the halter straps over my shoulders, and press a hand to my front to stop the dress from totally falling down. “Will you come tie me up, V?”

Venetia slinks out of the closet with a grin. I gather my hair up in my other hand, and turn around, holding it out of the way so she can tie the straps. I resist a shiver as her fingernails gently scratch my skin, and her breath ghosts over my ear. “Anything for you, Evie.” She purrs. 

“Not like that, you pervert.” I laugh. 

“But you’d still let me?” She says, finishing off her bow. 

I drop my hair and turn to face her. “Would you want to?” I cock my head, a teasing grin spreading over my lips. 

Venetia - true to form - blushes a deep red the minute I turn her flirting around on her, and she giggles, retreating back into the closet. “Pink or blue?” She asks. 

“Pink suits you better, I think.” I say, turning to look at myself in the mirror on her wall. The dress fits me well enough, even if it does cut a bit low in the front and the sequins make it a little itchy. I fluff my hair as Venetia comes back out of the closet, now dressed in a baby pink silky dress. I grin at her reflection. “Give us a spin.”

She makes a show of turning around, posing for invisible paparazzi. “You like it?” She asks, slipping on a pair of silver pointed heels from the mess of shoes on the floor. “It’s last year's Chanel spring collection.”

“It’s real pretty, ‘specially on you.” I say honestly, toeing through the loose shoes in search of a matching pair. The first I find are a pair of black strappy things with a short enough heel that I won’t have to be worried about tripping over myself in front of everyone. “I really think you should look into modeling after you’re done with school, V.”

She grins, smoothing down her hair in the mirror. “I couldn’t. I could never live up to Mum’s career.”

I wiggle my way into the shoes, and secure the straps. “All good?”

Venetia gives herself the once over in the mirror. “Enough.” She says, turning back around to me. 

I offer her my arm, stooping into an exaggerated bow. “Shall we?”

Venetia giggles, and swats my arm away. “Stop it.”

I grin, and follow her out the door and down the hall, away from our rooms and towards the dining room. The walk is short, and at this point familiar enough that I don’t have to keep track of the turns we take in hope of finding my way back to bed afterwards. Our heels clack in sync across the hardwood floors, signaling our arrival to the rest of the family. 

James, at the head of the table, greets us as we walk in. Venetia takes her seat at his left, across from where Oliver sits next to Felix. I sit next to her, in the space between her and Farleigh. On the other end of the table, Elspeth sips at a glass of wine, Pamela to her left. 

Oliver looks as stiff as I feel, dressed in a pieced together suit that’s obviously too big for him - borrowed from Felix, I guess. I’m sure Farleigh said something about how ill fitting it is when he sat down. His and Felix’s suits fit perfectly, no doubt tailored. I catch Oliver’s eye, and shoot him a small smile as the first course is brought out. 

“So, darling,” Elspeth starts, her eyes on Felix. “Tell us about Cambridge - how was the semester?”

“Oxford, Mum.” Felix corrects with a smile, helping himself to some of the roast. “Venetia goes to Cambridge, Farleigh and I go to Oxford.”

“Yes that’s right - I’m so sorry darling, I get them confused sometimes.” She says. “How was Oxford then?”

Venetia pours herself a glass of wine, and then passes me the bottle. I fill my glass, and then turn to Farleigh. “Wine?”

Farleigh narrows his eyes at the label on the bottle, and then takes it from me, emptying the rest into his glass. “I don’t usually drink red, but wine’s wine.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a white wine kind of guy.” I say, spooning some green beans onto my plate. 

He grins, taking the plate of green beans, and drops his voice. “Well, if we’re being totally honest here, Eves, I’m not really a wine guy either but you can’t drink straight vodka at the dinner table-”

“And what about you Farleigh?” James’s voice cuts through our conversations. “How were your exams?”

“Oh, you know,” Farleigh smiles, passing the green beans to Elspeth. “Hell on earth.”

“I’m sure you did fine, Farleigh.” James says. “I always breezed through all my exams in university.”

Farleigh smiles, a thin, condescending thing, and takes the plate of green beans when I pass them his way. 

“You’ve done something different with your hair, darling, what is that?” Elspeth says, her gaze set on Venetia. 

Venetia runs a hand through her hair, fingers finding the thin little braids woven throughout that I crafted earlier when we were on the couch. “Oh, Evie was just braiding my hair earlier. In the library.”

“It’s very bohemian.” Elspeth says, passing the green beans along to Pamela. “Don’t you think that’s quite bohemian Pamela? I might try that - would you do mine, Evie? Sometime?”

I quickly cover my mouth with my hand to hide my chewing and nod. 

“It’s a little juvenile.” Pamela says. Elspeth turns to look at her, a sharpness in her eyes and her wine glass in hand. Pamela shifts in her seat. “I think.” She amends. 

“All the better then,” Elspeth says. “To express my youthful nature.” She turns to me. “You really must do mine at some point Evie.”

“Yeah, of course.” I say, smiling at her. “Whenever you want.” Anything to not have to suffer the iciness in her gaze when she looked at Pamela. 

The conversation drifts on, and I take a long draught of the wine in my glass. These people are so strange. They’d been so adamant that they weren’t to be called ‘sir’ or ‘madam’, but the way they act suggests that they expect to be treated as such. The house is huge and lavishly decorated, yet they take it in stride - wave it off, even. I set my wineglass back down. 

Across the table, Pamela is telling Oliver about her Russian billionaire. “Daddy always said that I'd end up at the bottom of the Thames.”

“So far so good then.” Oliver says. 

I cover a smile with another mouthful of dinner. Seeing him fumble so badly makes me feel a little better about how awkward I felt when I first got here - I was awkward sure, but at least I’m not the one who said ‘so far so good’ to Pamela talking about ending up dead in a river.

“I don't know what I’d do without Elspeth. She really saved me.” Pamela continues, shooting a look at Elspeth, no doubt trying to atone for her mistake earlier. 

Elspeth almost rolls her eyes. “Don't bang on about it, Pamela, darling. You know we're delighted to have you for however long it is you mean to stay.”

Farleigh laughs, a little breathy thing that slips out of his lips. “Forever?” His eyes glance first to Elspeth, and then dart to me - that same look from a few days before twinkling in the corners of his gaze. Like I’m in on the joke.

I huff a laugh into my wine glass, and try not to smile too much.

&lt; previous part | next part >

[bluestar22x]

Reunion

The Writing Contest - Chapter 4: Reunion

Summary: The premiere night of the movie based on Nora and Javi's screenplay changes everything and nothing at the same time.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Female!OC (Nora Delaine)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 3,100(ish)

Warnings: Romance (we're laying it on thick today), angst, longing

Author’s Note: Nora's got issues to work through if that's not apparent. Also this is where Nora's love for Bon Jovi (and mine) starts becoming part of the story, not just the chapter titles.

xxx

"Do I look okay?"

Sierra gawked at you through the video chat on your phone, which you had prompted against the mirror in your hotel room's bathroom. "Do you look okay? Seriously, Nora? You look like a princess."

You were dressed in a sleek turquoise blue dress with silver embroidery along the shoulders and edges, your shoulders almost completely exposed and your breasts just contained enough. You had minimum make up on but what you did have on, especially your black eye liner, highlighted your facial features. Your light brown hair was pinned into an updo that had taken you nearly two hours to complete, to your dismay, but at least it looked like the pictures you'd found online. There was a pearl necklace, earrings, and silver rings on three of your fingers that rounded out your look, along with the delicate white sandals with two inch heels that Sierra could not see due to the bathroom countertop being in the way.

"That sounds like too much," you said, frowning. Maybe you should've gone with a black dress.

"No! No!" Sierra shouted, moving closer to her phone's camera. "It's perfect! You look amazing. Everyone at the premiere won't know what hit them."

You blushed, uncertain if you wanted to draw that kind of attention to you. You just wanted to fit in that night, when you joined a selected chosen few to watch California Dreamers for the first time in a classy theater in Los Angeles before its worldwide release the week after.

It was surreal, how your story would soon be on the big screens, for all who wished to see it. Your excitement over it had your hands shaking.

"So are you nervous?" Sierra inquired.

"Of course I am," you replied, taking a final look at your face in the mirror. "I've never been to an event like this. Walter said some paparazzi might take pictures of me. If I do anything wrong I might just end up on the cover of some gossip magazine under 'New Screenplay Writer Has Big Oops At Premiere' or something."

"Don't make me jealous," Sierra said, grinning. "And that's not what I meant. I was talking about how you're about to see Javi again for the first time in a year."

"Why would I be nervous about that?" you asked. "We've kept in contact. I told you that filming for his latest screenplay is starting next month. He knows I've sold another one too. And we did use video chat a few times."

"Yes, but talking through the computer or phone once a month is not the same as in person," Sierra pointed out. "And you still have unresolved feelings for him."

"I do not," you protested a little too fast.

She gave you the look. The one that read as seriously? "You haven't even tried to put yourself out there at all the past year, Nora. Don't deny it."

You tried to anyway. "I've been busy with the second screenplay, you know that. It's been stressful writing completely solo for the first time and then trying to sell it on my own after."

She sighed. "Whatever, why do I even bother? Forget I brought it up and enjoy yourself tonight, Nora. You deserve it."

"Thanks."

"You'd better hang up with me," she figured, glancing at the ancient clock hanging on her kitchen wall. "By the time you call a taxi and they drive you there it'll almost be seven."

You said your goodbyes and switched to calling out for a taxi, the nearest company promising a car within fifteen minutes. It was on time, and you quickly made your way from the inside of your hotel lobby to the car. Though the driver did a double take of you (the good kind) he was nothing but polite and opened the back door for you.

On the ride to the movie theater you twirled the rings on your fingers, jitters truly setting in for the first time, and not just because of the film.

Even though you had denied it, Sierra was right, of course. You still had feelings for Javi and you'd been distracting yourself by burying yourself in your work, not just your second screenplay, but also the part time pet sitting business you'd started, a means to an end to making rent, though you did enjoy taking care of your clients' animals. It wasn't too serious though. You didn't have a regular client base and could leave whenever you liked, something you'd needed to be able to come to the premiere and any other future ones. You hoped someday to quit once you made enough money writing.

The theater the film was premiering at appeared after a right turn onto a busy business street and you ran a hand over the front of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles that didn't exist.

"Showtime," you uttered quietly and carefully stepped out of the taxi after paying the driver, making sure to include a healthy tip.

The entrance to the red carpet section beyond a border of ropes was being guarded by a burly man who was at least a foot taller than you, and seeing him caused your anxiety to flare. You had remembered your pass, right?

You fumbled with your wallet and pulled it out, raising it to your eye level like some detective on an eighties cop show.

"Nora Delaine," he noted, voice booming. "First time at a premiere?"

"How can you tell?" you asked, trying not to squeak.

He smiled, and it was friendly enough, but you were still intimated. You were pretty sure his biceps were larger than your head.

"You look more nervous than my mother's Chihuahua," he chuckled.

And I'm proportionally the same size, you thought.

You sucked in a deep breath and put yourself together. You were being ridiculous. A lot of people in Hollywood were above average height and buff, especially when compared to the average in your town. People of French heritage weren't actually typically all that short, but your family and neighbors did fit the stereotype.

"Have you seen Javi Gutierrez yet?"

"Right here," a familiar voice beyond the ropes answered.

You swiveled your head in the direction of the owner of it and your breath caught.

Several yards away Javi was standing by a backdrop wall put up so the paps could take photos of people as they arrived. He was as handsome as ever, dressed in a classic black and white suit and dress shoes.

Video chat really didn't do him justice, especially when he dressed up.

You approached him after picking your jaw up off the floor, beaming. "Javi!"

"Nora." He opened himself up to you for a hug and you accepted the offer, head against his chest and hands on his shoulder blades. You realized as his hands fell on your spine that you'd forgotten how warm and comforting he was, and you probably lingered in his embrace longer than a friend typically would because of it.

When you pulled away you blinked up at him, analyzing his appearance. Something was different about him.

You gaped at him when you figured it out. "You cut your hair!"

"I always do for premieres," he stated, "For the photos."

You felt a wave of sorrow over the loss of his curls, which was silly, especially since he apparently grew his hair out whenever he wasn't in Hollywood for business, but the feeling was still there.

"You look great, Javi," you told him honestly, "But you also looked great with your waves."

"Thanks," he said, with a hint of a blush on his cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

He guided you at the waist towards the center of the carpet as the paparazzi were allowed to file in line along the ropes and started snapping photos of the people that had arrived before you.

You didn't recognize anyone but the director, Marion Young. The actors were probably going to be last to show up, for dramatics.

"Javi look here!" someone called out and you and Javi both pivoted towards a young petite blonde with a massive camera in her hands. You wondered how she could even lift the thing.

"Time to pose," Javi said and you did exactly that as the girl started snapping photos of you together, side by side.

After what felt like ages, you relaxed the forced smile on your face and moved on down the line with him.

"You famous around these parts, Javi?" you inquired, knowing that paps didn't normally recognize writers like that.

"I've been caught hanging out with Nic a few times lately," he explained.

"Ah."

Duh. One of the easiest ways to get noticed in Hollywood was being in the vicinity of a famous actor. Of course someone who was close friends with Nic Cage would gain attention.

"I'm surprised they're not telling me to back out of the shot," you said as another pap's camera flashed at you.

"Even if they did not know you were the main contributing writer to this movie," Javi started, "You look stunning in that dress, cariño. They're eating you up."

Cariño. That was new. You were pretty sure that translated to something like sweetheart. Which wasn't necessarily a romantic pet name but... "Javi." His name came out of you like a warning.

"This is exactly why I made the contest," he told you as you both gained more and more attention nearing the front door of the building. One of his arms was still curled around you. "I wanted to give someone else a shot at the limelight. Soak it in while you can. Hollywood moves fast."

You nodded, not sure what to say, having decided to pretend to have missed the new pet name and ignore how much he was touching you. You didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He tended to get that way when he was excited. That was all it was.

He released you once inside the building and you also had to push aside the disappointment you felt from the loss of contact, shoving the emotion down to replace it with the excitement bubbling up in you for what you'd come here for.

It was time to watch the movie.

You sat down beside him at the back of the theater where the people who weren't the actors and director were asked to sit, and waited anxiously to see the final result of the hard work everyone in the room (besides the few civilians chosen to watch with them) had put in.

It felt like everything was about to change.

x

"So, how'd you like the movie?" Javi questioned as you settled down in the backseat of his limo with him a couple hours later.

"I loved it!" you exclaimed. "The director didn't change too many details and the cinematography was gorgeous. I admit, I wasn't thrilled at first with the casting, they definitely hired the actors for their popularity rather than their appearances fitting Nolan and Angie, but I can't really fault the casting people for it. Those two acted their asses off." You hummed as something that had bothered you crossed your mind. "I do wish the love scene would've been more them though."

Javi glanced at you quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not against movies having music in the background of a love scene," you informed him, "Not in the slightest. They usually add to it. But Nolan turning on that stereo? So not him. He wouldn't want to drown out his partner, you know? They were alone, no one to hear them. It was unnecessary and made it less intimate. Don't you think so?"

He cleared his throat. "Ah, sí, definitely." His phone binged with a text and he nearly jumped in his seat. You tried not to notice though it wasn't like him to get awkward discussing a love scene. You had wrote two together for Angie and Nolan, and they had been pretty spicy. Javi had been completely professional about it.

"Who's that?" you asked.

"One of the producers," he replied as he read the text. "Just reminding everyone the after party is only for those who were part of the crew or wrote for the movie and their significant others. No other family."

"They're paying for the booze," you guessed.

He grinned. "Sí. They promised a round of free shots."

"I think I'll stick to wine tonight," you told him. "The hangover after my birthday celebration was not worth it."

Javi chuckled. "I think I will refuse the offer too. I need to use every spare hour I have tomorrow editing my latest script. I cannot jeopardize my ability to meet the deadline to submit it to the film company interested in it."

The limo driver parked the vehicle and you and Javi quickly exited.

"What are the odds on them having chosen Club Midnight for the party?" you quizzed as you both strolled inside the familiar building.

"High," he shouted at you over the loud music. "I chose to bring you and Sierra here because I've been here many times for after parties. They rent out. So there won't be any general public tonight."

You nodded and weaved your way through the crowd to the bar, with Javi trailing you.

"Hey, congratulations," an unfamiliar woman said as you passed. "How do you feel, your first screenplay being a hit with the critics? Did you see the review calling the movie a beautifully real story about a man and a woman facing life's trials together?"

You turned your head in her direction and flashed her a toothy grin. "Thank you. I hadn't actually checked the reviews yet. Didn't know they released them so fast. And I figured the real test is going to be with the general audiences next week."

"True," she agreed. "They're the ones that make sure your scripts keep getting interest. Still, critical reviews affect turnout to some degree. Don't write off them off."

"Never."

You made it to the bar and ordered the first red wine you could think of, and Javi did the same. You both planted yourselves on bar stools in the corner of the room, away from most of the commotion, after the bartender handed you your drinks.

"I have a confession," you admitted to Javi as you tasted your wine.

"Do tell," he said, leaning in towards you.

"I still like cocktails more than wine."

Javi barked out a laugh. "I won't hold it against you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You scanned the club, taking in your surroundings and watching as a decent crowd danced the night away on the center floor.

Being there again made it feel like the weekend of your thirty-fifth birthday had been yesterday. It was hard to believe more than a year had passed. A year, and here you were, in the club with Javi again.

What was the saying? The more things change, the more they remain the same? Was that appropriate for this situation?

An hour passed. You and Javi made small talk between yourselves and spent a little time mingling, chatting with the director and complimenting the actors for a job well done. You even talked to a few of the camera crew members for a bit before the DJ put on some slow music for couples to dance to.

You lit up when you recognized the beginnings of the second song. "You Want To Make A Memory."

"What?" Javi frowned.

"The song," you explained, "It's one of my favorites. Do you know Bon Jovi?"

"I saw them in concert once, in Spain, when I was twenty-one," Javi answered. "My girlfriend at the time suggested we go. They were good."

"Aren't they?" You grinned. "They're my favorite band. Jon has such a good voice and I like the majority of their songs."

"Oh?" Javi stood from the couch you were both seated on and offered you a hand in a very prince-like manner. "Do you want to dance?"

You widened your eyes. "Oh, no, you don't have to."

"Come on," he encouraged. "It'll be fun."

"Okay..."

You grabbed his hand and followed him onto the dance floor, where your eyes met and time seemed to slow. He smiled at you and clasped your right hand and his left together. You smiled back and put your left hand on his shoulder. Then his right hand found the small of your back and you both started swaying to the soothing beat of the song.

You soon realized you couldn't look away from Javi and it seemed he couldn't look away from you either. You were trapped, spellbound together, mesmerized, completely lost in the moment. Your heart was racing for no damn reason except the intensity of his gaze.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Moments like this, they were only in the movies, were they not? Yet there you were, living it, and too lost in it for your fears to touch you.

Your face got closer and closer to Javi's, seemingly on its own accord, and he also leaned in towards you, the hand on your back wandering up to rest along your jaw.

Then he was kissing you, and you were kissing him back, both pouring your longing into the movements of your lips, softly, sweetly.

It was exactly the same kind of kiss Nolan and Angie had shared in your screenplay after they'd decided they wanted to be together, no matter what other people thought about their relationship.

You abruptly pushed yourself away from Javi at that thought, the spell broken, and shook your head.

"I can't do this, Javi," you told him, your heart feeling like it was in a vice grip.

"Why not?' he inquired, caressing your face, eyes soft. It hurt, how affectionate he was being with you.

"Because in the morning I'll fly back home," you stated. "Nothing that happens between now and then could change that."

Javi dropped his hand, looking crestfallen, and you backed away, feeling guilty but knowing that trying to comfort him wouldn't help the situation. You couldn't be his friend after what had just happened. Your only real option was to turn away and leave.

So that's what you did. You practically fled the club, eyes welling up like they had after you'd said goodbye to him at the airport.

You cried because you knew the truth. It wasn't actually distance that was the problem, or even the differences between you and Javi.

It was you.

You and your cowardice.

You wanted to be brave, you wanted to charge back into that club and tell him you'd stay to see where your relationship went, but the fearful part of you, the one that remembered your history and the lessons your family had taught you, prevented you from doing so.

Better a broken heart now than a crushed one later.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Link to Bon Jovi's Song (on youtube)

(This song vibes with this chapter, imo)

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[thrutheriff-if]

Maxim/Maxine “Max” Hawke (he/him or she/her, 27) is the lead singer of the loud rock group, MANHUNT, and has been making headlines with their natural talent to work crowds onstage. They’re great at what they do, sporadic and passionate in their performances, and are amazing with crowd engagement. Their fans adore them and the media hates them for their brazen attitude, but love the attention they attract when they’re in headlines.

Personality: Max is an enigma, truthfully. They’re moody, coarse, and difficult to talk to. They’re high energy, personable, and soak up attention on stage, but seem to be the complete opposite once they’re off stage, preferring to avoid crowds and just people in general. The band is used to giving Max a “buffer period” after shows. Max is often dismissive of others and are the type to leave mid-conversation if they���re no longer interested. Oh, and they absolutely despise the press and paparazzi.

Appearance: 6’0, light skin, green eyes, and a lean build. Their hair, which is naturally a light brown, has been dyed a bright, eye-catching red. It’s messy, styled in a choppy cut, and just reaches their shoulders (almost like a mullet). They dress like what a typical rockstar looks like — lots of black, leather, graphic tees and ripped jeans. They have a plethora of piercings (ears, eyebrow, nose, tongue), and often wear silver jewelry, or jewelry with dark gemstones. Commonly wear rings, chokers, and different styled bracelets. They have a neck tattoo and a few placed at random on their arms.