#the perfect excuse to post this snippet

[its-cosmerely-an-obsesh-wound]

A snippet from my modern AU college Stormlight WIP to honor the day:

The scene where Kaladin does pushups and Adolin watches and fantasizes about taking Kaladin shopping/to the Marine Corps Ball. Platonically, of course. No homo, as Adolin has to remind himself.

Adolin arrived at the door to Kaladin’s dorm room. He knew Kaladin usually rose early but, now that he was here, he felt uncertain. He didn’t want to wake Kaladin. Feeling like a total creep, Adolin put his ear to the door. He heard music on the other side and another sound, a rhythmic grunting? Something tightened low in Adolin’s abdomen, maybe now wasn’t such a good time after all…

“Whoever is creeping out there, I see your feet.” Kaladin’s voice sounded strained and annoyed. Adolin could just leave; Kaladin would probably never know it was him. What was he thinking? He was here to thank the book boy.

“Hey Kal, it’s Adolin. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Kaladin’s voice still sounded strained but less annoyed, which surprised Adolin. When Adolin entered, Kaladin was doing pushups…without a shirt. Huh. Adolin hadn’t ever seen him outside his standard black sweatshirt, which, as it turned out, was a shame. Kaladin’s tan skin had a thin sheen of sweat and his onyx shoulder-length hair was tied back in a loose tail at the base of his neck but his bangs fell loosely in his face as they often did. He didn’t look up, which was probably a good thing. Adolin’s eyes roved over the book boy’s form. Damn, book boy was also muscle boy. Why did he always keep his body so well hidden? If Adolin looked this good—what was he thinking? Adolin did look this good and he made every excuse to go about shirtless and show it off. Why work out so hard and then keep it covered up all the time? It was selfish. Adolin admired how the defined the muscles of the other boy’s shoulders, chest, and arms rippled as he repeatedly pushed the floor away.

“Did you come here for something, Coccyx, or are you just here to waste my room’s oxygen supply?” Annoyance was creeping back into book boy’s tone.

Adolin ignored the condescending comment. “I came by to say thank you and,” Adolin proffered the small box, grinning, “to give you this.”

“You’re welcome. Leave it on my desk.”

“I’d rather stay and see you open it.”

Kaladin made a disgruntled sound in his throat but got to his feet. He had a storming eight pack and that v-cut…Adolin snapped his eyes back up to Kaladin’s face, now only a couple feet from him. With Kaladin so close and his expression so stormy, the three inches Kaladin had on him made it feel like a lot more. He practically loomed over Adolin. Adolin felt his stomach flutter as he grinned innocently and presented the gift. Kaladin opened it, his expression unreadable at first, then he frowned.

“I can’t accept this.” He thrust it back toward Adolin and Adolin put up his hands defensively.

“Sure, you can.”

“No, I can’t. Give it to someone else.”

“Why would I do that? Someone else didn’t save my life.” Adolin paused considering. “Wait, do you not like the color? Your music is always so depressing and—” Adolin gestured vaguely at Kaladin’s person. Kaladin scowled. The boy had a nice scowl. Suppressing a smile Adolin, went on, "you always wear black so I thought—”

“The color isn’t the problem.”

“What is the problem then?”

“The problem is this is too expensive and I don’t want to feel indebted to anyone. Especially you.” Especially him? Why did Kaladin hate him so much? It was just an iPod nano. It would be great for book boy to take running. Much better than that brick he usually carried.

“You saved my storming life. If anyone is indebted to anyone in this relationship," Relationship? Adolin inwardly cringed at the word choice. Oh well, "it’s me. Eternally so.” Kaladin bristled but Adolin didn’t care, it was the truth. “I’m not taking it back.” Adolin declared stubbornly, trying and failing to keep the hurt and anger from his voice. “Give it away to someone else if you hate me that much that you can’t stand to have something from me.”

Adolin almost stomped out the door but then he remembered he had a second gift. He turned stopping in front of Kaladin’s desk, swept the envelope from his back pocket, and slammed it down. “These are passes to go skydiving. You can throw them out yourself if you want to be wasteful but there are two passes in there so you can bring a friend when you go…if you even have any of those.” Kaladin’s expression, which had started to soften, hardened again. That last part was petty and Adolin wished he could take it back. Why was the book boy able to get under his skin like this? Kaladin crossed his arms over his chest, which was a shame, the boy had nice pectorals. No homo. Adolin probably should have turned around and left but the way Kaladin narrowed his eyes made Adolin stay and glare back in challenge. Kaladin was getting better at jiu jitsu—he was a remarkably quick study, like he was with everything it seemed—but Adolin still usually bested him. Adolin clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, bracing. Do it.

But the attack never came. As if sensing Adolin’s thoughts or thinking better of it in the cramped space, Kaladin’s expression cleared somewhat. Not to sunshine, smiles were preciously rare from him, but to cloudy rather than tempestuous.

“Actually,” Kaladin remarked, “my father saved your life so maybe you should go thank him instead.”

“What? Wait, is your father…Dr. Stormblessed. Of course! Your dad was my surgeon?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re here for—"

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to be a surgeon too?”

Kaladin’s eyes weighed Adolin and Kaladin’s jaw worked like he had sampled something he found distasteful at a gala and was waiting for an opportune moment to dispose of it but, until then, he was trying to hold the offending food item away from his tongue. Kaladin at a gala, ha! I would pay to see that. Then, it wasn’t just a laughable thought. Maybe he would pay to see that. He wants to be a Marine…I could take him to the Marine Ball. The idea made him smile inwardly, probably more than it should have and he had to remind himself, no homo. It wasn’t like it was a date. It would be a good experience for Kaladin; although Adolin wasn’t being completely altruistic. He was entirely too eager to take Kaladin shopping for a suit. Or any clothing really. To see him in something other than that storming black hoodie all the time. Or out of it. Adolin eyed book boy’s shoulders and taut biceps. Yes, out of it was good too. Kaladin might refuse the shopping trip but Adolin could always pick out a suit himself; he was pretty sure of book boy’s size. He had a knack for that. The day of the ball, he could teach Kaladin how to tie a bowtie, if he didn’t already know, or tie it for him just because Kaladin would probably hate being fussed over. Kaladin in a three-piece suit. Adolin smiled faintly. Or, if he enlisted, dress blues. Adolin could make sure he was wearing his alphas and that his various insignias, ribbons, and medals, were all regulation and remind him to remove his cover when they entered the building. He would miss the longer hair on Kaladin though. Not that Kaladin let him braid his hair or anything. Adolin almost chuckled at the idea but held himself back as Kaladin still looked rather disgusted. Adolin had the distinct impression that Kaladin regarded him similarly to an offending food item in his mouth that he intended to spit out at his earliest convenience but he had been unsuccessful at ridding himself of Adolin so far, which both pained and excited Adolin for reasons he didn’t quite comprehend. Perhaps, finally swallowing the unpleasantness, Kaladin answered.

[mysimsyuri]

im a little tempted to change gus' tag now that i know more abt him but tbh "you heard about pluto? thats messed up, right?" is still the funniest fucking thing in the world

[yoonia]

🖋️ ⇝ hear me out! What if Prince Yoongi met Princess OC in a modern setting? (From the bedroom hymns) Would it still be magical? I think they'd still be soulmates 🥹

omg your mind!!!! I never thought about them meeting in a modern setting, but this was super interesting! I'm not sure what you envisioned when you sent me this, but...as always, I just let my mind go wild with this one and...

Well, this happened. Enjoy this moodboard and a little 'snippet' of our modern royal couple in their trip!

— title: Two Steps Behind (or Ahead?) — The Bedroom Hymns: alternate version | pairings: Yoongi x female reader| genre: Hidden Prince!Yoongi, Chaebol!reader, friends with benefits, smut, modern fantasy| word count: 2,190 words (I'm sorry???!!)

— summary | You never truly believed in soulmates. But when he keeps coming into your path, enticing you with his deep voice and alluring smile, you begin to wonder if fate really does have a play in your chance encounters.

— ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; allusions of one-night stands, hooking up, friends with benefits, sexual tension, including smut scenes (defined in a flashback scene): stripping, body worship, breast play, oral sex (female receiving), hotel hookups, penetrative sex (no protection defined), multiple orgasms, post-coital cuddling

— original: The Bedroom Hymns by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 27th, 2024 — song companion: dangerous game — written as part of my 2024 birthday bash event, 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊

There is something about autumn rain which calms you. 

The pitter-patter sound of the drizzling rain falling around you. The refreshing scent of wet ground and fresh grass. The gentle breeze flowing around you gives you the perfect excuse to pull out your fuzzy sweater for your outing today. 

Sitting outside this quaint cafe you first found during your walk today, you get to enjoy everything; the lovely weather, the beautiful day, and a lot of interesting sights to see from this strange city. 

Another day, another place to be. 

Travelling hasn’t truly been your forte. Not until lately. Moving back with your absent father didn’t leave much to expect, and going from one place to another through his magic doors has been able to fill the void that seems to have been engraved within you since your mother’s passing. 

Sighing with content, you look away and pick up your cup of cappuccino that has been sitting on the table before you. It’s still steaming hot, with the rich, deep aroma of espresso filling the air, and the subtle note of cinnamon that has been added in giving the extra hint of spice and sweetness that nearly completes your soul as you take careful sips of your drink. 

While you are savouring your coffee, a shadow appears right by your table. It doesn’t take much for you to recognise him before he even speaks. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You smile into your coffee, loving how the timbre of his voice is raising some warm flutters in your chest. You take your time before lifting your gaze to him, not giving him any attention until your coffee is settled back on the table. 

“Min Yoongi,” you greet him with a smile. “Join me?” 

Chuckling softly, he takes the empty chair across from you to keep you company. Sitting back, you cross your right leg on top of your left, watching him as he orders his coffee—a cup of espresso, as always—and taking the delightful sight of him in.

Just like you, he is dressed for warmth. Wearing a muted beige sweater over his dark jeans, he covers it with a leather jacket that somehow fits him so perfectly. He leaves his longer hair loose, falling over to frame his face as he speaks to the waitress. Once he is done, he sits back and relaxes, returning your perusing gaze with his. 

“So what is it this time?” you ask him, “Are you travelling for business as usual, or”—your eyes follow his hand as he places his bag to his side and his camera on the table—”is it for leisure?” 

His lips twitch to a smile, as if your curiosity pleases him. 

A curiosity that never wanes, and has been left unanswered. You have always wondered how he does something like this; always there to find you while you are venturing into a new place, a new city, or even a new continent. As if he has always been just two steps behind you in every adventure you went to. 

Or perhaps he has been two steps ahead of you, and he has always been there watching, waiting, until you finally come into his path, where he can swoop his way in with his tempting smile? 

“A little bit of both,” he smoothly answers, his eyes falling on the leather-covered journal sitting right next to your coffee. “And you? Is it simply sightseeing, as always?” 

You smile at him. “Always, while taking the chance to learn new things that I find in my trips.” 

“Ah, yes. Of course. You’ve always found joy in learning as you enjoy your trips. A true scholar,” he hums, nodding. The conversation pauses as his coffee arrives. “Are you open to inviting someone on your trip this time around?” he asks once the waitress walks away, his eyes meeting yours with a look that is quite hard to read. 

You’d like to believe there is hope there, some longing. Yet, Yoongi has always been a man of mystery, always able to read you, while never once allowing anyone to do the same to him. 

You bite your lips as you pretend to contemplate your options. “Are you offering me your company?” 

He shrugs. “You know I’m always open for a chance to enjoy a day or two with you while we’re in foreign places like this,” he says. The corner of his lips twitch to a grin. “I won’t even mind if you agree to stay longer. A whole week, perhaps?” 

You hold back the urge to laugh. If only you knew.  

“Well,” you coyly answer, “Then I suppose I’ll have you as my company. It might feel lonely if I simply go around all by myself, after all.” 

He watches with a sly grin on his face as you raise your drink. He waits until you savour another taste of your coffee—probably recognising your subtle act of being coy—before he continues, “Will this invitation extend for the rest of the night?” Your hand freezes before you can place your cup back on the table. 

Finding your calm, you carefully lift your gaze to meet his just as he asks, “Or are you going to disappear again before morning comes?” 

Your smile fades when you remember those nights—the nights you spent with him during the other times you met him during your previous trips. 

You weren’t exactly someone who falls easily into one-night stands. Not before Yoongi. But then he came into the picture, carrying with him a whole mystery that kept begging you to unravel. He has always been too enticing to refuse, with his beauty and alluring confidence that keeps pulling you in, that you couldn’t resist when he began inviting you to his bed after a few chance encounters were made.

It took only one night for it to begin, and your affair continued many nights after. One taste of his carnal passion and the pleasure he brings, and you’ve become addicted to him. No matter how hard you tried to resist, he would always be able to pull you back in. 

Not that you have been trying that hard to avoid or refuse him either. 

“You’re implying that I’ve been running away each time,” you taunt him with a light scoff, though there is no bite in your voice. There is, however, a pinch in your chest. Feeling like he can read you so well makes you vulnerable. 

“Haven’t you?” he asks, and that tightness in your chest pinches harder. 

Biting your lips, you try to push back the heat that is rising in your chest. Already, your body is reacting to him, when what you should be doing is deny him. “I’m not falling for your charm this time, Min Yoongi. The deal stays with you acting as my company and guide, that’s all.” 

Yoongi leans forward, crossing his arms on the table as he keeps his eyes on you. The smile that he is wearing on his face tells you that he never has any intention of holding onto your ‘deal’.

As a matter of fact, you are starting to doubt that you can keep it either. 

“Was it Paris, where we last met?” he asks you with a tease in his voice. “I remember you saying the same thing back then.” 

You press your lips together, swallowing back any retort coming out of your mouth just as that night comes flashing by in your mind. Memories of that night are still vivid, so much so that you can almost feel it in your body as you recall it. 

“Call it what you want, but that night was unforgettable for me,” he says, using his deep voice that has been haunting your lonely nights, always reminding you of him whispering sweet nothings to you while he was sending you to bliss. “You’re not going to tell me that you’ve forgotten how good that night ended, are you?” 

You should. But you cannot find it in you to say anything to deny it. 

Because it’s quite impossible to deny him. And if you have to be honest with yourself, you do find that night to be unforgettable. Not that you have done enough to try and forget, when all you have been doing the many nights after was to think about everything that happened then, and all the sinful things he did to you to turn you into a wanton woman who gave everything you had in exchange for the pleasure he was offering you. 

Your eyes fall on his hand as he lifts his cup of coffee to his lips, and your mind brings back everything that the same hand—those fingers—did to you the last time you spent the night together. How those deft fingers caught your waist when he kissed you under the night sky, and how easily he made you shudder with his touch, flipping all of your buttons until you were left helpless in his arms.

You know that if you close your eyes right this moment, you will find yourself being brought back to that night. The woody scent of his cologne that is wafting towards you with the flowing breeze takes you back to his dark hotel bedroom. It makes you think of the warmth you felt engulfing you once he pulled you through the door, of the sound of your heartbeat racing and clothes falling the moment the door was locked behind you, of the warm, messy sheets you fell onto while he was devouring your lips with his heated, hungry kiss. 

Your skin grows warm as you think about those lips tracing down your neck, your bare shoulders, your chest, while his fingers worked relentlessly to spark every inch of your body alight. 

Your breasts tingle when your eyes land on his mouth, picturing those same lips capturing each of your hardened nipples as he bit, lapped, and sucked on each side, before pinching them with his deft fingers when his lips found yours again to swallow your moans. 

Your body grows hot when you picture him sinking between your legs, giving you the ultimate pleasure that you had never once experienced with anyone before. 

First, he did it with his sinful mouth and tongue, working them together to devour your sweet cunt until you were writhing on his bed, drowning in pleasure. And then he did it with his thick cock, filling you up to the brim until there was nothing left for you to give. Until you felt your entire world melting into his presence, and he became your entire universe as you were drowning in carnal release. 

Your body shudders as you remember each hard thrust of his lovemaking, as he rocked your entire world every time he moved against you, pushing into you, giving you everything he could to bring you pleasure. 

That night in Paris, your tryst didn’t end with just a single exchange of carnal pleasure. It lasted the entire night, only giving you the small chance to rest right before the break of dawn when both of you were spent after the long, intense, vigorous lovemaking, after he made you reach your climax more than once, and you fell asleep in his arms feeling nothing more but content. 

That was the first night when everything he said before started to make sense; all his silly talk about fate, how your souls were being united as one as you made love, and about the pull that kept bringing you back together even while you were on the opposite sides of the world. 

Because even after all those dark, heated passions began to wane, he still filled your entire world. He felt like the missing piece of your puzzle that you could never complete no matter how hard you tried to find it. No longer lost in the sea of people but was there in your arms as you held him against your bare chest. 

And it scared you enough to make you rise from the bed in the middle of the night, leaving his sleeping figure behind to escape before your heart would give in and allow him in. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

You remember him whispering those words to you while he was buried deep inside you, bringing waves of pleasure as he rocked your bodies together towards the peak of your release. 

Tingles run through your body as it remembers every touch, every bit of love he made you feel, and the passion you shared that night. Heat pulses deep inside your core, right between your legs, and every part of your body that he touched and kissed and tasted. 

Twisting in your seat, you press down against your pulsing desire, playing it off as excitement—something that is more pure and innocent instead of anything carnal—while asking, 

“So, where are we heading to next?” 

His smile grows deep and wide, recognising the invitation in your words, and knowing full well that the moment you fall into his bed again tonight, it’s going to be forever. 

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

[ivykim]

SIM(P) JAEYUN STRIKES

VIDEO START ▶️

— welcome to the video. thank you for clicking on it! today, I’ll be bringing you on a journey of various moments where jake is practically down bad for ivy

DANCE JAM LIVE #071223

since everyone was doing their own thing and dancing to their song, ivy does the same thing. it was quite honestly a mini party. all of them were dressed in something quite formal due to having schedules in the morning/afternoon.

ivy was wearing this

she looked gorgeous. everyone single one of the boys had their jaws dropped when she walked into the room wearing that. one person though had their mouths way more wide open than the others.

“jake, close your mouth.” jay says. the boy listens but he’s still mesmerised by ivy.

“noona is so pretty…” jake mumbles. anywhere she went, jake’s eyes would follow her figure.

— here we have prime example of sim(p) jaeyun

vivi x jake vlog (spoilers??)

— vivi says the vlog will be uploaded eventually (belift I’m watching you🫵🏻) but she posted a snippet of it on weverse

IVY🌟 POSTED: who are you calling cute? you’re cuter jaeyun🙄 *video attached*

from what it seems, it’s just ivy and jake walking around the rented home’s mini garden. there, they spotted a cat and ivy gasps.

jake goes to film her as ivy passes the camera to him. she kneels down to the cat and allows it to sniff her. it easily gets comfortable with her and ivy happily pets it.

“jaeyun~ the kitty is so cute.” she says in a pouty voice.

jake’s heart tugs as ivy speaks in a cute voice.

“cute.” he mumbles behind the camera. which obviously was caught in the video bc Ivy wouldn’t have posted it if it wasn’t caught.

— aww the jaeun ship is sailing!

a compilation of behind episodes with jake and ivy

#1. “noona, please!”

jake loves asking for permission from ivy and ivy grew to love hearing the boys (who are younger than her) calling her noona. it took a while for her to accept it but she likes being called noona now!

“I want that one. please? can I have a bite?” jake says as he watches ivy biting onto her popsicle.

“say please.”

“noona, please!” jake pouts. Ivy turns to the camera and points to it.

“DID YOU CATCH THAT?? JAKE DOES HAVE AEYGO! ENGENEs YOUR WELCOME!!”

#2. “noona, can I have a hug?”

jake loves hugs from ivy. no particular reason. she’s just the perfect height and size for him to hug. ivy does love giving hugs to all of them though. especially when they need extra energy.

she stands in the middle and everyone lines up. she gives each boy a hug. ni-ki hugs longer as he happily enjoys being in her arms.

“yah! it’s my turn.” jake huffs.

“no.” ni-ki says as his voice was a little muffled being in ivy’s arms. ivy pats the younger boy’s back.

“riki, it’s jake time. I’ll come to your room later to cuddle with you more okay? you big baby.” ni-ki grumbles before peeling himself off ivy. he walks away to tackle jungwon instead. clearly not done being clingy.

jake finally smiles, “noona, can I have a hug?”

“yes, you can.” she holds out her arms. jake happily jumps in her arms. his arms finding home around her waist and hers finding their way around his neck.

— love how the staff recorded this whole thing and captioned it “ivy’s hug service. free of charge.”

#3. “please, tell me there isn’t a ghost…NOONA I’M SCARED!”

as ivy is a psychic medium. she can see and feel ghosts. the boys don’t necessarily like whenever ivy mentions there is a ghost so she usually doesn’t say it.

but if something is off, ivy will definitely voice out.

“not to alarm any of you but excuse me while I just do this for a bit.” ivy stands up from her seat and starts moving towards the corner of the room.

“oh lord. she’s at it again.” jay sighs.

“the demon is back.” sunoo adds.

“please tell me there isn’t a ghost…” jake says as he watches ivy getting closer to the corner. the three of them watched her point in the top corner. she scolds whatever that is in that corner and tells them to leave immediately.

“okay, this guy is stubborn.”

“what guy. noona? please tell me…”

“just an 8ft shadow dude in the corner. it looks like those spiders but giant and has 2 legs like us.”

“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT! NOONA I’M SCARED!” jake says.

#4. “LETS GIVE IT UP FOR KIM FUCKING HAEUN!!”

of course. there had to be engenes recording this part. it’s a concert! they had to perform. with them being in America, the managers were more chill. so jake decided to take advantage of that and give some appreciation for ivy.

everyone was hyped up. ivy had a solo performance at the concert that she prepared so the boys wanted to hype the engenes up.

“ENGENEs! are you ready for ivy’s performance?” they yelled. ENGENEs screaming out loud.

“I can’t hear you? ARE YOU READY FOR IVY?” jay instigates. the ENGENEs screamed even louder. the nod their heads in approval.

“THEN LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR KIM FUCKING HAEUN!!” jake yells. it causes ENGENEs to scream even louder as jake cusses just to introduce ivy.

safe to say, ivy was very hyped during her solo performance.

#5. “oh good lord.” *trips on his own foot*

it was comeback as per usual and ivy’s stylist wanted to try something new. her outfit had different cuts and holes to make it more sexier so ivy looked really good.

sunoo interviews her with the camera and was busy filming fun little contents with her. that’s when jake walks in. his eyes fell upon her outfit.

“oh good lord.” he says as he trips on his own foot while staring at ivy. sunoo laughs, zooming into jake.

“jake hyung, are you okay?” sunoo asks in between laughs.

“y-yeah! just tripped somehow.” he says embarrassingly, clearly he was caught off guard.

#6. “would you date haeun noona? yes.” *with no hesitation*

jake was live during one of the America stops and so he decided to read some comments while listening to some music.

many of them were basically asking where the other members were and just asking him to do aeygo. the typical thing. that is until one question caught jake’s eye

“would you date haeun noona? yes.” with not a single hesitation in his voice. he moves on from there it causes a whole ruckus in the fandom and shippers.

#7. “KIM HAEUN! KIM HAEUN!”

jake was always ivy’s biggest fanboy as shown in the past few videos. in this en-o’clock episode where they played sports, it even more obvious.

“whoever gets ivy noona on their team instantly wins.” jungwon says.

with the teams split with the usual decision of rock paper scissors, heeseung falls to his knees.

“no, this is unfair.”

“HAH! WE GOT IVY NOONA.” sunghoon points and laughs at the other team.

“now, what do you mean unfair.” ivy says as she stares right at the two tallest boys. “if anything, I should feel unfair.”

the games start. it felt like a war zone, each of the boys getting more and more competitive. as it was ivy’s turn, she holds up the bow.

“KIM HAEUN! KIM HAEUN!” jake cheers. the editors placed a quick edited pompom and puppy ears on jake as he cheers ivy on.

[PUPPY JAKE cheering on IVY]

#8. "10 facts you didn't know about vivi noona, she's not yours."

during this live, there were tons of ENGENEs talking about the fact that ivy looked so good in her new hair. this time, she decided to go all natural and dyed her hair dark brown, similar to jay's colour.

"ivy looks so pretty with brown hair." ivy reads out in english. "aww thank you, i bet you guys are prettier." she gives a small heart to the ENGENEs.

"ivy is so perfect, she's so pretty and she's mine." jake reads.

"aww, yes ENGENEs. i'm yours." she blows kisses. jake snorts and rolls his eyes playfully.

"ENGENEs, i have some facts about noona you didn't know. wanna hear it?"

ivy tilts her head, "tmi today?"

jake hums, "here are 10 facts you didn't know about vivi noona, she's not yours." jake smiles.

"now, jaeyun-"

[video bleeps]

#9. "why is everyone calling vivi noona a mother?" "i mean, yeah. you're right. she's the mother. the mother to our kids."

and yet another live from jake but this time, he was solo. he decided to go live after their concert. despite him being tired, he wanted to make ENGENEs feel loved so he turned on the live.

"where is ivy?" he hums. "i think she's sleeping. she was really tired after the concert. she almost slept with her outside clothes on so there's that."

"hmm? tmi? yeah, that's true."

"oh, you guys saw her outfit today at the concert? yeah, the stylist tried something for her."

he reads through more of the comments, "why is everyone calling vivi noona a mother?"

that is until he had a bright idea in his brain. "i mean, yeah. you're right. she's the mother. the mother to our kids."

— MOTHER TO YOUR WHAT? WHAT KIDS SIR??

#10. "sorry, you can’t have noona. she’s mine.”

at an offline fansign during dark blood era, fans were enjoying ivy’s outfit style and the fact that she got a solo part during the second chorus of ‘Bite Me’. which led to tons of ENGENEs talking about how they would like to marry her.

there were tons asking her one by one the same questions. “are you single?” / “haeunie, can I be your girlfriend/boyfriend?”

so since jake was after ivy, the ENGENEs would continue to talk about her to jake.

“jaeyun-ah, can I marry ivy?”

“mmm, no.”

“why?”

"sorry, you can’t have noona. she’s mine.”

— okay, possessive boyfriend let’s go??

#11. “noona makes me feel safe. she knows when i feel anxious and nervous so she pays great attention to the little things.”

to end of the video, I would like to mention the interview where jake praised ivy. this was during one of their earlier days.

— “what is it like to have ivy on the team?”

jake reads the question. he hums, “noona…she’s just amazing.”

“despite, us thinking we would be just any normal boy group during I-LAND, seeing ivy noona and the many other girl contestants doing their best made me realise that we were all fighting for the same dream.”

“so when noona was announced, I wasn’t surprised. she’s amazing, heeseung hyung level of talent. what surprised me was that she cried a lot, she thought that she wouldn’t debut. she had a lot of doubts because they never announced other girls to debut with her so it was just her and us.”

“she started to feel down. worried that the fans wouldn’t like her but eventually, with a lot of encouragement and the positive comments praising her, she gained more confidence and started showing her true colours.” jake laughs.

“for me, noona makes me feel safe. she knows when i feel anxious and nervous so she pays great attention to the little things.”

“in fact, she knows whenever anyone feels down and tries to lighten the mood. she actually hates whenever it’s too serious when it’s not supposed to be. I remember her complaining about how all of us were too tense during practice and that we need to loosen up. true enough, when we loosened up, we did better.”

[video fades to black]

— thank you for watching ❤️

[vixstarria]

Kinktober Day 2 - Collaring

For every day of the month of October I will be posting a little snippet following prompts listed in this post. Most of these will not be full fics, but rather short snippets, set-ups, and, in a few cases, copied bits and pieces of fics I have already published. But, if there is a lot of interest and feedback on any of the snippets, they might just evolve into full fics, so keep that in mind.

He never really minded collars, despite what anyone who’s ever slipped one around his neck might have liked to believe.

Being collared was an excuse to dive ever deeper within himself. After all, it meant that he was expected, encouraged even, to let go and be something else. An extra layer between himself and anything that was happening to or around him. Turn his mind off. Wait for commands. Obey.

Through or perhaps despite some mental contortions and twisted logic, it was… liberating. Freeing. The collar released him from everything, even being himself.

“Deep down, you like being leashed, don’t you?” the hag Ethel had taunted him.

Ha!

Astarion idled, studying the pet collars on display at the leather goods shop, as Tav haggled with the shopkeeper over a pair of new gloves.

Most were solid and practical but boring, but a few caught his eye, though he couldn’t decide on his preference. Perhaps the one with the delicate bell that would jingle at the slightest movement? Or the one with the studs and spikes driven through the leather? Or, the dainty pink one, perfect to sit on the neck of a delicate, pretty, well-trained bitch.

“Which one do you like most, my sweet?” he asked, when Tav approached.

“I thought we decided against pets, for now,” Tav said, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you want to get a dog after all?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t changed my mind about that,” Astarion murmured. “But it’s not for a dog, darling.”

My Kinktober masterlist and prompts post

[mangoshorthand]

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize.

It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung as an adult. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday. 

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together. 

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out. 

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you. 

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer and he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company. 

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.  

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him.

Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.  

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it.

For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting.

It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness. 

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you. 

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar. 

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow. 

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he could just find another diner. 

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how two freckles disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift. 

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of pupils that pulled at you with such fascination. 

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek. 

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured. 

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours. 

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth. 

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves. 

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder and humming with satisfaction.

 “God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core. 

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back. 

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most. 

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear. 

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, toes curling against your sheets.

The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements. 

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.” 

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely. 

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until - 

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?” 

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him. 

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip. It was difficult: your movements against him were teasing his excited cock. 

After you caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal.

Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?” 

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you. 

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips. 

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut. 

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths. 

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five. 

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial. 

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.  

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness. 

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased. 

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets. 

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[zukkathirst]

ZUKKA THIRST Creator rules

See commenter rules here.

Hi horndogs, thanks for all the enthusiasm for the inaugural ZUKKA THIRST, an NSFW Zukka event!

The event is set to kick off 4-6 October 2024. It will actually be split into two events: one for creators, one for commenters. For the creators, the aim is to publish anything and everything you have!!! We're not looking for or requiring perfect intricate finished pieces—in fact, we'd love to see your horny pencil sketches, mini-fics and outline posts. Let’s flood the tag with glorious, glorious smut!

Creators are also encouraged to comment and vice versa; you can head on over to this post to see the commenter rules.

Here are the prompts! Head on down under the readmore and spin the wheel (cw: flashing gif).

Screenshot the gif below to pick your prompt.

Not challenging enough? Why not aim to score three in a row with our prompt bingo!

We'll be very excited to see any Zukka NSFW content you want to share, whether it's finishing up a sketch that's been languishing in your drafts, adding another chapter to an ongoing WIP, or a brand new and original piece you've been itching to create for a while and were just looking for an excuse. As long as Zukka are railing each other stupid in it, we're excited!

And while you're at it, why not check out our simultaneous commenter prize?

Event rules:

All works must be NSFW (i.e. M or E rating on Ao3). Click here for an explainer.

Post your work anytime during 4-6 October, 2024. We accept late submissions but not early ones.

Please post on Ao3. You are welcome to cross-post on Tumblr with snippets/thumbnails. We will have an Ao3 collection and you can tag us on Tumblr to reblog. Artists, you can use this guide to upload your art (or reach out to us if you’re stuck).

You can add it to our collection here! You can either hit "Post to Collection" on the page or type "ZukkaThirst2024" into the Collections section when you post a new work.

All works must be tagged appropriately.

We do not tolerate works that are made/"touched up" with generative AI, traced, or plagiarised. We respect the very real labour that goes into art and writing, and would rather celebrate original content made by real fans.

You don’t have to stick to the prompts, but we encourage you to use them for inspiration!

We do not allow works that perpetuate or encourage bigotry/harassment in harmful ways.

About | FAQ | Commenter rules

[twomanyfandomshelp]

If you haven’t listened to the Underworld Saga yet, here’s your spoiler warning.

@thekingofworems @jarondont @aaronofithaca05 @nyx-of-darkness-1620 did y’all get a chance to listen yet? I need people to talk about this with!

Apologies in advance for all the capslock you’re about to see.

Y’ALL

I CAN’T

MR. JORGE, MR. JALAPEÑO

WHY MUST YOU BREAK MY HEART LIKE THIS

THE UNDERWORLD

POLITES?!?! THE EMOTION IN ODYSSEUS’ VOICE WHEN HE HEARD POLITES?!?! QUIETLY SAYING HIS NAME AS THEY SAIL AWAY LIKE HE’S APOLOGIZING?!?!?! DJFNSISYDJSUDB

ODYSSEUS’ MOM?!?!?! I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT!!!! “Even if you’re the last thing I see I’ll be waiting” “I’m right here mom, can’t you see me?” OH MY FUCKING GOD SIR!!!! JORGE!!!! “I took too long and ventured too far” SIR MY HEART IS BREAKING!!!! “I’ll always love you, I’ll stay in your heart” SIR YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!!!! THE SOFT LITTLE “bye mom” AS THEY SAILED AWAY?!?! FOLLOWED IMMEDIATELY BY JORGE JUST BELTING HIS HEART OUT?!?! *HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING* ALSO, THE NAMES LISTED ON THE SONG INCLUDE WANDA HERRANS, ARE YOU TELLING ME JORGE’S MOM VOICES ODYSSEUS’ MOM?!

NO LONGER YOU

MASON OLSHAVSKY’S VOICE IS SO GOOD!!THIS WHOLE SONG IS PERFECTION!! “This can’t be, we’ve suffered and sailed through the toughest of hells, now you tell us our efforts for nothing” EXCUSE ME MR. HERRANS WHAT THE HECK! “I see your palace covered in red, faces of men who had long believed you dead, I see your wife with a man who is haunting, and man with a trail of bodies” THE FORESHADOWING?! THE WAY ODYSSEUS REACTED WHEN TIRESIAS SAID HE SAW PENELOPE WITH A MAN WITH A LINE OF BODIES?! HIS OUTRAGED “WHO!!!”SIR?!?!?!?! THAT’S YOU MY GUY!!! YOU’RE THE HAUNTING GUY WITH A TRAIL OF BODIES!!!

MONSTER

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SONG SINCE I HEARD THE FIRST SNIPPET AND IT DID NOT DISAPPOINT!!! OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL I HAVE NO WORDS!!! THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE EPIC SONG!!! I kinda knew that was gonna happen but shh 🤫

I’m not gonna talk about this song because if I do it will end up being an essay. Might make a separate post about it though.

I WILL BE LISTENING TO THIS SAGA ON REPEAT ALL DAY AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!!

[midoristeashop]

4, 9, 11 🤸🏽‍♂️

ALSO HNY <3 !!!

HI REN HII

4. Was thinking of my favorite character(s) I’ve drawn for a while now, and then I was drawing my hijack coded ocs and decided this is the perfect excuse to show them off LMAO (besides jack and hic they are all I think about 🥹)

9. New art mediums/Styles

Amazingly enough I’ve tried tons of trad mediums this past year (gouache and ink being the newest!) just anything that has the texture I need to replicate my digital style 😭 and ofc you’ve seen all my spiderverse studies those were so so fun to do <3

I did a trad piece for my portfolio (thats eh but whatever it’s progress) w/ watercolor, ink, colored pencil, etc. so here’s a snippet!

11. Artists that have influenced my style:

Literally tons I could have a whole post dedicated to my inspirations but here are the first that pop in my head…

Ami Thomson, Alberto Mielgo, whoever made that opening sequence to dance central/ love death n robots ice, tomm moore (song of the sea + secret of Kelly’s director!) james r woods, and so so many more!!

[lamprophonia]

》 [ yandere!Musician. ] 《

yan!musician x gn!reader: introduction. 1038 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for stalking, general yandere behavior. DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

amir saba, or just amir on stage, was the latest up and coming sensation.

his first single stayed on top of the indie charts for weeks on end. his (by then, long awaited) debut album went platinum. he was skyrocketed into stardom practically overnight.

he met you by chance, through a friend that worked as part of his road crew. you weren't really supposed to be backstage — but the moment he saw you, amir couldn't take his eyes off you. how could he get mad or even mildly upset when your friend sneaking you backstage allowed him to witness perfection in human form?

he immediately had to learn everything about you, naturally. your first conversation was more of an interrogation, but he honestly just couldn't help himself. he asked every question in the book and the appropriate follow ups, and asked for your social media practically immediately.

he spent that next night stalking your entire online presence. every photo you posted, every tweet, everything and anything he could find. he went through your entire following list, as well as your followers, taking note of friends, family, acquaintances.

with every second amir spent researching you, he was falling deeper.

he didn't question the feelings you were stirring up in him. isn't this what everyone wants, after all? love at first sight, immediate, intense, and unconditional. he didn't need to think too hard about it to convince himself that the two of you were soulmates.

he was, ironically, glad he was on tour at the time. it made tempering himself much easier — he wasn't sure how he would have been able to stop himself from stalking you. instead, he settled for quietly working his way into your circle.

he remembered something you mentioned during that initial conversation-slash-interrogation you two shared, and he just saw something that reminded him of it while on tour! of course he took some time out of his busy schedule to text you about it. isn't that thoughtful?

how could he not be when you occupy 99% of his thoughts at this point?

it wasn't long before he was finding excuses to text you more and more frequently. once, twice a week, every other day, every day... he made his way into your life so naturally, so easily, it only confirmed what he already felt: you're meant to be together. plain and simple.

by the time he got back from tour, he was more than head over heels. he made plans to see you as soon as possible and slowly but surely continued to make himself from an acquaintance into a constant presence in your routine.

texts he sends you every day at 6 as he's sipping his morning coffee, sometimes updating you on something interesting, and sometimes just to wish you a good day. telling you what funny thing just happened in the studio when he's on his lunch break. asking your opinion on song snippets when he gets home, starting a conversation before you go to sleep just to have an excuse to end his day by saying good night to you.

and, of course, whenever he's in town, he's already making plans to see you. no matter the season, he'll find some way for the two of you to spend time together. music festival he's been waiting for for months and just so happens to have an extra ticket to. art exhibition his friend has been raving on and on about. he's been so stressed, he needs a break, and hey — a new restaurant just opened up downtown, so how about brunch?

the first few times you initiate hanging out with him, or even just text him first, he's sure he's going to have a heart attack then and there.

when amir's not monopolizing every ounce of your free time, you're monopolizing his — you wouldn't really know that, though. he just happened to run into you right as you're leaving your workplace. wait, you live in this area? crazy, he was just visiting a friend who lives right around here.

those are the times you do run into him, anyway. being on tour really was the only thing that kept him from stalking you.

he takes up more and more of your schedule as you get more comfortable around him. he does his best to pace himself and not become overbearing, but it's ridiculously difficult sometimes. why would you want to spend time with anyone else when you have him?

it's not even a surprise when he asks you out. you've practically been acting like a couple for a while before you actually put a label on it, and he's been making barely even diguised puppy dog eyes at you since you've met him.

his behavior only gets more intense from that point on. texting you practically nonstop, or at least as often as his schedule allows, dragging you out of the house or coming over every day; hell, he doesn't even need to make up excuses for why he's in your neighborhood or by your workplace so often. he just wanted to surprise you.

is that so bad? you're his partner and his muse, after all.

amir's shameless in how much he adores you. the muse thing is so much more than a nickname; he seriously has never felt more inspired in his life. he's been writing songs about you and how you make him feel since the day he met you, but once you're officially together, he starts showing you the best ones.

he definitely has to control himself a lot. he doesn't want you to realize he's written enough music for four different albums, all dedicated to you. after all, you've only been together for a few weeks. he wouldn't want you to freak out... but he'll gladly put forth the idea of releasing a single for you early in the relationship. how quickly he'll actually do it (because there's no doubt he will, sooner or later) depends on your reaction.

amir's obsession with you is nowhere near a slowburn. he just has to force himself to not go too fast, to cautiously make his way into your life for good.

and once he has you? he's not letting go.

[ivymarquis]

WIP Wednesday

A bit of a character study/me skipping ahead/dynamic fun stuff etc?

This is so far down the line for the price x single!mom verse it's not even funny, but I wanted to write it out and see how I feel about it when we actually get to this point in the fic. John goes a wee bit off the fucking deep end :)

Y'all know the drill! No pressure, feel free to post a snippet of something you're working on.

“You won’t always be around, you know.” Michael has apparently decided he’s not partial to being above ground anymore.

The smoke from John’s cigar coils in him before he exhales slowly. Realistically he knows that Love is a sore spot for him and he’s willing to do anything for her, and yet he’s still caught off guard by the depth of the rage that washes over him in an all consuming fire.

“Would you like to clarify that for me?” Wouldn’t want to go flying off the handle after all if this is simply a misunderstanding.

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy who fucks off the second your phone rings. That clarify things for you? I don’t know what you or the blonde did to fuck with those results, but I know Sam is my fucking kid and I’ll be damned if you twats are going to get in my way.”

As Michael throws down his inane gauntlet, John exhales his now-final drag on the cigar, eyes flicking across his surroundings to gauge who is looking.

The man sure has a knack for picking the worst fucking spot to threaten the family of a man whose job is to work outside the constraints of red tape. They’re just secluded enough that Kate can see them if she looks but no one else can. And Kate certainly won’t give a fuck about what John’s about to do.

Without doubt, John knows that Michael expects to buffalo his way through this conversation and stalk off feeling he’s done something. Because the average citizen cannot do what John is about to- wouldn’t even consider it.

It’s the sheer confidence that John won’t put his hands on Michael that lets him snatch the other man up by his collar and shove him further out of sight from any prying eyes.

He opens his mouth to protest John’s grip on him, the perfect opportunity for him to shove the smoldering end of his cigar into the man’s mouth.

John has just enough impulse control to not extinguish the damn thing on the back of his throat, settling for the knowledge that the flurry of movement has knocked the ash loose into the other man’s throat.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page before we have this little talk,” John snarls. “I can be on the other side of the world and it doesn’t fucking matter, am I clear? If I catch wind of you sniffing around when you think I’m distracted, you’re going to find out exactly what I am capable of for a guy who fucks off the second his phone rings.”

John pulls out the cigar and shoves the other man away from him. “If we have to have this conversation again, I’ll be shoving the barrel of my service weapon in your mouth next and painting the fucking walls, understood? There will be a point where I decide you’re more hassle alive than dead.”

He’s not mollified in the slightest by the way Michael’s legs shake and he suddenly can’t look John in the eye- all the bravado sucked out of him with the realization that John is not beholden to the same rules he is.

“You’re fucking insane,” he sputters, hunching over and trying to cough up the ash.

“If you’ve got any sense to you, you’ll stay off my shit list.” John advises before tossing the remains of the cigar in the bin.

“Now if you’ll excuse me- I’m taking the missus and the rugrat out for lunch.”

@direwombat @gaqalesqua @strangefable @glossysoap @kneelingshadowsalome @deadbranch @bunnyreaper @mortuarywriting @391780 @divine--serenity @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @luminousbeings-crudematter @ceilidho

[brigggl]

I found an old Reigen taking care of Teru snippet post S1 finale that I’m never gonna finish but they are still so precious to me as a weird semi functional duo so please take my half edited attempt

As Mob and Ritsu head home, Reigen turns to Teru. He looks exhausted but there’s a grin on his face as he casually says,

“My offer still stands, want some help with those scrapes? There a connivence store not too far from here.”

Terus has his usual excuse right at the tip of his tounge, that his mom and dad will bandage him up good as new when he gets home, but the words get caught somewhere in his chest and all that comes out is a weak

“Sure”

Teru hasn’t had to lie about his parents in years. Everyone at school knows that bringing up his parents is the fastest way to get on Teru’s bad side and no one at salt mid can stand the most popular guy at school giving them the cold shoulder. The staff knows his parents are out of town a lot but, he’s a bright independent kid who never causes trouble so they never make a fuss when he has to call himself out of school.

In all the years out of practice Teru somehow forgot how to talk about his parents like they’d be sitting on the couch when he got home.

Reigen is already walking down the street, confident strides and aside from the gash in his jacket, looking completely fine.

They stop off at a convenience store, just a couple blocks from where they had said goodbye to the Kageyama brothers. As Reigen browses the first aid aisle, Teru lets his mind wander.

————-

Reigen inspects the cut, rubbing ointment over the skin and carefully looking for more stray wounds. Until his finger draw too close to Teru’s hairline and he instinctively bats them away. There’s a seconds pause where Reigen can’t hide the surprise on his face and Teru is far tenser than normal. Then Teru forces himself to relax all the muscles in his shoulders, an easy smile and a quip about keeping hands away from perfection ready to be deployed when Reigen lets out an easy chuckle

“Don’t want to ruin a good hair day, huh? I get it I’ve been there myself.”

It’s a ridiculous comment, Teru’s hair is a mess after tonight, burnt fringe and literally cut in half. Teru is sure Reigen can see how lopsided the wig is and there’s a layer of cement dust that will be a pain to get out. Teru can also tell that Reigen clearly isn’t putting enough work into his own hair to match Teru’s level of a good hair day. But somehow it’s the right thing to say because he finds himself relaxing and Reigen has already moved onto opening the burn cream.

[thighzp]

Make Me Write Monday

Thanks for the tag @tailsbeth-writes this is the perfect excuse to get some of my ideas out of my brain and onto the page!

Put an emoji in my ask box and I will write as many sentences as I feel like for each prompt!

Kinktober sequels:

1️⃣ First time for everything (porn star Henry, no-longer-virgin Alex)

📱 Young & hung (sugar daddy henry, sugar baby alex)

Other:

❤️ Trans Alex, first time Henry (canon divergent version of their first hookup)

🤫 Age gap au (long fic I’ve been posting snippets of!)

Tagging for fun but no pressure! @taste-thewaste @firstprincehornyramblings @onthewaytosomewhere @porcelainmortal @judasofsuburbia

@alittlefrenchtree @theprinceandagcd @kiwiana-writes

[ladytauria]

ohohoho... In a hoarse whisper, “Fuck, you’re killing me here.” jaydick yeaaaaboiiii

iiii went a little overboard on this 😂it ended up over 7k, so i won't b posting the whole thing here, but have a preview ;)

(editing to add as a warning/heads up: jason is trans here, and i use both male (cock/dick for clit) and female (cunt) terms for his genitals <3)

>> six little deaths <<

“Fuck, little wing, you’re killing me here.” Dick’s hoarse whisper makes Jason smirk. He settles back against Dick’s chest, popping another kernel of popcorn in his mouth, making sure to wiggle his hips a little as he does.

The hot, hard length of Dick’s cock presses into Jason’s ass through his thin, cotton shorts. It makes a thrill rise in Jason’s belly, knowing he has such an effect on Dick.

Cook, suave, charming Dick. Everyone wants him. But—right now at least—he wants Jason.

The thrill is sweeter knowing Dick won’t do anything. Can’t, not with Bruce sitting in a recliner half a couch away.

He feels Dick’s slow, hissing breath. Smirks to himself, and then raises his fingers, sticking them in his mouth to clean the butter and salt from them.

Dick grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

Jason chances looking at him, fingers still in his mouth, and finds those normally electric blue eyes dark and stormy. His thighs clench.

Dick grabs his wrist. Jason doesn’t resist as Dick pulls his fingers from his mouth. The look on his face— Jason half expects him to kiss him, Bruce be damned. His pulse is a staccato beat in his chest.

Dick doesn’t kiss him. Instead, his lips brush Jason’s ear, and in a voice thick with promise, he whispers, “You’re going to pay for this later.”

Jason shudders, head to toe, skin going tight and prickly. Fuck, yes, please. Dick is always the perfect amount of mean—that’s half of why Jason likes working him up so much.

The other half is being at the center of his attention.

Jason rocks his hips, relishing in the shocked, almost pained gasp he gets. “I’m counting on it.”

Dick growls. Under the blanket, he grinds the heel of his palm over Jason’s groin, and Jason gasps before he can help himself, bucking up into that hand as sparks light up his veins.

“Boys.” Bruce’s deep, commanding voice makes Jason shudder again; red staining his cheeks. For half a moment, he thinks they’ve gotten caught, but then Bruce just says, “Don’t make me separate you. You can get through a movie without fighting.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. “We’ll be good.”

He splays his hand over Jason’s belly—a possessive, proprietary move that already has Jason trembling—and presses, a steady, even pressure that makes him want to squirm.

Conscious of Bruce’s attention though, he doesn’t. Instead, he just takes it; breaths getting faster, deeper, until he’s nearly panting. Dick’s hot length against his ass is starting to feel less funny and more taunting.

How much longer is left in the movie? Jason stopped paying attention somewhere around the first fifteen minutes. He tries to focus on it now, ignoring the way his underwear has grown sticky with his arousal. It’s hard to focus, but—based on the music, the snippets of dialogue… they’ve got to be getting close to the end, right?

Dick rubs his belly a little—Jason bites his lip to trap his moan. A little of it sneaks it out anyway, a soft, “Nnn,” that makes Dick shiver under him, and press a smile against Jason’s shoulder.

It would be an asshole move to excuse himself to the bathroom, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t like, touch himself or anything—it’s tempting, but. Dick can be kind of a sadist, and that’s fun, but he’s already in enough trouble for starting this shit in the first place. Getting himself off without Dick’s permission is just asking for worse, and Jason’s got stuff to do tomorrow.

But he would like to step away for a second. Just a second, so he can catch his breath and not give up the game before they’ve even gotten started. If he leaves, though, then all Dick will have is a blanket to protect his bulge from Bruce’s eye…

‘Course, that’ll be a problem either way, won’t it? They’ll have to get up and go to bed eventually, so. That would at least give Dick a chance to figure something out. So really Jason would be doing him a favor, right?

Right.

Jason squirms a little, and then says, “I gotta pee.”

“Do you want me to pause the movie?” Bruce asks.

“Um. No, I won’t be gone that long, and uh. I’ve seen this one before.” He hasn’t. Dick lets him go, although the brief look they exchange before Jason scampers out of the room tells him Dick is more than aware of Jason’s fib.

Jason’s little wink probably didn’t help matters, but. Oh well.

In the bathroom, Jason washes his face with cool water before sitting on the closed toilet and getting his phone out. He checks his email—some review bloggers he follows have posted new reviews, there’s an author newsletter, and oh! One of his favorite fic authors posted something new. He opens that to read later—tomorrow, probably, although it’s short enough…

No.

He’s already pushing. Don’t borrow trouble, Mama used to say, and while Jason may not follow her advice to the letter… he at least tries not to borrow more than he’s prepared to handle.

Jason clears the spam from his email, unsubscribes from some things he’s been meaning to for a while, and then stands, stretching. He splashes a little more water on his face—and turns, ready to go back, only to bump into a hard, warm chest.

It startled a squeak from him, all that color flooding back into his face.

“Hello, little wing,” Dick purrs, crowding him against the sink. “That was a neat little escape you made.”

Jason’s heart beats rabbit quick in his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I had to piss. Didn’t figure you’d appreciate me going all over your lap, is all.”

Dick snorts. “You had to go get yourself off, you mean.”

“I didn’t get off!” Jason scowls. “I know better.”

Jason has to tilt his head back in order to meet his eyes. He can feel his knees trembling. The ache in his groin pulses, slow and steady like a heartbeat, the crotch of his underwear uncomfortably damp.

“Like you knew better than to start something in front of B?” Dick raises an eyebrow. “Y’know he lectured me about making you uncomfortable?”

Jason’s face burns. “I…” He draws up his chin. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such an asshole all the time, then.”

Dick scoffs. “See, and that’s why I don’t believe you.” He pats Jason’s cheek—the condescension in it makes Jason shudder. “That’s alright, little wing. I’ll just have to check.” He pinches Jason’s cheek, then, making him whimper, hole clenching both at the promise and the way Dick’s voice drops when he says it. It’s not quite Nightwing register, but it’s close, and—

Jason shudders again.

He wants.

“Take your shorts off, Jason,” Dick murmurs, and Jason hooks his thumbs in them without hesitation, letting them slip off of his hips and fall to his ankles.

“Good.” Dick pats his cheek again. “Turn around. Hands on the sink.”

Jason feels like he’s on fire. He turns slowly, spreading his legs until his thighs no longer touch. Dick guides him backwards, Jason shuffling his feet to keep from getting caught in his shorts. His crotch is soaked.

Dick traces the hem of his panties. “Would you look at these,” he purrs, snapping the band.

The back of Jason’s neck burns.

When he bought them, he’d thought it would be funny. Oh, ha-ha, a pair of panties designed to look like the bottom half of the Robin uniform. It’s less funny now.

Jason’s grip tightens on the edge of the sink as Dick pulls them down to bunch around his mid thigh. The bathroom air is cool against his slit, and he swears he can feel every droplet of slick gathered there. He bites his lip.

Mistake.

Dick spreads his folds—Jason bites so hard he tastes blood, feels it bead on his lip. Can’t help but look at himself in the mirror; the way his curls halo around in his head in perfect dishevelment, his face blotchy red, bottom lip fat and swollen.

He looks like a fucking slut.

“You’re so wet, little wing.” Dick’s tone is almost scolding.

Jason wants to cry. Jason wants to raise his hips in offering, rise onto his tip-toes and beg for Dick’s cock.

Stop being so fucking easy, he scolds himself. Can’t play too hard to get, either, but he also needs to stop damn-near creaming his pants any time Dick gets a little intense. Dick’s attention is heady. Addictive. Jason doesn’t want to give it up if he can help it, and that means keeping a careful balance.

Luckily, Jason is used to giving men people what they want.

He swallows down the urge. “Whose fucking fault is that?” he grits out, letting his eyes drop again; staring at the marbled sink instead.

Jason yelps when Dick swats him. It’s not hard, he’s taken worse, but the unexpectedness of it…  The threat of it… It makes him swallow.

“You know damn well whose fault it is,” Dick says, voice low and vaguely threatening. It makes Jason shiver, cunt fluttering. “But we’ll be talking about your behavior later. For now…” Dick probes a finger inside of him. Jason’s cunt welcomes it, swallowing him greedily. His middle finger finds Jason’s t-dick, stroking small circles around it.

Jason whines helplessly, legs quivering as he fights to stay still. He’s so— He’s so sensitive.

Dick teases him, giving him only the barest stimulation, moving so fucking slowly it’s almost agonizing. Jason is panting by the time he’s done, sweat beading at his temples. His fingers ache, knuckles white.

“Hm. Looks like you were telling the truth,” Dick says. He takes his hand away, and Jason can’t help the way he whimpers, meeting Dick’s eyes in the mirror.

There’s a thin sheen of tears in his own now; the sclera red. Dick looks unaffected—save for his eyes, crackling electric blue that cut Jason to the core.

“Clean yourself up, little wing,” he says, wiping his fingers on Jason’s thigh before patting Jason’s ass. “I told Bruce I’d check on you and apologize before going to bed. You should go say goodnight to him.”

>> continue reading <<

[bluedalahorse]

Sunday Snippet (but from earlier in the week)

Before I continue doing my adult chores, I’m also going to post a little bit of fic I worked on earlier this week. No use sighing over how I wish there was more fic in my fandom about my favorite characters if I myself do not take time to create fic about my favorite characters!

This comes from my canon divergence where Sara and August meet up two years prior to canon, although this part is only about Sara. She’s just turned sixteen, so she’s a little more wide-eyed and innocent.

Hope you enjoy!

—

The atmosphere at Hillerska is different from Bjärstad schools. Sara is used to maneuvering around skateboards and soccer kits, hockey hoodies and heckling and chemically cheap vapes. Those haven’t disappeared entirely, but the squash rackets, jodhpurs, and fencing foils mixed in among the crowd make all the difference. Even the heels of the students’ shoes have a sharper sound as they hit the pavement. 

Sara has prepared herself for Hillerska’s lush grounds and manorial architecture by browsing the school website and scrolling through the #hillisar tag on Instagram. She arches her neck and gazes up at the windows on the top story, imagining another version of herself on the other side of the glass, snuggled up with a heavy hardcover on a drizzly day. Maybe a book that’s translated from Greek or Latin. It’s a loan from one of Sara’s teachers, a fascinating woman who spent her twenties roaming the world and who now records her thoughts in unpublished poems. She’s fair with the entire class, but her comments on Sara’s essays are always warm and encouraging.

In Sara’s fantasy, she bookmarks her book with a blue—no, burgundy—silk ribbon given to her by a roommate, and notes that it’s stopped raining outdoors. Perfect, she’ll go and visit her horse. Of course it isn’t her horse on paper. Even in Sara’s imagination, she could never afford one of her own. Rather, the horse was donated to the school by a hapless alum who found it too temperamental to work with. Sara understands it and has won its trust, and the other girls breathe sighs of admiration over the progress she’s made.

The color and name of Sara’s horse changes from daydream to daydream. Today she’s a Palomino mare called Ilmatar, with a gleaming golden coat. Sara imagines herself brushing Ilmatar’s coat and patting her muzzle as she confides in her about her classes.

Sara’s visions are interrupted when her phone vibrates in her schoolbag. Cupping her hands around her phone case—no one needs to see the scratches, or how out of date her phone is—she reads the text from Simon. 

Where are you? I thought you were taking the bus home with me and Ayub.

Of course. Ever since last year, when Simon finally got taller than her, he’s worried about her more. If Sara’s honest with herself, it’s a bit annoying. She’s planned ahead for this.

Library, she types in response. Maybe it won’t even be a lie, if she finds a way to see the Hillerska library when she’s here. Back in time for dinner.

She doesn’t mention that she cut the last two classes of the day to get to Hillerska early. Simon doesn’t need to know.

Reading etiquette manuals again? Simon asks. Or is it the horse girl books?

He’s teasing now. Sara minds less when it’s just him, and not him and Mamma together. They’re always smiling closed-mouth smiles in one another’s direction, and Sara’s brain comes up with the worst ideas for what they mean by it. She responds with shut up and an emoji that shows she’s teasing back, before switching her phone to silent and slipping it back into her bag.

When Sara looks up again, she’s being watched. Three boys, all older than her, and an older girl with long, auburn hair.

“Excuse me,” one of the guys says. He’s got mirrored sunglasses resting on his head that don’t seem to fit the cold weather. “Are you someone’s cousin?”

“She isn’t someone’s cousin,” says another. This one’s wearing a watch that looks more like it’s for adult businessmen than a teenager. “She looks lost. Can we help you?”

“Yes.” Sara straightens her spine in an effort to look taller. “I’m looking for the principal’s office.”

“Oho.” The guy with the watch smirks. “Are you in trouble, then?”

“No. I have some questions about admissions.” Admissions, like it says on the website. Sara’s proud of herself for putting it that way. “I’m Sara. Sara Eriksson.”

[polifandom]

snippet from a wip of a buck/bucky oneshot of mine. enjoy ;)

Gale is quiet. He keeps to himself, doesn't drink, doesn't party, doesn't smoke. He never got in John's way and never tried to get inside the room when the other placed a sock on the handle. He doesn't listen to loud music, doesn't talk in his sleep, doesn't snore. He was always a gentleman to whoever John did have in the room when he forgot to put the sock. He never walked around indecent.

John, logically, recognized he was hot – but Gale wasn't really his type. John liked 'em messy, adicted, loud, horny. The type that he knew could take John breaking their heart, because it was inevitable that he would. The type that looked like they liked being hit in the face, that would hit John back.

Gale looked like none of those. He was elegant, eloquent. A lider, an example. A gentleman. He didn't step a foot out of line, didn't say a word he didn't mean. Didn't scream, didn't fight. He's perfect, in all the ways that matter and don't – not a hair out of place.

John couldn't deny he was hot, because who can? But John needed messy. Needed adrenaline, rush. He doubted Gale could give him that – not that he had shown any interest to.

And then, John fucking saw it.

They were friends already, in their second year being roomates. Gale had become one of his closest friends, despite all odds – they were nothing alike, but they fit. John liked his company, despite the stick Gale constantly had up his ass.

And then, for the first time ever, Gale decided to change with him in the room.

John had never seen him shirtless, ever. He doubted Gale was insecure (because look at him!), so he just assumed it was yet another of Gale's antics – not changing in front of others and allat. Gale, the gentleman.

And then he did.

His back was facing John, so as soon as Gale started lifting his shirt, the new one already in hand, John saw it.

From the end of his neck to the start of his hip, Gale was fucking full of tattoos.

Gale fucking Cleven, who excuses himself every time he sneezes, who says sorry when someone bumps into him, who is fucking perfect – has his entire back tattoed.

Amongst the tattoos, from the small time frame between taking the shirt out and putting the new one, John spotted a skull, a snake, a dagger, an airplane, roses, a chain, and the biggest of them all; a buck who's antlers go from shoulder to shoulder.

And then, when John believed there couldn't be anything he could be more shocked about, Gale turned to him as he pulled his new shirt down, and during the split second his chest was exposed facing John, he saw a fucking piercing on Gale's fucking nipple.

And from that point on, John was done for. There was nothing else he could think about, masturbate to, daydream of.

Just Gale. Gale and his tattoos and nipple piercing. Gale, Gale, Gale.

this one hasnt been posted yet, but i already have a clegan oneshot up!! you can check it out here <3