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starkidmunson · 4 months

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glitter & crimson

It’s both exciting and terrifying to be in Chicago when they arrive Thursday afternoon. This is, unfortunately, very often as close to hometown shows as the band gets to these days. They have the night off, before the show tomorrow, when the band will find out if Steve and his friends actually show up to the gig or not. Despite not having a show, the band doesn’t get the whole day off; Paige had booked a few radio interviews before the gig to drum up attention.

He should have seen it coming when the radio host brought up the TikTok exchange. “So, be honest, have you guys coordinated with Harrington and his friends to get him to your show tomorrow?”

“Not really. Our manager sent info and Steve gave it a thumbs up, but that’s really been it? But we’ve been busy with shows almost every night, and he’s had a lot of travel games the last few days, so we’ll have to wait and see if he’s able to make it out.” Jeff takes over the answer with ease, probably having predicted the attention.

“Did you really not recognize him, Eddie?” The host goads and Eddie lets himself chuckle.

“It may sound kind of ridiculous, but the genuine answer is yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, 6 years. And, believe it or not, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds. We knew of one another, I think, but there were hundreds of kids in our school.” Eddie always defaults to the truth in interviews; it’s the simplest route and leaves less room for people to poke holes in the narrative if he’s just honest.

“Will you guys be going to the Blackhawks game on Saturday?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Gareth laughs, and just as quickly as the segment started, it’s over with their own latest hit playing them out of the studio.

A Thursday night off in the city wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the band collectively made a trip to the bar closest to their hotel for wings and a few drinks. One of the guys must have posted something on social media about being out because as Eddie’s walking into his hotel, he happens to check his TikTok to find a message waiting for him.

harrington94 should I take it personally that you guys went out in my town and didn’t ask for recs or anything?

eddiecc I honestly figured you’d be too busy and didn’t want to bother you.

harrington94 never too busy to show a friend around town. But I do appreciate having a down day, so thanks.

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as he processed Steve’s message. Friends? Is that what they were? Could they even really consider one another that? He ultimately decided not to think too much of it, in favor of keeping the conversation going. Maybe the more they talked, the less awkward the next two nights would be.

eddiecc I totally get it if you want to skip the show in favor of another down day.

harrington94 no backing out on me now, Munson. I’ve finally got the cool card with the Party. We’ll be there, no doubt.

Eddie feels a little smile creep over his face and his ears feel a little warm, but before he can answer that, text bubbles pop up again. He waits to see what else Steve is going to say before he does something embarrassing.

harrington94 now feels like a safe time to confess that I haven’t really listened to much of your music, though, so don’t think I’m rude if I’m not headbanging along with the boys.

That was more like the interaction Eddie had expected from their TikTok exchange. He never expected Steve to know their music and was shocked he even knew their band name when his response had been posted on TikTok.

eddiecc I honestly cannot exactly say I’m surprised to hear this. You never exactly struck me as a headbanger, anyway.

harrington94 i feel like that’s some kind of thinly veiled insult that I’m missing, but you’re not wrong.

The text bubbles appear again, and Eddie waits for him to finish the thought rather than respond.

harrington94 why don’t you text me instead? It feels easier than paying attention to this app I don’t really know how to use.

Eddie was quick to copy the number Steve sent and shoot off a text, weirdly enjoying the exchange the two were having and not ready to call it a night just yet.

__________

A particularly ridiculous meme from Eddie had Steve snorting from his spot lounging across the sofa. The next thing he knew, a pillow was flying at his face. He was able to react quickly enough to block it with his arm, dropping the phone to his chest, before glaring at Robin. She was watching him from the recliner across the living room.

“What the fuck?” He asks, tossing the pillow back in her general direction, more gently than she’d tossed it his way.

“You’re grinning at your phone like you’re setting up a hot date. Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Heidi again.” Robin pleads dramatically, twisting her body in the chair to face him.

“I’m not grinning at my phone, shut up.” He grumbles, ignoring how hot his neck feels as he blushes. Instead, he picks his phone back up to finish the thought he’d been typing before he’d been interrupted. “I’m just texting with Eddie, that’s all.”

Robin’s eyes widened immediately, and she sprung from the recliner toward the sofa. “Give me your phone!” She demands, grunting as she fell face first into the sofa, missing Steve by an inch. He manuveres away from her without looking up from his phone, making his way down the hall to his room. “Steve, come on!”

“It’s not a big deal! We’re just talking! It’s fine!” He insists, tucking the phone into his back pocket as he turns into his bedroom.

But maybe it was a big deal? Steve couldn’t tell; this was the part he was never really good at. He had a tendency to miss signs everyone else thought were obvious, and he didn’t want to risk making things weird with Eddie if Robin thought he was missing something that wasn’t actually there. The texts with Eddie had shifted from Steve confessing his knowledge of Corroded Coffin was strictly limited to whatever the Party played in the car when he drove them places, to Eddie confessing he knew next to nothing about hockey. It seemed to level the playing field between the two of them, and at least made Steve feel more at ease about the time they’d be spending together between the concert and the game.

When Steve had asked how the tour was going so far, Eddie had shared a link to an instagram, where fans were finding something to meme from each night of the shows. To which Jeff and Gareth were making memes in response, picking on one another in a way that felt like with some of his teammates. The message that had prompted the most reaction from Steve was the last thing Eddie had sent before Robin threw the pillow; a meme of Eddie looking confused, which Jeff had edited “So he’s not Joe Jonas?” over his head.

In his room, Steve leans over to pick up his charger, but he feels his phone lift free from his pocket. “Hey!” He calls after Robin, who’s sprinting down the hallway, laughing like the menace she is.

“I just want to see what you’re talking about!” Robin says, unlocking his phone. He’s just about to catch up to her, as she slides on her socks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, right in his face.

“You’re being a child, Robs, c’mon. Give me my phone back.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door. He jiggles the handle, but as he’d guessed, she’d locked it behind her.

“Do you like him?” She asks through the door, and he sighs again.

“I don’t know,” He answers, honestly and exhaustedly. “I don’t even know him, you know? We weren’t friends, it’s not like I could tell you anything about him other than Tommy used to buy weed from him and he would stand on tables and yell in the cafeteria.”

There’s a long silence before Robin opens the door, meeting Steve with a little smile. She shoves the phone back into his chest and pats his hand when he takes it from her. “I think this could be good for you. That this could be good for you.”

“I’m trying not to read too hard into it.” Steve mumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He glances back down at the screen, to see what while Robin had taken the phone, Eddie had sent another text.

Eddie: How were your games? Are you doing anything special for your day off?

It makes something twist in his chest, that Eddie even cares, and he doesn’t quite know why. It must show on his face, some part of how he’s feeling, because Robin just smiles and nods. Maybe she knows how he feels, part of their weird unspoken telepathy, because she walks further into her room and pats the edge of her bed as she goes.

“Are you going to let me paint your nails for the concert?” She asks. Everything inside of Steve appreciates how she always knows when to give him space to try and figure his shit out on his own.

“Obviously.” He laughs softly, following her into the bedroom to sit on her bed and watch her move around collecting things to paint his nails.

~~~

The following day, Steve spends more time than he would like to admit picking out an outfit to wear to the concert. He can hear the Party starting to get antsy in the living room, even though they’d still be plenty early if they left right now, so he decides to just roll with the white shirt and fitted khakis he’d dressed himself in several hours ago before he started overthinking his choices. He finished the outfit off with a black zip-up fleece and black and white Nikes.

A final check of his hair had him walking out of his room and into the living room, where chaos erupted.

“It’s about time!” Dustin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with excitement on the sofa.

“It took you that long to come out looking like that?” Mike asks, but Max just snorts and shoves his shoulder.

“Let’s just go.” Steve rolls his eyes, glancing over at Robin who jingles car keys she’s already holding, before leading the way out of the apartment.

In the car, he shoots Eddie a quick text to let him know they’re on the way. Eddie’s quick to reply, giving the message a thumbs-up reaction. Unbelievably, the Party somehow manages to get even louder than usual once they were inside, and it doesn’t take long for a security guard to find them. They’re led through the back tunnels of Wintrust Arena, and Steve gets a little nostalgic for playing hockey in college. He’s snapped out of it when a girl passes out their pass lanyards and gives each of the Party a voucher for free drinks and snacks.

“This is too much, really,” Steve protests as she hands him the voucher, but Paige insists with a kind smile.

“We get this kind of stuff from every venue and rarely get to use it to its full extent. The guys want to do this for you and your friends, just enjoy it.”

The Party loads up on treats at the nearest food station, while Steve and Robin grab beers with Paige. As she collects her drink, Paige hands Steve a palm-sized bag of earplugs. He frowns at them, which makes her laugh.

“Eddie said this isn't really your usual kind of scene, and these shows can get loud,” she taps her own ears to show she has similar earplugs in. “Should also help prevent headaches or anything else that might keep you off the ice tomorrow.”

“Please, he’s too stubborn to stay off the ice. The amount of migraines he’s played through is outrageous,” Dustin bounds back into the conversation, earning a chuckle from Robin. Steve throws his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him just a little too close and too tight. Dustin exaggerates choking noises, flailing around and making a scene, but Steve refuses to let up.

_____

There’s more anxiety than usual thrumming through Eddie as he and Jeff make their way through the arena, to where Paige had said she’d take Steve and his friends for snacks. As they walk up on the group, however, Steve quickly pulls a younger boy with a head full of curls into a headlock. He lets the scene continue for a moment before he nudges Jeff.

“At what point fo you think we should intervene?” He asks with a smile, making Jeff chuckle. Steve, however, freezes, then shoves Dustin away. He turns to give Eddie a sheepish smile, and Eddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Steve lets out a huff of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair, shrugging and tipping his head in the boy’s direction. “This is Dustin. He’s like my little brother. I’m allowed to pick on him when he’s being a shithead.” Dustin nudges his elbow into Steve’s gut, who’s quick to smack his arm in response. Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s twisting a curl around his finger and biting back a grin. He does, however, make a conscious effort to not chew on his hair. He knows he’d never hear the end of it, fawning over Steve Harrington after a whole 10 seconds.

Eddie offers a hand out to Dustin, hoping Jeff and Paige would let his little tells fly under the radar. Just this once, they seem to, as he greets the Party. “Hey man, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are, holy shit, man.” Dustin eventually fumbles through, shaking Eddie’s hand and grinning up at him.

Steve rattles off the introductions for each kid, like a proud mom, and Eddie greets each of them politely, but his eyes keep falling back on Steve. He catches his little smiles and the way he nudges different members of the Party, squeezes their shoulders, ruffles their hair. It’s gentle and sweet and it sends a warm feeling through Eddie’s chest. His smile softens as he watches their interactions. All too soon, Freak leans into the area they’ve gathered in and whistles.

“Shit, guys, we gotta go.” Jeff sighs, and Eddie pats his shoulder before he turns back to the group with a grin.

“Just hang with Paige and try not to get into too much trouble, we’ll get drinks after?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve, who smiles back and gives a little nod.

As Eddie runs to catch up with Jeff and Freak, he wonders exactly what he’s gotten himself into here.

____

It’s more fun than Steve expects, the concert. The excitement of watching the show from the suite quickly bores the Party, as they realize it’s the same as watching hockey games from a guest box. They eat their snacks and drink some through the openers, but during the break before Corroded Coffin, Lucas and Dustin drag Steve around to the side stage. Robin promises to stay with the others, and reminds Steve to wear the earplugs.

He’s grateful Paige had slipped them to him as they get beside the stage and he realizes just how loud the crowd is when the lights go down. From where they’re standing sidestage, he can see Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Freak in a little huddle. They bounce around with their arms around each others backs, before yelling something Steve can’t quite make out. They’re handed their instruments by the crew. As they’re taking the stage, Eddie walks up in their direction and pokes his tongue out at them, before ripping into a guitar riff to make his entrance.

Despite himself, Steve finds his head bobbing along to the drum beat, and even sings along to the songs he recognizes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Eddie through the whole production. He’s a little ball of energy, bounding around from one end of the stage to the other, bantering with the other guys in the band and drawing the fans into his chaos during talking breaks. During a drum solo, Eddie climbs onto the front of the kit and holds his guitar up in the air over his head. Steve watches, mesmerized, as Eddie holds his gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds. Eddie winks at Steve, then, before he leaps back into yet another riff. It shouldn’t have had so much of an impact, but Steve finds it kind of takes his breath away.

It’s over before long, and Paige is quick to guide Steve and the boys back to the club box. He smiles as they walk behind Dustin and Lucas, gushing over how great the show was. Back in the box, Steve and Paige agree to meet across the street at Fatpour. He charms his way into using the upstairs as a private room with a signature to the manager and flashes a smile and wave to the few people downstairs who seem to have recognized him.

The band makes a loud entrance as the Party works their way through appetizers, and Eddie is quick to find his way to Steve. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself, was it more fun than you expected?” He asks around a grin.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have a good time,” Steve defended through a smile, making Eddie laugh and Steve thinks that might be the best sound he’d heard all night, despite having just seen the concert. Eddie glances around then, locking eyes with a bartender to get their attention.

“What’s your poison?” Eddie asks in the most cliche way, wiggling his eyebrows a little, but Steve shakes his head.

“Strictly on water tonight. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says, and Eddie softens and nods. Once their drinks are in front of them, he holds his glass up to Steve in a mock toast.

“To making it the fuck out of Hawkins?”

“Cheers to that.” Steve laughs, clanking their glasses together and taking a sip.

“Any reason you stayed in the Midwest?” Eddie asks, before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t have to… you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Nah, it’s… a few reasons. Couldn’t go too far without them, and most of ‘em followed me here, anyway. And then the chips fell and I ended up on the Blackhawks and there’s kind of no other team I’d rather play for.” Steve explains, leaning a little closer to Eddie with a smile. “Speaking of; are you ready for the game?”

Eddie can’t help but grin back at Steve and laugh a little. “You know, I honestly have no idea what I’m getting in to here. All I remember from watching games on TV is that it’s violent.”

“Not always.” Steve defends quickly, before showing a slight mercy. “It’s cold in there, because of the ice. You’ll want to wear layers.”

“Layers. Noted.” Eddie stores the information away for tomorrow, suddenly concerned he hadn’t even thought about an outfit for the game before the conversation.

As they talk, Robin appears with a basket of cheese curds but pulls it away as Eddie reaches to take one.

“What’s your favorite movie?” She asks, and Steve laughs and shakes his head at her.

“Is this a quiz? I’m not good at tests, I flunked out of senior year.” Eddie whines before he stops to think about it. “Uh, well. The answer you’d probably expect from me is Almost Famous, but it’s actually a close second to Dead Poets Society.”

She narrows her eyes at him but slides the basket in his direction. “I can’t tell if you picked either of those because you thought it was the answer I wanted, or because they’re actually your favorite, so I have to give you curds.”

“They’re actually my favorites!” Eddie laughs around a mouthful of cheese curds.

“Dead Poets is one of Robin’s favorites, too.” Steve offers, and Robin nods.

“Steve will tell you his favorite movie is Risky Business, because he thinks Tom Cruise is hot, but it’s actually Go Figure. You know, the Disney movie about the ice skater who joins her school’s hockey—” Robin is grinning until Steve clasps a hand over her mouth.

“Robin is incredibly annoying when she wants to be,” He grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Well, now you’ve got my attention. If Go Figure isn’t your favorite movie, what is?” Eddie asks.

Steve thinks for a moment. “I think Back to the Future feels like a safe answer.” He shrugs, and Eddie glances at Robin to gauge her reaction. She seems to approve, as she gives Steve a soft smile, pats his back, then stands from their table.

“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose.” She says, leaning close to both of them. “Behave, got it? No funny business before the game.”

Steve flushes and flounders a little, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he just huffs and takes a sip from his water. While Eddie feels his whole face get hot in a blush, he can’t help but laugh a little.

“Is there funny business we could have gotten up to?” He dares to ask, and it’s worth it just to watch the way Steve blushes and bites at his lip.

“Maybe. But I guess you’ve got to wait until after tomorrow’s game to find out.”

________________________________________________________

Wow! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support you’ve shown this little idea I had! I might just keep this going as a series, with updates on Mondays (Tuesdays at the latest). This is also double the word count of part 1, oops, lol.

I'm going to try to tag everyone in the replies because I hit the character limit! Tumblr wouldn't take them all, so sorry to everyone I missed, I still love you and appreciate the support!

#steddie #steddie hockey au #steddie rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson #hockey player!steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #corroded coffin #stranger things #starkidmunson writes #glitter & crimson

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skzdarlings · 1 year

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07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground. With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe.

After some arguing, you face each other. You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom.

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily. With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed.

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence. Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent. It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.

“My life is a joke,” you say.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says. “Your life is a joke. Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers. You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare.

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks.

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm. It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove. “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”

This fucking guy.

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met. A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group. You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way. You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy. Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle. You clashed from your first introduction.

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point.

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin. This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours.

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered. You have already spent three days at each other’s throats. Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again.

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket. With Seungmin, it was on sight.

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating.

Then Minho returned. He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you. You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail. There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you. The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho.

Minho dangled the keys in your face.

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys. That kitty has claws, mean ones. Not even you mess with Lee Minho.

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed. You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep.

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Wait, you’re a freak, right? Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow. You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks. “What the hell. Why? What is it?”

“You sound curious.”

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve. You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply. The tips of his ears are faintly red.

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.” He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion. “Keep it to yourself. Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor. But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation.

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks. “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer. You know, a strap-on for wearing out? A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?” You list everything with the same pleasant smile. “Big one too.”

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed.

“Right now?” he says. His eyes drift down to your jeans. “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it.

“You’re lying,” he says. He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs. It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him. He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly. “Whoa, wait, seriously?”

“Dude!” You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy. “What the hell, man. You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way! I can still feel it!”

“You can?” He pokes it.

“Yes.” You swat him away. “Depending on position.”

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head. “Wow. You have a high opinion of yourself. Thought you were gonna get lucky?”

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own.

“Not that well,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says. “I should have known.” He sighs as if disappointed in you.

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say.

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.”

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?” You sigh. “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.” He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard.

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he replies, warily. “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!” He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say. “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension. And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.”

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection. “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us. There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?”

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest. It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath. His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say.

“Shut up.” He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around. “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back. You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance. “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright. “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.”

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.”

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts. Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket. Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff.

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back. You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm.

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back.

“I’m not doing anything. Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you. Tongue out, he dives at your head. He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back.

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast. “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because you suck,” he says.

He manages to get his glasses back. He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face.

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other. Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips. Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands. He strains for one pitiful push. His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall.

You lift an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again. All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy. Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily. He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants. You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric. When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too. He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

You let go of his hips immediately.

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again. You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you.

“Can you feel that?” he asks. He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas.

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first. “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly. This… is… one of them.”

“Wow,” he says. He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins. “So… you can feel when I do this?” He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours.

“Ohmyff—” You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you. “Dude.”

“Just checking,” he says. He grabs the headboard and pushes again. The thud is a soft one.

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up. You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back. His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard. His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours. He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses. Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room. He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly.

“Moan or yell or something. Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly. “Since that mouth never stops.”

“Why don’t you moan?”

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.” To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion. The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps.

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you. That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it. It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder. You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove. His eyes go to your arm.

“Well?” you say.

He looks at you. It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath.

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat. You are certain only you can hear it. He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot. Hot as fucking hell. Oh god. You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin. Absolutely not.

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it. He cants his hips and falls back again. He moans one more time.

Ah, you think. Fuck.

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion.

You clear your throat. Seungmin is still staring at you. You stare back, then your gaze drifts. The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up. You gulp.

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation. His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them. He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you.

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?” He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.”

“You know what I mean, smartass.”

“If anything yours is more real,” he says. “Your dick is more deliberate than mine. I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.”

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue. You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried.

“So,” is all you say, at a loss.

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright. You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans. You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously. He even snarls.

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer. He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button. He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down.

You let go of his hand, surprised. He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants.

He balks at it.

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you.

Fuck. It is literally right by his face. It looks obscene. Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin.

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice. “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline. He even cackles a little. “Action,” he repeats. “Not ‘making love?’” His tone is drole.

“Not really the making love type,” you say.

“Wow,” he says. His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose. He glances up at you with that evil smile. “Same,” he says.

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it.

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it. Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal.

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound. He licks his lips.

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully. “Tastes funny. Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak. “In a way.”

“Got it.”

Is this even turning him on? His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm. He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit. He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you.

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops. He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs. You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural. “Yes.”

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says. “I thought it would be more complicated. I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?”

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Yeah.” What the fuck else are you supposed to say?

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it. He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself.

“Oh,” he says. He looks at his fingertips. “I see.”

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth.

“Right,” you say. “Got it.”

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband. You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest.

“Slippers first,” he says.

He is just being difficult. You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper. You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot. He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart. You shake your head but remove that one too. Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest. His glasses slip a little again. His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them.

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form.

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband.

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open.

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick. “No way. No way.”

Kim Seungmin. Blazer-and-tie good boy. Pristine socialite. Arrogant snob. High society darling. Spoiled brat. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick.

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him.

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb. It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake.

“S-surprised?” he asks.

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit.

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you. That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down.

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected. He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down. You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him.

“Louder,” you say. “Remember?”

“Oh, right.” He drops his hand. “Your stupid plan. Okay. Continue.” He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows.

He is so annoying. He really does have a pretty dick, though. Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him. He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully.

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you. He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching. It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage.

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips. You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss. It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours. He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity. The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too.

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth.

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder. He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence. Eventually he lifts his head and exhales. He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins.

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.”

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual. You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks. It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed. You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor.

You look over Seungmin who was watching too. When you make eye contact, you both start laughing. It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one. Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own. He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open. It smashes into the wall, startling both of you.

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room. He slams the door shut behind him.

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys.

“Told you,” you say.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face. It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind.

Your wrist is still cuffed. He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard. You tug on it then look at him.

“Kim Seungmin,” you say.

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks. “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once. It goes without saying you both won this round.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #seungmin x reader

2K notes · View notes

pansyfemme · 7 months

Text

jude + he/him + nineteen

COMMISSION ME

TIP ME (for funsies)

FTM, femme, faggot, fat boy, colorfreak and general rainbow lover. I’m a visual artist (cartoonist, sculptor, painter, etc,) currently in art school, have a special interest in twee pop, and i make transgender penis jokes on the internet. Stay weird with it always, yknow?

Art: @fagboyfriend

Twee/Indie Pop blog : @upforabit

selfies are under: #Jude pansyfem irl

putting a short faq under cut bc. i get the same questions a lot. check it before you ask about my icon or header or anything

faq:

How long have you been on T/How do you have a beard at 19? I came out at 12 years old, started blockers at 14 and HRT later that same year, and had top surgery at 17, making me 5 years on t and 2.5 years post op.

What show/game/comic is your icon from? its a cropped version of the album cover of the 1999 album “shake the pounce” by vancouver based twee pop band Gaze. It’s a favorite album of mine as well as just a cool little guy i like a lot

Where is your header from? a painting i did in gouache a year or two ago and thought would make a nifty header.

Oh come on, you’re not unboyfriendable! “unboyfriendable” has been my title for about three years now on account of it being a lyric from a song that means a lot to me, “all my little words” by the magnetic fields. EDIT: i am. in fact, boyfriendable, it seems. this has been brought to my attention recently. slight adjustments needed to be made but i carry on the legacy <3 (yes he’s cute)

How do I refer to you? Actually, i don't get this question a lot, and I shouldn't, since this info is both in my pinned above and in my bio. But a lot of people still seem awful confused. I am male. FTM. I use He/Him pronouns and masculine terms with the exception of compliments like 'pretty' and all that. I am not nonbinary, and do not like to be referred to gender neutrally. I simply am a trans man who enjoys gender non conformity and cross-dressing.

Are you Bi or Gay? this world is full of beauty. im queer. take that how you will. I like hot people but especially like pretty men. <- guy who will not shut up about his very pretty boyfriend

What style are you wearing/where do you get your clothes? I started by wearing my personal version of the japanese fashion subculture Decora Kei. My decora became a bit messy and grungy, and while i do still identify as a decora boy and wear full coords from time to time, i consider myself now someone who enjoys colorful fashion and takes influence from 90s harajuku fashion, punk subcultures, drag and other campy fashion. I shop a variety of places, but a lot of my stuff is from Kei Collective or Candy Trap.

What is Twee/Do you Make Music? Twee is a music genre I developed a special interest in a few years back. It's a style of indie pop that originated after the UK rise of the famous c86 compilation tape in the late eighties, and was developed with a focus on low-fidelity, diy sound combined with upbeat, bubblegum-y pop sentiments and a naive, childlike outlook. It's both cute and somewhat rough around the edges. I do not make music, and don’t hold any musical skill. I’m just a major fan.

Do you take commissions? Yeah, Info above!

Can you boost/reblog this post for me? This is a tough answer, i know, but if we are not mutuals, or I do not know you, I cannot do that for you. My reasoning being that I have been baited by very similar asks in the past that turned out to be scams, and I do not want to take the risk of spreading misinformation or scams now that I have a much larger following. I do my best to spread stuff that ends up on my dash and/or I can factcheck, but if I do not have that, I will be wary, considering my past interactions.

Can we be friends/Can I DM you? Anyone is welcome to send me a message of any type at any time, unless I have those settings changed, in which case i likely have it off short term, because i experience fairly regular transphobic harassment and i find it the best way to protect myself. However, just understand that I am a stranger on the internet. I don't always want to continue every conversation, and I'm not online all the time. I have all push notifications for tumblr turned off, including asks and dms, because it's much better for my mental health to be able to opt out of tumblr the moment I close the app. So, if i don't respond, i'm probably just doing something else or didn't see your message.

Do you have a DNI? I haven't in a long time, due to it being pretty frequently ignored and my following count growing to the point i can't really control that anymore. I can and will block people, but i feel my opinions are made fairly clear through what I post here.

#Bandcamp

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katareyoudrilling · 4 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Porn Star Female Reader

Summary: A popular porn site runs a sweepstakes to win a night with your favorite porn star. One of the winners is a man and he has chosen you. Will it be a night of mediocre sex or will Frankie surprise you?

Word count: ~3.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Unprotected PIV (paperwork is involved), oral (m and f receiving), a hint of tummy worship, reader’s clothing is described briefly but no physical description

A/N: I got in the weeds a bit thinking how something like this could be made safe for everyone involved and decided we all just need to suspend our disbelief. I left some in for the sake of “the plot” but let’s trust that everyone has good intentions. The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa. This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy a reverse sweepstakes!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist - link in bio or let me know!

“Thanks for coming in.” Erin shuts the door behind you as you take a seat across from her desk.

“Of course.” You have a scene to film after this meeting. It was no problem to come in a little early.

“So, as you know, we are running this sweepstakes for our subscribers to win a night with their favorite performer. You agreed to be one of the female options and even though the vast majority of our subscribers are women, one of our winners is a man and he chose you.”

“Oh wow.” You can’t help but be a little flattered. Everyone likes to be chosen.

“Yeah, so I just wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re ok to continue. I have his picture and basic info here.” She slides some paperwork across the desk, and you pick it up.

Looking back at you are the kindest brown eyes you think you’ve ever seen. He is wearing a baseball cap – hair curling around his ears – a scruffy beard, and a lopsided smile. His name is Francisco Morales.

“We’ve done a background check and everything like we talked about, and he looks good from our end. You still have the right to refuse, though,” Erin continues as you read over Francisco’s information.

“He’s cute. I’m not concerned. I can handle a night of mediocre sex with a civilian and make this guy’s dream come true.” It feels a little conceited to say it, but as an adult entertainer, you know you’re the subject of a lot of male fantasies. You also know that you are very good at what you do.

Erin laughs. “That’s very generous of you. Hopefully it won’t be too bad, but best to set expectations low.” She takes the papers back from you. “I know you have a scene to film upstairs. I’ll let you know when we get this scheduled.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Erin!” You push back from the desk and leave the office with a wave.

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

When the day arrives, you prepare like you would for any scene. You’re not more nervous than any other day when you’d be having sex with a new scene partner. You dress in your signature outfit of a crop-top and cut-off jean shorts, showing off your legs is never a bad idea.

When you arrive at the studio, you check in with Erin to go over Francisco’s final paperwork and reaffirm that all the company’s requirements around consent and safety have been met.

When everything is settled, you go to meet him in the filming room.

You open the door to a man pacing back and forth, worrying a baseball cap in his hands. Erin had warned you that he seemed nervous and not to expect him to be sitting eagerly on the bed waiting for you like your usual partners.

He looks up at you when he hears the door, panic written all over his features.

“Hi, Francisco, it’s nice to meet you.” You approach him cautiously, opening your arms for a hug.

He accepts the hug and you’re pleasantly surprised at the warm comfort of his broad shoulders and t-shirt-clad chest before pulling away.

“Call me Frankie,” he replies, running his fingers through his wavy hair.

“Frankie it is. How are you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, I just… I feel like such a creep.” He hangs his head and twists the hat in his hands. “The cameras…” he gestures to the tripods set up in the corners of the room. “They said they are partly to keep you safe… I… I shouldn’t be here.”

He was right about the cameras. Sweepstakes winners had the option of recording their encounter for private use, but in your case, the feed would also be monitored for your safety.

“I heard you chose to go for the recording option. I’m glad you did. I would have tried to change your mind before we started otherwise.” He glances up at you, surprised. “I like performing for cameras.” You shrug and one corner of his mouth twitches. You take it as a good sign.

“Look Frankie, I’m not going to make you stay, but I’d really like if we could talk for a minute.”

You sit on the bed and pat the spot next to you. Frankie relents and sits next to you, keeping a safe distance between your bodies. It’s endearing really, and warmth stirs in your chest.

“We’re both adults here, Frankie. I signed up for this too, you know. No one is forcing me to be here.”

Frankie lets out a long exhale and finally meets your gaze. “Thank you for saying that. It’s just a really strange situation and I got in my head about it.”

“Perfectly understandable. Why don’t you tell me why you entered the sweepstakes?”

He runs his hand through his hair again, it must be a nervous habit of his. It’s delightfully disheveled and you notice shades of caramel and gray woven through the dark brown waves. You allow your gaze to roam over his features. Aquiline nose. Pouty lips. He is a very handsome man. His picture didn’t do him justice.

“I’m not sure what I was thinking at the time, to be honest with you. I’m just a big fan.” He offers you that lopsided smile you first saw in his photo.

“You know, most of our subscribers are women, it’s kind of our thing. What lead you to us? And as a subscriber as well?”

“Good question,” he exhales again. “I really like the idea of supporting an ethical production company where I can know everyone involved is consenting. I don’t want to ever think someone has been coerced or treated badly while I’m… you know.” His ears turn pink, and it might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That’s important to me too,” you nod and scoot a little bit closer to him on the bed.

“I also like that the orgasms are real. I’m not interested in anyone... faking.” If his ears weren’t red before, they certainly are now. Along with his nose and cheeks.

It occurs to you that one of the other female performer options practically comes if you look at her. If Frankie had just wanted an ego boost tonight, he could have easily chosen her. It’s not that it’s difficult for you, but it is going to take some effort. It stirs your interest that he might be up to the challenge.

“Do you like making women come, Frankie?”

He nods and smiles a little, still looking down at the hat in his hands.

“Do you think you can make me come tonight?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I’d certainly like to fucking try,” he looks directly into your eyes and the deep rumble of his voice turns the affectionate warmth in your chest into a building fire in your core. You move even closer so that your leg is touching his.

Frankie stares at the bare skin of your knee where it brushes against his jeans.

“Can I touch you, Frankie?”

He looks up at you and nods. So much want burning in his kind eyes.

You run your fingers through the hair at his temple and scratch your nails through his scruff. He leans into your hand and moans.

Oh fuck.

The sound shoots straight to your pussy.

“Can I touch you?” Frankie rasps.

“Yes, you can. But you need to lose the hat.”

He chuckles, dropping the misshapen hat on the floor before tentatively lifting his hand to place it on your leg. His hands are large, warm, and calloused. Sparks fly over your skin as he strokes your softness. You lean in slowly and press your lips to his cheek, then his mouth.

His plush lips part with a sigh. You turn his face towards you as you gently explore.

It’s been a while since you’ve just made out with someone. He seems to need you to go slowly and you certainly don’t want to spook him now that he is more relaxed. In your brief conversation you’ve become very curious about this man.

Frankie tentatively glides his hand over your clothed hip, barely letting his fingers caress the skin above the waistband of your shorts.

You guide him gently up onto the bed and stretch out along his long frame. He’s so warm and soft, you just want to snuggle into his chest.

It’s luxurious and unhurried and oh so hot.

You let out a contented sigh as you slide your hand under his shirt and up his back. His grip tightens on your hip, so you roll your hips towards him in response – encouraging him to touch you.

He receives the message, shifting his hand to palm your ass. You moan into his mouth and are rewarded with a strangled groan as his grip tightens. His rough fingertips skim the sensitive skin of your upper thigh sending shivers up your spine.

“You feel so good, Frankie,” you break away from his mouth as he trails kisses down your neck. “I want to feel more of you.”

You tug at his shirt and he reluctantly stops kissing you to pull it over his head. You are rewarded with a vision of golden skin over strong muscles. He’s slightly soft around the middle and it makes you want to see your teeth marks on his skin.

You sit up and quickly pull your crop top over your head and are reaching for the clasp of your bra, when he sits up and stills your hands.

“Let me, baby.”

“Whatever you want, Frankie.”

You place your hands on his chest as he traces his fingers over the cups and straps of your bra, watching goosebumps rise over your skin. It’s so sensuous and deliberate, you’re struggling not to whimper and you don’t even have your clothes off yet. When he reaches around to undo the clasp, you crowd into his chest and begin to lick and suck at his neck.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as you taste his skin. Delicious. You allow your bra to slide down your arms and off then reach for the button of his jeans. “Take these off.”

“In a minute,” Frankie replies and you scoff. This isn’t the nervous man you first met. You smile to yourself. He must be getting comfortable.

Turns out he needs a minute because he wants to explore your tits. He brushes his fingertips over your nipples, watching them tighten in response. He gathers you onto his lap, better to pull each bud into his mouth.

He swirls his tongue around you, one breast at a time, palming the other with his large hands. It’s exquisitely, maddeningly slow. Your pussy aches as you try to find some friction through your shorts, but he’s holding you away from himself.

Frankie smiles around your tit as you whine and try to grind into him.

“You like this, huh?” you complain, clutching at his broad shoulders.

“Do I like making you sound like that? Yes, I do.” His voice rumbles pleasantly against your chest.

He finally relents, working his way up your neck and back to your mouth. You take control of the kiss, plunging your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. He lays back for you on the bed, settling with his head up against the headboard. You take the opportunity to undo the fly of his jeans.

“Can I have these now?” you tease.

“Only if I can have yours.” His gorgeous mouth pulls up into his signature lopsided grin.

“Deal.” You shimmy out of your shorts and underwear as he pulls down his jeans and boxers and tosses them on the floor.

You sit back on your heels and take in the gloriously naked man in front of you. His long legs stretch out on either side of your hips.

He’s not the polished, waxed, perfectly honed specimen of a man you often work with. You find that it’s perfectly ok with you, might even be preferable. He’s so real, splayed out and unselfconscious.

Broad, warm, soft at the edges, but hard where it matters.

And the way he’s looking at you… It gives you shivers. There’s a deep hunger in those brown eyes, but also patience and a surprising amount of control. You had expected this to be a pretty quick encounter, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. You squirm, noticing the wetness building in your center.

He watches you with hooded eyes as you slide your hands up his muscular thighs. His cock bobs eagerly against his stomach. He has a very nice cock. Possibly the best you’ve seen on a civilian, being a porn star does spoil you a bit in that regard.

His is nice and thick and plenty big enough to know he will feel really good.

You take him in your hand and stroke him up and down, licking your lips.

“You don’t ha…” he interrupts and you silence him with a look.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do, Frankie. Trust me.”

He nods and exhales, relaxing again against the headboard. His chest is delightfully flushed as he takes stuttering breaths with each stroke of your hand.

“You’re so pretty,” you praise him and watch as the flush creeps up his neck and blooms across his cheeks.

So fucking pretty.

Then you take him in your mouth.

His hips buck underneath you and he curses as he tries to still himself.

You pull out all the stops, giving him the slipperiest, deepest blow job you can.

You enjoy watching men come apart for you. It’s a shame so many of your scene partners are so used to it now, they don’t react the way Frankie does.

He fists his hands in the sheets. His mouth drops open. His chest rises and falls with ragged pants. The tendons in his neck strain as he tries to keep himself under control.

His cock is thick and heavy on your tongue. Just how you like it.

You take your time taking him apart.

He’s just so pretty.

At the first sign that his control is slipping, you slow down. Easing yourself off him and surveying the wrecked man in front of you with satisfaction.

You kiss your way up his tummy, nipping his soft flesh as you go. Your teeth marks look just as good as you hoped – little pink crescents on his golden skin. You continue up his chest and recapture his mouth for a hungry kiss.

You straddle his hips and line yourself up to sink down, when he grabs you and flips you over.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He pants into your mouth before kissing down your body, stroking your skin with his calloused fingers. He continues working his way down to your pussy making his intent clear. What a pleasant surprise.

You love oral sex and even sub-par oral, is still oral, right? You prop yourself up on your elbows and open your knees wide so you can watch as Frankie takes a long lick from your entrance to your clit.

You sigh in contentment. His mouth is warm, wet, and firm. So what if you don’t come, it still feels good.

You relax and let your head drop back as Frankie explores. He circles… sucks… nudges.

Ohhhh

Tightness coils in your belly and you look down at him with a gasp.

He’s good at this.

He’s looking up at you. Brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds. Then he winks.

He knows he’s good at this.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat, but are quickly pulled back under by the pleasure emanating from between your legs.

“Yes, Frankie. That feels so good,” you moan succumbing to the building pressure. You clench around nothing and are rewarded with a thick finger in your cunt.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine as he strokes in time with his tongue.

“You taste so good, sweetheart. You gonna come for me?” he rasps between licks. His scruff tickling your sensitive skin.

Who is this pussy-eating king who is better than some of the professionals you’ve worked with?

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the coil winding tighter in your belly. The fluttering of your pussy. The stars sparking at the edge of your vision.

And suddenly you’re coming. Pulsing against his tongue as he works you through it. Groaning his own pleasure into your center.

As the waves subside, Frankie reclaims your mouth, dragging his cock through your slick folds, blocking out your vision with his broad shoulders. You pull him down to you, running your fingers through his hair and down along his muscular back.

“How do you want me, baby?” you ask him between nips at his bottom lip. You tilt your hips up to him and savor the rough grind of his cock between your legs.

“I want you every way, sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck and your heart does a little pitter patter. Just post-orgasm glow, you tell yourself.

“I want this to be a night to remember for you, Frankie. How about the porn star special?”

He pulls back from nuzzling your neck, amusement lifting one side of his face into that charming grin. “What’s the porn star special?”

You give him a mischievous grin, “Just follow my lead.”

Over the course of the evening, you lead Frankie through your repertoire. The kinds of hyper flexible positions he’ll only ever see in porn. You giggle your way through some of the more ridiculous ones when Frankie furrows his brow and questions what exactly anyone is supposed to be getting out of this.

You slow down when Frankie grabs your hips and hisses that he’s too close. You kiss across his chest and shoulders and from his neck to his soft tummy as he regains his composure. You take breaks for water and lube, teasing and laughing while you catch your breath.

You come more than once along the way. Frankie finds your clit and gives you the extra friction you need to tip over the edge. He stays with you, locked eyes and panted breath, through each one. You don’t think too hard about why each time you come, it’s while staring into those soulful eyes.

In the end, you find yourself on his lap, grinding your hips into him as he sits with his back against the headboard and his face between your tits. He feels so good in your pussy, filling you up just right.

It’s syrupy and slow, both of you worn out and rocking into each other. Frankie’s panted moans hot against your chest.

“Can I finish in you?” he pleads, sweaty curls plastered across his forehead.

“You don’t want to see your cum all over me?”

“No, no, I need to feel you around me when I come, sweetheart, please,” he begs. “I need your perfect pussy.” As if you would deny him that.

You brush his hair away from his face and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course, Frankie. Fill me up.”

Frankie practically growls as he tips you backwards on to the bed. He positions himself above you, grasping your leg as he drives into you in long, firm strokes.

He pours every last ounce of his energy into you, finally allowing himself to chase the climax you’ve been edging him towards all evening. He presses his forehead to yours while he slams into you at a relentless pace. So close. So deep. Your climax hovers on the horizon once again.

“Come with me Frankie,” you whimper. He groans and stutters in response. You watch his face contort into pure bliss and it tips you over the edge with him.

Such a beautiful sight.

Maybe you need a copy of this video too.

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

Frankie waits on the sidewalk for his Uber, resting his back against the non-descript building and letting the memories of the evening replay in his mind.

After the scene, you had both cleaned up. The bed was a mess, but you had assured him that it was ok, it came with the business.

You were more wonderful than he ever could have imagined. So beautiful, sexy, and fun. You had been so kind and complimentary after. He didn’t know how to end the evening… to say goodbye. He stammered his thanks when you gave him a hug and a final kiss as you showed him where he could take a shower before he left for the night.

When he’d come out, you were already gone.

Just a memory now.

One he would revisit often.

Thank fuck he agreed to the video.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. The Uber is probably close by. He pulls it out absently, brain still hazy and sex-addled.

There’s a message from an unknown number:

I hope you don’t mind, I convinced Erin to give me your number. I had a great time tonight. Call me sometime ;-)

A slow smile spreads over his face. Maybe not just a memory after all.

- - - - - - - - -

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

#the sweepstakes #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal

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that-sweet-jester · 2 years

Text

Just a bunch of bad guys

A little background below ⬇⬇⬇

HA I TRICKED YOU, it's not little, it's a lot!

Alright, this was just supposed to be an attempt at character design of my own after I read bunch of Superhero AUs, but I got carried away and created some lore :')

-WILBUR-

Full Name: Both him and Techno had been adopted by Philza at young age and took up his last name, but wanted to keep something of their own. Hence, both have their nicknames "Soot" and "Blade" (not last names, they don't know what they were).

Alias: I wanted to base all names of the Syndicate on Greek mythology, however I had hard time finding something for Wilbur. I came close to calling him Apollo, but most of the things attributed to this god, aside being the patron of music, just didn't align with what I had in mind for him. Thus, ta da, "very original" Siren. Even tho, it's not really a name name - "lured sailors to their death with a bewitching song" just fits too well.

Powers: Hypnotic voice was an obvious choice, but I wanted all of them to have two main abilities. Thus, after long search I stumbled upon enhanced hearing, and hear me out. Wilbur wears mask over his eyes (he can see through it) but it gives the illusion that one of his senses is gone, and what they say when one sense is taken away? Another one amplifies >:D And I just think that someone whose powers are based on sound would be more sensitive to it. It's not like he has super hearing for miles away, he can just hear well what someone is whispering like few meters away form him :p

OK THAT'S IT. I think that's the most I've ever written on this site. To anyone who've read the whole thing: ily <333 thank for reading my rambling and sorry for any grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I was too lazy to do a spell check.

-TECHNO-

Full name: Explained before. I'm sorry, but I just can't separate those names from them, there is no Techno without Blade.

Alias: Now I spent a lot of time on this one, bc I just couldn't settle on anything. First I thought about Ares, for being the patron of blood lust and warfare, but just, it didn't work that much for me, I just think there should be more meaning behind the name. Then I searched more, I stumbled on Polemos and some other I can't remember and finally settled on Perses.

PERSES was the Titan god of destruction. He was the father of Hekate, goddess of witchcraft, by the Titanis Asteria ("Starry One"). Perses' name means "the Destroyer" or "the Ravager" from the Greek words pers�� and perthô. Hesiod inexplicably describes him as "preeminent among all men in wisdom"

And I just think this one's perfect. God of destruction? nice. "The Ravager"? Techno loved mc ravagers and I just can't pass this coincidence. "Preeminent among all men in wisdom"? Man's crazy smart, also as I'll explain more in a moment, Techno knows things he shouldn't really know, and he's almost always ahead of everyone, so, check. Also, my fav goddess aside form Persephone is Hecate so, additional point.

Powers: Enhanced durability is pretty explanatory. Mans could be thrown through a building and only his hair would get messy, maybe a bruise here and there and a lot of complaining, but that's it. You need someone equally powerful to bring him down. NOW, hyper awarness, man oh man, so I NEEDED to include the voices somehow. And I never saw them as something negative in his case. Of course, during combat, they start to demand bloodshed and make him sometimes loose control or result in sensory overload. BUT most of all, thanks to them he knows things - names of people or locations he never seen before, where the punch is coming at him from, answers to weird questions, who stole his food, and why is it always Wilbur, etc etc. So, yeah I thought that writing it down as hyper awarness, might work.

Additional info: His eyes are always red, but his sclera changes color to black when he's out on a mission or fighting, basically when the voices become louder the eyes become more intense in color. As civilian he wears red glasses most of the time to somehow mask the real color.

-PHILZA-

Full Name: You have no idea how much I wanted to write him down as Philza Mine Craft.

Alias: So, I also struggled to find a name for him. I was battling between Thanatos or simply calling him The Angel of Death. But then I was struck and everything became clear. I love fanfics where Phil was a hero before he saw how bad the system is and decides to become the "bad guy" who's actually kinda good, but does bad things sometimes. So, why not use it. In my version, before he became a villain, he was known as Angel, the Hero Committee wasn't as fully developed, so the heros still could stay anonymous, that's why even now they don't know his real identity. After he left he decided to take up new alias and therefore Thanatos was born. Person with black wings associated with Death, also now has a scythe??? Fits perfectly. And that's how people from calling him Angel started calling him The Angel of Death.

Powers: He has the ability to hide his wings and manifest them whenever he wants. I thought about making them just permanent, but I think it's just cooler when suddenly you see a character spring out a pair of big wings out of their back out of nowhere for the shock effect. (no i wasn't just too lazy to draw them, what are you talking about)

Avian telephaty - I also just couldn't not include the Chat. Wherever you see a cloud of crows you know the Angel of Death is nearby. He can communicate with any bird that is a raven, crow or rook. They're his eyes and ears.

Now, I can't leave without giving some credit to the writers that inspired me:

The Oath of Hippocrates by Melatonin_High

tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

Welcome Home Theseus by SoulfirePhoenix

All of them are on Ao3 and are super cool, so give them a read <3

Also, I'm planning on drawing Vigilante Benchtrio but we'll see how much that'll take me xd

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sodavampyr · 11 months

Text

A bunch of my friends are moving to that new Threads app n i really just don’t know why they’d want to

Yeah Twitter sucks REALLY bad and I’d love nothing more than to attack the guy in charge of it (for lots of reasons, none of them good)

But honestly looking into it, i don’t think Threads is really much better.

Threads has, at the moment, no way to sort your feed chronologically. It uses an algorithm based on things it thinks you’ll like, meaning it is more than likely not Artist Friendly

But worse than that, it’s literally a Meta program. You know, Facebook and instagram. The company that has been in fined for Privacy Violations… *checks notes* 6 TIMES!

If you’re on the App Store, you can view the information they collect in one big list. Granted, EVERY company and app you use is gonna have data collection. It’s how they operate. Even twitter collects a ton of your info

But Threads nabs a lot from you, and they nab a lot more than ‘m willing to give to a company that has been fined, remind you, Six Fucking Times for Privacy Violations.

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nolita-fairytale · 8 months

Text

don't you worry, there's still time | chef luca x fem!reader, feat. marcus brooks

summary: after losing his mother, marcus searches for joy and stillness in copenhagen. you and luca, who are more than happy to host, decide to take a big next step in your relationship. a oneshot from the world of 'burn your life down.'

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, light smut, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 5.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: wow, i missed this world! who is ready for the reveal of chef's restaurant name?! while i don't think i have the bandwidth to write another full series (nor a linear story to tell) i'm thinking of creating a second part to 'burn your life down' where we just get to drop in and see what they're up to. thoughts??

chef luca masterlist | full masterlist

After a tumultuous holiday season, it doesn’t take long for Sydney to realize that her friend is in need of a little help. A reprieve, she so kindly explained to both Marcus and Carmy when she’d proposed the idea.

It was Sydney this time, who called Luca, knowing that she and Carmy would have to find something to do with Marcus. It wasn’t fair – that he’d lost his mom just before Thanksgiving – and they both agreed that Marcus needed to get out of dodge. Quick to act, Carmy set up a few stages in NYC for a week or so, which, while seemed to inspire Marcus, seemed to only plunge him further into a slump come Christmas. “I don’t know. I think we gotta send him on some kinda… eat, pray, love trip. The guy can only sulk on my couch for so long before I consider jumping out of the window,” Sydney says, her attempt to lighten the mood with humor still genuine. “It’s getting sad, Carm. Like… real fuckin’ sad.”

“You’re right. Uh… what about Copenhagen?” Carmy pitches with a shrug, because he knows what all consuming grief feels like.

“Again?” she asks, uncertain of whether it’s the best choice that they could make.

“Yeah,” Carmy shrugs in response. “Think he got a lot of it last time. Could be good for him to go back to somewhere familiar… work with Luca again. You don’t think it’s a-?”

“No I do! I just-,” Sydney hesitates, though she knows her business partner makes a good point. “Familiarity will be good for him. To be around people he can trust.”

“You want me to uh-,” Carmy begins to offer, figuring he’ll make the call.

“Probably best if I explain the situation. Just ‘cause, you know, I know more of what’s going on… just send me his info and I’ll call later,” Sydney interjects.

Carmy agrees with a curt nod before adding in:

“Uh… okay yeah. Yeah.”

You get plenty of time to prepare for Marcus’ visit, performing all kinds of fancy footwork to arrange a proper visit – a week’s worth of time spent staging and living in Copenhagen. When Luca finds out that the prolific houseboat, a chef retreat of sorts that’s always been an option for lodging, is booked for the week and a half that Marcus plans on visiting, you offer up your place without hesitation.

The arrangement goes as follows: while Marcus stays at yours at no cost, you’ll stay with Luca for the duration of the time.

This is how you find yourself at the massive Ikea on Dybbølsbro on a Saturday morning with Luca, in search of a set of fresh bed linens intended for guests.

“I really should host more. And Astrid said she and Lina were planning a trip out here so… why not kill two birds with one stone?” you’d reasoned to your boyfriend, making a strong case for why you and Luca should make this little shopping trip.

“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you run your hand over a set of the display sheets, checking for softness.

“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors.

Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:

“No, I meant for me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new bedding.”

And expensive ones too.

But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily fall along the shelf.

“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile.

You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip.

“I want you to feel at home… at my place."

“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him.

“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be. You know… if you want it to be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes.

“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat.

“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”

“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store.

“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?”

“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”

Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.

Connection

When Marcus arrives in Copenhagen, you’ve arranged your home with the most comfort in mind, having already packed a week’s worth of things and left for Luca’s. You can only imagine what he must be going through, deciding that something like that – losing your mother – though inevitable, is your goddamn worst nightmare.

“Marcus,

Enjoy your stay and please reach out if you need anything. I can’t wait to meet you!”

…is the note that you leave him, along with a few morning pastries you picked up from your favorite baggeri across the street, and your number scribbled down at the bottom of the notepad.

As Marcus arrives, his eyes drawn immediately to your note and gift, Marcus smiles to himself, noticing that you left a very nice looking bottle of wine on the counter as well. He’s moved by your generosity, considering you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to take so much care, extend this much kindness to a stranger, causes a wave of softness to wash over him.

Maybe, just maybe, he can find softness again – the last few months riddled with pain, grief, and numbness to get through the days.

While he came here to work, encouraged by his friends that a change of scenery may do his broken heart some good, it’s the first time Marcus has had a chance to be still. His feelings of grief sit heavier here and it catches him off guard, uncertain that he’s quite ready to sit with them yet. He pushes aside the thought, focusing on exploring your home and unpacking his bags. Marcus knows how to stay busy – he’s become an expert at it by now – reminding himself that he’s got work at 5 am sharp tomorrow.

“A little too much, chef. Take it down by about 15 grams,” Luca directs, his voice even and sure as he inspects the balls of dough that Marcus currently shapes.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus nods in understanding, plopping the ball of dough back on the scale to adjust the measurement.

The two of them work like this for the rest of the morning, Luca treading carefully while keeping things professional, while Marcus buries himself in the work – something that feels good, safe, right.

He’s missed this. While Marcus has one chef he works with directly at the restaurant, he’s the expert – the head patissier. He misses being surrounded by excellence, getting to be a student of someone who is just as driven, if not more, and inspired. It’s good, quiet, calm, yet there’s a focus and intensity in Luca’s kitchen that feels like a breath of fresh air.

His stage trip to New York has been more of a mess than beneficial. Maybe it had been the chaos of the city, or the chaos of the chefs he was working with. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus, though hungry for a distraction, hadn’t quite been ready to walk directly into the line of fire yet.

As Marcus’ practiced hands move with the dough, there’s a newfound confidence in the way that he works that's not lost on Luca. Luca watches his friend carefully, pride swelling in his chest as his mentee makes the adjustment with ease and diligence.

“Can I join you?” Luca asks, gesturing towards Marcus' workstation.

“‘Course, chef,” Marcus replies, his response short yet reverent.

As Luca joins him, finding a space to the right of Marcus, he busies his hands with rolling each perfectly measured ball of dough into mini boules, ready to proof. The two of them work quietly, side by side, the air between them heavy with words unsaid. He can feel it – the weight that lays so heavily on Marcus' heart – but Luca doesn’t want to bring it up, uninterested in forcing the conversation. Especially about something so painful, something he knows that Marcus has barely begun working through.

“Thanks, again. For uh… you know… letting me come work,” Marcus begins, momentarily checking in with Luca to gauge a reaction.

“‘Course,” Luca replies, his answer instantaneous. “You’re welcome here any time, mate.”

“Yeah?” Marcus asks, stealing a glance in Luca’s direction.

“Yeah,” Luca responds with a certain nod.

“And uh… shit. I can’t thank your girlfriend enough for letting me crash at her place,” Marcus adds, as he works through his discomfort and overwhelm from the wave of feelings that begin to bubble up in his chest.

“You can thank her yourself on Saturday,” Luca brings up, excited over the fact that Marcus will not only be meeting his girlfriend, but staging at her restaurant too. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

Marcus nods slowly, his hands the only steady thing about him as he continues to focus on his work.

“I just mean-, well, she didn’t have to-. ‘S not like either of you owed it to me or anything and I-. You guys just really came through…” Marcus trails off, wanting to make his gratitude clear. It means more to him that he can articulate so instead he settles for, “So thank you. Again.”

Luca shrugs with an aplomb about him as he returns with, “We got you, mate.” He pauses before continuing, fully aware that Marcus isn’t quite comfortable with the feelings that have presented themself in this moment. “And the way I see it, I wouldn’t have met her if it weren’t for you – for our conversation the last time you were here – so we really do owe you for it.”

This time Luca makes an effort to check in with Marcus, gauging his emotional capacity as he concludes with:

“But that’s not what any of this is about: debts, who owes who what. We were both more than happy to host you. That’s what mates are for.”

It’s not till the end of the next shift that it hits him, and Marcus finds himself sitting outside of the restaurant on a bench across the street. He’s not sure whether it’s the jet lag or the exhaustion of the 5 am start time in another time zone, but it hits him all at once, like a ton of bricks. Suddenly consumed with the feelings that he’s been trying his best to avoid, all he can do is pause, completely caught off guard by the strength of them.

Quietly, Luca joins him, having spotted him on his way home, rerouting himself in Marcus’ direction instead.

All he can think of are the words you’ve asked him, and he you, time and time again – the ones that cut right to the core of you each and every time – that show you how much he cares.

“How’s your heart?” Luca asks Marcus, after a few minutes of sitting on the bench together in silence.

And how is his heart?

He’s not sure how to answer, considering it’s been a while since he’s really had a chance to check in, the crippling reality of this great loss is too much to bear alone.

His heart is broken, shattered into an infinite amount of pieces.

He, and his heart will never be the same again and he doesn’t know where or how he’ll ever put it back together.

His heart is… lost, in desperate need of finding a soft place to land.

Marcus takes a while to answer, racking his brain for any semblance of a cohesive answer.

He waits. And then he waits.

Until finally, he can answer.

“I uh… don’t know. But I’m hoping this trip will help me figure that out.”

Creativity

“do you remember the 21st night of september? love was changin' the minds of pretenders while chasin' the clouds away.” (earth, wind, and fire.)

Everything about the way you run your kitchen feels different than what he’s used to.

It’s sure as hell different from his last stage trip to New York, Marcus thinks to himself.

With Carmy and Syd, working with them, there’s a buzz of chaos that runs underneath even the most organized and efficient service. It’s something integral to what they have, gives an edge to The Bear that seems to make it hum in all the right ways. Even with Luca, who comes from fine dining and Michelin-starred restaurants, there’s a quiet and determined focus – an intensity to his work – even without the undercurrent of chaos.

But this. But you.

Your kitchen somehow teeters the line of organized chaos and reckless play so well that Marcus understands why this works – why it’s efficient.

Still, he watches as you and your staff dance – no, literally dance – around each other to the highly recognizable Earth, Wind, and Fire tune. Mathilde sings along while chopping chives for the brothy mushroom grain bowl, while, mid-phrase, manages to yell out a short command to a line cook in Danish. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus catches Jesper working the dining room, while you finish plating two more dishes, ready to be walked out.

It’s as if you find focus in the center of all the noise, somewhere between the electric energy between you, Mathilde, and your staff, and the feel-good vibes and homeyness of the restaurant that you’ve created.

You had been more than welcoming when Marcus had walked through the doors of your restaurant, Kokuore, mere hours ago. You’d given him the tour, shown him which station he’d be working this evening, then warmly introduced him to your entire team before family meal started. Marcus can’t stop moving, too afraid to be still in fear of falling apart in the presence of how comforting you’ve been.

And this? Your kitchen. It’s all joy, connection, and artistry.

It’s not hard for him to see why Luca fell in love with you.

“Marcus, feel free to take a break,” he hears you say, as you nod towards the dining room through the open kitchen.

As Marcus follows your gesture, he notices that Luca’s arrived, remembering something about a standing Saturday date.

“You sure, chef?” Marcus asks, looking to you for approval.

“Positive,” you nod, reassuringly.

Marcus nods in return to confirm, before taking his apron off and making his way over to the dining room where Luca is exchanging a few words with Jesper.

“Wassup, chef,” he greets his mentor.

“You know, you can call me Luca,” Luca reminds him with a crooked smile. “At least when we’re off the clock.”

Marcus chuckles, “Uh… yeah alright. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Luca chuckles in return, before Jesper shows them to his table, mentioning something about Americans being so afraid of fluidity.

“She’s brilliant isn’t she?” Luca asks, in reference to you as his eyes catch yours from across the room.

“Nah for real. Like… mad scientist vibes,” Marcus concurs with a smile. “She can throw down for sure.” He pauses as they sit down at Luca’s table. “So you come every Saturday night, huh?”

“When I can, yeah, which is… most Saturdays,” Luca replies honestly, before beginning to list why he’s kept up this routine. “But it’s nice. Keeps me inspired. I get to see my girl, walk her home at night which makes me feel better.” Luca leans back in his chair this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I never mind helping close down at the end of the night.”

Marcus hums in response before one of the waitstaff comes to their table, with a glass of wine in hand, on the house. They chat for a little longer before Marcus returns to the kitchen, his excitement for what you’re doing here filling him to the brim.

As dinner service comes to an end, Marcus can’t help but notice the chemistry and how unique it is as you all work together in perfect harmony. There’s a warmth to it, something different, and he begins to understand why the name of the restaurant comes from the word, heart.

Luca is quick to get up from his table, quickly finishing his glass of wine as he offers to help close down. The music volume goes from underscoring the buzz of a busy night of service, to the main attraction, as a motown throwbacks playlist begins to blare from the speakers. You all work quickly and efficiently, eager to close down, get home, and begin your weekends, but it’s when an old Otis Redding track that Luca decides to put a pause on the progress.

“Dance with me, my love,” he says, offering his hand out to you as a huge gesture that earns a few looks and giggles from some of your staff.

“Luca,” you begin to protest, looking around.

“You can take three minutes,” he offers, exchanging a look with you this time.

You nod, taking his hand as you agree with, “Okay.”

And as Luca wraps you up in his arms, engaging you in a slow dance to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong my Love is,” you chuckle, relaxing into him.

“Oh, get a room, you two!” Jesper calls out after you, teasingly.

“She pretends – always puts up a fight – as if they don’t do this every single week,” Mathilde adds, as an explanation to Marcus.

“Every week?” Marcus asks, a little surprised by both you and Luca’s willingness to pause and revel in a moment with each other, instead of just pushing through.

“Yeah. Romantics, they are,” Jesper chimes in.

Marcus smiles to himself. It’s a reminder of slowness – something he hasn’t let himself experience in a long time – and for just a moment, he lets himself settle into the feeling.

You don’t even mind that you woke up an hour before your alarm the moment you feel Luca’s arms wrapped around you, and his lips against your soft skin. The low rumble of his voice resonates across your shoulders, sending chills down your spine as you arch into his hands, his arms wrapped around you.

“I know we’re only a few days in… of our little trial,” Luca begins, the bass of his voice reverberating through your shoulder blade.

“Our living together trial?” you clarify with your ask, letting out a gasp as he nibbles on your shoulder gently.

“Yeah. Just wonderin’ where your mind’s at,” Luca murmurs, his eager hands beginning to explore underneath the oversized shirt you put on before bed last night.

“Well… I really like this,” you reply, the sound that comes out of your mouth somewhere between a giggle and a moan.

“Hmmmm?” Luca sounds, innocently.

“This… Waking up to you thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Luca’s name escapes your lips as his fingers gently begin to play with your nipples, his erection hard against your back as you begin to grind your hips back against.

“And the access to round the clock sex is really a bonus,” you sigh, blissfully.

“Oh yeah?” he asks you again, a large tatted hand slipping between your legs.

“Yeah… I’d even be… interested in leaning into that part… right now,” you hiss in reply to his touch. “Considering you’re distracting me with sex.”

“Hmmmmm. ‘S not just it, love. Have I told you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for Marcus?” Luca asks, his mouth back on your neck. He presses your body against him, your back to his chest as he rocks his hips against yours.

“Luca!” you protest, unable to focus on the conversation.

“It’s your kindness. Your heart… I’m in awe of it,” he continues to praise you as the two of you begin to set a rhythm between your bodies.

It’s all heat, and soft sighs of pleasure, and foreplay.

“Well, I know a little something about what he’s going through,” you answer breathlessly. You begin to impatiently push the hem of your shirt higher so that you can give Luca more access to your body.

“That’s why I love you,” Luca murmurs into your skin, his hands all over you, his focus unbroken and your mind beginning to go blank. His hands are tearing your shirt over your head as he continues to praise you. “Your heart, the way you share it.”

“You helped me get there, baby,” you gasp, turning your head so that you can kiss your boyfriend.

Instead of answering, Luca nods knowingly, before crashing his lips into yours. His mouth on yours feels like heaven, and you can’t believe that you ever fought your feelings for him.

“Ah fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together,” you surrender to him, lost in the moment.

“Yeah?” Luca pauses, pulling away, as if almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah. I mean it, baby,” you nod, catching his gaze, certain in the way you answer. “I wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Me too, my love,” Luca grins, before pressing his lips to yours again. “Now will you please let me fuck you, darling?”

“Fuck yes.”

Luca spends the next hour showing you just how grateful he is for you, while you in return, spend the next hour showing him just how sure you are about this decision.

And you are sure. If mornings like this are a constant for the rest of your life, you think you’ll die a happy woman.

You’ve found a home in him, and he, you. He’s the person you want to come home to at the end of the day. He’s the man that puts a smile on your face every single time he gets on his soapbox about how Beyonce is the performer of your lifetimes, and he is unequivocally the best, most unexpected thing in your life.

Luca Davies, in almost a year of knowing him, and eight months of getting to love him, has somehow become your favorite person.

By the time you and Luca are both showered and decent-for-company, you’ve begun your mise en place for brunch, completely content with the fact that you’re running a little behind schedule (and in all fairness, the sex was worth it – it’s always worth it). The smell of bacon sizzling away on your carbon steel fry pan fills the entire apartment, and you’re glad that Luca opened a window earlier. It’s not exactly window weather yet, but the air ventilation is a must when it comes to smoked meats.

While you play catch up with your brunch plan, Luca’s busy welcoming Marcus in, pouring him a cup of coffee using the extensive ten-step pour over he’s been fixated on ever since he purchased it, while they chat here and there about what else he’s explored in Denmark.

“Been too busy working, to be honest but… I don’t know. I might wander around today… see what kind of stuff I can get into,” Marcus answers frankly with a shrug.

“Ah, mate. We just had a walk at the Frederiksberg Gardens. Definitely something I’d recommend checking out,” Luca suggests, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he mentions it.

Luca continues moving through his list of recommendations, Marcus chiming in with places and things he did the last time he was here, excited to spend a few days exploring the city instead of just working.

“Wanderin’ around. I dunno. There’s something about it. ‘S good for the spirit, you know?” Luca concludes.

“Yeah,” Marcus nods in agreement, before turning his attention over to the French toast you’re working on. “Okay, I see you. What is that? Mascarpone?”

“Yeah, good eye. It’s just something new I’m working on: a mascarpone stuffed french toast. We’re actually talking about extending our hours… maybe doing weekend brunch,” you answer thoroughly, as you dip the stuffed pieces of bread into their egg batter, pre-cook.

“For real? That’s sick,” Marcus compliments, watching you carefully. “I mean… shit. You could have a whole brunch spot.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your cutting board.

“A Brunch spot,” Marcus repeats, simply, the excitement in his eyes at the new idea, evident. “Yeah, you know. Luca could do the morning pastries. You work your magic on the rest of the menu.”

“That’s a novel idea! What do you think, my love?” Luca asks, intrigue in his voice as he searches your face for a reaction.

“I-,” you begin, looking from Luca to Marcus, then back to Luca again. “I… never thought about it like that.” You take a beat, eyeing Luca carefully. “We’ve never talked about going into business together.”

Marcus shrugs, before picking up his coffee mug, “Yo, it’s just a thought. I think you two would be unstoppable together.”

“Unstoppable, eh?” Luca asks, his eyes locked with yours.

You only hum in response, raising a quirked eyebrow in Luca’s direction before adding:

“It’s certainly one hell of an idea, Marcus.”

Kokuore

Monday afternoon, you find yourself at your restaurant with Marcus Brooks, on a day off.

“I might need a little extra help with something tomorrow. We’re closed tomorrow, but I want to get ahead on this special I’m working on. Could use the help of a pastry chef. What do you say?” you’d proposed to him, over one more espresso before he left.

To Luca’s dismay, (“ you silly Americans just can’t enjoy a day of doing nothing,” he’d teased the two of you) Marcus had given you an unwavering yes, reassuring you that he was down to learn everything he possibly could from you, especially while he was here.

And it’s true. You do need the help. But should he want someone to talk to – someone who gets it, even just a little bit – you want to offer him the space and the opportunity to do so.

“As a patissier, do you get tasked with pasta? At The Bear?” you ask Marcus, as you pleat a dumpling in hand with a speed that only comes with practice.

“Nah,” Marcus sounds, his focus on the dumpling he’s pleating too. His concentration on getting the pleats right is reverent and unbroken, even as he answers your question. “Our head chef, Carmy, he uh… he comes from an Italian American family so when we’ve done a stuffed pasta… he usually takes the lead on that.”

You nod in understanding, placing the dumpling you’ve just finished down on the full-sized sheet pan. The two of you sit across from each other, having pushed a few dining tables together as a makeshift workstation.

“Think Luca’ll take over this kinda stuff when you guys open a restaurant together?” Marcus asks, lightheartedly pushing his agenda from yesterday.

You laugh in response, your hands working quickly on yet another dumpling.

“For someone with no skin in the game, you’re really insistent on this idea,” you tease him in return.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Marcus pushes right back, his tone still light.

“I…” you sigh, trailing off as you pause your work for a moment. “You know, we just said we’d move in together. That and a restaurant? Feels fast.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Like… a few hours before you came over for brunch,” you elaborate, earning a whistle from Marcus. The two of you exchange a look, and a laugh, as you pick up another dumpling wrapper that you and Marcus rolled out together earlier.

“It’s a good idea though,” you add, stealing a glance his way so that he knows that you’re serious.

“Well, when you two inevitably do open a restaurant… I want ten percent,” Marcus jokes, earning another laugh from you.

“Deal,” you agree with him.

You and Marcus work like this, exchanging a few words, the conversation light, underscored by a softer acoustic soundtrack from one of your Spotify radio stations.

“So how’d you learn to cook like this?” Marcus asks you curiously.

“Uh…” you hesitate, treading carefully as you realize this conversation could open a can of worms.

“I don’t know how much Luca’s told you about me… but I was married… before him,” you begin, cautiously. “And… well, I learned a lot of this… a lot of traditional Japanese cooking from my mother-in-law.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These are her dumplings actually – her recipe. She passed away last Fall and… well, it was important to me to celebrate her – to celebrate her life – by creating a few dishes for her,” you continue, and it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. “We’re bringing this one back as a special this month but um… yeah. I’m… still very much grieving and… it helps me remember her. Cooking her food helps me feel close to her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Marcus sighs, his heart heavy as he exhales.

He waits a beat.

And then another, having paused his work as he watches you pleat, head down, with expert hands.

The silence between you and Marcus is full, heavy, connected by shared experience. You wait for Marcus to say something, and when he doesn’t, you decide to continue.

“This restaurant… has so much of my heart in it: it’s got my love for Italian food from growing up in my best friend’s family’s restaurant, and it’s got my love for her – for Aiko – and everything she taught me,” you begin to explain. “And lately… it’s got a fresh perspective… inspired by the love I have with Luca, I think. Well, I know. Inspired by him… how this place brought us together.”

“The name itself is… totally made up, but means a lot to me. The Japanese word for heart is, kokoro, and the Italian word for heart is, cuore. Somehow an homage to my past… and was… Prophetic in so many ways too.”

As Marcus listens, Luca’s previous question lingers in his head:

How’s your heart?

At the time he didn’t know how to answer, and after five days in Copenhagen – after five days of doing what he loves in a place that he loves – his heart is somehow so full, yet so broken all at once. He’s filled with deep sorrow and with the spark of creativity all at the same time, and he’s just not sure how to hold all of this feeling inside of him.

Marcus waits a beat, opens his mouth, then lets the words fall out.

“It’s evident. In your food,” is all he manages to say. “It’s got soul. It’s got heart. I-, it’s inspiring. That’s for sure.”

“I made a dish. For Michael,” Marcus adds, his eyes on the dumpling he works on, but the guard on his heart beginning to fall away. “He was uh… well, he was the old owner of the restaurant, called The Beef back then. Carmy took over after he died. Felt right to honor him and his life, you know? When we reopened as The Bear.”

“Food is… it’s our art, you know?” you agree. “Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to express myself and… sometimes it’s just the thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“Maybe one day I can make one for my mom,” Marcus says, his voice stuck in his throat as he admits, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I think… I think I’d like to eventually.”

“Of course,” you reassure him gently. “You don’t have to be ready now. You don’t have to be ready ever. But when you are, your art will always be there.”

“Thanks,” Marcus nods solemnly.

You get up this time, realizing the sheet pan is full, and ready to be placed on the baker’s rack. As you return to the table with a new empty sheet pan, lined with parchment paper, Marcus finally asks you, his eyes soft, the heartbreak in them present.

“How’d you get through? You know. Losing her? Your mother-in-law?”

You return to your chair with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll let you know when I do,” you answer, letting up a soft chuckle. “It helps to have good people and… from what Luca’s told me, you do. But… I had to let ‘em in, let ‘em help me. Let ‘em love me. And in all honesty, most days I’m still just… taking it day by day.”

“Yeah, I-. I do. I got some really good people. Back home,” Marcus drags out slowly.

“Then that’s all that matters. Your people and your heart. The rest… you just-,” you start.

“Take day by day?” Marcus interjects, pausing to catch your eyes.

You and Marcus exchange a knowing look, the recognition of each others’ pain is met with empathy.

“Yeah. I think that's all we can do.”

By the end of your work session with Marcus, you’re ready to head home so that you can spend the rest of the day with Luca.

“What’re you gonna do with the rest of your day?” you ask Marcus, curiously.

With a sigh, and then a shrug, and a heart that feels just a little lighter, he answers with:

“Think I might wander around a bit. Someone once told me it’s good for the spirit.”

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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h-didanart · 17 days

Text

I MADE IT

CHARACTER REF SHEETS

FINALLY I CAN SHARE THESE GUYS PROPERLY

*ahem* Hello fellow fans and au makers! I am here to showcase my silly little au. Allow me to introduce you to our main characters:

These are Sunset and Moonlight, from The Sunset and Moonlight show! Close ups and info dump below

Where to start where to start, okay, a general description of the AU should be good to start with yeah? Yeah

This is a swap au, but unlike what I usually see swap AUs do, this is less of a full personality swap and more of a ‘bend the characters to a point where they change roles’ thing.

NOW. THE CHARACTERS THEMSELVES—

Sunset Rays Celestial-

Sun is a tired and apathetic guy. He would like to be left all alone in his room for the rest of his days, but that’s not really a good thing so he’s fine just living a calm and drama-free life.

His hobbies include cleaning, painting, sewing, and gaming. The cleaning has gotten embedded into his code to a concerning degree, he will clean a spot over and over for hours if he’s having a bad day. He got into art while he was undergoing “repairs”, he found painting to be a fun activity despite its messiness, and sewing has proven to be fruitful for his wardrobe. He’s gotten so good at these that he actually gets commissions and is paid very well. He prefers to draw with pastels and markers when he can. The video games are a shared hobby with his twin brother, Moon, they both play together sometimes. His favorite game is Cult of the Lamb.

He has a malfunction of sorts where his voice box will give out randomly and he’ll be unable to talk. It’s annoying but he doesn’t really mind, he has gotten really good at sign language from it. Plus, he uses it as an excuse to avoid talking to Moon whenever he gets the chance to.

The Computer absolutely hates his guts and has sent him off to various different dimensions. He’s acquainted with quite a few people and even has friends.

He has very good aim, both in video games and physically. He usually uses it to throw something at Moon to get his attention. Or to get him to leave him alone. Or to annoy him. Or just because. This has proved to be a really bad habit.

Despite being generally apathetic, he’s actually pretty good with emotions, being able to read them well on others and act accordingly.

He also knows magic.

Crescent Moonlight Celestial-

Moon is an energetic and nervous guy. He wants nothing more than to live happily with his brother. And do science, he’s a nerd.

His hobbies include science and gaming. On the side of science he specializes on robotics, programming, and inter dimensional studies, with some advanced physics as well. He’s a genius, basically. Gaming is a shared hobby between him and his twin brother, they both play together sometimes. He seems to have taken a liking to the Kingdom Hearts series, but Pokémon will forever have his heart.

The killing code is very much still in him, it manifests as heat on the back of his head and irritability. During a full kill code episode he’ll be extremely aggressive, on top of having increased physical capabilities and virtually no filter. He dreads having those and constantly checks his temperature. Independent from the kill code he has a bad temper.

He isn’t exactly a ‘people’s person’ yet due to having been the active Daycare Attendant for a few months he has grown acquainted with a few of the Pizzaplex animatronics. Montgomery took a liking to him. Because money.

Because of reasons he has a lot of bunkers on a lot of different parts of the world. He remembers them all thanks to the collection of tree branches he has picked up when he visited. These are jokingly called The Whacking Sticks (and is a genuine joke, he just likes collecting sticks)

He wanted to learn emotions better so he decided to find the code that controls emotions in himself and turned it on all the way. He’s starting to realize this wasn’t a good idea.

A master acrobat, he loves flying with the wire.

In case it wasn’t clear yet, Sun and Moon switch places in this au. Things may change, and I may come up with funny details later, but I hope you had fun reading this little introduction to my au

More stuff about them to come at some point!

#sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #sams au #sams swap au #swap au #The Sunset and Moonlight Show #sams sun #sams moon #character reference #things may change but this is the general stuff #Go read the fic (please)#(The first chapter is kinda bad but it’s a cool au I swear—)#Sunset’s an asshole by the way I hope I made that clear #Tune in next time #for more character reference sheets #Hopefully Clipsy and Lunar Eclipse’s #Or maybe one of the Bloodmoons idk

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

asking them for space.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff, angst ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: so because I'm rusty af writing here's some headcanons and crack to ease into things. In my free time, I've been sitting down and writing original cosmic horror/despair/no hope story so you can imagine what mood shift it is to go from that to feel good crack about these guys lmaooo

━ note: reader asks for space for personal reasons not because of an argument. This was requested by someone and I hope you don't mind it turned out this way

NAMJOON:

...

right

cool

space

no doubt, no doubt, no doubt

"This is not personal, Namjoon," he tells himself. "It's just a thing one needs to do."

but it sort of feels personal

and that feeling gnaws and festers like an infection, filling the cracks of his day to the brim

so he seeks out the medicine

maybe a bit pettily, perhaps a lot combative

but as he sits down in the studio, during those fleeting, rushing moments of silence and inaction, his fingers hover over the contact info and without much thinking he's speaking into the phone; pleasantly, gleefully surprised you answered this quick

it's all casual, oh, so casual, however, the coursing insecurity manages to break through the veil of distant politeness and he asks in that accusing, grumbling tone

"When are you coming home?"

and, yeah, he kind of hates himself for it but it needs to be said

it needs to be released from the confines of his tremoring inside

whatever answer you give, he accepts gracefully

how can he not

he needs to be a perfectly reasonable understanding boyfriend

because what if you decide to leave him if he's not

...there's that insecurity again...

but either way, he is actually understanding, he's just a bit scared...

what if...what if...what if upon and more if's

it's carving a you sized hole in his heart every time he comes to the stillness and quiet of his home, bed empty, couch - emtpy

all of it - empty

for the lack of the better word it makes him empty

but once the space is over, he welcomes you back with wide open arms

asks you 1000 questions per second and then stares adoringly as you update him on what happened since you met last and what has your thought process been

lol definitely pesters you sweetly to answer what was going through your mind during that "space" period

it's the ever present dichotomy of his to be simultaneously petty and kind about the same thing

so yes he's a bit defensive, bit offended but he still loves you and love equals respect

YOONGI:

there's a long, stretching moment of a pregnant pause and then a single question:

"Would you mind telling the reason?"

if you say it or even if you don't, it doesn't really matter

he gives a short nod, a comforting smile and says that he understands but makes you promise you don't try to move mountains all by yourself

he's okay, if he knows you're okay then you're both okay

he does keep himself busy

fills up his schedule so there's no moment to dwell on anything...untoward

he makes sure you're okay thrice a week by either actively checking your socials or sending a quick, straightforward message

if you call, he picks up in an instant

doesn't pressure you in the slightest

our gentle prince :(

he trusts you implicitly so if you say you're fine and you got this covered, all you need is to think on your lonesome, he's not the type to discern hidden meanings in the undercurrents of your tone

he just accepts what you say at face value

at times, he misses you bit more

but Yoongi is perfectly capable of handling himself

and if he happens to call and then proceed to ask nonsensical, off the topic questions just to stretch the conversation a bit longer then that's none of anyone's business >:(

once the space is over he welcomes you back with a good home cooked meal and a ready ear should you need one

he won't ever hold this against you, won't ever even pry if you're uncomfortable by it

all around he's a safe space that has no selfish desires or inhibitions to be the only space you heal in :')

JIN:

lmaoo but it's literally him

while twiddling with his thumbs, Jin asks, voice small : "is it something that I did?"

he's so wholly convinced he's at fault lmao

so you may need to dedicate an hour (or three) to convince him this is not breaking up, he's not at fault and no one has done anything wrong, it's just a thing that you feel the need to happen

you have to find briefly a different place to stay at 'cause if you're anywhere near his periphery there's no way he won't bother you

like he's not physically capable

I just have a theory that he doesn't like for arguments or any kind of conflicts to drag out so he faces them head on, occasionally cracking a joke in between to lighten up the mood

(and now I'm sad thinking about Jin)

so, yes, it sort of goes against everything he believes is logical

but he's our golden manner superstar :( so, of course, he'll do as you ask

keeps in touch though

if you don't want to talk to him at all, then negotiates that must at least send him a thumbs up every two days

if you're with your parents will swallow the risign terror and call them to know how you're doing hehe

goes out drinking with his friends more because the silence of the apartment is just too damn overwhelming

and, yes, this might just be Hoseok who now gets pestered with 103% increase to go out drinking lmao

as more time passes he begins developing this...habit

"They've got this in a purple."

"______________ likes purple."

"The notepad is in that room."

"_______________ used to like that room."

Namjoon glares at him

"Yeah, maybe because it's both of your bedroom, genius"

With glazed eyes, Jin recounts to himself as though still half suspended in a dream

"Sometimes I still hear their voice."

"Their not fucking dead, Jin" T-T

some people have definitely shit themselves when they see you again because the way Jin speaks made them think he's a young widower T-T

tries to act so cool once you come back home T-T

deadass tries to seduce you again

unsuccessfully of course because either he manages to slip, burn his finger or drop the food he made onto the floor

perhaps he does all three

either way God decides to embarass him in a very personal way

then pouts

needs a lot of affirmation afterwards so he knows both of you are okay

HOSEOK:

(why does he need to go to the military he's been serving for years (¬_¬)

has a very firm, insightful conversation about why you need space

not because he's disapproving of it, or he's personally upset, no, it more so stems from the need to know you're okay and whether or not someone has done some evil upon you

once you're both on equal footing what this "space" entails and why there is a need for it, he lets you have all the space you want with no grudges or resentments

open communication is important for him so he merely makes sure you're both perfectly clear with each other before the brief parting

keeps himself busy but still thinks about you a lot

doesn't call or text that often if he knows where you're at and that you're okay

whenever he misses you, buys a gift for you or anything that makes him think of you

amasses a lot of trinkets

probably makes you some kind of jewelry in the meantime

he trusts you so he doesn't question your thought process but he's still human and needs someone to talk to

I feel like he'd go to Namjoon for advice and perhaps just to relieve the tension rising in the background of his mind

definitely makes sure that the things back at home are in prime condition

like say you've got a winter coat that you never gave a proper wash and left hanging on the coat rack

one day he's walking past it and he thinks: "this needs some cleaning"

and then does the laundry :(

if you update your socials, he likes all of the posts

sometimes pulls out his phone and stares at a picture of two of you

that's when he misses you the most :(

he doesn't say any of this in great detail once you return, always feeling the need to be The Caregiver not the one being cared for

he just says he missed you a lot and kisses the top of your head :'(

gives you all the bought presents over a period of time with an excuse "just because"

(they can't just take Hobi away like that I swear)

JIMIN:

yeah, so...it's not ideal

Jimin's not great with...space

he doesn't like it when people bottle their feelings up, he doesn't like it when they cry alone when they lose all hope and hide themselves away

so when you say that you want space

his mind just leaps and bounds to conclusions

he's making this whole ass conspiracy board in his head, thinking that something awful happened to you, that he'd done something so wrong that now you hate him forever

so one needs to go on a long and detailed explanation with him

still being a caring partner he does as you ask, he gives you space, essentially putting your needs above his

though he might ask you to stay home

so at least he knows you're safe and sound

I feel like if his partner would be gone his anxiety would rocket to insurmountable heights

though it's not like seeing you withdrawn and quiet doesn't unnerve him in a way

probably still tries to initiate a conversation quite frequently whether in person or over text

just small domestic things

"do you want some of this pizza?" "you're going to shower?" "is that jacket...new?"

just craves interaction, it's jut a bit unnatural for him to not hug you or talk to you for hours to end considering that you're not in a fight and he's not mad at you

it's just odd to him that...this is what you want

but as much as he struggles he tries just as hard to be respectful of your wishes

offending or making you mad at him will simply not happen

he will fight anyone who dares to make you unhappy and that does absolutely include himself

talks about this space to few of his friends (I'm thinking Hoseok for emotional release and Yoongi for advice and insight)

sulks a lot

is the happiest, energized puppy prince once the space is over :')

tell you the truth he hated every second of it though he keeps this to himself

I'd still wager his face told it clear and loud enough

TAEHYUNG:

so maybe some of you be surprised but he takes the request rather well

I theorize he might be prone to getting into sulky moods and so he might understand where you're coming from in terms of wanting to be alone

so he nods, gives a polite agreement and affirms that he'll be here once you feel like returning back

though similarly to Jimin I think he would still insist you don't stay at a hotel or with a friend

but he'd go out of his way to make sure he doesn't crowd you

e.g. leaving before you wake up, coming home once you're asleep

he soaks up your company with the simple fact of seeing you resting in the bed, that's enough

be that as it may, his melancholic big heart misses you to the point his throat is choking up with emotions

he listens to love songs while on long drives

watches videos you've made before and photos taken in the past

grows a bit sullen and expresses that turmoil on late night talks, most likely, with Jimin

after drawing a prolonged, suffering sigh, he'd simply shake his head and say: "it's whatever. It's what they want and I'm not going to argue with that."

leaves small indirect gestures of affection

like fresh flowers in the vase

your favourite candy that just happens to be laying around

if he overhears you wanting to go somewhere, you'll wake up with all the laundry magically done with exactly the type of clothes you'd prefer to wear

he's fully capable of not speaking at all if you're in the same room, allowing you to fully do your own thing

he just needs you around as I've said it's enough for now

unlike Namjoon he doesn't want to pry you out of your head and examine every single line of thought running through your cranium (srry Joon)

he's often lost in his own world so he understands that if you say you're okay, it's fine to leave you there for a bit

when the space is over, he calmly and quietly accepts you back, treating this period like nothing at all had happened

and in a way nothing had

he's just in love with you as he was and he will be after you need the next space again T-T

JUNGKOOK:

he's a bit...he's a bit hard to read

he's a more than a tad confused about request

I imagine him blinking in silence for a solid minute after the phrase was uttered

probably inquires whether or not you're mad at him like million times

for some reason his first instinct when you say you'd like to stay somewhere else is to ask whether you'll visit Bam somedays lmaoo

he's honestly a bit too confused to form strong reactions be it positive or negative

but awkwardly he obliges your request

probably takes him a lot of getting used to the change

fishes out his phone to text you the most dumbest, menial thing that just happened and then he remembers "space" and just goes: "guess not..." proceeding to stand like a sim whose action has been interrupted

you know that meme of someone cutting off all of the sleeves of their shirt because they're partner left taking all of the impulse control with them?

yeah, that's JK

inexplicably some things are just changed with zero explanation

you swing by in order to, yes, see Bam and the rest of the doggies and for some reason you find there is just a leg chair in the middle of the kitchen?? like the rolling one??

drunk dials in the middle of the night

while heavily slurring the world: "oh I forgot I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"I never said that."

"Hmmmmmm yeah you did."

okay so he might be just a tiny, imperceptible bit sulky about it but it doesn't stem from a place of intended maliciousness

or even an unintended one

he's just bratty like that

treating it up a silent competition in a way whose more chill about staying away

sleep evades him as he's thinking when will this end though doesn't bother you a lot

(so whose really losing this non-existent competition ey ;))

to put it plainly he hovers awkwardly over you like a anxiety ridden helicopter waiting for this whole thing to blow over

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strangemaleswaps · 7 months

Text

Strange Halloween Head Swap

I was so psyched for Halloween this year because it was the first time I could spend it with my boyfriend, Julian. I'd never been a big horror guy myself, but he goes nuts for spooky thrills. I'd always wanted to go to one of those Halloween events, like haunted houses or corn mazes, and I thought being with Julian was a good enough reason to go. We were looking up events happening nearby on my laptop, and I thought I found a cool one.

"Let's see." Julian read the website.

"What's it say?"

"Haunted house. Ooo! Haunted corn mazes. Nice! Magic show. Magic show?"

"I love Magic shows!"

"I guess it could be a Halloween thing. Wouldn't be surprised if they just replaced the rabbit in a hat with something scary instead. Or maybe the assistant wears a ghost costume or something."

"But wait." I pointed at the bottom of the page. "It says absolutely no costumes are allowed. Aren't you supposed to wear a costume?"

"Yeah, for costume parties and trick-or-treating and stuff. But for things like this where they have paid actors and stuff in the haunted events, they don't want randos in costume, in order to keep up with the vibes."

"That makes sense." I noticed another part of the website that said "18+ only for the whole event."

"Ooooo," we both said in unison.

"That better mean they have strippers and vodka."

"Hell yeah!"

"Now where is this again?"

"Lemme see. Some place called Caneville." He looked up the town info. "Aw shit."

"What? Too far?"

"No, just a 30 min drive. But it's got such a tiny population that it's probably one of those hick towns. You know those places always give me the creeps. Like everyone seems to stare at you because you're an outsider."

"But don't you like creepy things? We can ignore the background of the town and enjoy the festivities." I kissed him.

"Hey, I guess. Sure. As long as you promise me one thing..." He placed his hand on my bulge which had now grown.

The 31st arrived, and so we got dressed and left at 3pm. The drive there was pretty normal, up until we reached the town. There was an unexpected amount of traffic leading into the town itself. As we continued along, we found that all the cars were headed to the festival.

"Woah, I didn't think it would be this packed!" Julian said excitedly.

"Me neither…it's weird though. Why would such a large number of people be coming to some small-town festival? It doesn't make sense."

"Dunno. Maybe they paid extra to get their event on the top of everyone's search results? I think you can do that."

"Maybe. Well, it better be good then."

Luckily, we found a parking spot in time, before too many people showed up. The place was pretty big and was decorated nicely for Halloween; jack-o-lanterns lined the fences, ghost shaped lights hung above us, and the grass was covered in hay. We noticed the sign advertising the magic show started at 5pm, so we checked out the other attractions first. Making our way through the crowds, it was somewhat obvious who was from this little town, and who drove here. There were people in all shapes and sizes, but a lot of the older people were wearing formal clothes and usually had grumpy looks on their faces - probably upset that there was so much diversity this year.

We were walking along, when we saw two punk guys, one with a red mohawk, and one with brown, searching around looking confused. Red mohawk made eye contact with me and approached.

"Hey, do you guys know where the free booze is?" He didn't even look old enough to drink but I didn't really care.

"Free booze? How come I didn't know about this?" Julian asked.

"What do you mean? It was in huge letters on the ad. Couldn't have missed it."

"I don't remember seeing anything like that though," I said.

"Damn, nobody else seems to know either. Did I get some fake version of something? Everything else seems legit."

"That's weird yeah."

"Anyway, I'm Ian. Let me and my buddy know if you ever find the free booze. Fuck, I forgot I was gonna meet my boyfriend here too. Shit, well catch you later." He seemed like such a weird guy but hey, he's probably just 18 and desperate for a chance to drink.

5pm arrived and we headed to the magic show. As we expected, there was a pretty big crowd. I was so excited though, and it looked like everyone else was too. It started when a chubby guy in a tuxedo walked on stage.

"Friends and folks, welcome to The Great Guillermo magic show! I am the Great Guillermo!" He took a bow, and everyone applauded.

"Now for my first trick, I will make this sword float!" He took out a sword and set it on the floor. It began floating all the way up to his head when he did some hand motions. The crowd cheered once again. It was glowing blue as well, which was strange because he didn't announce anything like that.

"For my next trick, I will need one volunteer from the audience." The crowd seemed hesitant, most likely because the idea of a sword related trick would make some queasy. Luckily, after a bit, a guy around my age raised his hand and stepped onto the stage.

"All right! What is your name, young man?"

"Tyler."

"Ok Tyler! For your part, stand in that spot real good and don't move!"

"Oh ok." He did a bit of a nervous laugh. The Great Guillermo took the sword and aimed it at his own neck. What in the world was he doing? It started glowing blue once again and went through his neck! The audience gasped. I knew it was all a trick, but I expected blood or something. Instead, what happened was unbelievable. His head hopped right off his body! Completely still alive, it fell to the floor and the body took a bow. The crowd went wild.

"Holy shit man, that was so cool! How’d he do that?" Julian turned to look at me.

"I have no idea!"

Normally with tricks like this he would go back to normal to start the next trick, but he was still a head and began talking again.

"Now this is only the first part of my trick. Here comes the part where my volunteer must help." His body, still moving on its own, took the sword and aimed it at Tyler's neck. When that blue glow returned, The Great Guillermo's head hopped over to the left of Tyler. In an instant the sword sliced Tyler's head off, just like it did before. Though, instead of hopping off and hitting the floor, it seemed to fly off in the direction of The Great Guillermo's body, as if it was a magnet. When it got to the neck, it plopped itself on top, replacing The Great Guillermo's head.

Tyler's head on The Great Guillermo's body was a funny sight, seeing a skinny and young-looking guy with such a large body. He began moving and reacting, as if Tyler was actually controlling it. Tyler's head looked down and widened his eyes at the sight.

"Woooahh, this is trippy!" The Great Guillermo's head did the same and flew onto the empty body like a magnet. The audience began laughing when they saw the full image. They just swapped their heads!

"This is even crazier; how did they do that? Man, I gotta know now!" Julian was getting so excited now. It made me so happy to see him in a good mood. Tyler, on his new chubby body, realized he could move his legs and started walking around.

"Oh wow, I can move? This is weird." It looked so real. But it must be fake right? I know a lot of times magic shows pretend to pick out a random audience member, but really it was all planned from the start. The mood changed a bit when Tyler started becoming restless.

"Hey, uh could I have my body back now? This is actually feeling kinda uncomfortable."

"Of course, my boy! Right after you learn your lesson!"

"Lesson?" My gut told me that this was no longer part of the act.

"The lesson of hard work of course! I may have been a little overweight, but it's not impossible to work it all off! And when you do, it should be just like your former one! Well…maybe a bit older! In the meantime, I’ll be enjoying your nice slim body!" The Great Guillermo seemed like a completely different person at this point and began laughing maniacally.

"What? Hey this isn't funny anymore! What's your problem?!"

"Oh, don't worry, Tyler. You won't be alone. In fact," He looked at the audience with a gleam in his eye. "Everyone else will be starting their own unique journeys!" He quickly grabbed the sword and pointed it at the audience. They all screamed when not only did it start the blue glow, but it began multiplying as well! Sword after sword came out of the original; there must've been hundreds! It seemed like we all knew what was about to happen next, because the crowd turned around and ran. Julian was by my side…at least at first. Soon enough the stampede plowed through us, desperate to escape, and we were separated.

"Julian! Meet me at the car!" I screamed, not sure if he heard me or not. I ran away from the stage area, dodging unfortunate heads flying everywhere. The Great Guillermo began laughing again.

"Now everyone will learn the true value of hard work! Whether you want to change your new body or not, adapting to your new life is the fun part!"

When I got to the parking areas, I was shocked at the horrible sight. There were people with the same idea as me hiding in cars…only the blue swords were able to pass right through them to slice their heads. It didn't stop there because the decapitated heads seemed to be in an ethereal state, where they could also go through the walls. That bastard magician. He planned all this! I'm screwed! While I was in shock, I could feel something hit me in the neck. It didn't hurt at all, but I felt dizzy. I watched as the world went in a loop, and then back to normal. I could see myself flying through the air, but when I looked down, there was nothing. No body. I could still feel my hands and the rest of my body, but I was far enough away that I couldn't check to see if it was moving.

I couldn't change the direction I was heading in, but I could lean a little to the left or right. I'm guessing I was homing in on the nearest headless body, so I wondered if I could direct myself away from a bad one? I saw a headless body in front of me, so I jerked to the left and managed to dodge it…for a few seconds. It turned out there was a body on the other side of the fence I was on, so I flew right through it and attached myself to the neck.

I looked down and almost screamed. It was a fat body wearing a light blue dress shirt, with a tie and suspenders. I would imagine I was also wearing dress pants to go along with it, but I couldn't see past my huge belly! My waist size must’ve been double what it was before! Judging by the clothes, this probably belonged to a man that lived in the town.

I pushed my hand against the belly and felt it jiggle, sending vibrations throughout the rest of my flesh. I'm glad I wasn't a floating head anymore but I'm not too happy about being a fat guy either! I must’ve looked like Tyler did with his twink head on an obese frame. Luckily, there was a public restroom nearby, so I walked in and locked the door. I was scared to see myself in the mirror, but knew it had to do it, so I shuffled over to see my reflection.

Oh god, I was massive. It really did look strange, almost funny in a way. Normally when you gain this much weight, you also gain a double chin. But my chin and head were exactly how they always were. But yet, my body was huge. At least I wasn’t wearing some trashy looking clothes or something. Formal wear was nice, even though it felt tight on me. How do guys like this go shopping? I must’ve been wearing 5XL clothes! The curious thought of seeing what it looked like underneath crossed my mind. I guess it was going to have to be done eventually…and my chest felt like it was being crushed under the shirt I was wearing. I started by unclipping the suspenders. The front two were easy, but the back two I had to guide my hands around my oversized ass in order to make out where they were. Then I lifted my collar to take off the tie and unbuttoned the first two shirt buttons. I expected to be wearing an undershirt, since I felt so compressed, but no. The dress shirt was all it took to feel cramped. I reached for the bottom of my shirt that was tucked in and pulled up. When it was fully untucked, the belly promptly fell back down, slapped my thighs, and jiggled for a few seconds. Once it was all unbuttoned, I opened up the shirt and took it off.

Fuck. I wasn’t just big; I was morbidly obese. My man tits stuck out, love handles hung all around, and the loose skin left a crevice that covered my belly button. I really hated this. What’s Julian going to think? He might break up with me. No one would ever want to date a lardass like me. I put the shirt on, lifted up my belly in order to tuck it all back in, and walked out the door. I didn’t bother putting the tie and suspenders on again. I didn’t even need the suspenders anyway because my pants were tight enough over my big hips.

I started walking back to the festival area in order to find a clue to where Julian went. There were still blue swords flying around, but they ignored me completely. I guess they don’t go after those who had already been head swapped. Walking felt really weird because it was more like a waddle. Every step felt like I was causing an earthquake, which made it worse considering I couldn't even see my own feet! Not to mention I was sweating like a pig, even though I hadn't been walking long. I could feel the sweat stains forming in my armpits and since I had no undershirt on, it was probably obvious. I heard a familiar voice, so I turned around and noticed a familiar red mohawk. It was Ian! He was much chubbier than when I saw him before. He was talking with another guy, who lifted his t-shirt up to touch his belly.

"This is like a fuckin dream come true! Look at this gut!" Ian seemed excited to gain weight. Was that guy his boyfriend or something?

"We gotta hope that this body is good at staying big though! I want you to be my chubby bunny!" He said, flashing a grin. As I approached them, they stared for a second, but then smiled really wide.

"Hey! Wait. You're that guy I met before. Remember? But you're like, so fuckin obese now!"

"Yeah…"

"That's awesome man!"

"Not really, I was fine being a twink before."

"Yeah man, but now you're a fuckin beast! You could like murder someone just by squashing them."

"I'll keep that in mind in case I need to murder someone," I said sarcastically.

"So, wait, where's your boyfriend?"

"No clue. I'm looking for him."

"Well good luck man. And hey, being big isn't all that bad you know."

"Yeah, maybe."

I got to the festival area to find a couple people still frequenting, but it was obvious they were head swapped. I suppose I was lucky mine ended up matching my skin color. At least the weird young head and old body combination isn't impossible naturally.

I noticed a shed area with a hastily made sign that said, "pick up your phones here." That was a good idea actually. Afterall, most people would've had their phones in the pockets of their old bodies. Maybe if Julian already found his, I can text him. Luckily, I skipped a step because I found him searching through the pile of phones inside. His body didn't look too different, at least from the sides.

"Julian!"

"Petey! You're…wow."

"I know…this is going to take some getting used to."

"Hey no biggie. You're still you. You have your head at least. You're just a big guy now."

"Yeah, it's weird. Do you think there's any way to change back?"

"Don't think so. When I went back to the stage, the magician guy wasn't there. Fitting. Guess he just wanted chaos and well, he got it."

"Can't believe I'm stuck like this. But at least you don't look too different, maybe a bit bigger and older."

"Oh no, I've changed a lot actually. Here." He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a flabby old man's chest.”

"Oh."

"I know right. Looks like I took the body of an old guy."

"Does it feel weird?"

"Yeah kinda. A little uncomfortable. I really just need to take off these clothes. I can feel my underwear being pulled up way too high!" I laughed. I'm glad Julian was still finding ways to make light out of a bad situation. "My back does kinda hurt though. But it's ok! We'll just work out and all like normal. Plenty of old guys are in shape!"

“Makes me so mad though. Those old guys that got our bodies are probably enjoying their nice abs right now.”

“Well, in your case, he’s in for a surprise when he sees how loose you are in the back…” I started laughing again.

“You got that right! He was probably straight, so it’ll be quite the shock. But I guess this means I’ll have to start loosening up all over again.” I touched my huge ass. “I guess I’ll have to work out too. I have a long way to go.”

"Oor…you could stay like you are. At least for now. Didn't wanna say it before but I'm totally finding you hot right now. Never fucked a fat guy before."

"Really? You like this?"

"Yep! Hey, it's still Halloween, so how about we go home, and I can feed you some candy or something." The thought of Julian feeding me was making me hard for some reason. Why do I feel like I want to stay this big? It's crazy! But I was so hungry, so I agreed.

"That sounds…pretty hot actually. Sure." Julian smirked.

"Happy Halloween my big boy." He slapped my gut.

"Happy Halloween…"

#strangemaleswaps #body swap #head swap #weight gain #male tf

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months

Text

Unplanned appointment

Marc Schrader x fem!reader

warning: flirting, some touching, suggested/mentioned sex, alcohol, mutual attraction, no use of Y/n

Summary : After the police graduation ceremony, she had planned to celebrate a little longer, but an unexpected appointment interrupts this and the exchange cadet finds herself at her boss's door with a "familiar" guy.

Info : So finally I write for him and hope that I can give some fans and like-minded people some joy. Also the film is so good and I finally can write a little german in storys so yeah have fun reading plus the inspiration for this came from THIS from @echoe-l check out the blog ;)

gif from me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Music, chatter and a little dancing was the atmosphere that spread around her as she watched the people and her somehow friends. The language she knew, had learned to understand to some extent and yet still had a lot to learn. The banner with the colors black, red and yellow and the bear on it still on the wall. They showed everyone that an official ceremony had taken place here after the officers, senior staff and the mayor had left.

Now the hall belonged to the younger ones, the ,,Cadets of the future for the security of Germany" as she could still remember the speech that came over the speakers to the young adults. They had all stood at attention for an hour before she was finally an investigator. Her dream in Germany had come true, even if it meant sacrifice.

But before the homesickness could take hold of her, she heard the voice of her friends pulling her away from the table and onto the dance floor. ,,Now it's time to party!" her fellow student and second-best student shouted as she spun her friend around.

The glass of champagne was long gone but it was enough to make the music and the atmosphere more pleasant, to make the foreign language sound natural and it helped her loosen up. Dancing around the hall with her friends, laughing and exchanging stories with other students.

Not knowing that after all this he was still watching her. That this one thing that happened just one night ago was more than she thought. He watched as she laughed, joy and devotion in her eyes as the tension left her.

The dark dress with the brooch given to all cadets bearing the police mark let him know she had made it. Your spell has worked unicorn he thought and loosened his tie that had been bothering him the whole ceremony but his blue eyes didn't leave her couldn't leave her.

Because what had happened was better than any drug, any techno music, she was just so much better. But the young woman didn't see her fellow student being approached.

There was annoyance and slight confusion in his voice when he was interrupted in his sitting down. When he had to do something he was called to go to someone he didn't know.

Everything was settled, wasn't it? With one last look at her and ignoring the neccned calls of his "friends" he turned around and left the hall to go to the man who wanted to talk to him.

Minutes passed, minutes passed in which she noticed nothing. She celebrated cheerfully and, over the music and the chatter, hinted that she was going to have a drink. With a smile on her lips, she pushed her way out of the dance floor and made her way to the table with the punch and other drinks.

The red heirloom punch looked sweet and delicious, which is why she had wanted to try it all evening. Just as she was about to reach for a plastic cup, she heard someone next to her. ,,Du bist die Austauschstudierende oder?" came the question from another graduating student in his native language.

She replied with a short ,,Ja" and didn't quite know what he wanted. A few tips for studying abroad? A signature? A photo? Or what else? But nine instead came a ,,You should go to Chief Inspector Minx" he said in English and she was grateful to him because there was a certain caution and uncertainty between them because of the language before she nodded to him and yet she knew where she had to go, everyone had heard of Minx.

The investigator who had been around the longest and was always on the case. Someone she knew had turned up yesterday. She felt a little uneasy as she walked out of the hall and straightened her dress, trying to regain the posture she'd had before.

It was much cooler and more comfortable from the sausage fabric as she stepped out of the hall into the police headquarters and walked up the stairs to the office.

The furnishings were typical German 70's old building as always no money but it didn't bother her because as she walked towards the office she saw that she wasn't the only one who had to go there. ,,What are you doing here Marc?" she asked and saw that she had probably pulled him out of his thoughts because his gaze was turned to the floor and only now was it directed at her. The blue soul mirrors ran over her body without shyness.

He looked at her knee-length dress in dark colors similar to his suit and a slight grin came to his lips when he saw the brooch with the bear again. ,,I could ask you the same thing...I was told to go to him," he said after a short pause and looked at the sign hanging on the wall with the name of the investigator.

She saw that he was preoccupied with something Marc was rather reserved about, at least when he was at work and not in the club. ,,Me too, but do you think it's about yesterday?" she asked, leaning slightly towards him and lowering her voice so as not to be heard when she saw that he was worried about the same thing.

Of course they had both thought about it, if it had just been a club visit, a one night stand or sex in front of the investigators it would have been embarrassing but one thing.

But those little pills, those damn little pills that made the club something alcohol couldn't do was incredible. ,,I never thought the pretty unicorn was like that" he said with a lewd grin as he accidentally undid a button on his shirt and she saw that her hickey was still there.

She felt the warmth on her cheeks as she turned away, ,,That was once, and you wanted it just like me," and pointed to her thigh and pushed her dress up slightly, which made her flinch as he suddenly put his hand on it and felt his markings.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol in his blood, his overhealth in the situation (although she didn't think so) or if he just wanted her, she couldn't tell...but she wanted him again.

After the previous night in the club, the small, worn sofas and benches were not completely comfortable, but it was enough for him and her. His voice was full of lust, slightly rough from the alcohol, high from the pills and the music. She was completely taken by him under the drugs and the atmosphere he seemed like everything.

He kissed her, explored her body and left the marks on her, she clung to him and maybe it was the drugs or the psyche of the two of them but only when they came down from their high together did they seem to realize that they would not only see both colleagues but also each other every day from now on. ,,Du scheinst gar nicht genug zu bekommen" he mumbled in German and smiled when he saw that it affected them, that he knew they were into each other. Hell, how could she not?

His eyes were still on her, seeming to undress her again while he seemed to be the calm one on the outside, but he always was. ,,Never do enough but always just what's needed," she murmured the words he was usually told and heard the laugh as he shook his head slightly but she was right.

He never did one hundred percent but always only what was necessary, except for her it seemed. ,,My unicorn seems to know me better than I thought," he said, wrapping a finger around a loose strand of hair from her fringe to play with it. He twisted the hair a little between his fingers, pulled it gently and came closer to her.

She smelled the scent of smoke, alcohol, party and leather on him, which met her sweeter scent through the perfume. ,,How about here in the hallway?" he began and let his hand wander from her thigh further up, her gaze meeting his.

She saw him lean forward slightly and she did the same before the door to the office was suddenly pulled open and a woman came out who was probably already being nagged by Minx.

As if nothing had happened, Marc simply stood up and held out his hand to her in an elegant gesture which she accepted with an embarrassed smile before they both walked past the woman and arrived in the investigator's office.

Knowing that whatever was going on between them was more than just the one night stand at the club. As his hand ran over hers one last time, touching the fabric where he had left his mark, she knew they would end up together one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@one-boring-person , @lemon-teacake , @babybluebex , @echoe-l , @gaeleneinar ,

#tattoo 2002 #tattoo movie #august diehl #marc schrader #marc schrader x reader #august diehl x reader

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infernalodie · 1 year

Note

Bank Robber M!R spending his possibility last night with Cassie and she finds out the next day what he’s been up to these past few months

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 || 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

"𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯' 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯' 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦"

Inspo: Jeremy Zucker - full stop

Pairing: Cassie Howard x Black!Male!reader

Summary: If it be your last night with her, you would use it to your fullest...

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and even more angst

Words: 2320

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

Cassie was sitting on her window sill, staring out at the empty street out front of her house. Legs were tucked into her chest as she awaited another long and hopeless night. She didn’t know why she decided to continue to wait here. Maybe it was the pitiful hope that you may come to her after so long of being gone. Or maybe she just wanted to stay up at night and watch the stars like the two of you always did when you were in town. But your visits had become lesser and lesser after the last.

You weren’t home as much as you used to. All Cassie knew was that your job required you to go away sometimes and be away. Of course, Cassie understood it but never knew more than what you drip-fed her. Giving her tiny pieces of info about what you did, which wasn’t enough for her to get the full picture of your lifestyle. What she did know is that you travelled, a lot, you made enough money to keep paying your rent at your apartment whilst you were away, and you could buy her things that doubled anything Nate had ever gotten her. Offering her to stay at your place rent-free and her phone bill. It was a lot for one guy who freshly graduated, but Cassie is just guessing you worked construction.

So, the time she got with you was very little as of late. Leading to her staying up and sitting by her window sill waiting for you to just pop up out of thin air and hold her. And hopefully have you with her in the morning.

The buzzing of her phone drew her attention. Her eyes lazily flowed from the window to her phone. In an instant, her eyes shot wide her hands scrambled at the phone. Knowing your phone number like the back of her hand, she pressed the green button and pressed the device to her ear, lips etched into an excited grin. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” you breathed, a smile able to be heard in your voice. Cassie pulled her legs closer to her chest, resetting her chin on her right knee as she stared out the window. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since she’d last heard your voice. But she didn’t realize how nice it was to hear it. “I just wanted to check in. See if you were still awake.”

“I was waiting for you,” Cassie replied. Standing up from the window sill, she moved to the edge of her bed and took a seat. “How’s work been? Everything alright wherever you are?” A deep chuckle filled the other end with a hiss able to be heard a moment later. Cassie’s smile slightly faltered, eyebrows scrunching together as she straightened her posture. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, Cass. I’m good,” you reassured with a deep groan. Your eyes flickered down to the bullet wound in your side. Removing your hand, you took a quick look at the 9mm hole and sighed, returning pressure to the wound. Resting your head against the side of the payphone as you let out a low groan. “Am I able to come over? I need help with something.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” Cassie asked, now standing back to her feet she listened to every little noise that came from the other end of the phone. “Do I need to come and get you? I can if you need-”

“Baby.” Your voice wasn’t firm or annoyed, but somewhat admiring and loving. “I’ll be there in 10, ‘kay? Just… Just keep the front door unlocked. Is your sister home?” When she said no, you sighed in relief. “Ok, grab the med kit in your bathroom and have it by your guys’ couch in your room, yeah?”

Cassie couldn’t help but feel even more worried and confused by what you were not telling her. You weren’t telling her something that might explain what was going on. But that was something regular she should’ve gotten used to when it came to you. Everything about you had to be shrouded in some sheet that hid more of yourself from her. Shame or nervousness; she wasn’t too sure.

“Cassie?”

She shook her head from the thoughts, clearing her throat. “Ok, I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” you told her. “I love you.”

She couldn’t reply before you hung up the phone, leaving the phone to be blank as she dropped it on her bed and did what you asked. Running downstairs and unlocking the door before running back upstairs to grab the medical kit and setting it on her couch. Anxiously preparing for whatever shit storm you were planning on bringing to her home.

When you did show up, Cassie finally understood the purpose of the medical kit was for. Finding the grey shirt you wore to be drenched along the side in blood. An almost grey tinge on your face tells her that you must’ve lost too much blood. Once bright and beautiful ebony skin is now stained red and your complexion greying from the bullet still lodged in your side.

Yet, you wore that charming smile of yours. “Hey, baby.”

“Y/n, w-what the fuck happened?” Cassie breathed, hands covering her mouth as you pushed from the door and toward her. She couldn’t decide what needed more attention, you or the fact you were beginning to bleed on her floor.

Instead of providing her with an answer or just giving her something to work with, you grabbed the medical kit and moved to the bathroom. Placing it on the sink and looking in the mirror. After this, you needed to go. You needed to skip town and never look back until things died down. Then again, maybe they never would. And sadly, your heart was already aching from reality beginning to settle in from what had happened.

Things weren’t to have played out the way that they did. A smash and grab- that’s what they had told you. But why the fuck did things always have to go sideways with you? Why did they make you have to pull the trigger?

Looking past yourself and to Cassie who stood in the doorway with a concerned look, you clenched your jaw. “Can you help me with this?” You mused, lowering your gaze. The blonde licked her lips, stepping behind you and carefully shimming the hem of your shirt up. Feeling the engulfing heat of your skin against the back of her hand, the droplets of sweat, and the blood that touched her ivory skin.

After a painful process of getting the shirt over your head and arms out, it left you leaning against the sink. Hands bracing the porcelain as you scanned the wound. “I’m going to need your help with something,” you announced to the girl. “It’s going to suck for me, but it might be worse for you-”

“Why do you have a gun?” The question made you look over your shoulder. Finding your girlfriend transfixed on the pistol resting along the hem of your pants.

You sighed. “Cassie, I really need your help with this-”

“You don’t get to do this!” Cassie exclaimed, silencing you. “You don’t get to show up at my house after no texts or phone calls for days and no explanation as to where you’ve been, alright? And still, even now, you aren’t telling me the truth, Y/n. What the fuck is going on?”

“Help me with this, and then I’ll tell you.” The sharpness in your tone made the girl’s jaw clench. Staring sharp daggers at you, clear frustration found in those beautiful eyes of hers. It was unfair. You understood that, but things weren’t as simple as Cassie would like them to be. They never would and never will.

Creating some sort of pact for now, Cassie grabbed your arm softly and turned you around. Grabbing the medical supplies as you said, “The bullet is still inside. You’ll have to pull it out.”

“Great! I like how you asked the person who has no experience with this type of thing and is your girlfriend! Smartest fucking idea I have ever heard in my entire fucking life-”

“I have nowhere else to go, Cass!” You told her, silencing her tangent. “You’re all I have left and I need you right now. So, if you can’t do this, then fine. But don’t make me feel like shit more than I already do.”

With pursed lips, Cassie kneeled down in front of you and placed her fingers around the wound. There was a faint sting, but nothing too serious. When she gently spread your skin, trying to make more room for the tiny clamps, that made you groan in pain. But she didn’t say anything. Brows scrunched together in concentration as she gently and slowly pushed the clamps inside whilst you rolled your head back, grunting in pain.

She tried to be as quick and as gentle as possible. But as much as you had experienced wounds before, you’d never had to have someone pull a bullet from your body. So, you were grateful that Cassie wasn’t just jamming the clamps into the wound and wringing it around inside of you.

When she found the bullet and pulled it out, you took the liberty to stitch yourself up. Sitting on the toilet and doing so as Cassie cleaned up the floor and her hands. Scrubbing until her skin was red and ready to break. Although she wasn’t saying much, she was freaking the fuck out. She was on edge. She was sick. She couldn’t think straight with all the jumbled and clouding thoughts in her head. Seeing you bleeding, seeing the gun, the bullet, she needed answers or she might just go insane.

“Explain what the fuck is going on, Y/n,” Cassie breathed, turning off the faucet and bracing her hands along the edge. “I feel like I am going crazy over here while you act like this is nothing new.”

It wasn’t.

Ok, getting shot was new, but you injured and laying low wasn’t. “I am involved in some dangerous shit, Cass,” you confessed, driving the sewing needle through your flesh, biting your bottom lip. Cassie looked away, unable to stomach the sight. “I won’t tell you much because I want to protect you, but I’ve been a criminal since before you left me.”

Cassie frowned, looking over at you cutting the thread and beginning to tie a tiny knot. “What the fuck do you mean you’re a criminal?” She laughed. “You’re an on-the-go worker that…” She trailed over her words, unable to find the correct occupation.

But the longer she mulled over her words and placed two and two together, she was slowly realizing that you hadn’t hidden anything from her. The large margins of time you were gone, the excessive amounts of cash, the secrecy, it all just made sense now.

Should she be surprised? Angry? Hurt? It was all too much at once for her fragile mind to handle. Your crimson-stained hand gently touched her naked thigh, pulling her gently towards you. “Cass, return to Earth.” Your words made the blonde swallow the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly and finally meeting your warm gaze. “I never wanted you to find out like this. Everything is so fucked up right now and I know you’re trying to process all of this. By tomorrow you don’t want me in your life anymore, then fine. But I just need a place to stay for the night.”

For the first time tonight, Cassie finally was given vulnerability. A chance to have insight as to what is going on in that beautiful head of yours. Finally able to see and feel something that felt real and genuine. Like, the curtains had finally been pulled back and allowing the sun to shine through the window. It felt nice, refreshing, and emotionally rehabilitating.

Cassie blinked rapidly, leaning down as her hands held your face. Brushing her thumbs over your cheeks and jaw, the little bristles of your light stubble. Sliding to the back of your head where she gently toyed with the ends of your corn rows with her eyes tearing up. “As long as you lay with me tonight.” Smiling shakily, Cassie watched as you leaned up and kissed her nose, forehead, and cheeks, and then finally met her lips. It was soft, sweet, and loving. Just like it always has been.

So, was that frightening? Shouldn’t Cassie be the tiniest bit scared of what you’ve done in your past if you were a criminal? Maybe you’d killed people. Or maybe you’d hurt people that may be deserving or non-deserving of it. But for whatever reason, she felt closer to you than she ever has been since the two of you started dating. Shit, maybe since the two of you last saw one another before tonight.

With caution, Cassie helped patch up your wound with a bandage and moved you to her bed. Allowing you to slip under the covers before soon following with her head resting on your chest. Your heartbeat beats like a drum with a methodical rhythm to it. A calming sound to Cassie's ears as she turned her head slightly and kissed your chest. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

A warm hand came down her back and gently rubbed the curve of her spine. Repeating the motion until Cassie was in a sleepy daze, eyes fighting for a chance to hear if you respond or to just stay with you a little longer. Hang onto this moment a tad bit more. But your silence was suffocatingly comfortable and it left Cassie finally relenting and closing her eyes.

“You won’t, baby.”

But you know that wasn’t the truth, judging by the sirens heard in the distance outside.

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notemaker · 1 year

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Listen if you’re going to give us a first born anyway I want hiccup an jacks, insufferable dads is my white whale and oh boy I’ve been on this ship for months

I gotchu. Thank you for the ask btw! It gave so many ideas!

Meet KIID! A shipwrecked child found by dragon-trappers. She's 14 now, but when she was taken in by some Dragon Trappers five years ago, no one knew her name, not even herself. So, they just started calling her Kid. She made the name her own, though, and added an extra 'i' to make things interesting. Pronounced Keed.

She's very fun to draw, ngl!! Might bring her up again.

Have some more character info!

Meet Kiid, the human personification of Everything All at Once!

-The particular group of dragon trappers that found her wasn't a hard-core one. Most of the people in the group were there working mostly as a necessity. Meaning, that while she didn't grow up in the most peaceful environments, it wasn't all bad. There was some sort of support.

-Helped around back when she lived with the Trappy Guys. Multitasking is just tasking.

-Moves a lot. Talks a lot. Adhd vibes. Hiccup and her bounce ideas off one another like a bullet train. Jack thinks its very fun to watch.

-HER SPEAR! She made it. She started off with plain pine sticks, using it to jump around from place to place and smack the occasional weirdo and/or fish. Eventually, she developed a technique for jumping longer distances, and crafted her spear to aid her. It serves as a weapon and for traveling causes. She loves feeling the air and the rush of her speedy travels. Jack and Hiccup saw her jumping once, sixteen feet down as she cackled, and thought, Yeah, She is One Of Us alright. Jack asked her for pointers with his own staff.

-She's been taught a couple of things here and there with the help of The Trapper Guys, but she hasn't got anything 100% mastered. Prob because she didn't have someone to help her master something in particular. She makes do with what she has. Always willing to learn.

-Couple of scratches on her face from a dragon on a rampant from a couple years ago. She thinks it makes her look more menacing and kinda cool.

-Kinda weird at times. A lil' crazy. A lil' wild. A lil' maniac with mostly good intentions. The bad ones come in the form of some pranks here and there which Jack and the twins adore. They are quite the duo/trio. Hiccup joins her pranks sometimes. Those times are the most impressive, destructive, yet funnier ones.

-Hiccup gave her a notebook she carries everywhere, all the time. Doesn't let anyone see. Punched Jack once on reflex when he went to check it out.

-Right side of her hair more cut out than the right. She has a couple of braids at her sides.

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aranarumei · 9 months

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how much does sasaki talk about hirano?

hey everyone. I’m coming to you live with an INVESTIGATIVE REPORT about the one and only sasaki shuumei. the question above pretty much summarizes what I'm trying to find out. so I’ll expand on this under the cut. apologies in advance for any typos

—

there’s a scene that’s always made me confused ever since I first read it (which wow. I’ve been reading this manga as it updates since partly through volume 3… crazy how far its come!) and that is this sequence of two pages in the extras of Vol 7 (39.5), below:

hirano’s like “well, it’s fine to talk about me to miyano as long as you didn’t say any weird stuff about me” and sasaki goes. Silent. Now I at the time assumed like. ah sasaki’s talking about the hirano and kagiura relationshipisms. or the whole uke thing. right?

…right?

see, the thing is: when sasaki visits campus in ch 46, he asks the basketball team about a kagi-kun, and then when miyano questions him about what he was doing, he’s like “oh I just remembered hirano’s old roommate was on the basketball team,” and then refuses to even tell miyano his name. so it’s like… did sasaki EVER talk about hirano’s roommate to Miyano? like of his own initiative? did he offer any information? so I decided that instead of just bringing that question up, I’d reread all of sasaki to miyano and get my answer.

disclaimer that this deals with exclusively the manga: I have this hidden fear that I’m going to post this and get a reply like “oh this is 50% of the entire novel content” but! the scene in question comes up in the manga! I think it ought to then refer to an event in the manga! but seriously if stuff like that does come up in the novel feel free to chime in. also bc I was rereading the whole manga I have Other Thoughts Too but. those can hopefully marinate their way into other posts.

ch 2:

miyano: But I saw you! I saw you laughing as you chatted with a first-year boy from class 1A in the basketball club with a lovely smile!

this does not count. miyano brings this up to hirano himself. in fact a lot of miyano putting hirano into bl contexts happens In Front Of Hirano’s Face. not really a conversation starter for sasaki. it does make ch 46 way more interesting bc it means like. sasaki has remembered that kagiura’s on the basketball team to the point that he wants to check in on him? whereas miyano like Knows this info yet never really pursues it. suppose it’d be awkward to just go up and try to find him without knowing his name, though.

ch 4:

sasaki says “but hirano can handle alcohol fine” which is perfectly on topic since they were just discussing how sasaki can’t handle it. it’s miyano that spins into bl fantasies afterwards. also hirano is right there in this situation. does not count.

ch 5:

sasaki: Hirano’s playing Oiwa-san for the haunted house. Want to see? He’s crossdressing and wearing a wig.

this does count. sasaki is bringing up hirano and telling miyano something that miyano would totally get excited about. it is, I would say, not brought up out of nowhere, since they discuss crossdressing right before. unrelated to this I would love to see the image of sasaki as hanako-san of the toilet.

ch 6:

sasaki asks about miyano’s love life and when miyano says that he’s not romantically interested in anyone around here, and sasaki asks “what about hirano?” miyano says he ships him with his roommate and the conversation ends there. I would say this also does not count—yeah, he’s perhaps bringing up hirano as a romantic prospect, but I think this is more sasaki like. being jealous more than it is using him as a reason to talk to miyano. he’s like. a pretty jealous guy.

ch 8:

sasaki tells miyano that his grades suck and hirano’s been tutoring him. this does not count.

ch 11:

sasaki says “don’t you prefer black-haired ukes?” and “ah, you mean like hirano?” when miyano says he prefers manly ukes. this does count. while it’s in the topic of conversation, there’s not a real reason he has to bring hirano up. plus, he even continues it with “hirano’s pretty tall. can he still not be a seme?” so it’s using hirano to keep a conversation going with miyano, but I will note it’s not what starts the conversation.

ch 13:

sasaki talks about hirano getting banned from doing the ball toss. this does not count.

ch 24.5:

“ooh, if it was hirano, it would be taiko” says sasaki when miyano brings up all the girl names that he and his classmates would have. this does not count. it’s a natural extension of the various female names they’ve been talking about, sasaki included, and hirano’s their mutual friend.

ch 33:

sasaki brings up hirano’s dedication to studying and how he says that getting accepted to university isn’t the finish line. says hirano’s pretty cool for that mindset. this does not count.

ch 41:

sasaki says "haha, yikes! hirano was a terrible influence!" when miyano tells him about kuresawa getting a piercing. this does not count. it’s also after graduation, where the scene happened.

ch 42.5:

sasaki is like wow I can't believe hirano's roommate does THAT in the mornings to miyano, regarding vol 2 of sasaki to miyano. however this kind of thing isn't quite canonical since they know there are books being published about them so. this does not count.

halloween 2018 extra:

miyano asks if sasaki's friends got their items confiscated, and sasaki replies by saying that hirano's in charge of confiscation for their class, so their class had the idea to overwhelm him. this does not count.

dvd extra 4:

sasaki tells miyano about how they ripped the wallpaper on accident, and once he said it kind of gave it a badboy feel, they started doing it on purpose. hirano participated in it too. this does not count.

I’ve probably missed some, but we can see that out of all of these situations, only TWO are actually what I’d qualify as “weird” by hirano’s metrics. unless sasaki talking about the wild stuff Hirano gets up to includes his ball toss strategy and him ripping up wallpaper. then it’s four. my point is that sasaki says it’s “a lot” when it’s not. so… why is that?

I’ve been mulling over a couple of ideas regarding this, but I kind of don’t want to offer up my own interpretations first? plus when I tried writing my answer I spun off into a really bad tangent, so… post ends here. hope we all learned something here!

#kiri.txt #sasaki to miyano #sasaki shuumei #hirano taiga #i do not think it comes off that way at all but sasakis actually my fav character lol. guy doesnt even know how pretty he is... coughs.#thats unrelated. i should write actual sasamiya fic sometime tho that would be funny #anyways it could be that i missed something real obvious here #whoops if so #mostly i was embarrassed that theres an extra that literally spells out that hanzawas grades are better than hiranos and i got it wrong...#in this essay I will #harusono #sasahira

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