#he just literally is half naked for half this season

[emilybeemartin]

A whopping, like, 2.6 people have expressed interest in my recent adventures in watching Bean films, which is all the encouragement I need to present to you:

An Incomplete Guide to Sean Bean Roles (Investigation Ongoing)

Our guy has a vast filmography, and I'm not even close to being halfway through it, but I've watched a lot of his significant ones in the past few weeks thanks to a perfect storm of illness, injury, and lapses in client work. Crucially, I have created superlatives for a variety of them and present them here for your benefit. Disclaimer: many of these films are violent! Or have butts and/or tits! Some have dick! Some have dated bits that didn't age well! So, if you have triggers or are watching with young viewers, do your research first! Also, these are just the opinions of one solitary millennial! Nothing is objective! Nothing is real! I care not!

Okay, CYA done, let's begin. I'll get the two most obvious ones out of the way up front, otherwise they'll dominate half the categories:

ACT I

Greatest Bean: Fellowship of the Ring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he achieved more pathos with Boromir than a lot of his other roles have allowed for, and every note he hits just sings. No debate.

Best Bean for Your Buck: Sharpe. For the best confluence of quantity, quality, physicality, emotion, humor, and action, you can't beat Richard Sharpe.

Favorite Dramatic Bean: Time; he earned that BAFTA fr

Softest Bean: The first date scene in Stormy Monday, where Brendan shyly gets to know Kate, slow dances with her, lends her a shirt and strokes her back after she asks if they can just go to sleep instead of have sex.

Most Dashing Bean: Vronsky in Anna Karenina, that uniform cuts, damn

Swooniest Bean: I know I'm supposed to say Chatterley, and he is undeniably sexy as Mellors, but there are parts where his character is actually kind of off-putting. I'll lay a good chunk of the blame on the weirdly ominous score, the very of-the-time depiction of dubious consent, and Joely Richardson's tendency to look like she's having the worst time of her life while shagging the hot gamekeeper. No, I'm giving this category to Stormy Monday again. He's just so gentle and genuine in this one, without some of the obligatory "heartthrob" overtones of his nineties stuff. He never raises his voice at Kate or manhandles her. He really does feel like some kid who just wants to be sweet to his girlfriend.

Laddiest Bean: When Saturday Comes, specifically the strip club and bathtub scenes.

Favorite Sad Bean: As a collective, he has some great grief scenes in World on Fire, but! The railroad track scene in When Saturday Comes?! That was RAW.

Favorite Mad Bean: Black Death; there are plenty of movies where he doesn't smile at all, but unlike some others, his grimness and anger felt proportionate to the story, rather than just rage because he's good at rage.

Favorite Bad Bean: There are so many great Bean villains (Goldeneye, obvs), but I think my favorite is Patriot Games. Bonus points for all the different hairstyles he has in this film (long locks-shag-shag ponytail!-buzz-wet spiky buzz). Also HUGH FRASER AAAA

Favorite Dad Bean: Wolfwalkers, where Bill Goodfellowe literally turns his own convictions and beliefs upside-down in order to protect and support his daughter.

INTERMISSION

A note on GoT: I haven't watched it. When season one was first coming out, it was during a time where I really couldn't handle watching any kind of sexual assault onscreen, and while I have a higher tolerance now, I just... don't want to. I like seeing gifs of Ned Stark and appreciate that it's one of his great roles, but I just can't make myself take the plunge.

ilysm you grizzled dead wolf man

ACT II

Favorite Costumed Bean: Odysseus in Troy: curls, leather, thighs.

Favorite Un-Costumed Bean: He strips in quite a lot of his films, so let's give it to Lady Chatterley for sheer screentime, exertion, and the bonus of being naked and wearing a flower crown. Honorable mention to When Saturday Comes for the totally not homoerotic amount of butts and also dick in the locker room bathtub scene.

Hurtin'est Bean: Bravo Two Zero. Oof, don't watch this one if you have an aversion to seeing pain, although---you're a Sean Bean fan, and we all know one of his MOs is being GREAT at pain. This one was directed by Tom Clegg, who directed Sharpe. Also lol at the sickle-shaped wound on his shoulder, which is covering his 100% Blade tattoo (he gets a lot of sickle-shaped wounds on his left shoulder).

Best Inside References: The Frankenstein Chronicles, where he plays a former Peninsular soldier, and every reference to his service is a reference to Sharpe, including shots of his greenjacket, pistol, sword, and flogging scars. Honorable mention to The Martian for the Council of Elrond line.

Most Unsettling Bean: Cleanskin for moral grayness, The Frankenstein Chronicles for body horror

Most Inefficient Use of Bean: Black Beauty. Despite getting high billing he's only onscreen for about two minutes and I'm convinced the long shots are a body double. Criminal.

Biggest Missed Opportunity: We were robbed of a Sean Bean Odyssey. R o b b e d

Funniest Bean: Deploying Bean for comedy is woefully underused, but he made full use of his ~15 seconds in The Vicar of Dibley ("Spring" episode). He's also hilarious in Wasted, though I haven't watched the show, only the clips he's in on YouTube, where he plays a mock version of himself serving as a spirit guide for a stoner. IMO, though, Sharpe gives him the most room for humor.

Favorite Character Quirk: In World on Fire, when Douglas is having WWI flashbacks and really coming apart, he kept putting his hand to his mouth. My modern brain first read this as talking into a phantom radio, but of course that wasn't right, and then I realized--he was reaching for a phantom gas mask. CHILLS. AMAZING. (Honorable mentions to the Mouth Rub and the Tongue Thing [pictured above]).

Most Nostalgic Bean: National Treasure. The concept may be utter silliness, but you have to admit, this is a fun movie to watch.

Best Dismount from a Horse: Henry VIII, he goes pshwing out of the saddle

Best Swordplay: You may think there's no possible answer to this, but there is---two moments, specifically: the preparatory sword-spin he does at Balin's tomb just before the goblin attack in Moria, and the four lunges he does at 1:26:22 of Sharpe's Battle. It's just facts.

Prettiest Bean Film: Wolfwalkers, hands downnnn

Favorite Bean Death: All right, you knew we had to eventually end here. It's Boromir, obviously--- nothing tops that. But if we're looking at other roles, I think Patriot Games is my favorite, followed by Goldeneye.

So! That concludes this installment of Bean films, though I'll be continuing the labor, and I hope you will, too. What are your favorites?

#sean bean #fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #sharpe #stormy monday #lady chatterley #patriot games #world on fire #goldeneye #bravo two zero #troy #wolfwalkers #black death #national treasure #anna karenina #time #gifs #flashing gifs

[here2bbtstrash]

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet. 

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n

[harry-on-broadway]

Italian Sun

A/N: Felt inspired after yesterday’s pictures so here’s some unedited rambling. Enjoy!

***

It had only been a week, but you were already grappling with your new reality.

The reality of Harry being at home, at last.

Home, for now, was the Italian villa you all often decamped to when you had a few weeks off. He’d been making plans for the end of tour since the holidays and while specifics had changed, one thing had remained consistent: he wanted to spend time in Italy, relaxing and catching up with all of his family and friends he’d neglected for the past two years.

“Neglected? Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” you teased when he first brought up the idea. “We’re literally driving home from your mother’s house.”

“You know what I mean,” he’d said, his face scrunching the way it did when he felt like his words were being misconstrued. “I’m just never around and when I am I feel like I’m so behind. Like…like I’m watching the season finale of a show I’ve never seen before. Everything’s different when I come back.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the little things. You cut your hair. You found a new coffee you like. You started listening to a new podcast. And I’ve missed it all.”

When he put it that way, your heart broke. He rarely complained, knowing that the life he was living was envied by many. But you felt for him, hearing how hard this was on him. “Well, start putting together a guest list. I guess we’re all going to Italy in July.”

Which is how you found yourself rooming with Harry’s closest friends and family in the week following the final show of Love on Tour, sharing meals, memories, and adventures with everyone. The extra glow coming off of Harry didn’t go unnoticed by you and you could feel happiness and contentment radiating off of him when he snuggled in close to you each night.

Today was the last day that everyone would be all together before the group started to head out, leaving you and Harry alone. He’d wanted the final day to be the best yet and had planned an itinerary filled with boating and sunbathing and, according to him, the best Italian dinner yet.

You had to give him credit. It was the best day yet. Games were played, naps were taken, and the picnic basket of cheeses, breads, and meats that Harry himself had packed was delicious. But the day also came with an added perk for you.

While almost everyone had donned swimwear for the occasion, displaying all sorts of skin, Harry took it to another level. His shirt was hanging precariously on his body, a single button keeping it from being blown away, and his swim trunks had been rolled up and pulled low on his hips (to avoid tan lines, he explained).

And the hat.

The fucking hat. A bright pink bucket cap, with the word ‘Daddy’ written across the front, that someone had thrown onstage in Australia. He’d said he picked it up as a joke, but the fact that he’d held onto it across countries and time zones, made you think otherwise. You saw how he carried himself with an extra hint of swagger when he wore it, and you hated to admit it, but something stirred inside of you when you caught a glance of him, hat and all, driving the boat with all of the ease of a seasoned pro. You prayed no one could tell how that scene affected you.

Now, with dinner on the horizon, you were trying to put those steamy thoughts out of your head and focus on what you should wear. You’d narrowed it down to two brightly colored dresses, when you felt two hands cover your eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Hmmmmm,” you pondered. “Could it be my boyfriend? You know, the guy who organized this magnificent trip after breaking records worldwide for the past couple of years?”

“He sounds like a catch.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s easy on the eyes.”

“Easy on the eyes, huh?” Harry moved his hands down to your hips and spun you around so you were facing him.

“Yeah, and he looks even better when he’s half-naked, driving a boat.”

“Mmmm.” Harry’s hands moved lower so that they were resting on the cleft of your ass. “Must have been pretty hot.”

“Oh, yeah, super sexy. I wish I could have jumped him right there. Especially in that hat.”

“Wait, what,” Harry laughed, breaking whatever character he’d been playing. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged. “What can I say, there’s something about that whole scene that really turned me on. And, sex on a boat sounds kind of fun. Shame we couldn’t try that out.” Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing as he processed what you said. “Harry?” you asked after a moment. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to think why the fuck I thought it would be a good idea to invite everyone on this trip. I could’ve been having sex on a boat.”

“It’s not a boat but we can still have some fun,” you whispered, fingers delicately trailing down the exposed skin of his chest.

“Yeah?”

You nodded and Harry darted across the room to shut the door to your suite, trying to tear his shirt off at the same time. “Slow down, baby,” you said. “We’ve got time.”

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself as he nodded and opened his arms for you. His hands skated over your body, much of your skin already exposed thanks to your swimsuit, before they landed on your jaw, tipping your head back to bring your lips to his.

You felt heat course through your body at his slightest touch and were amazed that he was still able to elicit this reaction from you. You felt your nipples stiffen through the flimsy material of your swimsuit when Harry’s already sizable erection brushed against your thigh and you couldn’t stop thinking about feeling him inside of you.

“Bed, now,” Harry panted when he broke away from the kiss, and you backed up until you could feel the mattress behind your knees.

You fell backwards, bouncing slightly when you landed, and when you raised yourself up onto your elbows to find Harry, he had already dropped to the ground, his hands nimbly shimmying your swim bottoms down your legs. The garment discarded somewhere in the room, you felt Harry’s lips on your ankle, then up your calf, then at the inside of your knee. You knew what this was building too, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a gasp of surprise when his lips finally found your center.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, voice barely above a whisper for fear of alerting the rest of your party to what you were up to. You threw your head to the side, trying to muffle the sound of your pleasure with the pillow.

Theoretically, the two of you were due downstairs for dinner in roughly a half hour, but Harry showed no urgency as he slowly licked at your core, speeding up, then slowing down right as you were about to topple over the edge. It was hard to focus on anything but the feel of him between your legs. You reached down, hand moving blindly until your hands found purchase in his hair. The sensation of his soft curls between your fingers grounded you as you bucked up against his lips, wanting even more than he was already giving you.

“Is this good?” he asked.

All you could manage was a breathless moan as his fingers slid inside, easily undoing you. You opened your eyes and tried to catch your breath as Harry appeared over top of you licking his fingers clean with a satisfying pop. “That really turns me on,” you finally wheezed out.

“What? That?”

“No, the fact that you remember what works for me. It’s just something about the way you care for me. You always act like you don’t remember anything and you have no clue what’s happening, but that’s not true H. You always remember what matters.”

You could see something burning in Harry’s eyes as you said that, not quite desire, but something close. “I’m always going to care about you,” he said, the words laced with emotion. “Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Show me,” you said.

He rolled on top of you in one easy motion, and you opened your legs, giving him space to settle in. He kissed you, furiously, but nowhere near enough. You needed to feel him all over you, every inch. Skin on skin, nothing between you.

“What the hell are these shorts still doing on you?” you whined, fingers digging into the fabric of his tiny trunks.

“I could say the same about this,” he all but grunted, struggling to undo the tie of your bathing suit top.

Free of obstructions, you all were able to lay together and take in the moment. You weren’t surprised when Harry buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling and savoring the moment. It was something he’d made a habit of doing in recent months, after noticing that you’d changed body wash in his absence. He was upset at first, saddened by yet another detail he’d missed, but after that, he’d started to take more time to observe and remember every little thing about you.

After a few seconds, you felt his lips on your neck as he kissed his way to your mouth, and you could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Got time for one more?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Why stop there?”

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities, love.”

You pressed a kiss of your own to the spot right under his ear that you knew got him going. “You’ve never let me down, H.”

Without warning, he was inside you. He often paused upon entering you, giving you a moment to adjust and a moment for him to center himself. But today, he did no such thing, rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. You made no effort to stop him either, tilting your hips up and pressing your heels into the small of his back to drive him further inside. The room was nearly silent, just the sound of your bodies moving in time broken by occasional panting, or the soft moans Harry stifled against your chest.

You glanced at him as he continued to drive into you. His eyes were shut tight and his forehead was wrinkled in concentration. It was the look he often wore when he was focused on not coming undone prematurely. Always the gentleman, he made every effort to ensure you were taken care of before he handled his own needs, but the rare occasions when he fell apart first drove you wild.

There was something so attractive about watching a man who was always in control, always looking out for others, come undone, something you’d once told him, earning an eye roll. You could tell he was nearing the edge as his thrusts became more frenzied and less rhythmic, while the wrinkles in his brow deepened.

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, nipping at the skin, before soothing the bite with a kiss. “Let go,” you whispered in his ear. “For me.” You could feel his hesitation, so you played the ace you had been holding this whole time.

“Daddy.”

His whole body shuddered as he emptied inside of you, your orgasm following close behind. He collapsed, his entire body weight resting on top of you.

“Give me a sec,” he said. “I just—fuck.”

You chuckled lightly. “That good, baby?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, as he lifted off the bed and padded to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. “Fucking amazing,” he muttered, as he moved to help you clean up. “Didn’t know that was uh, something you were into. You know, the daddy thing,” he added, trying to sound casual.

“Can’t say I am, but something about that hat just really got to me. Maybe something to think about in the future though?”

“For sure,” Harry said. “I mean, I’ve scheduled plenty of sex for us as part of this break.”

“So when do you leave again?” you teased.

Harry pinched your thigh lightly. “Not soon enough apparently.”

You leaned forward, grabbing him for a kiss. “It’s always too soon. But I’m happy to have you while I can.” You looked at the clock on the bedside table. “And I think all of your friends want to see you too, which means, we have to get ready. Now.”

“I’ll start the shower.”

“Harry!”

“What? It’s a time saver and a water saver.”

You rolled your eyes. “Remember, your friends will let us have it if we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re getting a free vacation so they’ll keep quiet if they know what’s best for them.”

“Oooh, tough guy.” You grabbed your towel and headed to the bathroom, hearing Harry say something behind you. “What did you say?” you asked, turning around to find him standing there holding his hat from earlier in the day.

“I said I have to remember to send a thank you note,” he added quietly.

“To who?”

“Whoever threw that fucking hat on the stage. Never imagined it would get me laid.”

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut

[trentlife]

JET SKI'S AND PAPS

summary: end of season vacation, one day you both go on a jet ski, & can't keep your hands off each other until the half expected appears behind you both

warnings: fluff, adult language

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

the sun gazing down on your half covered skin, whilst you laid down in your cream beige bikini on the soft white hammock, in the middle of the bora bora island, living your best life.

yours and trent's relationship was rather private, you didn't like the idea of the whole situation of having to deal with the publicity and also the amount of social media following.

you where happy, probably the happiest you'd felt in months, meeting trent nearly 2 years ago changed you for the better. it was like he was your soulmate and god made you both coincidentally meet at your best friends boyfriends party. he was everything you wanted in a man, how kind and generous he was to you and your own family all the time.

the time was now 4pm and you heard the sound of a camera click which caught your attention. you opened your eyes to see a rather tall, handsome man hovering over you with his polaroid in his hand. the camera went literally everywhere with him on this holiday, him and his best friend jude have a strange obsession.

"what are you doing?" you asked, with the sun blinding your eyes.

"have you seen how fire you look? that bikini compliments you so well, and even the tits and ass." he mumbled so you wouldn't hear him.

"sorry what was that at the end?" you heard what he said, but hearing him say it turned you on.

"you heard me" he giggled kneeling down to come and join you on hammock.

his soft, smooth hands wrapped around your waist as his half naked body laid beside you with his head tucking into your neck.

"im so in love with it here, i feel like i may even like it more than the maldives" you looked over the crystal blue ocean and shared your thoughts.

"wow i thought you where going to say your so in love with me" trent rolled his eyes being sarcastic.

"trent, i literally tell you every single day, might actually even be hour, how much i love you." you curled your arm around his neck while his head laid on your chest. he looked up to you and you cupped his cheeks and gave him 3 pecks.

he laughed and placed his hand on your boob and closed his eyes and he slowly drifted off into a nap, and not long after, you did the same.

30 minutes later, you where woken up by the feeling of trent fiddling with your hair, while he admired you while you slept peacefully.

you opened your eyes, and the first thing you saw was your boyfriend giving you a beaming smile with them perfect teeth of his, which made you pull him to you and give him the tightest hug.

"can we go on the jet ski?" you seen people in the distance, and you couldn't resist not going on one.

"yeh we may as well," you both agreed and trent pulled you up and gave you bum a little smack whilst you walked in the villa to just grab more sun cream.

you both began walking to the main beach of the hotel, where all the jet ski's where lined up. trent took your hand in his and helped you onto it.

you wrapped your arms around his bare chest and held onto him.

"i beg you please don't go fast until i get used to it love" you informed him politely and he nodded his head.

the ride began and the cool breeze blew your hair in the wind, as you kept tight hold onto your boyfriend.

you then approached a shallow part in the water and trent hopped off the jet ski and pulled something out of his pocket. his polaroid.

"t-trent why do you love this thing more than me?" you joked to him and his laughed.

"your just looking to good today okay? now pose hotty" he hyped you up and you leant over on the jet ski posing.

"now they are fit" he said looking at them through the camera, and you sarcastically rolled your eyes.

you wobbled yourself to the front of the jet ski and now you where the driver, you just wanted to annoy him basically.

"let me get one of the both of us, get on behind me" you fidgeted with the small camera trying to get it on the setting.

as he sat behind you he put his arms over your shoulders and placed his hands on your chest as you both posed for the camera.

"smiling one" 📸

"silly one" 📸

"tongues out" 📸

"kissing one! 📸

you turned your head around and locked your lips together and took the pic. trent got a little to carried away and started winding you up by licking your lips, and you accidentally took a picture.

"that's my favourite one!" he informed you.

"your so annoying" you shoved him jokingly.

random sounds of flickering in the distance caught your attention, you had no idea what it was until your head turned around, and the hotel beach was bombarded with, paparazzi.

"fuck" where the only words to leave your mouth.

your boyfriend followed your head in the same direction, and came to realise what you where on about.

"for fuck sake, cant they just fucking leave me alone" he said in an angrily manor.

"y/n i know your not going to want this but we are going to have to head in that direction, other wise they'll be here until all hours and we may as well just get back."

his words would of bothered you 5 months ago, but now you just came to the conclusion that most places you would go together they would be the third person.

"trent" you tapped him, but he didn't acknowledge you.

"trent" you finally got his attention and his just lifted his eyebrows.

"honestly, at this point, i don't give a shit, let the world know your mine and mine only."

he looked at you in utter shock.

"yeh?" he questioned.

"fuck yes" you raised your arms in the air, and threw them over your boyfriends shoulders, you placed your lips onto his lips and just stayed there until you both let go.

"my girl and my girl only" you both giggled, and headed back to your villa, and boy he proved that to you.

themirror

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55,385 likes

themirror liverpool and england superstar trent alexander arnold seen in bora bora spending time with gorgeous girlfriend y/n.

the couple have supposedly been dating for nearly 2 years, but keep their relationship away from social media and behind cameras.

the pair were spotted roaming around together on jet skis taking pictures of one another with each other and sharing plenty of kisses on top of that, definition of summer love!

is this finally the perfect girl for trent?

we will have to wait and see... 👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏽

view comments

user1 i wish they where public there so cute

user2 y/n is glowing!!!!!!!

user3 i wish i was her

user4 jealous

trentarnold66

⚫️○

liked by judebellingham, jordanhederson and 2,139,283 others

trentarnold66 definition of summer love? @youruser

View comments

judebellingham caption 🫣🤣

jordanhenderson ❤️‍🔥

alexoxladechamerlain my boyyyy

philfoden roaming around on jet skis together

the end.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#explore #explorepage #trent alexander arnold #lfc #trentstories #lfcfans #liverpool #trent alexander arnold writes #football #trent alexander arnold imagines #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagines #england imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x y/n

[teaijo]

random twst headcanons

jamil has definitely been scared awake in the middle of the night from nightmares about bugs

kalim never remembers what he needs to search on google and spends like 5 minutes thinking, before giving up and he finally remembers when he’s with jamil (and ends up asking him instead)

deuce is wasian

cater has less than 20 followers on magicam

trey ate toothpaste as a kid, and wanted to make a cake with toothpaste as icing before his parents shut down the idea

when ace wants to hold hands with someone, he purposely makes them hold his ungloved right hand so he can feel their hands more

malleus has a soft spot for tiny animals, but they always seem to run away from him and that makes him sad

^ it makes him salty that small animals always approach silver despite him not doing anything

idia looks down on people for not knowing things he literally just learnt a few days ago

“imagine not knowing what [random tv show/game] is 🤓🤓🤓” (he only looked it up last night bc he thought one of the characters was hot)

riddle can identify each and every seasoning used in the food he eats (we can thank his monochrome spiceless household)

integers is half the reason why deuce is failing at math

epel the typa guy to sleep with socks on

jack unironically reposts cringy workout motivational quotes on his story/status,, he seems so passionate about them so noone ever says anything…

leona wears the most gaudy things ever as pyjamas, either that or he hits the hay butt naked

lilia’s fashion style ranges from Hot Topic Mall Goth to Soccer Dad with pants way too small for him to twitch streamer with absolutely zero drip

deuce believes that girls Cannot fart… he thinks its biologically impossible

rook runs a neige fansite on twitter and attends all his events when he can to post updates and photos of neige, he’s been accused of being a sasaeng/stalker by other neige fans multiple times (he can’t help it, that’s jus how he is 😢😢)

the phone crowley gave to the prefect in book 4 was so cheap that the battery completely drains in only 5 hours

vargas probably got salmonella more than once from eating too many raw eggs

vil cannot stand the taste of runny egg yolks

might add more when i feel like it, hope u liked them 👍

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #jack howl #epel felmier #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #rook hunt #lilia vanrouge #trey clover #cater diamond #malleus draconia #silver #vil schoenheit #twst yuu #twst headcanons

[bookshelf-dust]

community service

ghostface!billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3,714

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, being drunk, drunk driving, domestic abuse (super small mention), rather violent and descriptive murder, literally this is just murder, slight suggestive ideas

a/n: hi!! look at me! i remembered how to write! anyway. this fic has been in the drafts for months, but here it is. one of the kills is inspired by a kill from scream 2, and another is from *i think* the first season of chucky. anyway. it’s not gonna be for everyone! it’s dark and fucked up and kinda questionable. but it’s also for my masked men lovers. i see you. i am you. i hope you enjoy!! i love you!! <333

other ghostface! au’s: steddie & eddie

————

You check your watch for what seems like the millionth time, only for a few minutes to have passed since the last time you looked. Billy is late again, but at least now you know why. 

You hadn’t been stupid enough to think he was having an affair, not when you know so much better than that. When you know he’d do anything for you. 

The longer you sit here, the more unfocused your eyes get, and you start to think about everything you’ve realized over the past week. Part of you has known for longer. You just didn’t want to overanalyze this, not like you do everything else. 

You hoped he’d come to you. But clearly he wants to keep this to himself. 

He’d been doing well, too, up until you found the smear of blood inside the bathroom cabinet. He’d pranced around the room half-naked that night after his shower, so you knew he wasn’t the one who’d been injured.

Last week you decided to clean out the closet on your day off. You remembered a pair of shoes that you hadn’t seen in forever, and began looking through all the boxes buried in the corners, under piles of clothes discarded in a rush to get ready. 

You’d pulled the lid off a surprisingly light box, only to find a mask. One you’d seen in costume stores, at Halloween parties. On the news. 

And you just knew. 

There hadn’t ever been an instance where he’d worn it. None of his simple Halloween costumes ever required a mask. He hadn’t ever worn it for you, even if you’d like that much more than you’re sure is normal. 

What’s more concerning is that this realization–it didn’t scare you. You aren’t scared now, sitting in the living room, waiting for him to come home, knowing exactly what he’s been up to. He probably thinks you’re in bed by now, anticipating him joining you. 

Instead, you sit curled in a chair, socked feet tucked up under you. Your body is tired, you can feel as much, but your mind won’t rest until you’ve taken care of this. 

It’s then, when you’re starting to get sick of waiting, that you hear the sound of heavy footsteps, thick-soled boots bounding up the front stairs. Your spine straightens, eyes glued to the way the lock turns with a twist of his key, his shadow as it spills across the floor when he walks inside. 

Billy isn’t surprised to see the living room glowing in a yellow light. You usually leave it on for him anyway. What he’s not expecting is to see you sitting in your chair, chin resting on your hand, as you watch him remove his jacket. 

“What are you doing up so late, baby?” 

You don’t move, just keep your eyes on him as he walks towards you. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, a very tight one, and it occurs to you that you haven’t seen his arms in a little while. They’re bigger. You’re sure of it. 

“It’s only eleven forty-five,” you say. 

He laughs, dropping gently to his knees in front of you, hands going to rest on your own. He presses a kiss to the top of your bare thigh. 

“You’re usually in bed by now.”

He kisses your knee, lips warm against your skin except for where the cold metal of his new piercing touches you. It’s healed, but still strange to see him with it after all this time.

“Wanted to see you.”

Billy is in love with you. And that means he knows you like the back of his hand. So this, the way you’ve sat out here for him, that sad but almost frustrated look in your eye, it tells him everything he needs to know.

It tells him that you know. 

You’re a very intelligent woman. You’re his smart girl, and he knew you’d figure it out sooner or later. He’d only kept it from you because he knew you’d worry. Knew you’d overthink it and make yourself crazy. He just wanted you to have some peace of mind. But clearly that hasn’t worked out so well.

“And ask you something,” you continue, reaching down to twist one of his curls around your finger.

There it is. 

“Shoot.” Billy wraps his hands around the backs of your knees, fingertips still chilly from the cool night air. His grip is soft, but still possessive. 

You rub your nose, look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath.

“When were you gonna let me in on your little secret?”

You can feel his breath on your bare legs when he exhales. He tilts his head and presses his cheek gently against your knee. 

“Look at me,” he says, voice firm. You oblige. 

“It feels kind of shitty that you kept it from me. That I only found out because I decided to be productive for once and do a little cleaning. We’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other, Billy. That’s what makes this work.”

When you’ve finished, he straightens his back and pushes off the floor. He’s looming over you now. It doesn’t intimidate you, even if it should. If other people might be scared of him. 

That’s what he’s stuck on. You’re not scared. You’re not angry about what he’s doing. You’re concerned about fucking communication. 

He leans down and sets his hands against the armrests of your chair. You have no choice but to look him in the eye. 

“You’re my girl. It’s a crazy world out there.” He lifts one hand and runs his thumb underneath your eye before removing it again. “I gotta keep you safe.”

You drop your head back against the chair. “Jesus christ, Billy. This goes both ways. I want to take care of you just like you do for me. I don’t think it’s fair that you kept this to yourself when I could’ve helped you deal with it, I don’t know.”

He doesn’t scoff. He doesn’t even quirk a brow. He’s taking you seriously, just like always.

“What, you wanna clean me up or somethin’?”

You’re quiet. He rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek. 

“You know the answer to that.”

Billy takes your chin in his hand. “I apologize for not telling you earlier. I didn’t want to worry you. It takes awhile to get back from Hawkins, that’s why I’ve been home so late. Work was just an excuse.”

“Hawkins?”

He kisses you, mouth slotting against your own. The way he sucks on your bottom lip leaves you feeling dazed, though you know that’s exactly why he does it. Just to see the look in your eye. He should’ve known you’d take this well.

“Yeah. ‘Lotta shit left behind back there. Best to do some community service while I can, don’t you think?”

There’s a bruise on his bicep, dark in the dim lighting of your living room. 

“Yeah, Billy. I think so.”

————

The phone hooked to the wall in Jason’s office starts to ring. He rolls his eyes. Anyone important enough would know what time of day it is, and that means he’s busy. 

Jason stands still at the altar, flipping through the last few pages of notes he made for his next service. He checks his watch, noting that he should start confessionals soon. His shoulders rise and fall, steady breaths filling his lungs. 

The phone keeps ringing, and it’s starting to make him angry. He stops what he’s doing and stomps out in the hall, stepping just far enough inside the small room to answer the phone.

“What?”

The line is silent, but someone is on the other side, and he knows it. 

“Hello? What do you want?”

He hears someone inhale. “Why don’t you lose the attitude, Carver? Still haven’t gotten that stick outta your ass?”

Jason puts the phone in his other hand. 

“Excuse me? Who is this?”

“No need to worry about that, Pastor Carver. Now, would you like to play a game, Jason?”

The blonde rubs a hand over his forehead. What is he, five?

“No. I have a job to do. Grow up.” He hangs up the phone, slamming it back in its place before walking back out. 

Jason is older now. Went to community college, pursued ministry. He always knew that’s where he would end up. It’s what he deserves. It gives him great power, preaching. 

Not that a damn word that comes out of his mouth isn’t bullshit. 

But this is what he is good at. He will not be teased. He is important, and he knows it. 

He collects his notes from where he’d set them on the altar, picks up his personalized Bible, slips the cap back onto his pen. 

The confessional booth is set up in the corner, against the wall with the biggest window. He thinks it’s the most beautiful spot in the church, what with the way the stain glass plays across the floor. 

He enters the booth, thumb entwining in the chain around his neck. When Jason started his work, he’d taken part in confessionals much more often. Now that he’s so committed, he has to schedule a specific time period where people can come in. 

And he knows they will. They always do. People praise Pastor Carver for being so wise, for guiding them in the right direction, into the right hands.

But he doesn’t take kindly to criticism. He knows what he’s doing. He was made for this. Now he can protect people like him from the people he went to high school with. Now he has real power.

There’s some light shuffling coming from the other side of the booth. Did someone come in? Maybe he didn’t hear them over that stupid phone call. He shouldn’t have answered. 

“Hello? Is someone there?”

He’s met with silence. He listens, but there’s nothing. He knows he heard something. He’s still young, in perfect health. He doesn’t make mistakes like that.

“We can begin whenever you’re ready,” he says, wondering if maybe whoever is in the other booth might be shy. If maybe they’re a new member of the church congress.

Still he gets no response. He doesn’t like being ignored. What is with people today? 

Jason presses the side of his face against the wood, trying to hear through the small gaps. They’re not wide enough to see through clearly, but he gets a glance at something moving. He knew it. He hears the shuffle again, temper rising.

“Listen, If you’re not gonna—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. A knife, with a freshly sharpened blade, slices through that cheap wood, settling in his cheek. He can’t speak. The metal scrapes against his teeth. If he were to try, he’d certainly lose his tongue. 

Blood fills his mouth, and his ears start to ring. He can’t breathe, can’t hear. When the knife is yanked back, pulled maliciously from his face, he’s so completely shocked that he falls, brain malfunctioning. Shutting down, surely. 

Quick and easy was best for someone like Jason Carver. Such a big fuckin’ mouth. Never using it for any good, only to push his corrupt agenda on others—like he’s some god. 

He should’ve played the damn game. Maybe Billy ought to forego the phone calls and get eight to it. Seems that being blunt is the only way to get through to these assholes. 

Wiping his knife off against his robe, Billy steps out of the booth and walks around to Jason’s side. The man sits on the floor, slumped against the seat. His eyes are open, but he’s lost too much blood to be able to form a retort. 

Billy leans down, grabbing at the chain around Jason’s neck. The blonde tries to grab for this mysterious figure's arm, tries to do anything, but it doesn’t matter. 

The chain breaks easily, gold cross standing out against his gloved hand. He tucks it into his pocket. Such a waste of space, this guy. So fucking pretentious. 

Billy has never been happier to take out the trash. 

————

When Billy gets home, he’s pissed. Mainly because he’s dirty. Carver was a bleeder, got that shit everywhere. It’s on the hem of his robe, caked onto his shoe where he had to step up and get the necklace off. 

But more so, he’s pissed that he has to be the one to do this. That people are so blind to the shit storm around them. 

He kicks the back door shut behind him. 

“Billy?” Your voice calls out to him. 

“Headin’ to the bathroom, sweet thing.” He hears you hop off the bed and pad down the hall. 

You’re such a fuckin’ sweetheart. He can’t believe it. 

You walk into the bathroom the moment he throws the mask down on the toilet seat, blood staining the white material. You watch him put his shoes and the robe in the tub. 

He spins around, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, baby. How’s my girl?”

You meet him halfway for a kiss. “I’m okay. Are you?”

“Better now that I’m with you. Listen, can you do me a favor, sugar?”

You nod. 

“In the back of the closet, you know where, there’s a little jewelry box. Can you bring it in here?”

“Of course.”

He winks at you, tying his curls up on the top of his head. “Be quick.”

When you return, he opens the box, and your heart drops at the sheer amount of jewelry inside. But the longer you look, the more you realize what this is.

He’s kept something from everyone. There are rings. Chains. Keyrings. Holy shit. There’s a pair of earrings that look like some Karen Wheeler used to wear. Something very expensive looking, like only a Harrington would have. There’s a lighter, too. With the last name Byers engraved on it. 

You stop gawking when Billy tosses the cross necklace inside. He’s almost done. And when he is, you’ll both get out of here. He’s gonna give you such a good life. You just don’t know his plans yet. 

“It’s so much safer without them here, you know that, baby?”

Billy looks you in the eye. You push a curl back behind his ear. 

“I know. You do such a good job, Billy.”

————

Tommy Hagan has been a piece of shit since elementary school, and he’s destined to be one for the rest of his life. 

He works at a car dealership, still in Hawkins, still drinking and pretending like he’s seventeen. He peaked in high school, and everyone knows it. Shit, he knows it, and that’s why he’s still clinging to this lifestyle, even when no one else has. 

Fucking Steve Harrington even got his ass out of Hawkins, and that’s saying something. Tommy thought Steve would be there for the rest of his life, raising that stupid family he blabbed about, sending the kids to the same schools, but no.

Even Carol left. The woman he should have married. The chick he treated like shit after they graduated, all because he wasn’t ready to grow up–and she was. 

He’s still not ready. Not as he sits in his living room, alone because his wife went to stay with her sister. He’s been drinking out of his ass lately, and the other night, he put his hands on her. Tommy isn’t even sure he cares, if he’s honest with himself. 

He’s an insecure asshole. He was in high school, and Billy saw the way he treated you because you were quiet. Saw the way he spoke to Carol when they were alone, the way he’d corner other girls at football games or parties, even when Carol was looking for him. 

It doesn’t matter who he married. Not really. Tommy Hagan was destined to become a deadbeat wife-beater, and he’d never have had the initiative to change that. 

He finishes the beer he’s been nursing and pushes off the couch, heading for the kitchen to find another.

He tosses the bottle into the garbage can rather than the recycling, and it seems to hit hard enough that it shatters inside the trash bag. He shrugs it off. It’s not like he ever takes it out anyway. 

Tommy pulls the refrigerator door open, metal handle cool under his fingertips. That was his last beer.

“Y’gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He slams the door closed, the rattling of jars and bottles inside echoing throughout the quiet room. He presses his forehead against the wall, thinking. Shit, if he can’t drink, he might as well eat something.

There’s a TV dinner in the freezer. He pulls it out, shoving it in the microwave as quickly as possible.

Something else that hasn’t changed: how fucking impatient Tommy is. He can’t even handle waiting the two minutes required for his food.

He opens drawers, trying to find the silverware before realizing it’s all dirty. He can’t believe this shit. 

He yanks open the dishwasher and pulls out the bottom rack. The microwave starts to beep though, and Tommy backs off for a moment to retrieve his dinner. 

With how loud the beeping was, he didn’t hear anyone approach. Didn’t hear the floorboards creak. Didn’t realize that there was someone lurking behind him.

He removes the TV dinner and wipes his hands down his face. “Fuckin’ hell.”

He bends down once more, reaching for a knife so that he’ll be able to cut up his tiny steak. 

He doesn’t expect to be shoved, not in the safety of his own home. And he’s certainly not quick enough or to be able to prevent it himself from stumbling, tripping, unable to catch himself. He yells out, but there’s no one else to hear it. 

He grabs for the counter, but it’s much too slippery with that fucking vinyl countertop. He’s got no chance. 

Tommy Hagan falls forward. When he realizes where he’s headed, what his body is falling over, he thinks for a moment that he should try and brace himself for the fall. But it’s no use. Nothing about his situation is providing him a way out. 

His body collides with the silverware basket, into every knife and fork standing there. Like they were waiting for him.

It’s happened so fast that he can’t even scream. All that comes out is a strangled moan. He’s bleeding and he can feel it. He can hear the footsteps behind him, and he tries to reach for the floor, tries to push up and twist to see who’s done this to him. His hand slips in the mess, but he doesn’t have to do much when someone is pulling his hair, using it as leverage to yank him up. The knives below him scrape and drag, his skin tugging in unnatural ways. 

Tommy coughs, blood filling his mouth. He can’t speak. He can’t do the one thing he’s good at: open that big mouth. 

The masked figure looming over him grabs his other hand, causing him to press further into the silverware. He screams, but it comes out garbled as they tug off his wedding ring. 

Tommy’s hair is released, and he sinks impossibly deeper, metal piercing everything. 

“Such a shame, Hagan.” The figure speaks. Tommy doesn’t recognize the voice. He wishes he could yell, ask what they want, why they’re doing this–but he can’t. 

“Never deserved that wife of yours. Never deserved anything you got. But this? Yeah, this is the surprise you needed.”

The last thing Tommy hears is his own front door slamming shut and locking. How did they get a key? He’ll never know. He’ll die here, and no one is coming for him. 

————

When Billy slips into bed with you that night, he coaxes your head onto his chest, wanting to feel you. Wanting to know that you’re really there. He leans down to kiss you, finding your eyes glued to the closet door. You know it’s in there. 

“What is it, baby?”

You blink, shaking your head. You sit up some, and slip your hand under the edge of his t-shirt, fingers running over the soft of his warm tummy. 

“Is this fulfilling for you? Is it something you think you’ll do forever?”

Billy allows himself to think for a moment, and while he does, he gently pulls you closer, leaning up to get that kiss he wanted. When he pulls away, he has an answer for you.

“It’s not something I want to do forever, no. I know we moved to the city and out of Hawkins, but I go back there because it doesn’t feel right to leave those motherfuckers there, roaming around and making it worse. There are good people there, and they don’t deserve to live in a place that’s drowning in shit. So yeah, it’s fulfilling in that I know I can make it a better place. I can protect the people who once protected me.”

And that’s true. Joyce is still there. He talks to her on the phone a few times a week. Shit, the woman is practically his surrogate mother. Max is still there, in college with her friends. Sure, she’ll transfer soon, but still. He can’t leave it like that. 

He would’ve taken care of Neil had he not done that himself. Stomped off one night, drunk, and never came home. He got in an accident. Billy was glad to skip that chore. 

“I’m almost done, sweetheart, I promise. Just wanted to leave behind something better. I won’t do this much longer. Just wanna keep you safe. It’s so scary out there, baby. I only want the best for you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching his chest rise and fall. This should freak you out, shouldn’t it? It should alarm you? It doesn’t. He’s so good at this. He’s a natural. Doesn’t leave a trace. You do feel safer, admittedly.

“I understand. I just want you to be careful.”

His nails scratch lightly at your neck. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve got this. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. This hellhole is gonna be so much better when I’m done.”

“Yeah, Billy. It is. Then maybe we can get out of here for real.”

“Of course. Anything for my girl.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #ghostface!billy hargrove #ghostface!billy #billy hargrove x female reader

[ivysangel]

in an alternate universe partition was written about dick grayson because it's so him i just KNOWWW he'd do that shit!! with his cocky smile and everything 🤭

NONNIE NONNIE NONNIE !!!!!!! saw this ask half asleep while checking my notifs and had to force myself to get some rest instead of answering it bc i got SO excited even in my delirious half asleep state. obviously i'm listening to it rn while writing this, like NONNIE ??? i'm smiling, literally not joking i'm cheesin like a fucking loser. quick ro lore before we get into the GOOD stuff: massive beyoncé stan, MASSIVE partition stan !!!! massive music lover and pop culture fiend too like this might just be my favorite ask ever. anyway.

who said in an alternate universe bc it's definitely this one. i literally ghostwrote the song with dick grayson in mind err? like i do just wanna be the girl he likes (everybody point and laugh). like the song, aside from being about super hot sex, is about being so into your partner that you'll give everything to them, do anything for them, put all this effort into catching their eye as if you don't already have it. 'take all of me i just wanna be the girl you like' (cassie in euphoria s2 is that u?) IS SOOOOOOOOOOO REAL TO ME !!!!! like i would do anything for him. (side note, why am i listening to partition and hearing jay on the bg vocals? like am i going insane orrr)

(everything under the cut is just smut)

'he popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse/he monica lewinski'd all on my gown' and 'took forty-five minute to get all dressed up and we ain't even gon' make it to this club' ??? oh exactly. you put all this effort into looking good for him, and unlke CASSIE in eufuckingphoria season 2, it works out for you oh my god it does. 'driver roll up the partition please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc...car sex. but you're not going to a club, no it's a wayne enterprises gala and you don't even get there until hours later because you're almost fully naked in the back seat getting dicked down by dick grayson !!

'handprints and footprints on my glass, handprints and good grips all on my ass' ugh real music literally real fucking music. you're straddling him as he manspreads, cock buried in you, and your fingernails are digging into the black leather seats. his ties been loosened, shirt opened, and there's red smudged on top of blooming hickeys. the glass is foggy, the only semi clear parts being your handprints from when the pleasure got overwhelming. 'now my mascara runnin', red lipstick smudged/oh, he so horny yeah, he want to fuck' like it's dick grayson, he'd fuck you into next week on a normal day so ofc he'd do it when you get all dolled up. ofc everyone's wondering when pretty boy grayson's gonna make an appearence in front of the flashing cameras. 'over there i swear, i saw them cameras flash' rolls down the partition just a smidge, to tell the driver to park somewhere private so you're not caught in an extremely compromising position. not that he really cares, everyone already knows he gets play anyways, it's more about your comfortability. tits out and pussy facing the world, on the cover of tmz and shit bc he got just a bit too cocky. no never that.

'cheauffer eavesdroppin' tryin' not to crash' you and the driver both end up getting a tip that night. he's sorry, he really is. but he just couldn't resist you, not when you were dressed like that. your intention was to have amazing mind blowing sex with dick that night but not in the back of a moving car. 'driver roll up the partition, please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc it was just supposed to be some quick head and now his pants are ruined, your dress is torn, hair messed up on both ends, and the amount of hickeys between the both of you is concerning.

you'd do it all again tho, and he knows you would. shit, he would too !!! and that's so evident in the way he teases you for the next few weeks about it. asking if he should take the dress to the dry cleaners knowing it looks like you'd been in a fight, suggesting you wear the lipstick shade from that night, asking if you need a cheauffer anytime you have to go anywhere, and giving you knowing looks everytime someone asks why you guys showed up at the gala over an hour late. "wardrobe malfunction and car trouble." he says with a smile. it looks normal to whoever you're talking to but you know it holds a level of cockiness that is so completely unfathomable, a level of cockiness he only gets when he fucks you.

(got a little carried away nonnie my b. ughh how i love a good lyrical breakdown, even out of order lol. seriously, this made my day. literally woke up and got straight to it. did not proofread this bc i...just woke up lmao)

#★ dirty laundry ★ #dick grayson lover #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader

[fuckyeahpedropascal]

Hi, I hope you're doing well! Just wondering if you're able to do a post/poll/comparison/analysis - let's call it a scientific study - of Pedro's broad shoulder in proportion to his tiny waist? (and maybe also his cute, um, bottom?)

As always, thank you so much for all you do for the Pedro fandom! 💖

This ask is literally 8 months old, I’m so sorry sweet anon 😭 I kept putting it off because I felt like I couldn’t do your ask justice. I still think I can do a much better job than this, but since it’s Boxing Day, I thought I’d leave this naked man under all of your trees.

Please forgive the half-assed analysis because my mind doesn’t work in the face of such broadness 🫠 And of course, we can only use half-naked pics because we need clear references for science.

Let's talk overall broadness first. This man majorly beefed up in between Nikita (2013) and the first season of Narcos (2015). I was going to use 3:5 cropping for both gifs, but I literally couldn't fit all of Javier in that frame. That's how bloody broad this man had gotten.

Can we admire the corded muscles running down Javier's side for a second? Look at the lines. Look at them. He is significantly thicker and more sculpted compared to Liam, he definitely put his hours in the gym in those couple of years.

Skipping forward to the next time we see this man half-naked on screen in TUWOMT in 2022, he has clearly gotten even broader horizontally and also filled out in thickness. The shoulders are bigger, and look at those tiddies pecs practically leaping off the screen, and that soft belly. They knew what they were doing not giving us a full frontal shot of Javi G - he's a danger to ovaries everywhere.

Now let's move on to shoulder-to-waist ratio. Compared to Liam, Javier has a more pronounced dip in the waist thanks to the broader shoulders and the tiny little waist that stayed tiny. If you draw lines connecting shoulders to waist, Liam is more boxy and Javier is more of a trapezium.

While we don't see Javi G stand up fully, that shoulder-to-waist ratio is clearly still there, even if he is broader on both ends overall. That slutty nip in the waist is still very much present.

Ok that's all the analysis my turkey-fogged brain is capable of right now. This is such a broad topic (tehehe), consider this a prelude of sorts. I'm sure I'll be doing more of a deep dive one day, because we haven't even gotten to that little tush yet.

• Masterlist •

Related posts:

Shoulders/arms/waist ratio

Pedro boys in bed

Pedro boys disrobed

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #javier pena #javier peña #javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #pedro pascal edit #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal analysis #fuckyeahasks

[chadchady]

Dom m!user x bot! FTM soap

Warning - mdni, fem aligned dni, scent kink, barebacking, breath play?, noncon, PiV, cunnilingus(not really tbh) , face sitting, fingering, masterbation, helplessness, ig somno, underwear fetish,

You were new, or the newest. You had been there for two months so far. While you had been welcomed with open arms, a specific sergeant welcomed you with open legs and a nice hairy cunt in between them. Not literally but it seemed like it. Soap was addicted to you, your scent, your face, hair, muscles, legs, anything and everything.

It had been your average day on base, a lot of hurry up and wait, paperwork, a headache pounding from the yelling. You are currently sitting in the empty mess hall at 11 pm, sipping some peppermint tea, you could feel yourself getting ill already, fuck you hated flu season. You tried to inhale through your nose but couldn’t, you grab a rough napkin and blow your nose with a groan. You grab a second napkin, dapping the sweat off your forehead and neck. You rest your head on the table for a few seconds but your startled out you dazed state by what feels like breeze, you look back, nothing, but you notice the napkin you wiped your sweat on was gone. Your too tired to care.

You drag your feet all the way back to your room, you feel hot, like you have a fever, so you strip. Now butt ass naked, you flop down on your bed and quickly fall asleep. You’re awoken way too soon by a scuffle and creak of the floor. You tiredly look up to see soap.

“Soap?” You groan as you rub your eyes “hey uh, I saw you in the uh uh mess hall, so I-I came to check on you- I saw you I-in the mess hall” he stutters a little, he seemed nervous. He quickly exits you room without saying anything. You would go see what’s up but. You’re too sick to care. Meanwhile, soaps having the time of his life in his room.

He’s laying against the headboard of his bed, one hand playing with his soaked cunt, the other holding your musky underwear up to his face, huffing the scent like it’s a drug. His whines and moans of desperation are muffled by the underwear, the drool slowly dripping down his face is caught by the underwear. It’s not enough for him, he needs the real smell, he needs your cock inside of him.

He pushes himself out of bed, he grabs a pair of loose shorts and slips them on before leaving his room. He hurriedly makes his way to your room. Soaps mind is clouded by arousal, he can hardly think about anything but you. He carefully opens your door and sees you sitting up, half awake, aggressively blowing your nose. You groan when leaning over to throw the tissue away. The noise makes Soaps thighs clench.

“Hey, i think I have a remedy” he says with a smile, though you can’t see it through the darkness. Soap would be awkward about this normally but the fog in his mind was just additional confidence. “What?” You croak, voice hoarse and painfully raspy. “Just lay back, close your eyes and open your mouth” he mutters and you do it. In a few seconds, you feel heat about your face and before you can process it you feel Soaps hot pussy against your face, his thighs squeezing your head. You feel too sick to do anything. He’s grinding against your face, it’s hard to breathe, but you liked the musky smell more than oxygen anyways.

You feel his hands firmly planted on your chest to help himself buck against your face, high whines and moans fill the room. With an particularly deep breath, you feel yourself cough against his cunt. Soap, who moans loudly at the odd sensation as he arches his back, giving you a moment(less than a second) to catch your breathe before grinding again. For what feels like and eternity of oxygen deprivation and the slick dripping down your face and neck and onto the bed, Soap finally pushes himself off your face. He pulls the covers down to expose your cock to him, he practically moans in excitement and desperation.

He takes little time to spit on your cock and stoke it a few times before he positions himself over it. He plunges it deep inside himself pulling an explicit moan from his throat and a weak groan from you. He sets a pelvis cracking pace. You feel your head pounding and lift your hand up to his face before shoving two fingers into his mouth, which he moans around and begins sucking and licking them. You buck your hips up into him and with a loud moan (that your fingers couldn’t even muffle) he squirts all over you, which makes you cum into his warm pussy. You feel the exhaustion take over and you pass out.

Soap contracted your sickness the next day

Should I make a outsiders au?

#call of duty #cod mw2 #dom male reader #sub male character #soap x reader #call of duty x male reader #ftm sub #john soap mactavish #soap x male reader #trans soap #bottom character #john soap mctavish x reader #male reader

[drinkingbeerfroma]

Okay. So. How about a 90s sorta online dating Harringrove AU that's also omegaverse where Steve is a very picky omega and he's had so many matches to his dating profile bidding for his attention and he knows he's like the creme de la creme, the bees knees, rare and beautiful and smells the best and most intoxicating scent that it makes everybody stupid to a point that it's gotten pretty dangerous. But he doesn't mean to be picky, he's always wanted it easy as much as the next guy, it's just that he has the most sensitive nose, ever since he was a kid, even gotten worse after he presented, and just a whiff of any scent he can't particularly stand he gets the most godawful allergies and sneezes and sometimes even coughs his lungs out if it's really strong and bad. And there aren't really meds for it. He can use scent blockers on himself, but that's it, that's the only extent of protection their health care system has right now for his case.

So he's lonely, he's become a really lonely guy, can't really leave the house without a mask on like he has seasonal allergies all year round, hard for him to make friends and keep them when he can't really see them for too long, even harder for him to find someone he likes. Since he works at home anyway, he resorts to online dating. Because why not? He's desperate. It's the 90s, there are tons of lonely people out there who are completely normal and aren't complete pervs. It's what he tells himself. Now that he's looking at an overwhelming amount of matches, with countless alphas and betas who keep sending his P.O. box all kinds of things that carry their scent for mate matching, Steve has his pick of the litter so to speak, only it's twice as awful, has become a great inconvenience because he has to smell each one, each damn sealed and ziplocked package. It's become literal hell. He can't believe romance in the 20th century has gotten to this. Just when he's gotten sick and tired and literally exhausted from sneezing and coughing, just when he thinks he can't smell a damn thing anymore and has to air out the whole damn apartment from all the nasty foreign smells from strangers, he finds it. Smells it. Right before he almost throws away all the bags in the garbage shoot, he gets a whiff that escapes a not-so-sealed bag.

It's from a shirt.

The most heavenly, mouth-watering scent of an alpha is coming from a pit-stained, worn-thin, hole ridden, a little dank, shirt. Steve doesn't know how to react because it's so careless and unthoughtful and lazy, and the most disgustingly amazing and stupidly addictive scent he's ever smelled in his entire pathetic omega life.

Which belongs to one Billy Hargrove.

The douchiest asshole in the great Chicago area with the prettiest bluest eyes, the embodiment of everything Steve hates in an alpha, all cocky and charming and oozing with unrighteous confidence, his dating profile consisting of a bunch of half naked pictures of him flexing the muscles of his muscles, hobbies are getting his dick wet, his knot popped and looking at himself in the goddamn mirror, sweet words filled with bad intentions.

But Steve can't help but stuff his face of Billy Hargrove's disgustingly damp shirt, can't help but drool and moan on it while he touches himself in his underwear, spreading the wetness between his thighs, he comes hard. For the first time in a long time, he comes easy.

He sends him an e-mail. Fed-exes his underwear to Billy Hargrove's P.O. box the next day. There are tons of lonely people out there who are completely normal, and who aren't complete pervs, of course. But Steve isn't one of them.

#Harringrove #Harringrove ficlet #90s online dating but make it omegaverse Harringrove AU #steve harrington is a picky eater #until he has no choice #Billy hargrove is disgustingly hot #cause he's disgusting AND hot obv #Omega!Steve Harrington #Alpha!Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove #Steve has a condition and that is he's desperate #harringrove a/b/o #Harringrove AU

[steviesbicrisis]

Stranger things rewatch thoughts

I’ve recently decided to do a rewatch since I don’t remember anything that happens before the scoops ahoy shorts™️ and all of my memories are covered in a thick layer of rainbows and unicorns thanks to Tumblr. I don’t know if anyone will be interested but I wrote down my thoughts while watching 😂 this is season 1:

Where is Steve? I miss Steve

EW STEVE GO AWAY EW

Honestly Mrs Wheeler isn’t half as bad as I remembered

Joyce best character ever I don’t make the rules

Mike your crush on will is showing, embarrassiiiing

Jonance looking cuuuute

But also Nancy this boi took pics of u naked how are u so chill about it

I’m remembering why I love hopper so much

YES SLASH THAT FAKE WILL

Nancy being scandalized by Jonathan taking a gun is cracking me up

Not Nancy crawling into a creepy ass portal in a tree like wtf dude who do you think you are? Alice in wonderland?

Steve I really hate your current friends, when are you going to ditch them and become fruity for our resident fav metalhead weirdo?

Me pulling out google translate to understand what the Russian are saying: am I Robin Buckley?

Wait a fucking minute, the Party’s bullies were just chilling in the woods, causally brought a knife with them and stumbled upon Mike and Dustin?? How in hell-

I swear to god I have no clue how Carol kept dating Tommy after he almost kissed Steve in front of her

I’m sorry Harrington but that ASS going up the ladder, wow

Hopper best dad ever 🥺

Will telling Mike he’s the one keeping them together meanwhile Dustin is literally the reason why they stayed together

Steve wanting to apologize is so cute, my poor heart

NANCY PUT THE GUN DOWN OMG

I’m sorry but there’s just no way Jonathan knew the lights were actually Joyce in the upside down, I call bs

Okay HOW DID BRENNER SURVIVE THAT??

I did not remember the Wheelers going to pick mike up at the school, what did they tell them? Did they give an explanation at all? Lmao

I cannot wait to see season 2 I need some answers

There are Christmas lights and the season ends with snow and Christmas, stranger things is a Christmas tv show #confirmed

Did Will just throw up Dustin’s future pet?

Here my thoughts on season 2!!

#I don't what this even is #but you can see my mental breakdown over steve's ass #and my bias for jopper #and dustin #if anyone likes this im gonna post my thoughts on season 2 lmao #stranger things #stranger things rewatch #random st thoughts #somehow i managed to fit steddie into this #im so good at my job

[ohtobeleah]

leah lovie! for Strictly Scandalous, i was wondering if you can do jake w bondage and overstimulation 🥵 i cannot stop thinking how smug he will get to see you tied up and being worked up

EEEEEPP. I literally malfunctioned thinking about this. Brain go Brrrrrr—

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous. Smut ahead.

“Hey Hangman?” Bradley is still drying his hair when his feet hit the wood flooring at yours and Jake's new home. The one you'd been building together for the better half of a year. The one Bradley Bradshaw is staying at for the weekend. “Showers great, honest–” Roosters mumbling as he rounds the corner where you and Jake are sitting on the couch. Your legs are thrown over your husband as he draws absent minded shapes into your thigh. An episode of the new season of Outer Range playing on the TV. “But what's with the hook?” 

“Hmm?” You weren’t really listening until Jake was pausing the episode for you. “Sorry, Roo honey–what did you say?” 

“What's with the giant ass hook sticking out of the walk in the shower for?” Fuck. You're sucking in a nervous breath just as you feel Jake shift under your legs. He’s looking at you, wondering what you're gonna say to cover up the fact the hook is truly there for one reason and one reason only.

To hang you from. 

(Last Night) 

The warmth of the water that cascaded down your naked body brought you back to reality as your high sent you into the stratosphere. Your muscles relaxed under the warmth that radiated from the water, Jake still down on his knees as your head hung low in exhaustion. 

“I'm not done with you pretty girl.” Jake cooed, he loved how you babbled incoherently at his words, damn near drooling as your toes barely touched the tiles of the shower floor. Arms up above your head as the cuffs that linked your wrist together worked to hold you up on the reinforced hook. Purely there for Jake's own entertainment. Your very own Christian Grey if you will. “What's your colour sweetheart.” 

“Green–” You sighed as you caught your breath. “But Jake, please, I need a minute, I–” There was no reasoning with Jake when he was like this. Down on his knees in front of you looking at you like he could just devour you over and over again. His favourite meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

“No time baby, I'm ready for thirds.” Jake smirked as his hands gripped at your hips, holding you still against the cool of the shower wall, licking a stripe up your soaking cunt as the tip of his nose pressed every so gently against your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ahhh! Baby–Baby, fuugghh—Jake!!” You gritted your teeth to cry and hold the whimpers in. fighting to climb up and away from the power his tongue held. Pulling on the handcuffs as your back arched. 

“Stay the fuck still sweetheart, I dont wanna have to punish you for being disobedient.” Jake hissed as he slipped two digits in between your folds, pushing into you as you moaned his name blissfully.” 

“Jake–” 

“Such a pretty pussy.” Jakes fingers as curling against your velvet walls, pumping his fingers in and out as he sets a ridiculously agonising speed that drives your already overstimulated cunt into a frenzy, sending shock waves of pleasure and pain throughout your entire body until your toes are curling and your muscles are tensing to a point beyond your control. “Come on baby, I know you can come again for me.” 

You simply hum in response shaking your head no because you truly don't think the coil could be wound up again, but Jake just knows your body like the back of his hands. He knows what to say, what to do to get you going. “Come on pretty girl, just one more for me yeah? Ill fuck you dumb after that.” Jakes smirking against your clit as his fingers pump in and out, in and out. “You want me to fuck you dumb dont you?” He truly is a sight, down on his knees in the shower, hair sopping wet, muscles tight and shiny.

God you wanted him to ravish you. Fuck you into the next century, but you couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but clench and wither and moan out as you felt the coil being wound up. Threatening to snap back at any second, at any moment, and any sudden movement. 

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching around my fingers baby, know your close, fucking cum for me.” It’s Jake's saltuary words that have you coming undone at the seams. 

“Ahhhhh fuck! Jake, ohhhh fuuughh—Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake!” He doesn’t stop, if anything Jake keeps the steady pace he’s set going all throughout your third high, knowing that working you through it would only have you babbling incoherently at the slightest touch later. 

“Yes baby, look at you, so pretty for me huh? Tastes so sweet.” Jake could do this all day—he would if he could. “Can’t wait to fuck you dumb, give you a forth and a fifth orgasm—“ 

“Please—“ You beg, coming down from the highest mountain Jake could have taken you to. “No more, can’t—“ 

“Oh but you can darlin, I know you can.” 

(Now) 

“Uh—“ Jake stuttered. “It came with the house.”

“Hangman—you two built this house……”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction

[sgiandubh]

OK, I got it : Telegraph shitshow, anyone?

Oh, what the hell. I had no patience and couldn't picture myself fidgeting in a dull supermarket and ending up by forgetting half of the things on my list.

So, here it is, all of it.

Proof of buying:

Yeah, "between Outlander's seasons nine and 10'. See how accurate the girl who wrote it is? How about a cobbled something to address the real issues at stake, of which there are three (more on this, in my next post)?

LOL? LOL.

Anyway, there goes. Passages in bold are marked by me:

If anyone knows a thing or two about sex scenes, it’s Sam Heughan. Over the past decade, the 43-year-old Scottish star of Outlander, the cult-hit historical drama, has filmed hours of notoriously raunchy footage in his role as Jamie Fraser, the dashing 18th-­century Highland rebel, with his wife, Claire – a time-traveller from the 20th century, played by ­Caitríona Balfe.

Yet two years ago, Heughan, as one of the executive producers (with Balfe), introduced an intimacy co-ordinator to choreograph such scenes, which had been criticised by many as excessively violent.

“The industry’s completely changed since Outlander started,” Heughan says, sitting in a Soho bar on a visit to London from his home outside Glasgow. “Not just our show but also shows like Game of Thrones were very graphic, with no room for the imagination, in a way that’s quite jarring now. As young, keen actors, we were just expected to get naked and go at it. Caitríona and I formed a bond and trusted each other, but there were times when we were pushed too far.” He was especially troubled by a scene involving full-frontal nudity in ­season one, when Jamie was tortured and raped by his rival, Black Jack Randall (Tobias Menzies). “That really didn’t sit well.”

Everything changed following the MeToo scandal, leading ­Heughan to employ Vanessa Coffey to choreograph the sex scenes. “So now everyone knows what the boundaries are, like in a football or rugby match. It’s been so helpful and freeing, and it was because I didn’t want younger actors to go through what we’d gone through. Now, the scenes are sexually charged, but not gratuitous.”

Despite his heartthrob status, Heughan – who’s 6ft 2in, with the strapping physique his role necess­i­tates – is modest and thoughtful company. He also had Coffey enlisted to co-ordinate his latest pro­ject, Channel 4’s erotic thriller The Couple Next Door, filmed during the short break between Outlander’s seasons nine and 10, in which he plays Danny, a policeman living in a Leeds suburb in an open marriage with Becka (Jessica De Gouw).

“We didn’t want to make a salacious or seedy show about swingers,” Heughan says. “It’s about the psychology behind it – what is it to be in an open relationship where two characters love each other so much that they can invite people into that relationship? I think it’s possibly the greatest form of romance to allow your partner this, if it’s the itch they need to scratch. My character struggles with it.”

The couple’s (initially) strait-laced neighbours are played by Alfred Enoch and Eleanor Tom­linson, who in 2019 finished five seasons as Demelza in Poldark. With Outlander about to start ­filming its final season, she and Heughan compared notes on moving on from a huge, long-running costume drama.

“It’s emotional. For me, the prospect’s hugely bittersweet. It feels like getting out of an institution. Outlander’s like a family, it literally defines who I am.” After all, Heughan has created an empire of Outlander spin-offs, including books, television travelogues and his spirits brand, The Sassenach – named after Jamie’s nickname for the English Claire – not to mention his charity, My Peak Challenge, which has raised nearly £5 million to fund a variety of causes, including ­hunger relief and blood-cancer research. “I’m ready for new challenges, but also nervous about what it’s like in the real world,” he says.

Still, he felt now was the right time to wrap. “Outlander could have finished after the ninth season, but, personally, I felt we hadn’t quite got there. So now we have the problem of pushing the writers to do something that’s hopefully satisfying for the audience, but also exciting.” So Heughan doesn’t yet know how Outlander ends? “No idea, and it’s really tough because Diana [Gabaldon, the author on whose novels the series is based] has written so many books.”

The show has a vast international fanbase; VisitScotland has cited a 67 per cent rise in visits to the show’s locations, such as Culloden and Inverness. “I do feel like I’m an unofficial ambassador for Scotland, and sometimes I don’t think the show is given enough credit for what it’s done for Scottish tourism,” Heughan says. “I think the numbers are even bigger than they say, because reams of Americans are just making their own itineraries. Doune Castle’s numbers are up 800 per cent, it’s been completely renovated as a result.”

The show has also transformed the local film industry. “For 10 years, we’ve been employing ­people at over 200 Scottish locations, we’ve started an intern scheme, we’ve built a studio with five sound stages where there was nothing before. So it’s going to leave a legacy.”

The son of an artist single mother (his father walked out when he was a baby), Heughan spent his early childhood in the Borders, his teens in Edinburgh, before studying at Glasgow’s Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, where his mentor was third-year student James McAvoy.

Having worked in London and Los Angeles, Heughan fell back in love with Scotland when he was cast in Outlander. Initially against independence, filming the first ­season in the run-up to the 2016 ­referendum transformed him into a vocal advocate. “Scottish politics right now is a bit of a mess, which is a shame, but maybe they’ll find a new rallying cry. We’re a great wee country with amazing resources, most of which are controlled by the British. Similar small European countries have great identities.”

Initially, Heughan is hesitant to discuss the issue, aware taking either side will provoke a social-media backlash, but then he decides: “Why can’t actors have opi­n­ions? The problem is you have to come down on one side, there is no room for deb­ate. Everything has be­come so aggressive and then social-media algo­rithms mean you only get to see one side of the argument.”

He had his fingers burnt when last month he signed an open letter from Artists for Palestine UK, alongside the likes of Tilda Swinton and Steve Coogan, which accused the Government of “aiding and abetting” Israeli war crimes, but failed to condemn Hamas’s terrorism. The following day, Heughan rescinded, saying he hadn’t “fully understood” what he was signing.

“I was maybe naively calling for peace, which is what we all want, but, unfortunately, that situation is so complex, I can’t understand it all,” he says now. “As an actor, you have a platform, but if you put your thoughts out there, you upset ­people, but you’re also damned if you don’t say anything.”

Heughan’s taking time to navigate a potential post-Outlander career path. “I’m a workaholic, but I have to be discerning. Whatever I do next, I have to feel really passionate about.” Possible plans include directing and exploring a different side to Scotland than misty heather and bagpipes. “I think that underbelly you see in [Ian Rankin’s] Rebus and Irvine Welsh is very interesting, there are still pockets that are very hard and gritty.”

Back in 2005, he auditioned for James Bond in Casino Royale – the role that eventually went to Daniel Craig. Now, there’s a new vacancy. “I’ll throw my hat in the ring,” he says, grinning. “I’d be a brilliant Bond, I’m good at action and I’d bring a lot of ­emotional intelligence.”

There might even be space for a personal life. Heughan’s mystified by “facts” he reads about his private life online. “There’s so much ­nonsense that’s completely false – apparently, I have a daughter. News to me!” he says, flushing. The truth, he says, is that Outlander leaves no time for relationships.

“It’s insane hours and takes over everything. Caitríona’s carved out a beautiful family for herself that she protects very well, but I’ve seen how hard it is for her to do that. I want a cat, but I’m too scared even for that, how would I look after it? One day, maybe,” Heughan says, dreamily.

The Couple Next Door begins on Channel 4 on Monday 27 November at 9pm; stream all episodes from this date

#shitshow

[celluloidbroomcloset]

(Previous posts are here: Stede's clothing arc, Part I and Part II. Ed's clothing arc.)

Stede and Ed's clothing arcs start to connect fully in "Calypso's Birthday."

At the start of the episode, Ed is back in his leathers, and Stede is still in the red shirt from the cursed suit. (I know that it's commonly viewed that this is literally the day after the cursed suit incident, but given some of the dialogue between the crew, I think its been longer than that. Stede literally has two sets of clothes, if that.) It's in these guises that they take the crew shopping.

At Calypso's Birthday, the entire crew dresses up, to greater and lesser degrees, from Wee John in full drag as Calypso to Roach and Olu just wearing a few flowers. But Ed and Stede don't - Ed wears his leathers still, and Stede has changed into the leather trousers and blue shirt (continuing the trend of ever-increasing necklines showing more of his chest) that he'll wear for the rest of the season.

They stand somewhat separate from the group, but they're not isolated, left out, or superior to things. They joke with the crew - with Stede admonishing them that he wants his tub back - get a drink, and stand together off to the side to watch Izzy's performance. They both act as older people - or dads - enjoying the kids having fun.

This is progress for them. In Season 1, Ed would be attempting to perform as Blackbeard, telling stories of his adventures; Stede would have taken over the entire party and made it into a big production. Here, they've grown - this is for the crew, and they're just a part of it. Their clothing reflects that - Stede isn't centralizing himself in his costuming, trying to be a part of the in-crowd, and Ed is in the process of becoming just Ed. They are still part of the group, expressing themselves in a different way.

Calypso's birthday is essentially Pirate Pride, and here we have all the different modes of gender and sexual expression, in which no one is judged for who they are, who they love, or how they choose to express themselves. Ned Lowe sweeps in and tries to destroy it, but he can't - Izzy finishes singing his song, and Roach sets off his fireworks.

But Stede and Ed aren't present for that, though again, they are not driven out of the group nor do they reject it; what they need is different from what the rest of the party needs.

The next clothing change is the lack of it. As Stede closes the curtains on the bed nook, we see that he's no longer wearing his shirt. Stede is stripped and Ed is in the process of it - he's back in the clothes he saw himself in "The Innkeeper," the same clothes in which Stede saved him. The dressing gown he'll wear the next morning is on the bed.

At the end of Season 1, both are afraid of their nakedness and its attendant vulnerability. Nakedness comes back in Season 2 with Ed's "horrible naked chin" comment, which Stede rebuffs: "I love your chin, naked or otherwise." But it's Stede, so defined by his clothing, who strips down first. The man who wrapped himself in layers of fine and confining fabric is fully vulnerable, half-naked in front of his lover, who looks at him like nothing has ever been so beautiful.

Ed, who was vulnerable first and was burned by it, hasn't completely opened himself again. But he's in the process of it, returning to the costume in which he first saw himself. The next morning he'll also attempt to completely discard the clothes that defined him (that he's not yet able to do so indicates that he's not fully ready to be that vulnerable with Stede again).

This sequence is not the end of the arc, but a vital moment within it. It's this that enables them to navigate the next two episodes, and how Ed comes to the conclusion of this portion of his arc. By the end of the season, the Blackbeard persona becomes more fully integrated into Ed not as a separate disguise behind which to hide, but as a way to fight for the man he loves. That their having sex is not the end of that development is also important - nothing is solved by their intimacy, but it represents an important movement forward.

It's crucial that Stede and Ed are able to remove their armor and see each other as they are, both for the arc of their relationship and for their concurrent growth. As Buttons puts it, they have to be able to change themselves in order to love each other better, but they're also the two men on the beach, showing their vulnerabilities and taking the first tentative steps towards each other.

#ofmd season 2 #ofmd 2 #ofmd meta #our flag means death #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #ed teach #calypso's birthday #gif #i'm sure there's more to be said about all of this

[the-cookie-of-doom]

split/kid! Kim AU as promised 😘

send me an ask and I'll tell you about one of these WIPs!

I haven't thought about this fic in so long I forgot it even existed, but I added it to the list just for you <3

In this fic, through ~magical handwaving~, Kim's younger self is split from his adult self. It was meant to only cut out his memories/trauma (bc Kim will turn to magic before therapy), but oops! Turns out all those memories became a whole person! So now there's a ~13 year old knife-wielding Kim running around the compound, and adult KimChay have no idea. The significance of that age is that's how old Kim was the first time he killed someone, and he sees that as the thing that ruined him as a person. So if he can get rid of the part of himself that decided to be a murderer, maybe he can become a better man for Chay. Spoiler, that's not how it works.

The whole idea behind the fic is Kim learning to forgive himself for the things he had to do to survive. It's a lot harder to blame yourself for life going wrong when you have to look that frightened child in the eyes and tell him everything is his fault. Kid Kim is also a darling, and the brother feels make me weep.

Chay’s phone is ringing on the nightstand. He reaches blindly for it, preoccupied with Kim’s mouth on his own.  “Ignore it,” Kim murmurs, giving Chay’s bottom lip a chastising little bite. He’s half on top of Chay, both of them naked, hands wandering, and well on their way to a second round. Kim is making a very compelling argument, but… “It’s hia,” Chay says, and finally grasps his phone, hitting “accept” on the second to last ring. Kim huffs at him and starts pressing warm kisses along his jaw instead. “Hello?” “Chay,” Porsche greets jovially. “Question for you. Why is your boyfriend a child?”  “... He isn’t?” Chay looks down at Kim, now mouthing at his collarbone, just to make sure. And yep, still the same twenty-three year old he’s been for the last four months.  “I’m literally staring at him, and he is.”  “I’m literally naked with him, and he isn’t. I think I would have noticed.” Porsche snorts on the other end of the line. Kim looks up at him curiously, his tongue tracing wet circles around a nipple. Chay tugs his hair to make him stop but it only encourages him to bite. “Want to tell me why you think Kim is a child, hia?”  “I’m a what?” Kim asks, his voice low and rough and dripping with judgment. “Has your brother lost his mind?”  “See for yourself.” Seconds later Chay gets a text alert. He pulls up the messages, and nearly drops his phone when he sees the picture that loads.  There, sitting beside Kinn, wearing obviously borrowed clothes and the stormiest scowl Chay has ever seen, is Kim. Unmistakably, irrefutably Kim. Chay, left gaping and unable to speak, turns his phone around to show his lover.  “... Hm.”  “What the fuck?” Chay whispers. Then, “Porsche, I’ve got to go. We’re on our way.”  He ends the call.  “You’re not surprised. Why are you not surprised?”  “I’m surprised.”  “Really? Because you sounded like I just told you the road flooded in monsoon season.” Chay pushes himself up to his elbows, dislodging Kim. “What gives? What did you do?” “Why do you think I did something?” “Because there’s two of you!” “... I didn’t do anything that would have done that.” “But you did do something.” Silence. Kim refuses to meet his eyes. “Kim.” “It wasn’t anything bad! I just… Look, don’t be mad, okay?” Chay takes a deep breath, and then another. They’ve been together for two years now. They’ve seen each other through a lot. Chay can confidently say they’ve reached a place where Chay would forgive him for anything, because he trusts Kim not to do anything unforgivable.  “Tell me what happened, then we can figure out what’s going on,” Chay says. “I might have… gotten rid of… my memories. Of my childhood.” “... What?”  Kim squirms. He pulls the blankets up higher, suddenly vulnerable in his nudity. At least he doesn’t try to run away.  “You’re always telling me to go to therapy. I thought I could go straight to the source, cut it out, then,” he takes a shuddering breath, “then I would be okay.” “Kim, you can’t—that’s not how it works.” Kim shrinks in on himself. Chay doesn’t let him hide, drawing Kim into his arms when he tries, clutching him close. “That’s—that’s half your life! And it’s just, what, gone?” “I thought it would be. Guess not. I promise I didn’t know this would happen.”  “And you were just going to hide this from me?” Kim shrugs. Chay’s heart clenches wondering how long Kim could have gotten away with it. He never talks about his childhood as it is, like he’s already locked that part of himself away. “When do your memories start, then?” “When I was thirteen, I think.” “Why that age?”  “That was the first time I killed a man.” Kim squeezes his arms around Chay’s middle, hiding away in his shoulders. Quietly, he adds, “That’s what broke me.”  The day he lost his innocence, Chay thinks. He stopped being a child when he took his first life.  Except he doesn’t believe that for a second. Trauma isn’t what makes someone an adult; Chay would know. Kim was still so young, and he must have been terrified. Alone. 

#cookie writes #kimchay #i love this fic so much #and Kim ends up taking such good care of his child self #they cuddle after little kim has a nightmare etc. #but also little Kim and Chay are the cutest things ever #chay is like yay it's like a free little brother! im not the baby anymore! #and little Kim has the CUTEST crush on him #he's so excited when he finds out adult kim is dating chay

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/royaltealovingkookiness/187489175766/i-think-the-anon-who-sent-the-zuko-lost-azula-in?source=share

Your thoughts?

(I'm only mentioning the ones I don't agree with)

"Oogling him when he's half-naked"

As a brazilian, this one was HILARIOUS to me. He just has his shirt off because it's summer and bending is a physical exercise and he's going to sweat. This isn't him dramatically taking his shirt off at The Beach and a ton of fangirls appearing to drool all over him. This isn't sexual.

She's literally watching him and AANG practice firebending. That's all. Why are we making it about attraction, and why are we assuming she could only possibly be looking at Zuko when Aang is there too? By that logic, Ozai and Aang were checking each other out during their fight in the finale, and so were Zhao and Zuko during their Agni Kai - after all, they're LOOKING at EACH OTHER when NEITHER OF THEM has a SHIRT on.

"Note Katara's body language"

Literally what about it? I legitimately don't understand this one. Touching her hair is somehow weird or flirty? It's just hair!

Is it because she's sitting next to Zuko? What, she's not allowed to be too close to a guy without it being suggestive/flirty in some way? Again, as a brazilian, I am VERY confused. Somebody help me out here.

"I don't think anyone could argue sibling vibes in a scene in which they are visibly disgusted at the thought of being mistaken for a couple"

What? Like, sure, I can see SOME siblings just laughing it off and correcting the person who made a mistake, but being grossed out is a 100% valid reaction.

As a girl that grew up being told "You saying you don't like this boy can ONLY mean that you secretly like him" and had to hear an unhinged woman call my 11-year-old self "her future daughter in law" just because I was friends with her son, I am BEGGING people to quit it with that bullshit. Being weirded out is not "admiting" there are feelings there. Stop it. Sometimes people are shy, sometimes they just genuinely don't like each other that way. Stop projecting.

(Also the only correct ways to do the mistaken for a couple thing is with the characters either just rolling with it "to avoid explaining" or to one of them to exaggerate on the awkwad denial and accidentally offend/upset the other, like it happened with Kataang in Cave Of Two Lovers)

"I don't remember any scene of Zuko or Katara fighting side by side with their sibling like they did with each other"

Also if we're talking side-by-side fighting stance that screams romantic symbolism, let's be fucking serious here. The dragons literally make a heart.

"You can only want to see embarrassing/cute baby pictures of your friend if you want to date them, and siblings totally don't use old childhood photos to annoying each other"

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Co-parenting"

Fuck off, they're children. Traumatized children. ALL of them. They've all done stupid shit, and they've all been exasperated by their friends' doing dumb shit. Found family doesn't mean we NEED one or more characters to play the "parent" role.

Katara actively resents the idea of being seen more as parent than as a friend, and Zuko JUST discovered the revolutionary concept of "Wait, a father burning his child's face is NOT normal????" Co-parenting my ass.

"Bed/bison sharing. Very unsibling like"

Katara literally shares the bed/Appa with Sokka during the entire Blue Spirit episode. And like this person pointed out themselves, the Gaang shares "a bed" and sleep next to each other all the time. Be thrilled that your OTP is having a moment that you could re-imagine as romantic, but let's not pretend any kind of intimacy MUST be sexual/romantic in nature.

"The scene of Katara comforting Zuko has parallels with his first scene with Mai at the start of the season"

This one was totally okay until the bullshit of "Mai's kiss and hug didn't help Zuko feel better at all and after this he shuts her out." During all of Nightmares And Daydreams we see him cuddling with her, Mai trying to cheer him up, and him even confessing his inner-turmoil about having to essentially put on an act to please Ozai.

She grew a lot as a character and Zuko didn't take her joke in that first episode to heart. He is doing the exact opposite of shutting her out, he actively turns to her for comfort.

"The physical distance between them shrunk"

Yes, and? Seriously, what about it? Is there a line missing here? Am I not seeing something? WHAT IS GOING ON?

"The lightning to the heart feels like a romantic scene"

I was gonna let it slide, like I was doing with all the others "This could work for a romantic relationship, but it's not inherently romantic", but that last line I just can't stand by. DRAMA IS NOT THE SAME AS ROMANCE.

"The simmilar scene for a canon ship doesn't have the same focus on the hands as this one does"

Hand-close ups are exclusive to married people, it is known *rolls eyes*

"It looks like they're about to kiss"

Bruh, what? Looking up at someone who is looking down at you is like leaning in for a kiss?

"Many of these scenes (not the ship-baiting ones obviously) could have been written, framed, animated in a purely platonic way, giving it more of a playful sibling vibe, but the creators deliberately chose overtly romantic or at least ambiguous tones"

#anti zutara