mushes cheeks

Les Amis de l’aesthetic: Triumvirate edition
  • Enjolras : The first day of summer, that moment you finally make a difficult decision, writing until your hand hurts, days that pass in a blink, hair tickling your neck, eye rolls that make you dizzy, biting down in an orange, the juice running down your chin, quirked lips, eating lukewarm leftover pasta in your kitchen because you’re too lazy to wait for it to heat completely
  • Courfeyrac : Late morning sunshine, worn down converse, sound of running footsteps on wooden floors, hugs where you mush your cheeks against your friends’, pulling faces, slipping through elevator doors before they’re closed, cooled orange juice, laughing until you’re out of breath, warm skin, the smell of sunscreen
  • Combeferre : Pressing down on library books so the plastic crunches, pouring milk in coffee and stirring it hard enough to make the spoon clink against the cup, a collection of beautiful stamps, turtleneck sweaters, burning dinner because you’re distracted, flipping around your pillow to sleep on the cool side, pulling your hoodie up over your nose when you get cold 3 hours deep into midnight wikipedia browsing


Jiyong would be a little taken aback the first few times to see you swearing between words, or once in a while, maybe every few sentences — whatever type of swearer you are. But he’s not exactly got the most innocent, cleanest mouth himself… So it’d just become something that’s part of your charm. He’d egg you on at times, try to get a reaction out of you to get you to swear and then find it hilarious as hell, probably mush your cheeks up and ask how you can be so cute even when you’re using some of the most colourful words in existence. As a matter of fact, he’d take this trait from you and make fun of it both in and out of bed. Sometimes he’d ‘punish’ you for it, other times he’d make you use only swears to communicate during sex. It’d just become something part of your regular life together and indeed your sex life too. You’d tease him for swearing and he’d tease you. It’d be pretty funny to catch each other out when you both try to go 'as long as you can’ without swearing, and when you both fail, you just accept that you’re really fucking bad at keeping your words clean.

Burn baby burnㅣyoonmin oneshot

Where Jimin prays for some decent air-conditioning. 

He can’t sleep.

 It’s much too hot; the heat settles over him like a suffocating blanket and his limbs feel like they’re manacled. He’s face down, with the side of his cheek mushed into the pillow and he exhales out and in with some degree of strife. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was smoke coming out because he was So. Fucking. Hot.

 With enormous effort, (and some praying), he manages to heave himself onto his back and stares blankly at the dead air conditioning above him. Unfortunately, two days ago, Hoseok had decided that jumping on Jimin’s bed was a fantastic way to pass the time whilst Namjoon and Yoongi were composing in the studio. Since Hoseok had quite unnaturally long limbs coupled with a brain that was still in the first trimester of development, Jimin wasn’t too surprised when one of Hoseok’s elongated tentacles walloped the side of the already half-dead air conditioning. And so, Jimin was left to the mercy of one of the fans that their managers had lugged up from the recesses of the basement, every so often sending gales of hot air towards him and continued to make his room reminiscent of a furnace.

Or the ninth circle of hell. If Jimin was feeling particularly metaphoric.

 Taehyung’s bed was empty. The boy had given up within the first hour of sleeping without the air conditioning and so he had announced, pillow and teddy bear under both arms that he was moving to Jungkook’s room. Jimin had been transcending between the planes of hell and wasn’t able to respond until Taehyung had left, kicking the door shut behind him. Jungkook hadn’t seemed too pissed the next day, though there were some noticable shadows under his eyes, probably from Taehyung talking his ear off the whole night.

He’s in the midst of devising some horrific torture for Hoseok when there’s a knock on the door. Too baked to move, he raises his head a centimetre or so and hollers a weak ‘Come in!’

He hears the door handle turn and someone shuffling in, closing the door and suddenly, there’s a presence at the side of his bed.

'Can’t sleep?’ The voice is husky and low. It’s so familiar by now, that Jimin doesn’t even have to open his eyes to see who it is.

My air conditioning broke,’ he answers slowly, the words feeling like sludge in the air. 'Hoseok and his abnormally stretched appendages, that dimwit.’

'I heard.’ A weight settles down next to him and he feels the bed sink. 'He warned me before going in here. It’s like a fucking sauna.’

'My insides are oozing through my pores,’ groans Jimin. 'Help me.’

There’s a hand on his arm, tugging him off the bed and he allows the pressure to guide him onto the floor. Already, he feels like he’s going to pass out.

'Come, you can stay in my room.’

'Oh, is this another one of your clever plans to defile me when I’m weak and sweaty?’

'Or you could stay here and become a baked sloth. Your choice.’ The hand disappears and Jimin hears the door open again. 'Besides, I have air conditioning that’s actually functioning.’

Half a minute later, Jimin finds himself stumbling into Yoongi’s room, kicking the door shut behind him. He ignores the older boy, seated at his desk and instead, half zombie lurches, half trips onto Yoongi’s bed where his back is gratefully blessed by a blast of cold air. It’s great because Yoongi doesn’t share a room with anyone and there’s so much glorious space. And it’s cold.


'I told you.’ Yoongi’s voice is one of amusement and Jimin can’t even reply because it actually feels so goddamn good to finally be out of the freaking Sahara and he just lies there, basking in the cold relief. The air is filled with the sounds of clicking and keyboard clacking and when Jimin regains some of his energy, he hoists himself upright, leaning against the headboard.

'Are you working again?’

'Yup.’ Yoongi chews at his lip as he scrolls through pages of music notes, tracks and lyrics that make no sense to Jimin. 'Namjoon hyung  got tired and kicked me out of the studio. Said I needed sleep.’ The scrolling pauses and his fingers race across the keyboard for a moment then return back to the mouse. 'Wanker.’

Jimin glances at the tiny digital clock on Yoongi’s night stand and tries not to choke at the ungodly hour. 'Hyung, I’m pretty sure the sun rises in like, half an hour.’

'Bull. Forty-five minutes, tops.’

Jimin deigns a reply lest Yoongi unleash his holier-than-thou wrath upon him and settles instead for observing the older boy. Yoongi is engrossed in his work, now with headphones jammed over his ears and silently mouthing unseen melodies, lyrics and whatnots that Jimin wishes he could understand. Sometimes, he feels the jealousy burn low and dull in his stomach whenever he sees Namjoon and Yoongi bent over their latest project together, watching Yoongi subtly tilt his head towards Namjoon whenever he’s speaking, an air of respect and admiration hovering over the both of them. He harboured no ill feelings towards Namjoon whatsoever; the younger boy valued and honoured his leader but sometimes, he longed for Yoongi to look at him the same way.

And sometimes, he thinks he feels the older boy’s eyes observing him whenever he danced, and he imagines Yoongi appreciating and admiring him like he admires Namjoon and puts on an extra show, making sure that the older boy could see everything that he was doing. But whenever he tries to catch Yoongi’s eye, the boy would always turn away, face impassive and cold as ever. Often, that’s when Jimin would go to bed and wonder why his face was so stiff and pillow so damp in the morning.

The thought pricks at Jimin’s eyes and he blinks wildly, summoning all his willpower to try and quell the rising lump in his throat and looks instead at the brightness of Yoongi’s desk lamp, feeling the burn subside the emotion that threatened to spill.

'Why the fuck are you looking at my lamp like that?’

Jimin jolts out of his reverie and takes a sheepish glance at Yoongi who’s looking at him with amusement, not malice. His headphones are slung around his neck. 'Uh…’ He fumbles for a decent excuse that doesn’t make him sound like a complete twit. 'I was admiring it.’

Yoongi snorts then turns back to his computer. 'Thanks. And anyway, you shouldn’t look at bright lights too long. It’ll hurt your eyes.’

'Yes mum.’

'And why aren’t you sleeping yet?’ Yoongi chides.

'Cos you’re noisy.’

'Bitch, I’m working.’ It’s meant to be a snap but Jimin can hear the palpable exhaustion leak through Yoongi’s voice. It worries him, how much he has to work, and how early hours into the morning are just routine to him. He wonders how long it will take before Yoongi breaks under the pressure.  

Jimin sighs, rubbing at the Gucci sized bags under his eyes. 'Well, us mere mortals need to sleep.’

'Then sleep.’

'I can’t.’

Yoongi exhales heavily like it’s paining him and with some degree of amazement, Jimin watches as Yoongi actually shuts down his treasure, his laptop, and closes the lid, creaking out of the chair.

'Did you actually-’

'Yes. Now shut up and move over. I’m tired and my eyes feel like hell.’

Yoongi is impatient and Jimin obeys, rolling over to one side to make space and Yoongi kicks off his shoes, lying down next to him with his arms folded underneath his head.

It’s not good, how close the older boy is and Jimin regrets all the times that he’s prayed to sleep next to Yoongi because now, he’s not sure he can actually get to sleep. Yoongi’s eyes have fluttered shut and Jimin can’t do anything but watch.

In sleep, Yoongi looks peaceful, undisturbed and… almost angelic. The rock-hard, sarcastic, icy demeanour that Jimin always sees permanently associated with Yoongi is gone, all traces of tension and stress melted away from his face.

He doesn’t believe how impossibly soft and young the older boy is, all pale cheeks and elegant cheekbones that Jimin wants to stroke and memorise. He doesn’t believe how beautiful Yoongi looks, eyelashes casting shadows onto his skin, hair like a dark halo around his head. Jimin likes Yoongi’s hair like this, undyed and untouched. The bleach and colouring always looks fantastic on him, but it’s too harsh; a too harsh dye to match a too harsh personality. Here though, in its simple raven-black hue, he looks perfect.

His fingers itch to reach out and tuck a strand of hair away from Yoongi’s face but Jimin knows Yoongi would probably murder him and throw him out the window if he did so or even worse, throw him out of his air-conditioned room so he closes his eyes instead, eventually lulled to sleep by Yoongi’s soft breathing and comforting warmth.


'You two look like shit,’ comments Namjoon as a way of greeting when they stumble into the kitchen, hair mussed and yawning. Jimin’s Gucci bags have gotten worse despite the sleep and Yoongi can almost cosplay as a panda.

'Thanks hyung,’ mumbles Jimin, sinking into a chair. Yoongi ignores all of them and heads straight for the coffee machine, robotically making a long black. Jin places a bowl of cereal in front of Jimin and tuts, shaking his head like a mother hen. Namjoon informs them that the others have already gone down to the dance rooms to start practice and tells Yoongi and Jimin to follow after they’ve eaten. He and Seokjin leave the kitchen chattering and the atmosphere falls into silence. Jimin sneaks a peek at Yoongi who’s simultaneously chugging down the coffee and making another automatically, like he’s trying to consume the entirety of Starbucks. Obviously looking like he wasn’t going to start a conversation anytime soon, Jimin instead stares down at the bowl in front of him and swirls the fruit loops around aimlessly, watching them bob in and out of the milk.

He’d woken up this morning cold and disoriented; after blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he had tentatively reached out his hand only to be met with the disappointing rustle of unattended sheets. Jimin had only barely registered the same clacking noise of Yoongi’s keyboard and had raised his head to see him seated instead at his desk in the exact same position as before. Jimin doesn’t bother getting up, just rolls over onto his side and burns the whiteness of the wall into his eyes until Yoongi grunts at him to get up before Namjoon yells at them again.

The fruit loops are soggy and taste like nothing when he finally spoons it into his mouth but he’s too tired to care. He hears the chair opposite scrape the floor and the sound grates on his ears but he doesn’t show anything when Yoongi takes his spot, cupping the mug and looking intently at Jimin.


Yoongi cocks an eyebrow and leans back. 'That’s, 'what hyung’ to you, you little brat.’ He takes a sip and makes a face. Jimin knows; Yoongi’s made it too strong this time and Jimin tosses a sugar packet across the table.

'Thanks,’ says Yoongi, surprised and pours the contents of the packet into his cup.

'Sorry.’ Jimin scratches his head. 'I’m just tired.’

'Yeah, you’re not your usual perky, annoying self,’ snorts Yoongi, surveying him. 'I told you, you should have gone to sleep earlier.’

Jimin only nods, clinking his spoon against the bowl. There was only one reason why he couldn’t sleep and it was something Yoongi could never understand.

'Also-’ There’s a slight undertone of amusement and Jimin looks up to see Yoongi’s mouth curved to one side. 'You talk in your sleep.’ Fuck.

'What-’ he squeaks and clears his throat. 'What?’

'Don’t worry.’ Yoongi waves his hand dismissively. 'You mostly talked about dance practice. And about dismembering Hoseok in several different ways.’

'That’s it?’ Thank the Lord Jesus.

'Yeah,’ Yoongi laughs a bit and stands up, scraping the chair back again. Jimin winces. 'Don’t watch Saw. It gives you too many ideas.’ He drains the cup then tosses it into the sink. 'Anyway, we have to go. We’re late.’

'Yup,’ Jimin says quietly and follows suit after Yoongi, wishing his blush wasn’t so noticeable. 


There were both good and bad things to having a leader, Jimin notices. It was good they were always watching out for the members. It was also bad that they were always watching out for the members.

Jimin doesn’t know if this applied to every group or just Bangtan, but he knows that Namjoon is far too astutely observant to not do anything about it. If anything, Jimin is too obvious, in the way he misses half a beat during dance practice, the way he laughs a second too late after Hoseok cracks a stupid joke or Taehyung does something obnoxious. But the others don’t seem to notice, carrying on like usual; Jungkook sends him a concerned look every once in a while but doesn’t press any further. It’s only when everyone’s left the dance rooms that Jimin’s yanked aside by an obviously cranky and sweaty Namjoon  and pushed indignantly into the big wheely chair in the composing studio.

'Hey, what-’

'Don’t what me.’ Namjoon crosses his arms and stands in front of Jimin like a burly prison guard. 'Either you’re tripping acid or something happened.’

'I’m fine, seriously hyung.’ Jimin goes to stand up but Namjoon shoves him down in the chair again. 'Jesus Christ what have you been lifting?’

'Not the point,’ says Namjoon, dodging the question. 'The point is that you’ve messed up more than usual; plus, every time I look at you, it’s like you’re somewhere else.’

'Hyung, you’ve been watching too much Inception-’

'Is it Yoongi?’

The question catches him by surprise and Jimin’s able to do nothing but splutter rather spectacularly. 'What? Fuck no.’

Namjoon’s face softens and he sinks into the couch, still looking at Jimin. 'Minnie, I see the way you look at him.’

'I don’t look at him. I don’t look at anyone.’ Jimin’s emphasising the word with air inverted commas. Because that’s how you really convince people. And yourself. 'I just didn’t have a good night’s sleep, that’s all.’

He goes to stand up again and at least makes it to the door before Namjoon grabs his arm, spins him around and pins him against the door. In any other situation, this would have looked like a really cliché scene from a drama and Jimin would have given Namjoon grief about it, but now he just wants to leave before Namjoon sticks his nose into places that he shouldn’t.

'Why do you keep denying it?’ Namjoon is almost livid and Jimin doesn’t get why he’s angry. He should be the one pissed off at all this.

'And why do you care?’ Jimin spits, exhaustion of the day’s practice and frustration at Namjoon making a rather nasty emotional concoction inside him. 'It’s none of your business.’

'It’s my business-’ Namjoon stabs a finger into Jimin’s chest, hard enough that the younger boy knows it’s going to bruise. ’-when one of my friends starts to look like he’s doing weekly therapy for depression.’ He releases Jimin and steps back. 'And it’s failing.’

'It’s not only today,’ says Namjoon tiredly and Jimin can finally see the lines of tension in the leader’s expression. 'It’s been like this for months now. The longer this goes on, the longer you stick around in this constant cloud of I’m-not-man-enough-to-admit-my-feelings-and-spare-everyone-the-fucking-theatrics.’

At this, Jimin only manages to sink down the length of the wall and sits down on the floor, in shock after someone finally lays the fucking cards on the table like that, raw and unconcealed. It’s like Namjoon’s ripped a bandage off an old wound and now it’s bleeding again, the stitching of Jimin’s efforts to hide everything coming undone in a matter of minutes.

'Minnie, you barely sleep or eat. It’s like you’ve been consumed by whatever this is.’ Namjoon’s statement is emphasised by a sharp snap of his fingers. 'Everyone is worried about you. Even Yoongi. 

'Hyung, what do I do?’ He buries his face into his hands, feeling the hot flush of his cheeks heat his palms. 'I’m pretty sure Yoongi’s going to skin me alive if I try and confess.’

'Or-’ Namjoon says softly, tugging on Jimin’s arm and pulling him up to stand. 'He doesn’t skin you alive and likes you too.’

Jimin exhales heavily and musses up his hair even more. 'Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot.’


'Tomorrow.’ Jimin doesn’t quite have to fake the yawn. 'I don’t think Yoongi-hyung would appreciate it if I suddenly started snoring whilst admitting my feelings. Quite unpleasant.’

'Fine.’ Namjoon snorts, opening the door. 'I’m watching you, Park Jimin.’

'Whatever, mum.

Namjoon only splutters.


Actually, Jimin doesn’t do it tomorrow. Or the next day. Or within the week for that matter.

It’s not actually his fault; they’re so busy that they barely have time to breathe. Promotions are starting within the next fortnight and preparations are underway for their comeback. They filter through their schedules with military precision, which means that though Jimin feels guilty for not keeping his promise with Namjoon, it means the leader can’t do anything but scowl at him every once in a while. 

The air conditioning in Jimin’s room still hasn’t been attended to and so he’s been crashing in Yoongi’s room, which is a rather fortunate blessing on Jimin’s behalf. In addition, since all the tracks that they had been working on have already been sent to the higher-ups for approval, Yoongi doesn’t stay up any longer than he needs to, and that means, getting to bed quicker and Jimin getting to spend more time with Yoongi by his side, trying to slow his heart rate down in vain.

However, with this added pressure of comeback dates and working out and sound checks and accidental sicknesses and a flurry of stress and worry coupled with his problem, Jimin starts to get little hiccups in his performances, ones that get him sent a concerned glances from everyone but he manages to wave them off, no problem.

He should have seen it coming, the way Yoongi was looking at him. And it was only a matter of time when it reached the night before their comeback stage and Jimin was lying on Yoongi’s bed texting his mum and Yoongi was on his laptop like usual and then it happened.

Jimin doesn’t know what starts the conversation, but suddenly, he hears the snap of Yoongi’s laptop being closed and he whips his head towards the older boy, thumb hovering above the smiley emoticon he was about to send.

Yoongi was looking straight at him, dark eyes blazing with something indecipherable but Jimin knows it’s not good.

'What’s happening with you?’ Fuck he knows.

Jimin clears his throat and looks down at his phone. 'What do you mean?’

'Don’t beat around the bush you prat.’ Yoongi walks over and plucks the phone out of Jimin’s hands ignoring the younger boy’s protests and tosses it onto the desk. 'Talk.’ He sits down next to Jimin.

Jimin’s heart starts off like a racehorse, galloping off at a hundred kilometres an hour. All the prepping he’s done, the promise with Namjoon, it was finally here, this moment where he would confess and Yoongi would not laugh at him and hopefully, he’d get out of this without permanent mental scarring.

'Well, um,’ Jimin starts off, staring anywhere but at Yoongi. 'I’ve been distracted.’

'No shit there.’ Yoongi arches an eyebrow. 'Get to the part where you explain why you’ve been off with the goddamn fairies.’

Here goes nothing.

'It’s because of you.’

Jimin instantly claps his hands over his eyes and leans away from Yoongi, mentally praying to whatever higher power that he doesn’t end up being drop-kicked out onto the streets of Gangnam. One, two, ten, thirty seconds pass and he doesn’t know how long it’s been but suddenly he feels the bed shake and he gathers the courage to peep through the cracks of his fingers.

Min Yoongi is laughing.

As in, not the dry chuckle or sneer that usually comes out but it’s a full blown shoulders-shaking, tears-coming-to-eyes sort of laughing.

Jimin did not expect this at all.

It makes the situation more embarrassing to be honest.

The steady heat that rises to his cheeks doesn’t really help the situation and Jimin sulks whilst Yoongi just laughs and laughs and laughs.

'Stop it; this is already fucking mortifying enough without you guffawing like a baboon.’ Jimin pouts, crossing his arms. Yoongi finally comes down from his high and wipes away a stray tear, grinning at Jimin all the while. Of all the weird things that he’s been through, Jimin definitely puts this behaviorial change from Yoongi right at the top of the damn list.

'I’m sorry Minnie,’ says Yoongi, an odd tone of sincerity in his voice. 'But I seriously couldn’t fucking believe that you finally said it.’

…you finally said it. Jimin blinks once, twice and tries to process what Yoongi has just said. All he can manage is an eloquent 'Guhh?’

Yoongi does his infamous eye roll. 'Bloody hell Minnie, all this time. I was getting tired of waiting.’

'You knew?’ Jimin squeaked.

'Duh. You’re not exactly subtle.’ Yoongi smirks. 'Close the bedroom door next time.’ 

Jimin flushes from the roots of his hair. 'Fucking hell.’

Yoongi laughs and ruffles Jimin’s hair. 'You know the first time that we slept together?’


'And how I said next morning that you talk in your sleep?’


Yoongi smiles. 'You seem to be really fond of saying ‘Min Yoongi, Min Yoongi.’

Jimin cringes. 'Look, I’m sorry and-’

He’s cut off mid-sentence when Yoongi leans forward and presses their mouths together, slotting in like a missing puzzle piece. For a split second, he freezes, the pressure on his lips alien yet familiar but then Yoongi moves and suddenly, Jimin’s breathing him in like a man starved from oxygen.

They don’t get much sleep that night.



In the morning, they’re greeted by a chorus of wolf-whistling and cheering when they shuffle into the kitchen. Jimin of course blushes and tells everyone to shut up and Yoongi, in true style, just wanders over to the coffee machine like nothing’s happened.

'Doing the walk of shame now, are we?’ says Hoseok, waggling his eyebrows.

'We didn’t even do anything,’ whined Jimin sinking into his seat and burying his face in his hands. Jungkook slaps him on the back and murmurs something that sounds like ’Jiminnie hyung’s finally become a man.’ He makes a mental note to wash out the kid’s mouth with soap sometime later.

There’s more cat-calling and Jimin fears there’s no way to get the band of idiots to shut up when Yoongi saunters over and plants a soft kiss on the side of his cheek.

'I’ll see you down in the studio, brat,’ he whispers, breath tickling Jimin’s ear and disappears out the door in a whiff of coffee.

There’s a long, long silence after that.

'Please tell me someone got that on camera.’


'What a beauty,’ Yoongi breathes, staring down at the glistening thing in his hands.

'Glorious,’ echoes Jimin.

'I’m building a shrine,’ announces Namjoon and plucks the trophy out of Yoongi’s hands, Seokjin admiring it over his shoulder. Jungkook and Taehyung are wrapped in each other’s arms, snoring away on the couch whilst the staff bustle around doing last minute clean-ups. Hoseok is chatting to one of the stylists animatedly, and Jimin briefly considers warning her of his tendency to flail around.

Then again, his flailing around was what helped him in the long run.

His head is on Yoongi’s shoulder; the rapper is already scribbling furiously away in a notepad, probably scrawling new lyrics, despite them releasing their album only the day before.

'Why are you working?’ whines Jimin. 'Put that thing down and talk to me.’

'Just because we’re together now does not mean you get to boss me around without consequences,’ says Yoongi, flicking Jimin on the forehead. 'I am in the midst of a great epiphany.’

Jimin opens his mouth again to protest against this 'great epiphany’ being a massive cockblock to a possible make-out session when their manager Hobeom suddenly appears in front of them.

'Jimin, just the man I wanted to see.’

Jimin jumps up immediately. 'Yes?’

Hobeom flings his arms out in a sort of jazz hands ensemble and Jimin has to step back a bit to avoid being slapped. 'I fixed your air conditioning!’

'My…’ It’s honest to say he’s completely forgotten about that, having spent so much time with Yoongi. 'Oh, thanks.’

'Just thanks?’ Hobeom sniffs, excited grin fading to a pout. 'I thought you wanted it fixed for weeks.’

'Yeah well,’ Jimin sneaks a glance at Yoongi still engrossed in his work. 'Things have changed.’

'Things have changed,’ Hobeom mimics blankly. 'Fine, whatever. I can’t keep up with you kids and your mood swings nowadays. I’m too old for this.’

He walks away muttering unintelligibly and Jimin feels the tiniest twinge of guilt but it quickly melts away when there’s a tugging at his shirt and Yoongi’s yanking him back down into the couch.

'Don’t go anywhere,’ the older boy commands, never taking an eye off his work. 'I’m cold.’  

Jimin grins at Yoongi’s aloofness. 'I won’t.’

(For the rest of the night, Jimin is glad he ignores the gagging noises the other members make whenever he’s snuggling next to Yoongi).

A/N: Lol this was supposed to be the plot for a smut then it just turned into this whatever this is. oh well, enjoy this hot mess~ 

anonymous asked:

mfk: puddles, smalls, mush

Must you? Must you?

Ugh, I feel so much worse doing this with girls because the last thing I want to do is dilute these wonderful women down to sexual objects. And I never will.

But for the sake of this ask:

F: Puddles. Beautiful girl, but also (I believe?) probably seeing a guy at the moment. Also just  a genuinely good and fun person. I feel like we’d have good physical chemistry.

M: Smalls. What a girl. I am genuinely, constantly, in awe of her. The world feels a little bit brighter whenever she’s around me. …Shut up.

K(iss): Mush. On the cheek. Because the last thing I need is for Crutchie to be upset at me for something, and the two of them together are incredibly cute.

@puddlesandrainydays @tossedbysea @themayors-daughter @crutchosaurus

Ship #9

Request: by  four-seconds-of-muke: “I ship you with mister Ashtern Eggwin because he’s hawt and you’re hot so it’s works out…. And my joke is.. I hope you’re ready… What are the security guards outside the Samsung stores called? Guardians of the Galaxy.  And I rate your blog a big mighty 10/10 because you’re blog is fantastic. You’re very creative and creativeness always catches my eye,  Well my names nadine clifford, I’m 16 from Ireland. I’ve got short brown hair and brown eyes. I’m very small. Cuddles are life. As well as bands. My choice of slow song would be Eighteen by one direction.  Explicit content I don’t mind.” 

A/N: Nadine, did you know that your name’s Arabian? I have a friend with the same name as yours here aww. Hope you like this one! *Mushes cheeks*

Ship: Mike

Imagine With Ship:

Head thrown back, arms spread and above his head-tied to the head board of the bed, mouth dry with anticipation, lips red and ready to be kissed and mushed and praised, and legs shaking with need, head spinning with excitement, and a dick as hard as wood.

Michael was finally getting what he needed for a while now; a good fuck, which consisted of a lot of teasing and mind blowing orgasms and being bossed around. Michael loved being submissive so much; in fact he would crave the feel of the metal of the hands cuffs against his skin and the sweat covering his needy body as the pleasure rocks him with shocks and waves of awaited orgasms.

He loves to see his girlfriend stand tall before him as she tease the hell out of him with a simple show of skin and pleasured-full faces. She would pull on his cock, run her hand against his balls, and feel his skin against her palms.

She’s standing between his spread legs, eyes clouded with lust and mouth made for his cock and lips and needs as she slips her clothes seductively off her chubby body. He feels as though he needs to wank to the sight of her skin and come all over it as she pants from how spent his cock made her feel.

She reaches forward for his cock when she’s done with the fabrics, runs her hand against the tip of it softly causing him to hiss in pleasure and close his eyes. She takes a hold of his base and starts to shake it a little, she holds his balls with her other hand and tightens her fist.

Michael moans and thrusts his hips up, and before he knows it she’s moving her hand away. She smirks and throws her hair over her shoulder before leaning forward-completely naked, and with an arched ass and elbows resting on the mattress she takes a fat lick up the side of his shaft; exactly where his vein is.

She stops at the tip and stares at his hungry eyes, and very slowly wraps her lips around the tip – as if she’s expecting it to blow at any second, and he wants to move his hips but decides against it. She holds the inside of his thighs because she knows he loves the feeling of her hands there as she kisses the tip.

In one moment the tip is on her tongue and the next she’s deep throating his shaft with loud wet noises coming out of her mouth and his making those deliciously addictive moans. The ones that just describes how much he needs to come and how much me loves her mouth.

She pulls off and stares at him, and he moans at the way she looks with the middle of her face almost covered with his fat cock as she licks him, and wiggles his tip against her tongue and squeezes his balls hard.

She licks him up and down a few times before stopping at his heavy sacks, she sucks on them harshly as she moves her head back and forth as if its his shaft and wanks his cock with her free hand really fast.

He’s a moaning motherfucking mess as she gives him so much pleasure at once and he finds himself breathing heavily and his vocals running out of control as she sucks harder. And his thighs shake with need and pleasure at the same time and his head is thrown back with closed eyes and mouth open wide for the moans he can’t control to come out.

She pulls away softly, and stares at him with a smirk as he tries to catch his breath, she moves he hand away from him completely.

She wiggles her tongue around his tip as her saliva falls down on him and he finds it hard not to look at her, she pulls away from his hard cock with a smirk. Her hand is soft when it moves from his pelvic bone to his tummy and chest, stopping at his collar bones. She rests them on his shoulder and straddles his hips with awaited need.

She’s looking at him with a look that’s so daring that he shouldn’t thrust his hips upward like she’s daring him too, and he groans at the frustration and teasing and then he makes the mistake of looking down; and he’s only meters away from her tightness that he swallows so thickly his girlfriend can hear him and she smirks at him.

“Baby please,” he whines, as in a high-pitched-long-dragged-words whine. And she feels blood rush to her center by his voice and she almost leans down and sinks into him but she moves her lips to his neck.

“Please what?” she asks against his skin as he closes his eyes at the sensation of her lips sucking bruises against his creamy skin.

He whines again and just wants her to stop teasing him so much and just get on with it but he knows it wouldn’t be that easy. Michael moves his head to the side to grant her more access and mewls when she bites down on his earlobe.

“Please fuck me.”

A Blog Rate: 9/10, I love the theme so much and he posts my god, but idk how to move to the next page.

An Edit: 

Song That Reminds Me of Your Blog: The Script – Flares

Best Friend Ship: Luke

Imagine With Your Best Friend: so I decided to make this one like texts bc I only have one day of using my laptop bc I have exams soon sorry 

Secret Crush: Ashton

Imagine With Secret Crush:

“Would include a lot of kissing, and a lot of fighting and mostly pressing her against a wall,” Ashton nods with a laugh. Looking at your side as he waits your answer that he knows will end up with laughter.

“I asked you about your relationship with a girl, but not the details!” She says loudly as she lays on her side and chuckles.

“You’re weird because they’re both the same thing.” he sounds so playful that you just kick him in the side with your foot by him.

It always ends up with weird conversations when it came up to you and Ashton. He’s always so bubbly and chatty patty when it came to talking to you and he just loves doing this so much. But when you feel him stiffen a little and look at the floor you know something’s up.

He looks over at you as if he’s going to say something and then at the floor, and then you feel like you should say something.

“What is it?” you ask. He’s quiet for a while, waiting for the right moment or none at all and he knows what he’s about to do right now is really bad but he has to let the weight off of his shoulders.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He says, fiddling with his finger for a moment. You sit up straight and give him your full attention.

“Go on,” you encourage him.

“It has been for a while now, I feel held down by it and like I can’t breath or talk properly without over thinking it and its taking all my energy but I need to let it off my chest.” He sighs. “I’m in love with you.”

He almost cries at the small gasp leaving your throat, and he looks at the floor again as if it was actually gonna swallow him like he wanted so badly.

“I know its not the right time nor it is the right place or way to say it, and I don’t care if you don’t say it back I juts wanted to let it off my chest, I want this to change nothing in our friendship but I wanted you to know.” He stops, “I feel relieved.”

You stop for a moment to think about what to say, the way he said it made you feel heart broken, and you wanted so badly to change the course of things but you couldn’t. it was so heart breaking so see such sunshine look sad but it was unchangeable and that fact sucked to the point of sickness. You felt sick to the gut.

“I’m good you are.” You start, “Ashton I don’t know what to say.” You shake your head and he places his hand in yours.

“You don’t have too, I don’t want to make it any hard for you so don’t say anything, I’m fine, and I will be fine.” He said with a shrug.

You look at him with sadness and regret as you lean into him and hug him tightly wishing the hug would reverse time and bring you back to the time you met him, you wished you’d be mean to him because then it would never turned the it did and wouldn’t lead to this moment.

And it’s just so sad to see him like this and you wanted so badly to just hug his sadness away as your grip tighten around him.

“I’m sorry.”

 A/N: I’m sorry byut i don’t take requests for ships anymore :(