just a quick blurb after seeing these pics of supirya in that stunning lip color hehe
read it on ao3 too!
Samira Mohan doesn’t often wear lipstick.
She doesn’t often wear makeup, period. She is regimented in her skincare routine, day and night. It’s the one thing she will splurge her resident’s salary on, treating herself after spending twelve hours most days in the cool, sterile air of the hospital. There is no time or reason to wear anything but moisturizer and lip balm before leaving for her grueling yet rewarding shifts. So, no. Makeup has never been a priority.
Sometimes, though, Samira will indulge. A practice she has begun leaning more into as of late. Special occasions, events, or going to a bar with her friends—she will swipe on mascara to elongate her dark eyelashes, some glowing blush to accentuate her cheekbones, a gloss or a matte look to color her full lips, some kohl to make her eyes pop—often like her mother wears. She’s only just learning what she likes, keeping to drugstore brands from Target or Walmart rather than venturing into Sephora or Ulta. But so far, it’s been working.
Case in point—tonight.
Samira, along with a number of her coworkers, crowd Donovan’s on a Thursday night, celebrating Princess’s birthday. Conversations are barely heard over endless chatter and music, but the drinks keep flowing under the fairy lights the bar owner likes to put up as the days creep closer to the holiday season. Samira sits at a high top with some of the residents and med students, and as she grins at something Trinity says around the thin black straw trapped between her teeth, she feels the familiar weight of a watchful gaze—not for the first time tonight. The warmth in her belly stirs, and she knows it has nothing to do with the alcohol coursing through her system.
She is not being watched—she is being admired, she is being desired, and the knowledge of it has her stepping off her seat and informing her friends, “Bathroom run,” before weaving through the thin crowd of people to head towards the back. Knowing she will be followed. Betting on it, really.
Samira pushes open the sticker covered door for the single stall bathroom, locking the door for now as she steps towards the mirror. Fights a grin as she cards her fingers through her hair, loose curls falling around her shoulders. The deep purple sweater is more for making a cute outfit than warmth, the material thin and the neckline cutting into a wide V, the edge of the neckline sitting at the ends of her collarbones. Two sharp knocks on the door interrupt her from fixing the sweater.
When she opens the door with knowing confidence, she has barely a second to breathe before Jack is on her.
Samira grins against the heated kiss as Jack kicks the door shut behind him, the lock snapping in place. One arm is already around her waist, the other burying into her curls as she parts her lips on a moan when his fingers tighten. She feels the world spin around her until she’s pressed against the door, the warmth in her belly growing into a smouldering fire as Jack digs his teeth into her bottom lip. “If your plan was to drive me crazy, then congratulations—” His arm around her waist shifts, his large hand grasping her ass cheek through the denim of her jeans. “You’ve succeeded.”
Samira’s hands fist the front of Jack’s own sweater, black and collared and fitting too perfectly across a broad chest and shoulders. “Was there ever any doubt?” she teases breathlessly, trailing away from his lips and purposefully pressing kisses down his stubbly jaw, against his dimple, reveling in the prickle against her lips. She can’t get enough of him, and she’s often delirious with happiness to know the feeling is mutual.
“Fuck, baby.” The gruffness of his voice dampens her panties as she nips at his neck, soothing the teasing bite with her tongue right over his pulse point just when he squeezes her ass. “You wanna go? We can sneak out the back.”
Samira laughs breathlessly against his throat, trailing her kisses up. He is warm and solid against her, both her lifeline and the reason her knees feel weak. Someone to lean on and someone who will sweep her off her feet if she asked him to. “You wanna sneak out of Princess’s birthday celebration?” she asks, one hand slipping up to cup a stubbly cheek, teasingly tugging at his earlobe as her lips find their way back to his. He merely waits for her to reach her destination, but Samira can feel his heart thundering. “We’ll be gossip fodder as punishment.”
Jack grunts as his hand slips down to her thigh, hitching her leg over his hip and pressing her against the door, smirking when she gasps against his lips at the press of his cock against her center. “It’d be worth it,” he responds, and through hooded eyes she sees the glimmer in his hazel eyes, and knows he means it.
Samira bumps her nose with his. “Kiss me now, and I promise you it’ll be worth the wait when we get home,” she tells him lowly, voice soaked in the promise she has every intention of keeping.
Jack knows she’s not a liar, and so he kisses her just as she asks, crashing into her like he can’t bear the inches of distance. He kisses her deep and filthy, tangling tongues tasting of beer and gin, the combination working well because they work well together. Samira is trapped against the wood of the door and Jack’s solid, firm muscles—a place she has no desire to leave any time soon as he kisses her like a man starved, like he will never get to do it again. He holds her like he loves her and kisses her like he will spend the rest of his life proving it, so why would Samira ever want to give it up?
She is breathless and dizzy by the time they pull away, head falling back against the door—except Jack’s hand is cupping her head and protects her from getting hurt. Samira isn’t sure if it’s her heart that’s pounding in her ears or the bass of whatever song is playing in the bar, but her eyelids feel heavy as they flutter open, and in the dim lighting of the bathroom, satisfaction curls low in her belly at the work she’s done on him.
Jack’s hair, grown out a little, is more tousled than curled thanks to her fingers. There is an eager, happy pink that stains his cheeks, but the real color she admires is the one on his lips, jaw, and neck. The deep red of her lipstick is faded around his mouth, and she is sure her own looks similar. But obvious lip stains trail down his stubbled jaw, down the side of his neck. Red marks in the shape of her full lips temporarily tattooed against freckled skin, a map of her admiration, of her want, of her love for the man before her. The marks will disappear, but the feelings they are riddled with never will.
“Admiring your handiwork?” Jack asks, pulling Samira’s gaze to him. She sees the smirk that dances on the edge of his lips, the knowing sort of fondness glimmering in his eyes.
“Yes,” Samira answered, unashamed. She has long since stopped hiding from her feelings for Jack. Emotions this deep are meant to be embraced, celebrated. She is not shy about her love for Jack. Still leaning against the door, she tilts her head, smiling lazily. A little drunk off his kisses, off this love. “Red’s a good color on you.”
“Only because it’s yours,” he says, a hand gently cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. It’s an endearing touch, but the electric shocks it evokes are anything but calm. His gaze dips to her mouth as he tugs her bottom lip down before letting it snap back into place. Hazel eyes lock with brown as he tells her quietly, “You look beautiful.”
Samira smiles, butterflies alive and giddy in her stomach. “Even with my messed up lipstick.”
His smile turns just a little bit wolfish. “Especially then.”
Samira laughs and pushes him back, but grasps his hand and pulls him towards the sink. She grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser, wets them before turning to Jack and beginning to clean him up. He tries to do it himself but she bats his hand away, eyes on his smile as she gently wipes off the faded red staining his skin. She almost pouts as she moves to clean off the lip marks. “I’ll miss these,” she murmurs wistfully.
Jack chuckles. “You can do ’em again when we get home.” His smile is boyish, crinkles deep at the corners of his eyes. “Won’t hear any complaints from me.”
Samira hums in approval as she continues to work. It takes some doing, but she manages to clean him up well. When she turns to the mirror, she nearly flinches, muttering about how she resembles the Joker as she cleans off the lipstick smeared on the skin around her mouth. She sees Jack watching her from the reflection the whole time, and when she digs into her bag to pull out her lipstick, he moves to stand behind her.
She uncaps the tube, smiling as he wraps his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watches her reapply lipstick that will happily be ruined later tonight. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs. Her breath hitches as his head shifts just a bit, stubble pressing to her jaw, and it makes her misstep, makes her smear just a small line of lipstick below her lip. Before she can wipe it off, Jack’s hand comes up, gently cupping her chin once more and, this time, he cleanly wipes away the unwanted smudge under her lip. Their gazes meet in the reflection, and Samira’s stomach dips at the unbridled heat in his eyes as he adds, “Can’t wait to mess this up again later.”
The fire begins anew, and Samira wonders if putting themselves on Princess’s gossip list is worth it.
fifteen things that jack learns about samira
#mohabbotmonday | 545 words | what samira learns
"One way that we constellate meaning into the ambiguity of living is through connecting with others, bodily. To take someone's hand is to have made a constellation between the two of you. To have sex is to constellate, as is to exchange a glance across a table. Constellation is [...] the antidote to patternless-ness and potential chaos, including the potential chaos of loneliness."
— Carl Phillips
i. She uses the same curl cream he does. She likes working it into his hair with her chest pressed to his back; likes being able to feel the pleased sigh leave his body.
ii. Despite the many ways she has reformed her perfectionist tendencies over the years, she is fiercely competitive; for the sake of their relationship, they decide against continuing to do the New York Times crossword together.
iii. She loves the cold. He loves that it makes her huddle close.
iv. Contrary to what her ED nickname implies, she is not always slow. Comes quite quickly when he whispers filth in her ear, in fact.
v. On days when she struggles to remember the point of it all, she scrolls through her folder of poetryisnotaluxury screenshots until she finds her favorite line from Andrea Gibson: Grief astronomer, adjust the lens, look close, tell us what you see.
vi. She gets sleepy with wine; animated with tequila; handsy with gin.
vii. With the help of vetted YouTube videos and whichever physical therapists on the ninth floor will spare her the time, she teaches herself how to do myofascial release for his residual limb pain.
viii. She doesn't own a TV, so their watch-through of each other's Letterboxd favorites—starting with Good Will Hunting for him and Om Shanti Om for her—is better suited for his place. (In the end, it doesn't really matter; they make it about half an hour into each movie before she's on his lap, panting into his mouth.)
ix. She is lethal at karaoke—a surprise to others but not to him, not after hearing her sing in his shower.
x. Whether before sleep or after a frustrating shift, she counts his freckles to clear her mind. Her fingertips leave little whorls of heat on his temples, his cheekbones, his shoulders.
xi. She snorts if he can get her laughing hard enough. He frequently gets her laughing hard enough.
xii. She smells like amber and peppercorn, courtesy of a rollerball of perfume she purchased from the vintage shop on Butler Street. He can't get enough of it and keeps her well stocked. (Sometimes, when she's away, he dabs some on his wrist to inhale as he gets himself off, loud and unabashed. She likes when he sends her videos as proof.)
xiii. She wants to adopt another cat. Her bookmarks bar is full of worthy candidates such as an orange tabby named Beans, a calico named Rosie, and a Russian blue named Saag Paneer.
xiv. She has a sweet tooth—or rather, a sour one. ("Sour candy can alleviate anxiety, you know," she says, grinning around one end of a gummy worm. He replies by taking the other end between his teeth and tugging, Lady and the Tramp-style.)
xv. She doesn't wear jewelry. He resolves to change that in one very particular way.
JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN
Okay, so Haikyuu!! has sadly officially ended – and as promised in my reaction to Chapter 402, here is a breakdown of our 2018-2019 V-League teams and which of our beautiful high school boys ended up playing beyond High School!
We’re going in order of Divisions from 1 to 3 – which new team-ups are your favorites? SENDAI FROGS STAN FOR LIFE! Obviously.
oh..........okay, yep yep i've realised it now. i've got an affinity for media which can lead to some reallllllly good parental figure & child fics man....... oh the whump.......
warnings. jk loves calling reader ‘sweetheart’, mentions of reader’s anxiety, and a short kiss(makeout?) scene, not proofread!
notes. i actually loved writing the first drabble of jungkook x bookworm!reader and i can’t sleep and currently rewatching the twilight movies as im writing this so here’s this :D likes and reblogs are appreciated <33
[ masterlist ]
—
you can’t remember when you had told yourself, one more chapter. but apparently it’s been long considering it’s almost three in the morning. the ice in your coffee has melted into a smaller ice cube, so you take a big sip. not wanting the ice to water down the sweet, creamy taste.
coffee late at this hour doesn’t affect you no more. you drink it now for the taste more than anything. you can thank school and those tiring days of studying hunched over a table. the amount of energy drinks and coffee you’ve consumed should be concerning but you gotta do what you gotta do.
if jungkook was here, he would’ve had a fit and told you drinking caffeine at this hour is bad for you.
but he’s not. he’s at a late night practice and he told you he’s not sure he’ll be able to come over.
you have your two pillows propped up against your headboard, your book nuzzled against your thighs and your stuffed animal under your arm. your bedside lamp creating the perfect lighting for you to see and the perfect atmosphere.
you’re deep into your book, too engrossed in the plot between the love interests that you don’t hear keys jingle and a door softly shut and echo in the quiet night of your home.
you still don’t hear the soft feet padding towards your bedroom until your door opens, revealing your boyfriend.
he looks as if he’s freshly showered, the ends of his hair are damp and stringy, and his face is bare and cheeks a soft red. that’s how it looks after he finishes his skincare routine, he must have rushed over here.
he grins when he sees you’re awake and so do you when you see him, placing your bookmark inside and setting it down next to you. you sit up on your knees, eager to touch him and kiss him, realizing again how much you miss him despite seeing him this morning. that was almost 24 hours ago.
but his eyes maneuver to the coffee that’s condensing, making a puddle on the coaster.
he squints his eyes at you. and it feels almost as if you’ve been caught as a child. you lower yourself to sit on the back of your shins.
“hi kookie,” you smile, acting innocent.
“don’t kookie me. how many times have i told you to stop drinking coffee so late, it’s almost three. you’re not gonna sleep.” he tells you again, sternly. reaching behind his neck to take off his crewneck in one swift movement, the shirt underneath scrunches up with the sweater, revealing his abs. and you can’t help but ogle while you’re being scolded. you can’t blame me.
you frown, “i know, i know. but you know reading and drinking coffee goes hand in hand. i wanted to enjoy reading my book and–“
he moves towards you, placing his knee on the foot of the bed, crawling shortly til he reaches you. his nose brushing yours and his eyes half-lidded. the soft scent of his shampoo and brief smell of mint swallows you, bringing that familiar comfort.
“sweetheart, i know. but caffeine also doesn’t mesh well with your anxiety. you know that. it’s fine to drink it once or twice during the day but late at night is a no.” he softly warns, tilting his chin upwards to catch your lips with his.
it was meant to be a quick kiss but your fingers reach to hold his face, tugging him closer to you until you’re lying on your back and he’s on top. his hands placed on both sides of your head, caging you in, straddling you. both your hands trail its way down from his neck down to his chest, stomach and then they find its home at his waist. pulling him down til his front weighs pressure on your sensitive spot.
both of you moan into the kiss, and your sweet sound sends an alert to jungkook. before you both get carried away, he pulls back, kissing you once more before pulling away.
he hums, deliciously. “though coffee does taste best coming from you.” he gazed at you, eyes shining and lips slightly red. no doubt, you look the same.
“i thought you weren’t coming tonight.” you say questioningly, watching him move your book next to your coffee so he can lie underneath the covers with you. once he’s settled in, he has an arm resting behind his head and the other resting around you.
“i wasn’t, but i really wanted to sleep with you and i wanna make you breakfast in the morning. i saw a recipe i wanna try.” you hum in response, trying to nuzzle your head deeper into his warmth but his t-shirt is blocking what you want.
you tug at his shirt without saying anything and he understands. he sits up quickly to shrug off the fabric, tossing it across the room to land beside his bag before lying back down, holding you.
he lets out a dramatic sigh, “ahh, this is my favorite thing in the world.” turning on his side, you following so you’re both facing each other, legs tangled together.
“i missed you too.” you whispered. he didn’t say it but he didn’t have to, his answer was enough.
your head nestled underneath his chin and against his chest, you kiss the skin.
“what chapter are you on?” he asks, his voice deeper than it was, slumber almost taking over him.
“twenty-eight, i’m almost done with it.”
he hums. “did you start the book today?”
he feels you nod. “my little bookworm.” he coos, scratching your back softly with the tips of his fingers. “go to sleep, sweetheart.”
CW // bi vs pan discourse talk, mention of arguments made by ppl against pansexuality
There's not a SINGLE good argument against pansexuality or any argument in general that can't be easily debunked, and people who are against it KNOW that and just hate it for no reason (or they are painfully stubborn. Or maybe genuinely misguided.)
Here's every argument against pansexuality I've ever heard getting debunked. If anyone who is against pansexuality is reading this can look past the slight snarkiness, consider my points, and learn better, that'd be fantastic.
"It means the same thing as bisexuality >:((("
False. Bi = attraction to 2 or more
Pan = attraction to all
Similar, yes. But not the same.
"Well bisexuality covers attraction to all genders >:(((("
And? Pansexuality is *specifically* all genders. Some people prefer to have labels that are specific rather than more broad like bisexuality is. There's no harm in having labels that overlap. Tons of other words in the English language have overlapping definitions or even the exact same definitions
"Pansexuality started out transphobic >:((("
Gay, in it's first uses in reference to homosexuality, started out as a slur. Neither of the words mean the things they used to mean. It certainly didn't have the best beginning from what I know; I'll admit it, but tons of other words our community uses had rough beginnings as well and are now accepted and widely used terms.
"Some people still use the transphobic definition >:((("
Some people still use gay as an insult. 🤷♂️ The transphobic definition isn't *the* definition, and the people who use that definition are either transphobes or uneducated. They don't represent the whole pansexual community, nor does them using that definition make the whole sexuality bad. Language changes and evolves. Our community's language is actually a brilliant example of this.
"It erases bisexuality >:(((("
How? No one is trying to replace bisexuality with pansexuality. This argument just makes no sense tbh. Both can, do, and have existed simultaneously for awhile, and I see no reason why they can't continue to do that.
"People who use the pansexual label have internalized biphobia they need to work on >:((("
Maybe some of them do. 🤷♂️ I can't do anything about that though, and neither can you. Plus, that doesn't even apply to the majority of the people using it. Hell, some people use both labels. Also, are you making this same argument about people who just don't like labels so they avoid labeling themselves as bi, gay, etc.? Do they not have some internalized homophobia or something since they're avoiding using a label that technically fits their experiences? Or are you just mad about pansexuality? Think about this.
"People try to claim pansexuality is more inclusive when bisexuality is just as inclusive >:((("
You're actually right. There are people who try to say that, and it is incorrect and a problem. Some people do actually believe that, and they need to know better. Some people, however, haven't figured out how to word why they use the label, and what they *actually* mean is that it's more specific rather than more inclusive. It's a label *specifically* for attraction to all genders, and that's what they want is a label that doesn't have a broad definition. "2 or more," given how many genders there are, is very broad. Valid, but broad.
"There's only 2 genders >:((("
If you bring out this argument, im just gonna call you an ignorant fucking coconut and block you tbh. Or just block you. I may attempt to educate if that's genuinely your first time hearing of more than 2 or you're young, but that hasn't been the case in about 99% of my debates with people about pansexuality.
I would also like you to ask yourself how someone labeling themselves as pansexual harms you directly and why you think it's your business. Not even being snarky, but ask yourself how it is your business. Given that all the other arguments have been debunked, you're not defending bisexuality or trans people because no harm is being done to them with the label. You're not educating people about a problematic label because it's not problematic, and you're info is either false or doesn't apply anymore.
So what are you trying to accomplish? What's your goal? Because the only thing this discourse accomplishes is getting people angry, misguided, and in other people's business over a label they don't use.
Most of these same arguments are used against omnisexuality and polysexuality as well and can just as easily be debunked for those too.
my foot is through the door into the magnus archive fandom...... im so excited im on 1 episode in and my exams are litch around the corner bUT I AM EXCITED
I have a lot of feelings about the rise of he would not fucking say that attitudes in fandom spaces and the paralysing effect it can have on creators. As a writer i think it’s important to just write what feels true to you and not what you think others will “approve” of. Like even as a reader i have enjoyed a variety of different characterisations that all work because the writer makes them work for a particular story. And a fic that’s written out of character to some will be in character to others. Writing fic is not your job you’re not being paid it’s your hobby please. Make them as close to canon as possible. Make them completely different. Who cares! Have fun! Have so much fun! There is an audience for every kind of fic and every kind of character interpretation i promise
True because as a joke or general gripe it's funny, but in practice it's not always the case. More times than none (and on AO3 far more than Wattpad because different writer demographics spur different writing styles) I have read fics that made me think, "Huh, I guess he would say that in that scenario." Quite often, the original media shows us few facets of a character in a limited number of scenarios. Especially with film and media made for mass consumption, "he" often only "says" things that some executive signed off on as profitable/acceptable content. The whole point of much fanfic is to see what a character could be under different circumstances or to expand on what we already know of them.
Lastly, every fanfic writer is granted the right to respond "He says whatever I want him to because this is my fic." Don't like, don't read!
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