#food wrapping paper price

[heartepub]

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[kiryoutann]

i feel like this was wayyy too cute not to share now, so… sneak peek??? and i'm convinced simon is the most patient girl dad out there.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

[count-on-mi]

My Dear Brother Part 2 (Chaeyoung)

A/N: Sorry that I am being too busy at work recently, so I really don't have anytime to write. So just another short one for those who have waited for me so long. This will be the end of this mini series.

In Chaeyoung's new home, Chaeyoung sat on the sofa with her long hair spread to the left, her eyes staring at Zion. T who was slowly approaching in front of her. When Chaeyoung's tender lips touched Zion. T's lips, a magic power seemed to be generated that deeply attracted Zion. T.

Zion. T held up Chaeyoung's pink and red face and continued to suck the sweet saliva from her mouth. Chaeyoung also began to kiss back gradually, while she felt a pair of hands reach her chest. Although Zion.T's hands are on top of her clothes, he can still feel Chaeyoung's plump breast curves, and the soft touch is really admirable for a man.

Chaeyoung looked like a shy little girl with a blushing face like she was giving her first time to her boyfriend. Zion. T slowly put his hand into Chaeyoung's clothes, and clearly felt the hot body temperature radiating from Chaeyoung's skin, until Zion. T slowly reaching her back, the cold buckle of her bra formed a clear contrast with the hot body temperature. With a small unbuttoning sound, the bra that tightly wrapped Chaeyoung's plump breasts was loosened. Chaeyoung still held back slightly Zion. T's hand nervously. This slight resistance further aroused Zion. T's desire to conquer as a man.

"Ding dong! Ding dong! "

Just as the two people's passion and desire rose, a loud doorbell rang at an inappropriate time in the house. Chaeyoung and Zion. T had no choice but to suppress their desire and hurriedly got up to tidy up. As the owner, Chaeyoung pretended to be calm and opened the door.

“Jeonghoon”

"Noona"

The person who came was Jeonghoon, Chaeyoung’s younger brother.

"Noona ... Congratulations on moving to a new home ...This is a housewarming gift ... " Before Chaeyoung could figure it out, Jeonghoon handed Chaeyoung a large bundle of toilet paper and a gift box, then closed the door and changed his shoes.

"Huh ... I'm going to prepare some food ... " Things finally became clear. Chaeyoung couldn't just kick her brother out who came to congratulate him, so she had to get up and walk to the kitchen.

Two men who were staying in the living room could only chat awkwardly, especially Jeonghoon, who knew that he and his sister usually had a sexual relationship in private, but this time they were in front of Chaeyoung's real boyfriend. Although he knew Zion. T didn't know the truth but felt an inexplicable feeling of guilt.

Chaeyoung, who was in the kitchen then, also sighed in embarrassment. This seemed to be the first time that she, her boyfriend and her sex partner were face-to-face together. Running to the kitchen would be a temporary way of avoiding this Shura field.

After a while.

"Jeonghoon... you should eat more ... "

"Well... hyung, you should eat too ... "

At the dinner table, Zion. T and Jeonghoon got closer after their brief chat.  Zion. T is treating Jeonghoon like his younger brother, meanwhile, Jeonghoon went out of his way to accommodate Zion. T because he felt inexplicably apologetic. At this time, Chaeyoung became the most embarrassing person at the dinner table.

"Ah...By the way... I brought something good ... " Jeonghoon suddenly stood up and took the housewarming gift box that Chaeyoung had just put aside casually to the dining table and opened it naturally. It was a bottle of fine wine with a high unit price.

Seeing the good wine, Zion. T hurriedly called Chaeyoung to get a glass of wine and happily shared it.

After a round of drinking, the three people looked half-drunk and in a daze. Zion. T’s mind was on the glass of red wine in his hand, which he usually couldn’t drink. Chaeyoung was avoiding Jeonghoon, and taking care of Zion. T who had already drunk. Jeonghoon, already in a daze, saw that his sister Chaeyoung, who had always taken care of him, was now taking care of another man in front of him, and an inexplicable unknown fire arose.

"Noona..." Jeonghoon leaned over, pretending to be drunk and leaned on Chaeyoung's limp body, while calling Chaeyoung coquettishly.

Chaeyoung was busy stopping Zion. T to keep drinking wine, so she didn't have time to resist Jeonghoon's coquettish leaning. Chaeyoung just thought that Jeonghoon was drunk, clinging to her, and acting coquettishly as usual, so she didn't care too much and focused most of her thoughts on Zion. T.

Jeonghoon didn't know if it was the smell of body scent or shower gel, he just felt that the smell emanating from Chaeyoung's body was extremely attractive at that moment. The lust in his heart gradually turns into desire. After drinking enough, Jeonghoon felt Chaeyoung's warm and soft body and smelled the delicious smell. His cock in his pants suddenly became energetic.

"Ah ... Jeonghoon ... don't make trouble ... Oppa is still here ... He is your hyung... right?" By the time Chaeyoung realized it, it was too late. Jeonghoon 's hands had already reached into Chaeyoung's white T-shirt, deftly unbuttoning her bra, holding those plump breasts in his hands and rubbing them, it was a pity that Chaeyoung had to pay careful attention to blocking Zion. T. At the same time, she had to pay attention to the sound of her movements, completely unable to handle Jeonghoon's increasing tease.

"Who is my hyung ... I just want to fuck you in front of him ..." Chaeyoung didn't know whether it was because the men's friendship was so fragile, or because Jeonghoon was so drunk that he was talking nonsense, thinking that the two of them were still calling each other brothers. However, what Jeonghoon is thinking about is that he can't wait to fuck Chaeyoung in front of her boyfriend. Of course, Chaeyoung doesn't know the dirty thoughts in Jeonghoon's heart when she starts to fall into Jeonghoon's touch.

"Oppa... why don't you go to the room and rest first... " Chaeyoung thought that she couldn't go on like this. The clothes on her body were becoming more and more messy, and even one of her breasts was almost exposed. She covered a wet towel on Zion. T’s eyes, pretended to be massaging him gently. But in fact, she was just afraid of Zion. T would see Jeonghoon ’s hands groping her body wantonly. If he wasn't here, Chaeyoung would already have turned around to respond to Jeonghoon and started fucking him, but it is impossible for her to be fucked by another little boy next to her boyfriend.

Zion. T refused Chaeyoung's persuasion. While enjoying Chaeyoung's massage, he raised his head and opened his mouth to taste the red wine again. Zion. T, enjoying the wine, did not notice that Chaeyoung's movements paused for a few seconds.

"Nouna ... so wet ... don't worry, I will satisfy you ... " Jeonghoon leaned his head on Chaeyoung's shoulder and whispered, at the same time, he stood up and dangled his wet fingers in front of Chaeyoung's eyes. Jeonghoon was no longer content to play with Chaeyoung's soft breasts. He quietly unbuttoned the cuff of Chaeyoung 's jeans and put his right hand tightly inside. Chaeyoung is already wet when she is caressed by Zion. T earlier. The nervousness that her boyfriend might notice at any time made Chaeyoung's pussy even more soaked.

"Jeonghoon ... Ummm ... " Chaeyoung resists gently, half drunk and unconscious, has been aroused by Jeonghoon, with only a trace of reason that she cannot be noticed by Zion. T. Having been trained by her sister for many years, Jeonghoon also noticed Chaeyoung's hesitation at this time. Jeonghoon turned over Chaeyoung's red face and kissed Chaeyoung's lips, which were about to speak. He sucked Chaeyoung's tender lips, his tongue kept inserting into Chaeyoung's small mouth, stirring and intertwining fiercely.

This kiss made Chaeyoung fall into the alcohol and Jeonghoon completely. Even though her boyfriend is still here,  she responds to Jeonghoon's kiss, the entanglement of their tongues also moves from Chaeyoung's mouth to Jeonghoon's. Her left hand still gently rubbed her boyfriend Zion. T's face with the towel, her right hand quietly retracted to grasp Jeonghoon's cock, which he had already taken off his pants and stroked it up and down as gently as he was his boyfriend.

Chaeyoung and Jeonghoon kissed passionately for several minutes. From the corner of Chaeyoung's eyes, she glanced at Zion. T who just sat next to them. Her mind, which was originally hazy, suddenly became agitated again. She hurriedly pushed Jeonghoon away and wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Oppa...the towel is cold ... I ... I'll get another one, please wait... " A belated sense of betrayal and shyness hit Chaeyoung, so Chaeyoung panicked and thought of a reason to escape, but Zion. T didn't respond.

"Nonna ... I'm going to fuck you ... Don't moan too loud or you'll be discovered ... " Chaeyoung was in a panic and wanted to escape. After taking a few steps, she was hugged by Jeonghoon behind her and pressed against the wall. When she heard Jeonghoon whisper teasingly in her ear. Chaeyoung subconsciously wanted to refuse but found it was too late. Chaeyoung felt a chill in her butt. Jeonghoon had already grabbed Chaeyoung's little hand behind her butt to block it and held Chaeyoung's plump butt. A familiar cock was inserted into her pussy. Chaeyoung felt the cock gradually going deeper into her body, and Chaeyoung was powerless to stop it.

"Wait ... wait ... no ... no ... ah ... ah ... " Chaeyoung realized that she was really a slut. She was being fucked by another man's cock just a few steps away from her boyfriend. The shameful thing was that even though she said No with her mouth, her body was enjoying the incomparable tension and pleasure, and deep in her heart she seemed to be begging for the cock inside her body to move faster and fiercely.

"Jeong... Jeonghoon... pull out... pull out... no... ah... ah ..." Chaeyoung was unable to resist and had to plead, but can't too loudly in case Zion. T would hear. As a result,  Jeonghoon couldn't hear what Chaeyoung said at all, but even if Jeonghoon heard it, he wouldn't pay attention to Chaeyoung's plea. Because at this time, Chaeyoung's pussy is several times tighter than usual. Jeonghoon couldn't guess that Chaeyoung didn't want Jeonghoon to stop at this time.

As if to show his sense of victory and excitement, Jeonghoon played with Chaeyoung's body. He asked Chaeyoung to kneel on the ground and raised her plump ass high. He pulled out the cock inserted in Chaeyoung until only the glans were left, and then pushed forward fiercely. Pushing deeply and hard, he grasped Chaeyoung's waist with both hands and pulled back, so that Jeonghoon 's cock was perfectly inserted deep into Chaeyoung's body again, and Chaeyoung's whole body slowly crawled forward a short distance.

Jeonghoon fucked her effortlessly, and the strong and intense numbing pleasure forced Chaeyoung to stuff the underwear that had just been taken off by Jeonghoon into her mouth, otherwise, Chaeyoung's uncontrollable moans would have been heard by Zion. T.

Although Chaeyoung's crawling forward had little effect every time, Chaeyoung unknowingly finally realized that the direction they were heading was exactly the chair where Zion. T was sitting. The strong panic and tension made Chaeyoung look back and want to stop it. However, Jeonghoon has long been addicted to tightening feeling from Chaeyoung's pussy that is several times stronger than usual.

"Huh ... It feels so fucking ogg ... " Fortunately when Chaeyoung's forehead was almost touching the leg of the chair. Jeonghoon cummed inside Chaeyoung's tight walls while grabbing her ass hard.  Jeonghoon let out a small groan from the satisfying pleasure that was even more exciting than usual.

Feeling relieved, Chaeyoung glanced at Zion. T, raised her foot and kicked Jeonghoon who was still behind her. His cock was forced to withdraw from her body,  without the clogging of the cock, a large amount of nectar mixed with white semen poured out of Chaeyoung's clit. No man wouldn't be excited to see this look.

"Snor! Snor!"

Chaeyoung was about to explain to Zion. T who was waiting for the hot towel, but Unexpectedly, Zion. T moved even faster, leaned forward and lay on the dining table, snoring loudly.

When Chaeyoung saw Zion. T moved, and her body tensed up immediately. When she saw he had fallen asleep, her body relaxed again. The instinctively tense and loose action makes more cum gush out of her pussy. Jeonghoon got up and wanted to run when he saw Zion .T was moving, Seeing such a lustful look of Chaeyoung, he came to Chaeyoung with his cock that was excited again.

"Let's make a deal... I'll let you cum once more and then you should go to sleep ... " How could Chaeyoung not guess what Jeonghoon was thinking? She looked at her boyfriend who seemed to be sleeping soundly and thought that he wasn't noticed even though they fucked such intensely. It is better to solve Jeonghoon 's desire as soon as possible, so Chaeyoung knelt down next to her boyfriend and looked at Jeonghoon with her face half raised.

Jeonghoon 's cock was so engorged and hard that it was trembling with excitement in front of Chaeyoung's face. Chaeyoung sighed deeply and stretched out her hands to hold the ferocious cock that was covered with veins tightly. Her soft lips gently slid over the huge pink glans, and then her small mouth completely contained the entire sensitive glans and sucked, her flexible tongue rubbed all over the glans from time to time, and occasionally she raised her head to look at Zion. T direction.

Chaeyoung looked at Zion. T, made up her mind again. She moved her hands, caressing and stimulating Jeonghoon's nipples and asshole, which are also sensitive points at the same time. Her small mouth took Jeonghoon's cock deeply and took the entire length into her mouth, and then pulled back the glans, then swing her head back and forth from the base to the glans, sucking back and forth.

"Ah ... ah ... oh ... oh ... " Chaeyoung's oral sex skills are really good. Jeonghoon was quickly defeated. He pressed the back of Chaeyoung's head with both hands and shook his legs rapidly, shooting out a large amount of hot cum into Chaeyoung's tight-sucking mouth.

Finally making her brother cum again, Chaeyoung sat on the floor and spit out a large amount of thick white semen in her mouth onto the underwear that had just been stuffed in her mouth. Jeonghoon also sat on the dining chair with a satisfied look on his face. Chaeyoung saw the expression on Jeonghoon's face, and she whispered to Jeonghoon to go to the room and rest. She turned around and knelt down on the floor with her underwear in hand, wiping the bodily fluids that had just been accidentally scattered everywhere.

However,  something she suddenly discovered lifted Chaeyoung's calm mood up again. The pants between his legs were held up by his erection. Chaeyoung looked at Zion. T in panic and confusion, thinking that the man would have a physiological reaction when he was sleeping.

[diejager]

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with. 

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food. 

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown. 

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[seungkwanniee]

pairings : boyfriend!seventeen x gn!reader

genre : flufff

warnings : mention of food , reader is said to be shorter than Joshua and Wonwoo , cuss words , pet names

synopsis : when their s.o is that kind of shy person that he even needs to ask things for you

hyung line ,, maknae line

an : latest post flopped so HARDD 🔥🔥

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

he absolutely loves the way you get shy over the simple things

every now and then he is teasing you

but after he is showering you with kisses and hugs because he feels bad

when you two plan a cafe date, restaurant one or something like that, he is ordering for you without even asking

he doesn't even need to ask what youre having because he already knows what you eat and what no

in his eyes you are so small and pity (in a good way ofc) that he enjoy doing it for you

JEONGHAN 』

he LOVE the fact that you are shy

for him it's like you depend on him and he can take advantage of this

you pray him to ask a thing for you? well, he wants something back, material or not he doesn't mind

if you want to know how much that skirt costs when the price isn't writted down and you want him to ask, he wants at least a kiss back

yeah in front of everyone, he isn't ashamed but you are

he wants rewads for the work he does !!!

but joking aside, he would do anything for you he just likes to see you blushed for him

JOSHUA 』

how many times I need to say that he is a gentleman? HE IS THE STANDARD !

when he feels the sleeve of his t-shirt being pulled, he looks down at you almost worried

what is bothering his precious beloved? someone is hurting his precious baby?

when you tell him you want a thing, but you are to shy to ask he is the most comprensive man ever

'it's okay, i'll ask for you'

pats your head or pinch your fluffly cheeks

I think he would help you to pass over this fear

JUN 』

TWO SHY CATS TOGHETER AW

don't even ask how you two ended up togheter, you are one stranger than the other

so, yall must've got each other backs

before getting out of the car, you are playing rock paper scissors to decide who is going to order for both that day

somewhat, you always manage to not do it because he is too in love with you

you literally have him wrapped around your fingers, so he can't resist you

so you will just pull your puppy eyes and the game is done

HOSHI 』

he finds you TOOO cute

like, omg he is so in love with you that he would just kiss every part of you when you hide your face because of shyness

when he tease you, he love to see your ears going red

but suddently his became red too realizing what he said to you, he is shameless sometimes

he love when you are shy when someone say something that make you embarassed and you cling on his arm

and maybe youre hiding your head on his neck, he goes insane and his stomach is fulled with butterflies

WONWOO 』

you are the perfect partner for this man

he doesn't want you if you don't match his energy, so he will not judge if you got a shy behavior

he doesn't mind ordering for you, he loves it

so he doesn't pressure you to trying to do it for yourself as he completely understands you

and yes, it's a really hard thing so he would never judge you

'lovie, is that the one that you want?'

he lowers at your height so he can wishper into your ear

your hand is ALWAYS wrapped around his biceps so when you got so shy that you can't handle it anymore, you squeeze it

code message that himself proposed

WOOZI 』

this bitch is GLAD that you are shy, he doesn't think he could handle something else from his partner

soonyoung it's already too much

you are that shy, that at this point he is the extrovert in the relationship

he got it when you two were at yours frist resturant date and you were looking so nervously at the menu

you even started to bite your nails but you were shy even to tell woozi about your fear

but be observes a lot, and he could tell you weren't nervous just because it was one of your frist date

he reassures you while reaching your hand on the table to caress it

from now on, you don't even need to ask him to order for you

[liveyun]

DEADL7NES | bts

seven stories. seven boys. seven endings you can’t run from.

▸ status: active

▸ rating: 18+ (dark themes, emotional horror, selective smut)

▸ genre: dark fantasy / horror romance

▸ warnings: individual per drabble — mind the tags.

▸ connection: loose canon. standalone mostly.

updates are at random.

────────────

01. the archivist

⏳ kim namjoon

status: posted april 7 ☑

tags: liminal horror, eldritch joon,, pretty men are dangerous

life has bothered you enough that you end up taking a job at a forgotten archive. somehow, one of the barren books seem know too much about you, and so does he.

read here

────────────

02. the eternal feast

⏳ kim seokjin

status: due

tags: dark fantasy, immortal royalty, subtle body horror

you’re invited to a royal banquet that never ends. the guests are beautiful, the food is perfect. but now, you can’t find the exit door.

────────────

03. the tune of your heart

⏳ min yoongi

status: due

tags: haunted love, musician au, body horror

the pianist next door plays only for you, his music wraps around your chest. turns out, the music he plays is meant for your heart — not you.

────────────

04. the man in the mirror

⏳ jung hoseok

status: due

tags: cursed object, liminal horror, mirrorverse, smut

he lives in your mirror—beautiful, lonely, kind and has a smile which defeats the sun. you want to free him from his ‘curse’, but he tells you that it comes with a price.

────────────

05. the sweetest sin

⏳ park jimin

status: due

tags: cursed bakery, indulgence, body horror, smut

his desserts taste like your wildest dreams come true. but you’re always hungry. unbeknownst to you, their cost is far beyond paper bills.

────────────

06. the masterpiece

⏳ kim taehyung

status: due

tags: painter au, gothic horror, possession, smut

it’s your first time meeting the artist of the century— but just when you’re about to meet him, you find a painting of yourself — bare. and it looks way too real to be a dream.

────────────

07. the perfect doll

⏳ jeon jungkook

status: due

tags: artificial lover, uncanny valley, obsession

he’s everything you want—until you find the room full of glass cases. each one holds his face. and now, he wants yours.

────────────

[seungfl0wer]

Can you do 34 from the 60 more writing prompts with Seungmin or leeknow, can it be angst with a fluffy ending 🥹

*Pay Attention!*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst/Semi Fluff Ending

Warnings: Cursing, Arguing/Yelling, Reader gets hurt (burnt), Mentions of Blood, Mentions of wanting to die, not proof read

The time someone asks for a happy ending I leave it kinda not- I mean it’s happier than I was gonna leave it not gonna lie😂. I hope you enjoy it though. Yall really coming at me with these angst scenarios lol

-🩵

Your fiancé had just came home throwing his coat over the couch coming to meet you as you were cooking dinner in the kitchen. He seemed a bit off today probably annoyed from work as he told you about the boss being a dick lately. You were listening to music as you cooked swaying your hip as you cut up some veggies.

Minho gave you a peck on the cheek before sitting down at the table looking over some paperwork he had to do along bills that were on the table. His whole demeanor almost shifted looking over the papers he looked angry. Looked like tears wanted to peak from his eyes fists bunched at the side of the papers. You tried to ignore it wanting to keep your peace for a bit more.

A few minutes had passed before he started talking asking you questions his tone was a bit harsh as he asked “what did we get that was this price?” “Why’s the phone bill high this month” he has a good job and nice money and you worked some hours at a bakery. Money wasn’t an issue really ever. Bills were always paid on time. What was his problem?

You were in your thoughts as you moved the hot pot you had to the other to combine everything. “Y/n!” he said loudly startling you, making you drop the pot. Your hands were too fast for you to think grabbing the hot pan wincing at the pain before letting it drop. You moved quickly accidentally knocking over the other pot with everything in it. You had no time to react everything was just happening so fast. Minho looked at you “y/n can’t you pay attention for 5 fucking seconds?” He hissed at you not realizing you had just burnt yourself.

You looked at him feeling tears pull at your eyes, your vision becoming slightly blurry. You ran your hands under cold water to help the burn as the man behind you rambled on “such a fucking waste” he said grabbing the pan that had fallen. “Why can’t you just pay attention to shit?” He hissed again. The words stung, stung more than the burning of your hands. The tears started to fall a bit turning your head to him “you know what fuck you!” You tried screaming but it came out as a croak.

His eyes squinting at you “why are you even fucking crying? It’s not like you worked all day to come home and have your fiancé dump dinner on the floor because they can’t pay attention!” His words felt like daggers in just stabbing you in the back. You turned your body towards him hands shaking “I guess the food and I have something in common we are just Both a waste aren’t we.” You said whipping your eyes. You walk toward the door grabbing your keys. “Where the hell are you going?” Minho asked following behind you.

“Somewhere I’m not gonna be a bother! Don’t worry about me Minho, order some fucking food and enjoy being alone.” You said before leaving out the door slamming it behind you. You walked to your car hands still hurt you didn’t notice that when the other pan had fallen it had hit the back of your leg. Cutting it as the sharp part of the old janky pan hit it. Your sock was turning red great just great, man hands are burnt and now I’ll probably need stitches. You say smack the steering wheel. You started to just cry you cried hard at the words of your fiancé, you knew he’s been stressed but god he was being an asshole.

You drove yourself to the hospital getting stitched up, the nurse wrapping your hands that were now blistering. You drove back home after a few hours just sitting in your car really not wanting to go back up. You sat there for a good half hour just debating what you wanted to do before you ended up falling asleep. Minho saw your car pull in but was giving you space after what happened he got concerned when it turned about 2 hours of you not coming up.

He walked down to your car to see you fast asleep. He opened the door shaking his head before waking you up “leaving the doors unlocked? You want someone to kill you or something?” He said moving to the side to open your door “maybe it would solve your problem.” You said softly getting out not looking at him. He was about to talk before realizing your hands “are you ok?” He said looking at your hands. You don’t even say anything as you walked up to your house the man following slowly behind you.

You look in at the crime scene realizing Minho had cleaned it, he had also remade dinner “If you’re hungry there’s food.” He said softly you nod plopping yourself on the couch rolling your body to have your face against the back. Curling up into a ball trying not to cry again, you felt Minhos hand hesitantly rub your back. “Y/n I’m sorry.. I didn’t..” his words stuck in his throat. “God I’m sorry.” His voice cracking feeling his body shaking “you got hurt and I fucking yelled at you I don’t even know why you came back i don’t know why you haven’t kicked me out.”

Minho babbled out through tears “I wouldn’t even blame you if you didn’t want to marry me anymore.” You turned to look at him tear stained cheeks his lip quivering staring down at the ground. “Love” you said softly placing your wrapped hand on his. “Y/n please don’t try and make me feel better I hurt you I deserve to be feeling like this.” He spit “I deserve for you to hate me to never want to be around me.” He said another wave of tears falling “fuck I-“ his words not coming out. You get your body up and hold onto him.

You were still hurt but seeing him hurt made it even worse “Listen what you said was assholey however I’m not just gonna walk away from us.” You said trying to get him to look at you “I know you said it out of angry but it still hurt so we’ll just have to talk. Maybe give each other space but I’m not leaving you. When you proposed you signed away any life without me.” You teased his eyes meeting yours “you sleep in the bed tonight ok? I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said biting his lip that was still wiggling.

“I might be upset still but I don’t wanna sleep along.. unless you don’t wanna-“ you said before he cut you off “you know I love sleeping with you it’s always the easiest to sleep.” You could see him calming down by his words. You kissed his cheek getting up “alright well let’s eat and maybe talk if you want and we can go to bed.” You suggested him nodding in response.

He’d give anything to rewind everything that had happened however but it happened and he knew he’d have to show you he didn’t mean what he said. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt the way you did. He’ll spend forever feeling bad about it but also forever making it up to you showing he loves you. And even if it hurt you, you didn’t wanna throw away all the love over one argument. Love is about working through problems like these. And you loved this man no matter how dumb he was being.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[emeritusemeritus]

AHH HI! i was hoping i could request some weasley twins (mostly fred) Christmastime headcanons?

Hello my dear! Your wish is my command, hope you enjoy!🖤🎄

{Christmas Headcanons}

Fred

He’s a last minute shopper, joining in with the frenzied crowds on Christmas Eve having left it all to the last minute to get gifts for his entire family. But somehow, to your constant amazement, he always manages to find good presents that no one ever seems to realise had been purchased mere hours before.

The only people he truly cares enough to think about ahead of time for are you and George. He and George made a pact years ago that they wouldn’t buy anything extravagant for each other but instead treat Christmas as a time to find the most obscure, strange or hilarious item to exchange. You inevitably get dragged into this year after year, sometimes as early as autumn to keep an eye out for the most bizarre things you could find.

Despite his natural prankster nature, he usually chooses very sentimental and beautiful gifts for you, never caring for the price now he had some money in his pocket, even despite your protests of keeping the budget small. A necklace with your favourite gemstone and the date you started going out, a limited edition print of your favourite book, a non-aesthetically pleasing but nevertheless thoughtful hamper of the snacks you’d discovered on holiday with him years ago that weren’t available in London- but of course Fred had found a way.

He longed for that moment when your face would light up and you’d look at him with a face of pure surprise and adoration. He’d give you his widest grin and open up his arms for you to jump into, proud and if not a little smug that he’d once again nailed it.

Absolutely cannot wrap a gift to save his life. There’s an equal amount of wrapping paper and tape used on each present and somehow it still doesn’t work, even on the easier and cleanest of square gifts. After the year he got fed up and used tin foil from the kitchen, you took over wrapping for him, unable to see his loved ones suffer through unwrapping his monstrosities anymore.

Christmas is a time for complete, unadulterated joy and should not be done by halves in Fred Weasley’s opinion. The tackier the better, the bigger the better and the word ‘minimalist’ in relation to Christmas is a personal slight against him. Tinsel? Beautiful. 1000 string lights? There’s still room for more.

Though the Weasleys had very little money for extravagant christmases when he was young, it had been a time that he’d adored for as long as he can remember. The food, the lights, the music- all of it could be unbeaten.

Cannot cook a single thing. He’s happy to let you take the reigns on this one and failing that, he’d treat you to Christmas dinner out at your favourite restaurant so that you could just enjoy the day without spending all day in the kitchen.

Loves muggle Christmas movies and would watch them religiously every year. His favourite is Christmas Vacation and would quote it multiple times during the season, even though most of the wizarding world wouldn’t have a clue what he’s referring to. Little full, lotta sap.

Christmas crackers are his absolute favourite thing. He loves to mess with the seemingly simplistic brand that Molly buys every year by inserting mini pyrotechnics and other surprising ‘gifts’… like the one with the enclosed, spring loaded boxing glove that Fred ensured Ron was on the receiving end of. He was particularly proud of that one, even if he did get a lecture from Molly.

George

George Weasley underneath his vivid hair and fun loving prankster character, is a simple man. He loves his family and revels at any chance for them to get together and Christmas is the perfect example of that. The smells and the sights, the delicious food and the sense of magic in the sentimentality of the season are the reasons why he loves it so much. Unlike his twin, George likes a laid-back, simple Christmas with year long traditions to look forward to and a nice peaceful break (after the season-long chaos of owning the busiest shop in Diagon Alley).

Again in stark contrast to his twin, he’s a natural planner and likes to think ahead of gifts for his loved ones, starting late November until he’s done by mid December, leaving the stress of Christmas behind him.

Has a natural talent for wrapping gifts and they somehow always come out looking professionally wrapped, even if the bows and paper don’t always match.

His gifts are always thoughtful and personalised to the recipient but sometimes he blurs the lines of something you need becoming much too practical, his logical mind taking over. You mentioned that your feet were cold around him? You’re getting multiple pairs of socks that year, all anaesthetically pleasing in very practical colours. Your vacuum isn’t working right? Here’s a new one! Not the most exciting gift but it’s perfect, right?

Sometimes misses the mark slightly but it’s okay because it’s the thought that counts.

Surprisingly a really good cook and would have no difficulty whipping up a perfectly timed Christmas dinner with all the trimmings without breaking a sweat. He’d researched recipes for weeks and had tried out many of the different techniques in the weeks prior to ensure he finds the very best method for the big day.

Hates being cold. It’s one of the reasons he never minded getting the handmade creations of scarves, hats and jumpers from Molly because at least they kept him warm.

Secretly dreams of a Christmas somewhere warmer, just for one year, though he’d be worried that it just wouldn’t be the same and so he never risks it and stays at home.

Had a lethal right arm when it comes to snowball throwing, making him the most sought after team player in all the Weasley family snowball fights.

[pukefactory]

Hello!! Could I request Yandere! Capsaicin? Or just dating hcs, if that's alright!

⫘⫘⫘⟢ BURNED UP BY PASSION ⟢⫘⫘⫘

！Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Yandere Capsaicin X Reader

！Character(s): Capsaicin Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

！Genre: Headcanons, SFW

！Warning(s): Abusive Behaviour (The Typical Yandere Behaviour Tropes)

！Image Credits: @knife-wielding

⚡︎ Capsaicin Cookie has always been intense, but with you, it’s something else. His fiery nature turns possessive, his aura burning hotter whenever another Cookie gets too close. He doesn’t mean to be scary, but his instinct is to keep you all to himself. No one else can handle your spice like he can!

⚡︎ “You’re fragile! Too fragile!” He insists, wrapping you in his arms like a living furnace. Every scrape, every little stumble—he reacts like you’ve been critically injured. He’s always there, keeping you warm, keeping you safe, even if it means standing in the way of your freedom.

⚡︎ Capsaicin Cookie isn’t exactly subtle. His presence is like an open flame, impossible to ignore. Whether he’s looming over you with crossed arms or flashing a grin from across the room, you can always feel his gaze. And if someone else is around? That fiery look in his eyes gets dangerous.

⚡︎ Temperature control? Never heard of it. The closer you are to him, the hotter it gets. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but his excitement, his obsession—it makes the air sweltering. If you try to leave, the temperature rises even more, like he’s trying to burn the thought out of your mind.

⚡︎ He loves physical affection, and he’s not gentle about it. His hugs are tight, his grip firm, his warmth all-consuming. If you try to push him away? He just laughs, holding you closer. “Too hot? But you like spice, don’tcha?”

⚡︎ Capsaicin Cookie has a thing about food. He’ll cook for you, spice up your meals just right, and watch with eager eyes as you eat. But the second someone else offers you food? Ohhh, he’s livid. “Why would you need anything else? My spice is the best, isn’t it?”

⚡︎ He’s fast. Too fast. The moment you even think about running, he’s right there, grabbing your wrist with a grin. “Where ya goin’? Thought we were just getting started!” The worst part? He genuinely believes he’s doing this for your own good.

⚡︎ Those broken shackles on his wrists? They may not hold him anymore, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use them. If you ever get too rebellious, he just casually wraps an arm around you, holding you in place like you’re made of paper. “Wouldn’t wantcha runnin’ off, now would we?”

⚡︎ If you really try to leave, it hurts him. His flames flicker, his voice cracks, and for once, he doesn’t look like the unstoppable Spice Overlord—he just looks broken. “Why… Why’re ya tryin’ to leave me? Ain’t I good enough?” But the moment you hesitate? He pounces, his heat surging again. “See?! You belong here. With me.”

⚡︎ You are his everything. No matter how much you fight, no matter how much you resist, his obsession never wavers. He’ll always find you. Always bring you back. And with that wild grin and molten gaze, he’ll remind you again and again—“You’re mine, and I ain’t ever lettin’ ya go.”

Writing commissions are now open! I will create nearly any type of story, including OC x Canon or general imagine-style pieces. Please refer to the pricing details below.

Payment is required before I begin working on your commission. PayPal only.

If you’re interested, please send me a DM. Refer to my pinned post to see what fandoms I write for, as well as any additional information.

[dixons-sunshine]

I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader

Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.

Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.

Word count: 3.9k.

A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.

Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.

“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”

Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”

You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”

“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”

Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.

She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”

Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.

“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”

Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.

“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”

You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”

Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”

You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.

“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”

“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”

“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”

“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”

“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”

The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.

Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”

Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.

“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.

However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.

“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”

“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.

“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”

Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.

You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”

Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”

Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.

And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.

“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”

“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”

At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.

Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. “You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”

Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.

You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.

“Night,” he whispered.

“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”

Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.

You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.

“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.

“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.

“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”

Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god.”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.

“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.

Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.

“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.

You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.

Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”

You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”

You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.

“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.

You nodded at him. “Sure.”

“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”

You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.

“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”

“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”

“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”

“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”

As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.

“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”

Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”

Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”

You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.

“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”

You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.

“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.

She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.

With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:

You had feelings for him.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”

You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”

Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”

The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences.  Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.

“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”

Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.

“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”

Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.

“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”

In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.

“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”

Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.

“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”

Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.

Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.

[shaded-night]

The Price of Gift Giving

There are many things Aventurine can pride himself in. He has no shortage of talents that have gotten him as far as he has. However there are still a few things that he cannot wrap his head around. When it comes to love and showing his affection, Aventurine fumbles more often than not, even with his heightened emotional intelligence.

Now, he isn't sure what exactly he had done this time around, but his beloved Doctor seems to be frustrated with him. So here he is standing in one of the most luxury malls in all of Pier Point trying to pick out the best gift as an apology. He knows Ratio isn't big on material luxuries but as Aventurine eye's a beautiful fountain pen, he can't help but throw his card down. He pays extra to have it engraved with an owl face -the same one that adorns Ratio's shoulder- and a quaint but sweet quote, "For my Beloved Veritas". Aventurine feels confidence flow through his veins as he becomes a couple hundred thousand credits lighter. The pen is packaged nicely, the engraving hidden from view so he can surprise his boyfriend even more.

When he returns home, Aventurine can here Ratio in their shared study grumbling to himself as he no doubt marks another students paper as inadequate. Aventurine braves a smile as he tucks the small gift into his coat pocket and quietly enters the study.

"I'm home~. I see you're still working hard. Do you have time for a short break?"

Ratio sighs, sparing Aventurine a quick glance before his eyes setting back on the stack of papers .

"Unfortunately I'm on a tight deadline. I did mention to you earlier that I'd most likely will be busy all day." Ratio's voice held clear annoyance, but that's fine. Aventurine's smile faulters for only a second.

"Yes I remember you saying that. Sorry, I just don't like seeing you over work yourself."

Ratio only hums in acknowledgement as red ink fills another paper.

If Aventurine just stands here any longer he's sure to be kicked out, so to not waste anymore time he fumbles to get his gift out of his pocket.

"I have something for you." He places the box neatly on the desk, and Ratio pauses to look at it. It's not hard to guess its price, the name of the store was printed clearly on the lid. Aventurine can feel the annoyance radiating off of Ratio as he narrows his eyes at the package.

"Aventurine," said mans smile drops; Ratio never calls him that at home. "While the thought is appreciated, we've talked about your frivolous amount of gifts before. No matter how deep your pockets are, always spending isn't a good lifestyle. Honestly, is drowning me in expensive products the only thing you can do?"

It shouldn't hurt because Ratio is right; they have talked about Aventurine's unhealthy spending habits. Still, he had no issue buying anything that he thought Ratio may like. And that's what made his confidence crumble. His eyes stung and his voice was stuck in his throat. Ratio was looking at him, almost expectantly, but Aventurine couldn't form any words.

Instead he turned around, silently leaving the room. It felt humiliating standing there under his boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze. Maybe he deserved it for being inconsiderate of Ratio's thoughts on luxury goods. That was the only rational conclusion he could come up with.

~*~ When Ratio had finally emerged from the study, it was well into the evening. Aventurine could hear him in the kitchen getting himself his share of dinner Aventurine somehow managed to put together just a hour prior. He had the catcakes to thank for pushing him to get food in him. The last few hours he had just been curled up under a blanket on the couch while the snacks meowed at him sympathetically.

Eventually the noise in the kitchen died down, and was replaced with the couch dipping under Ratio's weight. Aventurine didn't move from his place under the blanket.

"Vasha," a hand fell onto Aventurine's shoulder; and maybe he's just a little too weak because a second later he wrapped himself tightly around his boyfriend. "I would like to apologize, my love. I shouldn't have been so insensitive to your gift."

Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his head fall against Ratio's chest.

"I just wanted to make you happy. I know you've been overworked lately...and I know I can't help with that kind of work. I know I said I'd work on my spending. So I guess I'm sorry too."

Fingers thread through his hair and a kiss is placed on his head.

"Change doesn't happen overnight, and I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. You are far more valuable than any gift, Kakavasha."

Ratio shifts and pulls the giftbox from his pocket. It was still unopened, but Ratio swiftly untied the bow around it and removed the lid. He picked up the pen, admiring the pretty swirl of blue and white along its body and it's gold accents. His thumb ran over the engraving and Aventurine feels a smile against his temple.

"It is quite a lovely pen. Thank you, Vasha. I will treasure it always."

~*~ inspired by this twt post~

rtrn is so stupid i love them

[riseoftheangstywriter]

How do u think the turtles would react if s/o got the turtles their favorite franchise(Jupiter Jim or Lou jitsu) merch after they attempted to buy it(but they were broke)?

Love this idea! I plan on writing a little scenario for each of the rise turts but part 1 will just be Mikey and Donnie(part 2 coming soon), enjoy!!

Mikey

You're guided through the lair by the heavenly aroma that could only be the result of Mikeys' incredible baking. It was truly a delight to see whatever he was whipping up when you managed to stop by at just the right time.

You practically float into the kitchen, the box turtle in the middle of pulling a tray out of the oven.

"Something sweet?" You hum, watching as his surprise melts into joy at the sight of you, smile matching his grin. You've mistaken it for the sun more than once.

"More like someone sweet." He removes his oven mitts and meets you halfway in a tight hug. "I made brownies y/n!" The syllables of your name slip fondly from his tongue, his enthusiasm enveloping you with warmth.

His head fits right in the crook of your neck, his usual resting spot in an embrace such as this. He smells like chocolate. Feels like home.

"I have something for you." Unable to contain your secret any longer, you pull away, presenting him with a bag, orange tissue paper loosely sticking out.

His eyes light up, fingers dancing in anticipation at whatever this thing might be. "Really?!"

All you can do is nod, holding your breath as he takes it from you, tearing through the packaging with that contagious unconfined energy you adored.

You know the exact moment he sees what it is, his jaw dropping in time with your gleeful giggle. Your hand covers your face, unable to hold back the joyful sounds escaping your throat.

"Is this the limited edition Jupiter Jim cookbook? Which has all the food and beverages from the films and comics?!"

You nod, knowing he had been dying to get it whenever it had come out. Being such a niche piece of merchandise, it sold out almost immediately. Not to mention it wasn't exactly in his price range.

He was a good sport about not being able to add it to his growing collection, but seeing his crestfallen expression for even a second was all it took for you to decide you would stop at nothing to get it for him.

Now that you've gotten it, Mikey could-

"Woah!" Your feet leave the ground as you are lifted in the air, being twirled around multiple times. A reminder of his incredible strength despite his size.

"Ohmigosh y/n! This is incredible! You're incredible!" One hand cradles your face, his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up. "I love it!" He repeats multiple times, kissing your cheeks over and over. "I love you!"

"I-I love you too!" You manage to stutter out between the onslaught of pecks, dizzy and lovesick.

Planted back to reality, Mikey shakes your shoulders. "Do you have plans tomorrow? If not, I'm making a three course- no, a five course meal! I have to go shopping, I need to call April!"

"You have all the time in the world." You reply reassuringly, still endeared by his eagerness.

"I know, I know. It's just I've been wanting this for like forever!" He calms, now seeming to finally process what you've done. "...You remembered?"

How could you not? You're already far into that stage of wanting to know every little thing about him, and what you have learned was already committed to memory forever. You knew he was no mind reader; you just wanted to express yourself to him like he did to you. It mattered, really. Deeply.

"Of course." Simple and sweet words were enough for him to understand. He leans into you, your hand pressed against his plastron, tracing the sticker on its' surface.

"You're the best." He swears to you, like a promise he plans to never break.

What ensues next is a playful back and forth, ending in more laughter. Sunshine finds its' way in, even in the underground tunnels of New York.

He leaves you with the brownies, rounding up his family with an extra spring in his step. You take a bite of a corner piece; relishing in its sweetness, it being cooked to perfection as usual. Although it was nothing compared to Mikey's affection.

Not even close.

Donnie

Like clockwork, you arrive to Donnie's lab. A weekly cycle, but the farthest thing from a chore. A highlight seems like a more fitting description.

The doors open for you with a hiss, inviting to you while perhaps ominous to a stranger. His space, and now, in a way, yours too by association.

He's working. Focused. Diligent as ever. He's rarely been irked by your interruptions when they do occur, but out of respect you keep your distance. Besides, you didn't mind observing from afar. Or admiring.

He greets you, like always. The creaking of a nearby chair is indication of your "sitting down and vegging out on your phone after a long day time", so he doesn't shift his attention to you just yet. Wanting to complete his current task first.

You aren't on your phone, however. Instead, you wait patiently. Wanting to get his reaction whenever he sees... it.

It takes around fifteen minutes before you hear a satisfied sigh and a readjust of his googles. Then a pause, an empty space where his first words to you should be.

"..y/n?" He turns in his chair, eyes narrowed and an immaculate eyebrow quirked.

"Yes?" You mirror his questioning expression, feigning ignorance. An attempt to be cute, hoping to add to your charm that got him to fall for you, somehow.

"What did you put on my desk?" A harmless, even logical question; but you have a terrible poker face and are horrible at hiding when you're excited about something.

You focus on the subject of conversation. A gray box, with more height than width. Decorating it is a purple satin ribbon.

You look between it and him. "Oh that? I don't know. Maybe you should open it and see."

For a moment you're sure he'll question it, but to your delight he obliges to your initial request. Your stomach churns; that means he trusts you. That was great, amazing even. Yet..

Going by his side, you watch as he puts the package in his lap, slowly tugging on the fabric of the ribbon, letting it loosen so he can pull it away with ease.

His hands linger over the lid, a silent ask for permission in his subtle glance upwards.

"Well?" You say, sweaty palms concealed behind your back.

A huff in response, and the lid is popped off.

It's quiet for about a minute, Donnie peering inside the box, hands still firmly on its' sides. The suspense is gnawing at you, screaming internally for any reaction at all. Please.

Then he lifts it out, holding it carefully in his skilled fingers. The holy grail itself. An Atomic Lass figurine. Not just any figurine. It's Atomic Lass in her outfit from Jupiter Jim's Pluto Vacation IV, which just so happens to be his favorite film in the franchise. Not to mention this item was so hard to find, not even the soft shell himself could get it in his possession.

Biting your tongue so hard it might bleed, you try to piece together his thoughts by a thorough study of his expression. You knew how particular he was about his well-kept merchandise collection. You polished it yourself, only pleased once it shined like the titanium bust of his head. Desperate to impress him; even now, after all this time. Dreading what would happen if you managed to fail. Had you failed already?

He sets down the figure, staring at it. Then an exhale, as he squares his shoulders, facing you.

"How much do I owe you?"

What? "What? Nothing." That was the last thing you had expected him to say. Your gesture had no price tag, but feeling the need to elaborate just to bring the point home, you add. "Zero dollars."

His eyes are cast downwards, but it's unmistakable. He's thinking. Now you see. He's calculating how much it might have cost you. How many hours you worked at your job in order to pay for it. Classic Donnie overthink. You wouldn't allow that.

With purpose, you bend down to eye level, pressing a gentle kiss on the area between his pinched brows. "It's a gift, Donnie." Fingers meet his chin as you lift his head up. "You don't owe me anything."

It seems to have pained him, how easily you assured him no favor was needed, or even wanted by you. "No. No- you cannot possibly expect me to just take this," his fingers grasp your wrist, hand almost shaking. "This is too much."

His sweetness, yet hypocrisy is extremely adorable. "It is most certainly not. There's plenty of times we've been in this exact situation, just the other way around, and you know what you said every time I tried to repay you?"

Not really asking for an answer, you continue, "You say it's fine, and that your purpose of doing things for me is never to get something in return," you trace his jaw, feeling it clench. "It's the same thing for me."

Using his own principles against him was a killing blow, seeing his conflicting emotions settle into resignation, yet the apprehension was there. "I have no doubt it was difficult for you to find such rare..." He trails off, eyeing the statue and all its' details. "It's magnificent."

His breathless praise fuels your ego, just a bit. "I'm really really glad you think so." You kiss his cheek, pulling yourself out of his loosening grip.

With a surprised gasp he brings you right back in, kissing you with a sudden ferocity that makes your head spin and skin shimmer, a bubbling warmth threatening to boil over. The position you're in is a little awkward, but with Donnie's lips on yours like this you found no reason to complain.

"Please," Almost like a plea, his eyes rake over your contented smile, breath hitching. "Let- Let me do something for you. Anything."

The constant need Donnie had to help you stoked the embers in your heart even more. Falling impossibly further for him just when you think there couldn't possibly be anything else to love, to admire.

Your nose meets his snout with a meaningful nuzzle, and you caress a wrinkle on his forehead with a thumb. "Anything? Well... a movie right now sounds nice. If I may throw out a suggestion here, what are your opinions on Jupiter Jim's Pluto Vacation IV?"

Once he realizes the direction you were taking with his proposition, he scoffs, the familiar sound furthering your fond amusement. "Is that a serious request, y/n?"

"To be honest," you cup his cheek, seeing how youthful he looks like this. Wide eyes and shining pupils. "Just this is plenty, but if you actually feel like you have to repay me, which you don't... then yes, I'm serious."

He sighs into your touch, clearly wanting to argue your "request". That push and pull between you both was always fun to indulge in; but in this case, he accepts. "Very well, even though I do not consider that sufficient in the slightest." He could grumble all he wants, he knew you had succeeded.

Movie night commences shortly after, and you listen as he brainstorms how exactly he'll display his figurine, insistent just setting it alongside the others wasn't enough. Soaking up every word, you cuddle closer. You should surprise Donnie more often. You could get used to this.

[blackdollette]

I know you’re not really writing for Rory characters right now but if I could request a Clyde smut where he says “swallow, swallow” with the pill, but instead.. it’s his girlfriend or OOO maybe someone who buys stuff off him like weed, and she’s giving him head as payment but she’s got a textural problem so like, weird textures are icky, and he holds his hand over her mouth and says swallow? That may be weird, I dunno— if it is I’m so sorry 😭😭

anon you don't understand how much i've been thinking abt this ever since you sent this. i just 😩

"hand at the back of my neck." | clyde

national anthem. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999@livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist@auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly@imoonkiss @lankysimp@nom-nommmm1@xxbl00d-cl0txx@k1ll3rh0rr0r@wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526@greenxgloss

⊹₊⋆ pairing: dealer!clyde x female!reader

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.4k

⊹₊⋆ contents: drugs, blowjob, cum-eating, slight aftercare, fluffy if you squint

when it came to describing you, impulsive only covered the tip of the iceburg. the lines defining the story between you and clyde had gone blurry over the years but as far as you knew, he was basically the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

and both of you were fully aware of that.

your faintly shivering fist sheepishly knocked that familiar pattern on the door of his apartment room. the hallway outside of his room always smelled faintly of green and stale fast food. before you could bring your hand back to your side, the doorknob turned allowing the stained wooden door to creak open, bringing his warm, sleepy eyes and that smile into view.

“well, if it isn’t my favourite customer…” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, allowing his gaze to run up and down you shamelessly. “...you look good. as usual.”

he was shirtless, only clad in a pair of gray sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. all need for formality had vanished the day you had experienced your first high right there in his “workshop”.

you smiled shyly, already feeling slightly light on your feet as the psychedelic aromas from inside wafted toward you. “hi clyde. sorry for showing up unannounced…” 

considering how quickly he opened the door and the lack of that lust-filled flush that covered his cheeks whenever he was getting some action, you could safely conclude that he was alone at the moment. but you felt the need to ask anyway.

“is now a good time? i can come back later if you’re busy…”

he let out a little breathless laugh, shaking his head and dislodging a few locks from behind his ear. “there’s no better time than now. c’mon in. i just got some new stuff shipped in that you’ll love.”

he snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his cozy apartment room and shutting the door behind you.

“you got your mind on anything specific today?” he asked as he ushered you to his overstuffed couch. you sat down, scanning the various piles of boxes with long medical names and numbers on them. 

you weren’t really the adventurous type when it came to drugs. you saw how badly it could screw someone’s life over, and you didn’t know if you had the willpower to “stop whenever you wanted to”. so a little marijuana had always seemed like the safest choice.

“just the usual please.” you watched as he playfully rolled his eyes at the predictability of your request.

“that’s my girl. i don’t even know why i wonder differently…” 

he dug through a large cardboard box, retrieving two dainty bags of weed and a pack of rolling paper. he wrapped them up nicely for you, knowing that the presentation meant everything to you. 

“alright, a bag of mary jane for the pretty lady.” he handed the goods to you, the smile on your face tugging at his heartstrings. “that’ll be $50.”

you hissed, the mention of the price nearly killing the mood.

“you know i’ve never had that kind of money on me, clyde. i’m barely making it by at the restaurant. i’m out looking for my third job this month.”

clyde tossed his hair out of his face, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. “don’t think i don’t know that times are getting hard around these parts. you know people have hardly been buying from me these days…”

you nodded, a guilt-ridden expression on your face as you cleared your throat to propose a suggestion.

“i doubt all those used-up strippers that come around here have the money. how do they pay you? blood money?”

clyde laughs heartily. “the night usually ends in some cheap sex that i regret in the morning. but a deal is a deal. you thinking of spending the night with me to cover the fee?”

you shake your head. “it’s that time of the month. i know how you are around blood.”

clyde grimaces, nodding with a chuckle. “no kidding. but you might be onto something…”

you looked up at him from your position on the couch debating whether or not to make your proposal.

“...want a blowjob..?” 

clyde’s gaze snapped to your face, looking for any hint or humour or sarcasm in your question. but you were dead serious. he looked down, a grin playing at his lips. 

“well that sure would be one hell of a payment…”

you fidgeted with your thumbs. “so… do we have a deal..?”

he smiles, extending a hand to you. “indeed we do.”

he gave you a firm handshake, spinning you around and sitting down on the couch as you stood in front of him.

you slowly sank down to your knees, resting comfortably in between his partly spread legs. your gazes met briefly, yours eager and his desperate. his imprint pressed against the soft wool of his sweatpants, betraying how much he was trying to keep his composure.

you place your hands on his thighs, trailing them up until you reach the waistband. your fingers pried underneath the elastic, the feeling of your cold fingers against his skin making him shiver. it took a moment for you to navigate your way under you felt him against your palm. you pulled out his needy erection, the tip already red and angry with desire.

clyde let out a shaky exhale, tipping his head back as your soft hands massaged his girth and teased the tip. his hips rutted up into your grip, desperate for more contact.

 you swallowed hard, getting rid of the abundance of moisture in your mouth before slowly opening your jaw, your hot breath hitting the tip and you licked a long stripe up his cock. clyde groaned deeply, his hand finding the back of your head as the other went down to cup your cheek.

you began to take him in, inch by inch as you salivated around him. you went down until your chin touched his balls and your nose tapped at the base of his length. you held back a gag as the tip hit the back of your throat. once you were secure, you bobbed your head up and down, creating suction in your cheeks to maximize his pleasure.

clyde’s breathing grew laboured, a huge grin plastered on his face. “...oh man… you’re a natural, aren’t ya..?” your heart fluttered at his praise, urging you to go a little quicker.

your tongue flicked against his tip with practiced precision. 

clyde whimpered as his hips bucked upward, forcing his length into you and out just as quickly. “i-i don’t think i’m gonna last much longer…” he swallows hard, his voice coming out strained and breathy. “...hope you’re ready for a load…”

you fondled his balls with your hand, massaging hypontic patterns onto the soft flesh. the heat of your mouth, the feeling of your perfect touch, it was all doing things to his head. better than any drug around.

as his leg began to twitch and his breathing grew weary, he vigorously thrusted into your mouth as moans and dirty phrases spilled from his lips.

“...that’s it… i’m cummin’...”

before he could fully get his warning out, his seed spilled into your mouth. everytime you thought he was running empty, another load busted onto your tongue. you gagged, your eyes welling with tears as he panted heavily, pulling your mouth off his rod as he recollected himself.

his vision went hazy. “that… that was amazing…” he looked down as you, watching you struggle to swallow his excessive load.

he waited for you to get yourself steady, but it was almost as if your body was physically rejecting his cum. you gagged, a few drops spilling out of your mouth until he quickly held the bottom of your jaw. 

“hey, hey..! easy there… what’s wrong..?” he asked frantically. you couldn’t speak, but he got the message quickly. 

he tilted your head back gently. “there you go, sweetie… swallow, swallow. just like that…” he whispered, wiping away the stray drops as you finally managed to get the thick, salty solution down.

you panted heavily, gripping onto his thighs for support. “i did it…” you managed to gasp out as he gently held your face. 

clyde pushed his hair out of his face, helping you get back to your feet. he stood up as well, still reeling over the aftershocks of his orgasm. “well, a deal is a deal.” he picked up your bagged goods from the couch, tossing them to you. 

you murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ as he walked you to the door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was.

“it was a real pleasure doing business with you.”

author's note: this request took me wayyy too long :(( and how haven't I written for clyde since April?!

[mochiwrites]

Taking a quick glance at the time, Grian checks over their apartment once more. The banner and streamers have all been put up in the kitchen, the cake is neatly presented on the table, Jellie is in her cat tree like the princess she is. Perfect. Grian nods to himself with a satisfied smile before heading over to the couch and sitting down. He’s been going crazy all morning trying to prepare something for Scar’s birthday, sending the man out on pointless errands just to take up his time.

Honestly, Grian is quite proud of himself that he managed to get this all set up on his own and without any accidents.

His boyfriend only deserves the best, after all. And Grian is willing to do whatever he can to provide just that, come hell or high water.

The doorknob jiggles a few seconds later, before the door itself opens. “Grian! I’m home!” Right on time.

Grian tries to look as casual as he can on the couch as Scar comes in, four bags in his hands. He shoots the man a smile, “Hey! How’d it go?”

“I think I found everything on the list you gave me,” Scar hums, glancing down at the bags. He walks into the kitchen, too focused on the bags to notice the banner and streamers. “I got the cat food for Jellie, a nice jar of golden carrots — which before you say anything I bartered for a lower price.”

Grian can hear the smugness in Scar’s voice, making him chuckle, “Only you, Scar. Only you.”

“That’s a compliment, thank you!” Scar sets the bags down on the table, and Grian waits with excited anticipation for him to notice the cake. “The only thing I wasn’t able to find was the imagineer cat plush? Honestly G I didn’t even know where to—”

His voice suddenly stops, and Grian takes that as his cue to join Scar in the kitchen. He finds the other staring at the cake on the table, along with the very plush he had just been talking about. Grian wears a large grin on his face as he comes over, patting the plush’s head, “Don’t worry about that one. I managed to find it.”

Scar’s head snaps to him, green eyes carrying shock and disbelief, “G?”

Grian walks over to him, moving to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I know it’s not much but… I wanted to do something for your birthday. Even if it’s a few days late because someone didn’t think to tell me.” He playfully pinches the back of Scar’s neck.

“Oh,” Scar answers, still looking shocked. He sets his hands on Grian’s waist as his eyes trail over to the cake and cat plush on the table. “Oh Grian,” he mumbles, in awe. “This is amayzin’!”

His words pull a laugh from Grian, all light and fond. “It better be, I spent all morning getting everything set up,” he teases.

Scar turns his bright, excited eyes to Grian before leaning in to press their lips together. “I love it. Thank you.”

Grian smiles in return, chest warm with pride at the happiness in Scar’s expression. “You’re welcome. Now c’mon, this cake isn’t gonna eat itself!” He reaches for Scar’s hand, tugging on it as he leads him over to the plate he’s set out.

Happy to be tugged along, Scar follows his boyfriend the few steps it takes them to the cake. It’s decorated with orange icing, the words Happy Birthday Scar! written in cyan icing. The little cat plush Grian had mentioned sits next to it, wearing a vest and a hard hat, a rolled up paper attached to its paw. Scar picks it up, looking at it with adoration. He takes in the decorations around, the orange streamers and green banner with a birthday message on it.

If Scar had known this is what was going to be awaiting him when he told Grian his birthday, he would’ve caved much sooner.

He watches as Grian grabs two plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake from the drawer and cabinet, mouth moving as he speaks. Scar doesn’t quite catch what he’s saying, too stuck in his own thoughts.

Void, he loves this man more than anything in the world. Grian went through all this effort for him, even if his birthday has passed. But he did it because he thought Scar was worth celebrating.

It’s a passing thought, but Scar wishes his parents could have met Grian. He wishes they could be here right now, celebrating his birthday again. It would only be right, considering the last time Scar did any sort of celebration was before his server went to hell.

Seeing all of the effort Grian put into this solidifies something for Scar. He survived. It’s not just some dream. He’s not sure why it’s hitting him now, as he stares at a cake with the word ‘birthday’ written on it in icing that was clearly done by Grian. But he’s forced to realize that he really made it through his corrupted world, he’s survived.

It feels like a hard pill to swallow.

“Alright, birthday boy, why don’t you do th— Scar?” Grian had been holding the knife out to the other, but when he sees the wet sheen to Scar’s eyes, he sets it down on the table. With a soft noise, he reaches out, grabbing Scar’s arms gently, “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s not the cake, is it? Or the streamers? I tried not to get anything that was super flashy.”

Scar laughs wetly, furiously shaking his head as he looks at Grian through his tears. “N-No, it’s perfect love. Everything is perfect.”

“But?” Grian gently probes, reaching up to wipe one of the tears that fall down Scar’s cheek. Scar leans into the touch easily.

“I wish they were here too,” Scar quietly admits, and Grian doesn’t need to ask to know who ‘they’ are. More tears roll down Scar’s face, causing Grian to tug him down into his arms. Scar buries his head into Grian’s neck, feeling the other wrap an arm around him, fingers carding through his hair. Scar clutches him tightly, “The last… last time I ever celebrated was with them.”

Grian quietly shushes him, holding him tight. His neck feels wet, but he doesn’t dare pull away.

“Sorry G,” Scar mumbles. “You did all this hard work and here I am crying over it,” he weakly laughs, “I just… never thought I’d do anything like this a-again.”

“Don’t apologize you silly man,” Grian huffs at him, continuing to run his fingers through Scar’s fluffy hair. “It’s only natural, given what you went through. As long as you don’t get your cake wet, cry away.”

Scar laughs again, tugging Grian tighter against him. “I’d hate to eat soggy cake.”

“No one wants a soggy cake.” Grian nods his agreement, laying his head against Scar’s. “Now go on, cry it all out. I’ll… be right here. To hold you and stuff.” He sounds a little awkward as he says it, but words have never been his thing. The fact that he even says something for Scar means the world and more. “If you need extra incentive I’ve got your favorite movies lined up for us to watch too.”

Void, Scar loves this man.

And somewhere, he hopes his parents love him too.

[sunnebeam]

"i'm protecting my turf in my own way."

A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.

warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally adopts an apprentice :O

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: in case u didn't know, i'm still currently on my aug-oct vacation (see details in pinned post!) and this post was scheduled in advance :> i has fun with this one 😂 hope u enjoy it and leave ur thoughts about it <3

Yoongi hates Wednesdays.

Wednesdays are usually when his favorite grocery store gets deliveries for fresh produce, and since they're freshly restocked, they tend to price them incredibly high. He usually counters this by using a gift card but then he remembers how he gave away his last remaining gift card to the two policemen from before.

So, yeah, Yoongi hates this particular Wednesday. But he carries on because your fridge is running low on food and he needs to do his weekly grocery run.

He's strolling down the sidewalk, signature 'poodle' apron on and mesh tote bag on his shoulder. He's about a block away from the store when he sees a familiar face.

A face from his past. With blonde hair and a boxy smile.

"Taehyung?"

"Hyung-nim?!"

Taehyung looks at him in shock, his face roughed up and bruised, before practically bursting with tears in relief. He runs up to Yoongi and wraps him in a hug.

"Hyung-nim! It's really you!"

"Don't hug me."

Taehyung pulls away. "Where are you going?"

"On an assignment."

Yoongi pats him on the back before moving to continue his walk to the grocery store. Curious and excited, Taehyung follows him, chatting his ear off.

"Where've you been, hyung? Since you disappeared, the gang's practically in shambles. I've tried looking for you everywhere. Oh, and what's this assignment you're talking about? Is it important—"

Yoongi cuts him off when they arrive at the store's entrance.

"It's very important. And I'm gonna need your expertise."

Taehyung gulps.

"Of course, hyung-nim. Let me help."

Yoongi smiles manically.

"Good. Now let's get to work."

Taehyung fully expected to do some dirty work. In the past, Yoongi always used to ask for his expertise with the computer and other tech stuff. What he didn't expect was for Yoongi to ask him for his expertise on fruit.

"Choose the freshest ones, Taehyung. I trust your judgment."

They stand before the strawberries section, and after a quick discussion about how a strawberry's leaves help tell whether they're ripe or not, Yoongi tells him to choose the best strawberries that can be made into homemade jam.

Taehyung rubs his eyes, looks at his former gangmate, then rubs his eyes again. He stares at the grocery cart full of fresh produce, toilet paper, scented candles, fabric conditioner, and dog food, among others. His eyes then move to his former gangmate's 'poodle' apron and the mesh tote bag on his shoulder.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks, his blood boiling.

"What are you talking about?"

"What the fuck are you doing, hyung-nim?" Taehyung's voice starts to rise. "What's all this? What are you doing playing house?"

He grabs Yoongi by the collar and tries to shake him but his former gangmate remains sturdy.

"The Agust D we know would never be caught dead doing all this, so what the fuck are you doing?!"

And the Agust D that Taehyung knows would've blown up and retaliated by now with how the younger man is treating him. But this Yoongi just grabs Taehyung's hands and pulls them away from his collar.

"Taehyung," Yoongi says calmly, "I'm done with all that."

"W-What?"

Yoongi fixes his top and straightens his apron out.

"I'm a househusband now."

Taehyung gapes at him.

"I'm protecting my turf in my own way," he continues. "You can't protect what's sacred to you through violence."

What?!

Then Taehyung still doesn't understand even when Yoongi makes him help put everything away in the different cupboards. And Taehyung still doesn't understand even when Yoongi makes him help cook up some homemade strawberry jam.

Taehyung doesn't understand.

But Yoongi doesn't give him time to understand before he's finishing up the grocery run and making the younger man help him carry the grocery bags back to the apartment.

But Taehyung finally understands everything when you arrive.

"Yoonie! I'm home!"

Taehyung sees you walk through the front door, greeting your husband hello and asking him where your poodle is. He sees you, all pretty and charming, being doted on by your ex-gangster husband. He sees you, a goddess with ethereal beauty, make someone like Yoongi, who he thinks of as a god, cater to you and respond to your every whim.

Taehyung understands now.

Agust D never really disappeared. He just found a new master to serve.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[streetchicken]

It's 3 am, it's hot, I can't sleep-

So have some domestic NikPrice inspired by a version of Stroganoff my family makes :)

No beta, we go down like my math grades

Tw: Suggestive, badly written and very indulgent vwv

"Beef liver?"

Price pulls his nose up in barely contained disgust at the little paper wrapped package haphazardly tossed onto the kitchen island. A slab of unassuming dark meat that had Price's hackles raised. "Nik, I love you t'bits, but d'you have to feed me dog food?"

It looked positively slimy and alive. So much so that the Brit could barely hold back from poking it.

"Leave the meat, Малыш. You'll ruin it." Nik swoops in, ever the knight in shining armour, and snatches the liver from Price's mitts.

"Nik, it's liver, not a baby." Price sighs in return, now leaning his hip against the counter seeing as his partner had taken his only source of entertainment. "'t's not like i'can die."

The pout Price recieves from the Russian in return is childish. He just out his lower lip, scrunches his eyebrows and cradles the organ slab gently. "Don't say that, Малыш. Liver is good, you would not hurt liver's feelings."

Price produces an indignant snorting laugh that he has to clumsily hide with a cough. His hand flies to hide his lips as he turns his eyes away from the now beaming Russian.

Nik on the other hand? He can't be more pleased that he got the captain to laugh like that. He looks like a dog with a bone while he sets the liver aside.

"Ah, you laugh. I win." He proudly declares, picking up an onion to start peeling.

"Ya didn' win squat." Price tries to counter while he reaches for the peeler and a potato. Nik allows him to help.

"I won a laugh."

"Wot has that got ta do wit' winnin'?"

"Your laugh, Малыш."

Well Price had nothing to say against that. He's much too flustered now, flushed from the chops to his ears. "Touché."

Nik huffs a breath at the little victory, adjusting the halved onion on the cutting board and dicing it.

It's days like these that keep Nik sober. Without them, and Price, he swears he'd be condemned to the bottle by now. Drinking away whatever demons stalked his bedroom shadows. To think there had been a time when he lacked the gentle quiet. When he'd lived off blood, gunpowder and caffeine. When he only ever slowed down to enjoy some foreign meal or company. To think he was content to settle for it.

Nik takes a deep breath, focusing on the rhythmic tap of tbe blade against the chopping board. To his left, Price's breathing and the sound of potatoes being peeled, to his right, a well loved Bluetooth speaker mulling the tunes of some 80s song Price had insisted on.

The onions are swooped into the pot with some oil and garlic. "This stew is from my childhood."

"O'yeah?"

"Da. One of the few happy memories I was allowed."

Price's tongue sits thickly against the roof of his mouth at Nikolai's confession. Blue eyes settle on the russian's back. The white cotton seems so innocently bright in the soft canter of afternoon sunlight.

"D'you...miss 'em?" Price asks. His words are soft, delicate, almost swallowed by a tune in the music. "Th'good days, I mean."

"Nyet." Nik answers truthfully. "They were...still cold."

Another beat. The silence is thick. Price looks down at the half peeled potato in his hands instead of his partner's back. Finally he decides to continue.

"Fokin' 'ell, Nik. Not in front of th' liver." Price groans, peeling the last bits of skin from the potato.

The notion earns his a barely there snort from Nik, but an amused sound nonetheless. Nik turns, plucks up the potato and leaves Price with a peck against his temple and a soft smile.

Price smiles himself, watching Nikolai work on the stew. He admires how focused Nik is on feeding him, it's a lovely change of pace from field rations and the bland slop they usually get on base. Price might be feeling a little spoilt.

"Onions, aromatics, vegetables, meat, broth. Da, that should be all for now." Nik mutters to himself and turns to face his partner and offers a hand. He bends down a little with one of his mischievously charming smiles that highlight the crinkle around his eyes. "Which gives us some time."

"Flirt." Price rumbles in return, feeling heat on his cheeks as his hand slips into Nikolai's.

Price is pulled up against a firm chest, his hand finding Nik's shoulder while the latter's free hand settles warmly against the small of his back. God Price could barely keep a shiver down.

Nik pulls him into a little sway and jig. Despite his bulk and the small space of the flat's kitchen, Nikolai still manages to maneuver them to the beat of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the dark".

They bounce to the beat, Price mouthing the words as they go along. Nik shifts them away from the stove as they mingle in the light of the waning afternoon sun. They nearly trip over the striped rug tossed between the stove and the sink.

Price follows along. Nik's a better dancer than him anyway, he'd glad to let his partner lead as Price swears he has two left feet no matter the song era. "Y're good a'this!"

"Da, had some practice. Lots of fun clubs in Berlin." Nik muses. His fingers toy with the hem of Price's t-shirt where they've settled at the bottom of the Brit's spine. "Though, not the only thing those clubs taught me."

"Cheeky git-" Price snorts.

Price rolls his eyes and sets a foot between Nik's own and pushes. He maneuvers the man till his back settles against a countertop and Price could worm his hands to plant on said counter top on either side of Nik's waist. "Don't s'ppose ya could back those claims, Sergeant?"

Nik's breath hitches at his old rank. He's left those days behind him when he denounced his position in the Soviet army, but to hear it come from the man he reapects so much?

"I make arrangements, da." He swallows hard, throat suddenly dry. Nik is suddenly hyper-aware of that muscular thigh pressed between his legs.

"Ah, now would ya look at that." Price muses. "Haven't seen ya that red since that night in the Black Hawk."

"Can't blame a man, can you? Not when he's at his Captain's mercy." God the flirting wouldn't work now, Nik's already lost the upper hand. He braces his hands on Price's forearms, desperate to feel the flex of muscle under skin.

"Is that so?" Price coos, his voice dropping to that low gravel that has Nikolai dizzy. His baby blues flick appreciatively over the man's neck.

Unable to resist, lips press firmly to the hollow of Nik's neck. Soft, demanding, they trail little embers up to the pulse. Nick swallows, he can feel his heart gallop in his chest and stick in his throat.

"You seem a tad nervous, luv." Price taunts. His hands slip from the counter to find the curve of Nikolai's hips. His thigh presses forwards and up.

"Nyet, not nervous." Nik gasps. The square if gis shoulders falter with the full body shiver. Price's lips are impossibly warm as they find the edge of Nik's jaw. It has him closing his eyes to stop the world, Price, from spinning. Jus'...I...John."

"Yeah?" Price muses, smiling where he's inches from Nik's face.

Fuck, Nik can feel it. Feel him. Smell him. Him and his Yardley English Blazer cologne. "Малыш- need. I need- John, please-"

Oh Price likes when Nik asks so softly.

Lips meet lips in a soft embrace. Almost like the casual atmosphere has the kiss lazy and easy. They barely notice the first cords of "Careless Whisper" strum over the speaker. But it isn't long before Nik's hands find the front of Price's shirt hem. Or until Price had his fingers securely tucked into the curls at Nikolai's nape.

The leverage lets Price press Nik fowards. He forces a soft sound between Nik's lips. The heat of his tongue finds the other's. He presses to overwhelm. His free hand dips below the elastic of Nik's sweats to find the fat at the man's hip.

The sound is soft, barely audible. A breathy little gasp that has Price scrambling to lift roughly 100 kilograms of Russian muscle onto the counter. Their lips part, but Price eagerly liberates Nik of his shirt so he could trail heated kisses from his throat to his sternum.

"John-" Nik starts, getting cut off by his own breather groan as he's palmed through his sweats.

Price could feel the heat pool between Nik's legs as he slots his hips to fit perfectly between the man's thighs. He nuzzles his nose to the black curls that adorn Nik's chest and lets himself just exist like that for a moment. He admires how sunlight glints over silver scars and the carpet on Nik's chest, admires the colour adorning Nik's cheeks and shoulders. His head is fuzzy with the feel of Nik against him, his partner shuddering with his arousal pressed to Price's palm. Intoxicating. Addictive even.

Nik threads his fingers through the messy brown locks.

Price continues his trail of kisses. They follow the contours of Nik's abdomen. Down to his navel. Gently down the trail of dark curls. His teeth hook the elastic of Nik's grey sweats. The man practically whimpers at the display.

Until he's not and Price is shoved back in Nik's panic to get to the stove. Price sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"New low f'me-" he groans "-gettin' cock blocked by a bloody stew."

Nik only offers him a shrug as he adds some cream, turns off the heat and places the lid back on. That's when he turns and Price's tongue goes lax at the sunlight framing Nikolai's face in dark curls and a soft glow.

"Well-" Nik coos, stalking closer to his partner "-it is done. I am certain it would be...some time before it is cool enough to eat."

Price suddenly feels very claustrophobic with his back against a counter and Nik's dark eyes so intently on him.

"I never minded cold stew anyway."