#he just always seemed pissed off in the art.

[pascal-oswell]

sometimes. it feels like this is all some people remember about heathcliff.

[tsumuus]

mha boys as american high school teenage stereotypes

a/n this isn't an original idea, ik that, but this is just my take on it. also lowk just based off of ppl ik irl but also just really similar to the actual character. also these are really short n simple, my brain wasn't able to think any further

characters katsuki bakugou, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hanta sero, tenya iida, hitoshi shinsho

masterlist

katsuki bakugou

not just saying this bc he's my fav

but quite literally the most popular person at school

like hes handsome, athletic, smart, rich, all of the above, no one could ever compare

everybody would have a crush on him (shit i would too)

or hate him

no in between

but he's still very intimidating so he doesn't have a lot of friends and has a heard time making em

not saying he's a playboy or anything

but definitely gets hella attention from girls

but he is more often than not uninterested

he would play football no doubt, run track/shot put during his off season to stay fit

not a douchebag but he totally comes off as one

shoto todoroki

he's the loser, the loner

actually jk, bc i really don't believe anyone is a loner

theres gotta be someone he talks too

hes that smart kid whos schedule is filled w ap n honors classes

and his only friends would be classmates that hes not super close w so they never talk outside of school (me lol)

hes rich rich

def plays tennis or golf, school and club

he's THE hallway crush

especially for like underclassmen

he just gives off that mysterious vibe that makes girls fall for him

not to mention he is sooooo pretty

like it's not a secret that he is attractive

but he's never had a gf or even a situationship in his life

idek

izuku midoriya

teachers pet 100% lol

not the smartest but also not dumb

like definitely top 20% of his class

i feel like he would take part in a lot of extracurriculars

he's not popular at all

but has a small group of close friends

so so sassy

like imagine arguing w him about a random subject

and you just start to piss him off

he just puts you on blast and starts embarrassing the hell out of you

making you feel hella stupid

he doesn't do it to be mean or anything

he's just a sassy lil guy idk

sassy man apocalypse!!

eijiro kirishima

social butterfly

friends with everyone

but not like a floater friend

but literally just everyones friend

like he's so genuine and is able to get along with everybody

sooo loyal

always has the best advice

definition of boyfriend material!!!

probably has had a long term gf

he takes his relationships n friendhsips so seriously

definitely plays multiple sports

idk i see him as a wrestler or even like gymnastics lol

lowk imagine him apart of the schools student council or leadership club

fully goes out for football games/friday night lights

denki kaminari

class clown fs

also lowk rlly flirty but has never had a gf or even come close

like such a ladies man

thats just part of his personality

most of his friends are girls but not in a weird way

he's the life of the party

lowk one of the only characters i can see myself having a smoke sesh w lol

big party goer

theres a house party being thrown

best believe he's there

he's not the brightest of the bunch

but he does try, its not like hes lazy

he's also so pretty

deff one of those guys w the longest eyelashes than any girl lol

lowk tennis player!denki?

also sorta see him as a swimmer/waterpolo

hanta sero

he is just so friendly

lowk a npc

but i still love him

he's so laid back and chill and has such a relaxed personality

like if you'd ever need to just have a calm night/hang out with one of your friends, he's the first person youd call

has had mulitple gfs, but def not a player

they just never seem to workout

would start a bs club with his friends so every other week they could just order a couple pizzas to school and hang out in the chill teachers class

idk i feel like hes kinda artsy

like he took art 1 his freshman year just for an easy a and schedule requirements, but he realized he was actually kinda creative

likes to doodle in class rather than pay attention now

lowk plays basketball

big car guy!!

tenya iida

THE honor student

number 1 in his class

5.0 gpa

student council persident all 4 years of high school

friend group is made up of all the other nerds who take 10+ ap classes

definitely got into multiple colleges before even applying

definitely not just saying this because of his quirk, but would lowk do track n xc

everything ive said so far i legit just his normal self😭😭😭 lemme try to get more specific

lowk imagine an iida where like outside of school he's lowk a partier

like imagine him getting blackout drunk every weekend but sobering up for school every week

and still being the best student in his grade

he's just so handsome

multiple girls have liked him but he's rejected them due to wanting to have his life set in place before thinking about romance

hitoshi shinso

he's so fucking emo just look at him

ok well not emo but just a little alternative

but yk in an american high school being a little alt means other people see you as full out gothic

so what if he's just a little quiet and brooding☹️☹️

again he's also smart

but he doesn't take all those honor classes

he wouldn't admit it but his favorite genre to watch is reality tv

best believe he was fully invested in season 6 of love island

#ppgbackontop

not an athletic guy

but was definitely forced to like play soccer or sum as a kid

works at your local comic/record store

all the emo girls that come in have a crush on him

thats all i got😫

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Their nicknames for you

Warning: No warning!

SYLUS:

Peeping Tom - You like to enter the shower when he's in, and he can no longer count on his fingers how many times you walked in on him changing, not that he's shy. Despite this, he doesn't lock the door to his closet or the bathroom. One day, when you're off guard, he'll definitely pounce at you.

Mrs. Boss (Alt. Little boss) - You weren't married, no, but with how you treat him, he feels like a husband. Despite being the boss of Onichynus, it's amusing to see you hand out orders. This nickname is something he'd use while you're undercover and using your aristocrat alter-identity. The Mrs. was something he used because he likes to imagine you're married to him; after all, no man can match you other than him.

My Wife - Again, you weren't married, but people can't seem to take a hint when he says he's not interested. At every event, someone is bound to throw themselves at him and insist on being his company, but with a simple mention of "I have a wife," followed by a statement about you being displeased or angered, they scurry away. You don't know he uses that nickname in front of strangers, and it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.

Other nicknames: Dessert Vacuum, Little Birdie & Little Hamster

Xavier:

Ms. Idol - He once overheard you singing out loud while you were in the shower. When you were at the karaoke bar, madly drunk, you kept stealing the microphone from your peers. Sometimes, he also likes to listen to you hum. He deems it appropriate to give you that nickname.

Little Star - You were very skilled against him in kitty cards, and it didn't feel appropriate to give you the nickname "Best Player in Linkon City, Queen of Kitty Cards," so he just called you the Little Star. How that nickname correlates to the game is unknown to you, but oh well.

Personal Pillow - He likes to sleep on you. On your shoulder, on your thigh, even against your back—he can and will go to sleep if he could. Xavier would always wake up with you in his embrace, and you never really complained, so he continued doing it. He'll only use this nickname whenever you're staying up late, and he's waiting for you to go to bed. You'll be in the living room, and you'll hear him say, "I need my pillow to sleep!"

Other nicknames: Pastry Princess & Pretty Lady

Rafayel:

Bully - With your frequent teasing and provocation, you ought to see this one coming. This is his nickname on your phone, and you didn't really know it until you snooped around. Once you find out, he outright calls you a bully whenever you poke fun at him for doing something.

My Muse - He doesn't call you this face-to-face, but this is your nickname when Rafayel is talking to art buyers and connoisseurs. They often ask about who he's drawing inspiration from. He sometimes says "his lover," but to him, it felt more exciting and intriguing to refer to you as his muse.

Starfish - This was a testament to your habit of hogging the entire bed. Every time you sleep over, you end up sprawled all over the bed like a starfish stuck to glass. Rafayel had to endure the small space that he had left on his bed and altogether just slept on the sofa on bad nights. Sometimes, he'd be surprised to wake up with the bed all to himself until he looked at the floor. And there you were in the same position, except flipped over.

Other nicknames: Pufferfish/Koi Fish, Beau, Cutie

Zayne:

Ms. Hunter - He uses this nickname when you're in the hospital getting treated for an injury from work. This is a nickname that's also a sign: a sign that Zayne is mildly pissed at your carelessness at work. When he uses this nickname, he becomes formal with you until you get a good dose of scolding from him.

Honey - He uses this on a daily basis inside your home and when he's on his day off. This was sort of like your second name, and whenever you hear the word, you almost always turn to look at Zayne. You call him honey, too, but you prefer the shorter version: Hun.

Sweetheart - This is a nickname Zayne uses to comfort you. Whenever you have a bad day or are in a bad mood, Zayne will automatically enter 'doting-lover' mode. He'd use this to refer to you and break down your emotional walls until you can tell him what's wrong. 10/10 if he uses this nickname outside of those moments, then it means Zayne is asking you to do him a favor of some sort.

Other nicknames: Sweetie & Wife

Caleb:

Angry Bird - Caleb calls you this because back then, you had the temperament of a fussy old lady. He'd always find a way to piss you off, and you'd run after him with a stick or something that you could hit him with.

Author footnotes: I added Caleb because I want to slowly integrate him to my works.

Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[onlyswan]

summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle a.d.

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader prompt: Imagine being that parent who always brings baked goods to the PTA meetings and generally getting along with everyone really well. But for some reason Art Donaldson says something that rubs you the wrong way one night. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, adults acting like horny teenagers, flashbacks, not proofread word count: 2.4K a/n: I wrote this in one sitting just from seeing this post 🤭

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

He notices he’s offended you by the way you stop talking directly to him, looking everywhere but him. Smiling at everyone but him. You’re giving your undivided attention to anyone who speaks but when he opens his mouth you seem much more interested in your nails.

Art has known you since he's been coming to these meetings. He knows that you offer a polite smile to everyone, but he'd grown used to the small smiles you'd give him. The secret grins and the sarcastic eye rolls you shared with him when Nancy got a bit too controlling or when Dan overshared about his marriage.

You would playfully nudge his elbow when Cynthia inevitably brought up her small knitting business. You’d been initially interested, always loving a good sweater, until you found out the only things she knit were small replicas of pets.

You would discreetly play tic tac toe or hangman on a napkin while the more aggressive moms argued about where to host the next school event, or when the guest speaker for the night would drone on and on.

Once, you baked snickerdoodle cookies and Art ate three of them in one sitting, then asked to take some home for “Lily.” So, you made sure to bake snickerdoodle cookies almost every time you brought snacks. Everyone knew the circular red tin you’d bring was Art’s.

The two of you didn’t really talk outside of the PTA, but Art considered you his friend at these things.

Which is why he should've known not to bring up your recently divorced ex-husband during the meeting. He’d simply been trying to make sure the headcount for this year’s Fall Fest committee was right after Nancy had thrusted the clipboard into his hands. He was tasked with making sure everyone on the list was still showing up. When Art asked you if your husband would still be attending, you went silent, your lips tensing up like you’d tasted something sour.

“Are you really asking me that right now?”

Art stammered. “I just wasn’t sure…”

You scoffed at him disbelieving.

“Well when he finally gets his head out of that whore’s ass then maybe he’ll be able to let you know.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Before he hands the clipboard back, he makes sure to draw a line through your ex-husband’s name.

Art tries to apologize after the meeting is over. Insisting on walking you to your car and carrying your dessert containers back for you. His self deprecating little smile makes you roll your eyes, but you turn for him to follow you anyway. You silently lead the way to your car keeping a couple steps ahead of him. Despite his attempts to look away, Art’s eyes stay glued to the sway of your hips the whole way.

Once you pop the trunk and gesture for him to place the containers down, you finally look him in the eyes for the first time since he’d pissed you off. Art shoves his hands in his pockets, telling you he’s really sorry for what he said. That he wasn’t thinking. He wants to make it up to you.

You purse your lips, look at the way his eyes seem hopeful yet a little too pleading for an offense so small. You tilt your head to the side, taking in his features before eventually telling him that “it’s fine,” and that you forgive him. He seems to visibly relax at this and you can’t help wondering why he would be so hung up on your forgiveness. After all, it was really an overreaction on your part.

You tell him as much and reassure him that you don’t need anything, he doesn’t need to make it up to you. He grabs your hand then, insisting that he wants to.

Art has always been this way, you think, all placating and overly apologetic when he thinks he’s done something wrong. You’d chalked it up to the media training you know he must’ve received. Being agreeable probably made his PR manager’s job ten times easier. Not that you didn’t believe he was genuinely a kind person, but you knew even Art might be overcompensating every now and then.

You’d seen the way he could be snarky without remorse before. The two of you would basically laugh about it later. You’d also seen how he never hid the way his eyes would linger on your cleavage. The way he’d give you a small, bashful smile when you’d catch him, his smirk only growing wider the more you blushed.

Art Donaldson could be sneaky.

ᯓ

He’d never been ashamed about being touchy with you. Placing a warm hand on your arm or back when greeting one another, letting his fingers skim your hand on the table next to his while he listened to speakers. The touching seemed innocent enough until one night when he’d walked you to your car after the two of you had stayed longer. You had been distracted during the meeting.

Art stayed and listened as you told him about your husband and how he’d come home late after you planned a romantic evening for the two of you the night before. You made sure your son was at your parents’ house, made his favorite meal, and lit candles around the house. The two of you had decided to schedule date nights per your therapist’s suggestion. When 1 am rolled around, and your husband had returned none of your calls, you scraped the food into tupperware containers and got ready for bed. He came home with apologies and excuses about getting caught up in the office. He had already eaten, and he smelled of a perfume you didn’t own but had grown to recognize.

That night, you told Art that you were sure your husband was cheating on you. He told you that he understood how you felt. You didn’t believe him. Tashi was perfect.

After your tears had dried, and Art managed to pull a few laughs out of you, the both of you decided it was time to call it a night. You moved to give Art a casual hug, but he wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you couldn’t help but melt into it, burying your face in his chest. You remembered him smelling warm, like amber.

Art had rubbed your back as he held you, whispered that he was sorry that your husband was a dumbass. You huffed out a laugh, pulling away to look at him. He’d brought his hand up to your cheek, his other hand on the small of your back. You smiled at him through your eyelashes before letting your head drop down with a sigh.

Your cheeks burned as you took in how your legs were tangled with his. Art had tilted his head to get a better look at you again, but you’d stuck to hiding your face against his chest.

He huffed and let his chin fall to your shoulder. You still refused to look his way, turning to watch some trees. You felt both his hands on your back now.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered.

“That we said we should go home like 5 min ago.” His hands traveled lower. “You?” You asked shakily. You could feel his breath warm against your neck.

“That I might not be any better than your husband.”

Your eyes widened. Art’s palms firmly cupped your ass. In contrast, his lips were pressed gently to the skin of your neck.

“Art!” Your hands flew to his hair.

He laughed into your neck.

You slapped his arm, but when his eyes met yours and his lips were mere inches away from yours, you let your eyes flutter shut.

His breath fanned your lips. He smelled like snickerdoodle cookie.

Then, his phone rang.

Art had pulled away from you, turning around to answer the call. You could tell it was Tashi. He’d been honest, telling her that he’d stayed late talking to you. At the mention of your name, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Tashi says hi.”

ᯓ

The two of you never brought up the almost kiss again, but you knew Art hadn’t been sorry. The next time he saw your husband, he’d smirked and told him how lucky he was to have such a great wife. Your husband, ever the narcissist, soaked it all in, pulling you in by the waist, showing you off like a shiny toy. When he turned away, Art had winked at you.

ᯓ

So, you know that Art is either laying it on thick or feels extremely remorseful about reminding you of your cheating ex-husband.

When he grabs your hand, insisting on finding some way to make it up to you, you see a look of desperation in his eyes that looks new.

Your eyes drop to where his large hand covers your own, then they travel up his toned arm until you find his face, flitting between his eyes and his lips. And for some reason, you’re leaning in. Maybe it’s your way of reassuring him that you guys are good. Either way, he’s not moving back. You’re gripping his forearm with your free hand and suddenly your lips are on his.

You’re not sure if it was his tongue or yours that first went seeking out the other, but now you two are sharing sloppy kisses on the empty school parking lot.

When his left palm presses into your cheek and you feel that cold metal band sting your skin, you pull away with a gasp, remembering where you are, who he is, and that he has a damn wedding ring on. This is Art. PTA Art. You know his wife, for god’s sake. You’ve hosted play dates between their daughter and your son. You carpool with them. You curse and back away from him.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have...”

Art shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He’s looking at you with those damn eyes again. Like he’ll break if you say the wrong thing.

“I—we, we shouldn’t have done that, Art.”

He shakes his head again. Your palm comes up to hold him back, but it doesn’t work as he simply grabs ahold of the hand on his chest and presses himself against you more. His forehead comes down to lean on yours. His eyes closed.

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. “I want you.”

“But you’re married Art…”

“I want you.” He repeats. “I’ve wanted you…for awhile now.”

And though you already know this, it still shocks you that he’s actually saying it now. Before you have time to register it, he’s back on you and you don’t know if it’s because you’re afraid to break him or if you’ve just always been this selfish, but you let him press you against the trunk of your car. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, let his big hands knead the flesh of your hips and ass. Let him lick and nip at your neck, nibble on your earlobe.

You let Art push you into the backseat of your car. You let him settle between your legs, guiding his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He’s pressing his hips into yours rocking against you as he pushes your top up. Art’s hands frantically work at your bra, impatiently bending the wire in the process of taking it off. You gasp at his eagerness but can’t say anything as he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple making you arch your back up off the leather seats. His hands are gripping your thighs and shoving your skirt up when he releases your nipple with a pop.

He’s up long enough to tear his shirt off and for your equally impatient hands to reach for his pants. His shorts are barely past his balls before he’s back on you. Kissing all over your lips, jaw, neck. Art groans when his fingers find their way to your soaked underwear, rubbing his thumb from your slit to your clit through the fabric. You whine and rock your hips into each movement. You pant into his open mouth as he pulls them to the side, letting the air hit your bare cunt. He dips his thumb into your entrance then drags it up to sloppily circle your clit.

You’re moaning loudly into his mouth, begging him for more. Art smiles against your lips as he takes himself in his hand. He lets his head sweetly kiss your sticky clit, and he asks if you want him to put it in.

You nod eagerly.

"Yeah?" He grunts, tapping his head against you in a taunting manner.

You nod again and let him press against your opening.

Art covers your mouth with his when he finally pushes into you, stifling both of your moans. He gets his arms around your waist, holding you as he rocks into your pussy. You’re whimpering and squeezing around him like you haven’t had dick in years, and Art thinks he might pass out when you start bucking up into him and begging him to fuck you.

He doesn’t even care that he won’t last long. He can’t deny you. So, he wraps your thighs tighter around his waist and pushes himself forward. Your mouth falls open as Art slides out and pushes back into you with a grunt. Your hands are in his hair, pulling at the short strands. You mouth at his jaw as his thighs slap against you.

Art buries his head into your neck as he frantically fucks into your tight hole, and he’s whining that he’s close. His fingers that have been playing with your clit are slippery with your juices and you clench your thighs, nodding with him in agreement.

You end up letting Art Donaldson cum inside you. You let him rub your clit until you orgasm around his dick that’s still buried in you.

You let him help you redress. He’d winced when he saw the mess he made of you between your legs. You ignore the way you can tell he wants to say sorry.

Once you’re both dressed and you’re standing against your car with wobbly legs, Art tells you that he still wants to make it up to you.

You roll your eyes.

“Good night, Art.” You get into the driver’s seat.

“I’m serious.”

Your hand hesitates on the door handle. You look back at him and his pleading eyes and his pathetic yet charming smile.

“Your wife has my number.”

And then, you shut the door.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: reader reminds me of Anna Kendrick’s character in A Simple Favor, sweet but also kinda toxic

thanks for inspiring this @artdcnaldson <3

[mondaymelon]

— "𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪?" ♥

:feat~ childe, dottore, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ established relationship, modern!au ⤷ violence, overprotective ...comfort(?)

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

art by @/code_tesseract on twitter! ✩

“Why do you refuse? Tell me.”

CHILDE’s heart drops when he sees you.

It’s only a small bruise below your eye, but he can already feel his blood boiling as he dashes over to you, embracing you in a tight hug until you manage: “Taglia- can’t breathe…”

“Tell me. Who did this to you?” He pulls back hesitantly at your words, albeit only slightly. You’re still pressed up against him, warm figure in his arms.

“Taglia, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.” Despite his questioning, you merely glance away, ignoring his pleas with a dismissive response each time. It’s clear that you don’t want to get him involved, but he does, because just seeing how you’ve been hurt, no matter how lightly, makes him pissed.

But he can tell, begrudgingly, that you don’t need his help, or rather, don’t want it. So he’ll respect your wishes, at least while he’s in your presence. With a long sigh, he loosely shrugs his shoulders, giving you one more tight hug before asking if you want anything - ice, bandages, food, whatever. Of course you insist you’re fine, because that’s the kind of person you are… and while it’s slightly problematic at times, but being stubborn is an endearing trait of yours - after all, if you always showed no resistance, how boring would that be?

So as soon as you turn in for the night, claiming that you’re tired, he just smiles and nods along, a plan already in mind.

You said you were out with friends.

When he called you at 10:04 pm, you responded.

There was background noise.

There was someone’s voice, telling you to get off your phone.

Oh, now he knows who it was.

And that someone will surely not live to see tomorrow. ♥

DOTTORE seems indifferent at first, not bothering to spare you a glance up from his countless research papers.

Then there’s a flash of red in the corner of vision, and that’s when he whips his head up, piercing red gaze immediately landing on your figure. It’s not much, just a small amount of bleeding, but his mind already races. He’s a peculiar boyfriend, to say the least, and his personality is one that changes constantly, so much so that you’re not sure if you have one lover or thirty. For the time being, he’ll tend to your wound, but archons know he’s already calculating his plans on how to make the one who did this regret it.

“Ouch… Dottore, the bandage is too tight.” You wince from where you’re sitting on his office chair, arm held up so he can see. The male seems to jolt, glancing up at you while his enraged expression melts, just the slightest. He doesn’t apologize, but does redo the bandages, looser this time, before looking back up at you for your approval.

“...Darling. Who did this to you?”

His tone seems gentle enough, like he’s trying not to scare you. But his gaze is clear, the way his crimson eyes are cold and how his features are twisted furiously.

“Dottore, I’m fine.” And just like that, you withdraw your hand, your warmth, and hurriedly move to your room.

…What?

You’re not dismissive like that.

You always tell him everything. Because he can solve everything.

Yet, now you’re keeping secrets from him?

It’s all their fault. Whoever they are.

"So if I kill them, won’t that resolve everything?" ♥

SCARAMOUCHE merely scowls, glancing at you, brows furrowed.

“What happened to you?” His voice is mixed into a scoff as he stares at you up and down, expression only worsening, for some inexplicable reason. He’s leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, looking rather… well, there’s only some slight bruising on you, but his eyes hold so much… distaste. 

“It’s nothing.” You push aside the male, heading towards your room. Scaramouche doesn’t follow after you, only intensifying his glare as he watches you shut the door without another word, letting out a little ‘tch’. 

But as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door, the wooden counter he’s holding onto splinters under his choking grip, small shards crumbling onto the floor. Crimson blood drips from his fingers, the fragments digging into his sin, but all he can hear is the overpowering rush of his own rage.

Nothing? You think this is nothing?

You are his, and everyone knows that.

He has made it clear.

Yet, someone dares do this to you?

Perhaps it's an act to save face, an act to protect his pride, but more so, it’s an action to hurt the one who dared to hurt you, whether you want him involved or not.

The next words that come out of his mouth are fractured whispers, violet gaze focusing on the red streaming from his hand.

“You won’t have to worry, love. I already know you too well.”

“You want me to take care of this, right? To get rid of the imbecile who dared to lay a hand on you?”

“Haha, very well. It seems that tonight will be one of bloodshed.” ♥

(a/n) ...was originally going to add pantalone to this too... but then gave up. please send help

[whaqat]

ermm

Curtis brothers headcanons

and then I’ll do the rest of the gang

- Soda and Pony pretend to have inside jokes to piss Darry off. Darry does actually get annoyed since they keep saying it over and over so he starts interrogating them about it.

^^ ponyboy manages to create a fake ass scenario each time. It scares Sodapop sometimes.

- everyone likes to say soda would be a red flag magnet and I second that. “Pony, she’s literally the one she said we were like Harley Quinn and joker.” “… soda, I don’t think you get how bad that is.”

- pre-book they would all go to a random river to skip rocks. Darry would always “accidentally” throw it 300 feet across and pretend he was trying to skip it and it was like the coolest thing ever to pony and soda.

- soda loves sweet stuff, pony loves sour stuff, and Darry loves salty stuff.

^^ to the extreme though. You will absolutely find ponyboy at 2AM fucking up a lemon.

- Soda and Darry saved to buy ponyboy a camera and better art supplies for his birthday. he cried.

- having “the talk” with pony was very very awkward. he already knew most of the stuff because he hangs out with people like two-bit and dally, but he found it funny so he kept pretending to be confused.

- (modern) darry would love Life360

D:“pony, you said you were going to the movies, why are you across town.”

D:“Hello????”

P: “mb I saw a butterfly.”

D: “for three miles??”

- all a little pyromaniac-ish. Weekend bonfires go weeeeeee

- pony was a little snitch as a kid and he didn’t know it most of the time.

- soda and pony both wander off constantly. Darry has considered getting kid leashes multiple times. (A day)

-soda hated how much they argued so he kept trying to arrange stuff that they did in their childhood when Darry wasn’t working but it’d just end up a mess and soda would just feel worse.

- (modern) Darry understands slang, but he doesn’t like it being used in the house because “Ponyboy won’t get far with that talk” and he thinks it’ll make him seem illiterate like the rest of them. So when they’re fighting, it’ll go quiet and pony’ll say some stupid shit like “what the skibidi” and Darry would slam his hands onto the counter.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Hello, can we have Blitzø, Husk, Rosie, Sir Pentious and Valentino(separately) as a couple, it seems that he is cheating on him but in the end it turned out that they misunderstood him, how would they react to his mistake with his S/O?

Misunderstanding

Blitzø

Blitzø sat in his van, as he had for the past hour, a scowl across his face.

He'd followed you from the Cafe you always went too, then after seeing you on the phone he followed you all the way to some random ass fucking building.

He watched as you knocked, the door opening to reveal some Imp hunk, and you eagerly greeting the guy before walking in, you wrapping an arm around each other.

He was pissed.

But not just regular pissed.

He was Royally Pissed!

But more than that... he was hurt. Really hurt.

The Imp drove home depressed. Anger. Fury. Sadness and regret all sloshing around in him like too much BeelzaBrew. The Imp analysing your entire relationship.

He thought you had a happy relationship. Sure you fought, but it was never anything serious. And you always had the best Make up sex.

He drove around, with no real aim, his body on auto pilot. Just driving. Mindlessly. Completely unsure what to do.

He'd go home, of course after stopping by a drive through liquor stire, the man stumbling into your shared apartment, the man walking in before freezing.

Your calendar...

Marked on the calender was fucking (ANNIVERSARY). And sure enough, checking his phone, it was today.

Blitzø had a full breakdown, drunkenly crying as he curled up on the couch, the poor Imp crying his eyes out between heavy swigs of alcohol.

About an hour would pass until you got home, suspiciously large package in your arms.

You snuck into the apartment, getting everything set up until you found him curled up on the couch, the man grasping a bottle, with even more scattered about, the man sadly blubbering to himself.

Youd approach him, reaching out. "Babe, are you alright?"

He'd slap your hand away, man jerking up on the couch, the man glaring big sad daggers at you.

"Well, if it isn't the big faaaaat cheater!"

He was clearly drunk off his ass, so the accusation of cheating wasn't as painful as if he were sober.

He'd stumble to his feet, jabbing his finger at you. Or rather, in your general direction.

The Man was drunk off his ass.

"Ooooh yeah. Everybody thinks the Blitzø is some sorta, Uh... dumbass man!" He burped, man snifling. "But iiiiim noo a foul..."

You give him a minute, ignoring his verbal typos, before reaching out again, telling him gently.

"Blitzø. I think you need to sleep off your little drinking session before we talk."

But as soon as you placed a hand on his shoulder, he'd smack it away, and with the most righteous fury you'd ever seen in the man, screamed at you.

"I FUCKING SAW YOU WITH HIM!"

The man stumbling back tears in his eyes. "I saw you with that fucking bastard... I saw... I saw you..."

You stood there for a good minute before sighing, you telling him softly. "Wait here."

Youd walk into the kitchen, flipping the light on to reveal the humble spread you'd put out. And grabbing the 'package' carried it over to him.

The large 'package' was covered by a cloth, you placing it down before him, telling him simply.

"Open it."

Blitzø stared at you before looking down at the package, the man glaring daggers at you before reaching out and snatching the cloth off of it.

It revealed a magnificent portrait of Blitzø, the Imp riding a Hell-Stallion.

Blitzø's eyes bulged, the man staring dead at it for a solid minute, the man not even noticing himself dropping the bottle.

Youd set down, pulling him into the seat besides you, you taking his hands in yours.

Holding his hands you'd tell him softly. "The man you saw was an art teacher. I've been seeing him to learn how to paint."

You spoke slowly, making sure he heard you.

"I know we don't normally go big on Anniversary gifts, but I wanted to do something special, so I took some lessons so I could paint that for you."

Blitzø took a minute, looking between you and the painting before he burst into tears, the man pressing his face into your chest as he tearfully apologised.

"IIIII'mmm soooo soooorrrryyy!" He sobbed, drunkenly clinging onto you.

"I- I- I- didn't mean to!" He stuttered, blubbering. Youd just hold him close, gently patting his back as he sobbed into your chest.

You just soothed the poor man, hugging him close as he had his drunken meltdown.

He'd quickly cry himself out, soaking your shirt and apologising all the while, you just telling him it was alright, gently patting his back.

Eventually he'd pass out, man out like the dead, you carrying your drunken idiot of a S/O to bed, making sure to be prepared fortyhe inevitable hangover.

And sure enough, the next morning Blitzø endured a awful hangover, though even as he groaned and threw up he was still profusely apologising, the man feeling even worse when he saw the painting and everything you'd set up for him.

Of course, you didn't care, you were just happy the situation was resolved peacefully, you tending to your poor idiot of an S/O. Letting him curl up with you on the couch as he slept off his hangover, making sure he drank plenty of water, hand running down his spiky, bald dome of a head.

Husk

Husk felt miserable.

And the most surprising part about it, was that he was miserable.

Since you'd arrived at the hotel, he'd been in significantly better spirits. But for the past couple weeks you'd been disappearing for long swaths of time, often staying out till later in the evening.

Husk wasn't an idiot.

And while he did try to drown himself in alcohol, knowing fully well he couldn't die of liver failure.

Though he had lowered his drinking significantly since your arrival into his life, the man actually, and it was hard to say but, you'd made him a better man.

But he wasn't a stupid man.

Back when he actually cared about people, he'd been cheated on plenty, though that may have been mostly his fault as he'd always put too much attention on his drink, rather then those people he cared about. Something he had tried to change with you.

But you still found someone better...

He wasn't surprised. The drunk of a tomcat was a poor excuse of a partner.

He'd be slumped over the bar, as usual, drunkenly grumbling to himself, man downing a bottle of what he hoped wasn't paint thinner as he laid there in his drunken brooding.

The man grumbled, rubbing his eyes as tears stung his eyes, the man wondering what was wrong with him.

Why did he always lose everyone he loved?

Youd walk into the Hotel, approaching the man, in relatively good spirits. Seeing him splayed out, drunkenly grumbling to himself, you grew curious.

Walking over, youd pull up a stool, you sitting there for a long minute before you started getting concerned, so you reached out, placing your hand on his.

Husk jerked up, you jumping back in surprise.

Husk stared at you, you asking him simply.

"You alright babe?"

Husk just stared for a long, pregnant moment. Before looking away, the man sighing as he slumped forwards, man wiping his face.

He'd stand there for a fee moments, not looking at you, only for him to ask bluntly.

"What did I do...?"

You stared at him, not sure I'd you'd heard him correctly, so you asked.

"You alright-" though you didn't get to finish as he blurted out.

"What did I do?!" He snapped, man almost in tears. "What did I do? What did I fuck up?!?!"

You stared at him, genuinely unsure of what was happening.

Youd wrap your hand around his, asking him bluntly.

"What are you on about baby? What did you do?"

Hunker diiiiidnt like that response.

The man yanking his hand out of your grasp, whipping away from you, the man wiping his eyes.

"What did I do?!" He snapped. "Why wasn't I good enough for you?!"

At that things slowly started to connect.

"Baby... do you think I'm cheating on you?"

Husk paused, thinking 9ver your tmstatement before turning and staring at you.

"Your... not cheating on me?" He asked, the cat caught of guard.

You, with a gentle smile, shook your head, telling him. "Nooo baby, I'm not. I'd never cheat on you."

Husk stood there for a moment before bringing up your regular absences, the long stretches you'd spend out of the hotel.

To which you'd sigh.

After a moment, taking your seat, you'd tell him that you weren't cheating. You explained that you'd just met an exe from before you'd died. You weren't sleeping with them, but you had been spending time with them.

Not for sex but just... just to remember when you were alive. When life was good and you were in your prime, back on earth.

You apologised for keeping it a secret. It was selfish but it was kind of your escape from the constant shittyness that littered Hell, something to block out the horrors you witnessed on the daily.

You apologised for hiding it. Holding his hand tight as you sincerely apologised for not telling him.

Youd tearfully tell him you loved him, and that you were so sorry for making him think you didn't.

At this point it'd be a completely intoxicated Husker that would comfort you, the man pulling you into a hug. A hug you'd eagerly accept, you tearfully promising to never make him feel like that again.

Pulling him close before you'd share a kiss.

Said kiss would grow rapidly passionate, you eventually ending up behind the bar, you straddling the cat, the two of you pulling off manoeuvres that would make Angel Blush.

And in the end, all worked up and steamy, you'd curl up with each other behind the bar, the Kitty cat holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

Needless to say it was awkward when Charlie found you both the next morning.

The situation not helped by Angel whining about missing out on the whole thing.

But with your tomcat close by, the both of you sharing a blush as you all pretended what had most definitely happened, did not happen, well, at least you had each other.

Rosie

Rosie wasn't one to beat around the bush.

She'd wait for you at the entrance to your home, the Amazonian sized demoness, sat back in one of her beautiful sitting chairs, the sort you'd find in a Victorian manor, just waiting for you, teacup in hand.

And upon walking into your shared home, shed confront you.

"Well Hello darling, you've been out a while."

She spoke coldly, you immediately knowing you were in the shit.

With a timid smile you'd begin. "Hello dear, your up late!" You spoke, trying to hide your rapidly growing anxiety.

Rosie didn't lighten up, the lady in red telling you bluntly. "You smell like cigarettes." He leaned back, a scowl crossing her face. "And you reek of alcohol."

He'd place her cup down, frowning deeply, black pools glaring at you.

"Where have you been (Y/N)?"

Your face would contort into an awkward smile, you scratching your kneck as you released an awkward laugh.

She didn't laugh.

Instead Asking bluntly.

"Why are you laughing!?" She snapped. "You think this is some kind of joke?!"

"Running around, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, returning at all hours of the night." She snapped before looking away, growling out. "Do I mean so little too you?"

At that you snapped to attention, gawking for a second before blurting.

"You think I'm cheating?!"

You blurted, rushing over to her.

"Baby! Sweetie! Love of my eternally damned afterlife." You reached out, cupping her cheek. "I am not cheating on you."

Rosie staring down at you, asking gently.

"Then what are you doing? Why are you out at night? Why do you reek like cigarettes and alcohol. Why have you been so secretive before disappearing all night?"

At that you sighed, nodding your head.

"Rose, my love, I have a confession." You began, running a thumb over her cheek. "Put simply, I can't drink any more tea."

You sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

"What?" Rosie asked, clearly bewildered.

"Rosie my love, I love you. I love our home. And the aesthetic. And all the pottery and plating and all that stuff. But well, I've been going to a sports bar."

Rosie paused, clearly confused.

"Baby, I miss TVs. I miss modern, mass produced comfy couches. I miss the depleted unsustainable economy of a life you probably never saw."

"I miss cheap beer and overly salty peanuts and wings smothered in addictive sauce." You sighed, almost shuddering.

Rosie sat there for a moment, clearly confused before asking bluntly.

"If thats all it is, then why all the secrey darling?"

You gave another awkward smile, scratching your head. "Well, I know you don't like the 'false decadence of a unurned age of self indulgent walfwits', and I don't want you to, I don't know. I didn't want you to feel like I was choosing the cheap, crapy food and drink over you."

You finished solemnly, looking to the floor.

Rosie, seeing this sighed, reaching out before pulling you in close. "I'm sorry for thinking you were cheating darling."

You chuckled, telling her in turn. "And I'm sorry for not telling you darling. I promise, I'll be more honest from now on."

Rosie chuckled, and you leaned in for a kiss.

Before your lips met however, she pressed a finger to your lips, telling you bluntly.

"I'm not kissing you while your breath stinks of beer and cigarettes."

To which you broke into laughter, stumbling to your knees, head in her lap, giggling away.

"I love you Rose baby~" You purred, looking up at her.

Rosie just smiled back, running her hand through your hair.

"I love you too darling... even if you are an idiot."

The both of you breaking into laughter, you simply laying there, a pleasant mood filling the air.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was a mess.

Bottles of wine were strewn about his airships sitting room, the snake man sobbing as he drunkenly gulped wine from a bottle.

He'd wipe his face, forearm already soaked through with tears.

"Why doth you need to be a loutous betrayer!" He yelled.

It was perhaps his most unique quirk. The man liking to incorrectly imitate old Shakespearian speech when drunk, often saying thing that sounded almost right, but most certainly weren't.

Hed lay there, wallowing in self pity for who knows how long until you'd finally find him. Having searched the house you'd find the empty wine rack, already knowing something was wrong.

And while you'd already checked every place in the manor before, the trail of wine bottles had given his 'sactuary' away.

Youd knock on the steel door before gently sliding it open.

"Hello dear..." You began, staring at the wiggling mass of snake that splaid out before you. "Is everything alright?" You asked softly.

The snake snapped towards you, grabbing you, before throwing you onto the fainting couch he had splaid out.

Youd blush as he drunkenly scowled.

"Ooooooh~ like you don't know!" He drunkenly slurred. "Like you don't know why I'm drinking, you and that *hic* man... that bastard you've been seeing."

To which you'd stare at him, blushing as he leered over you.

Rubbing your face, you'd sigh, leaning forwards and gently cupping his face.

"Penty... he's a tailor." You sighed softly. "I'd never cheat on you."

You finished, but the snake simply stared at you for several moments, processing.

"Tailor... but what about all the... well I saw you undress?" He stated, conflicted.

Youd sigh, gently slipping out from under him ast you stepped out of the room.

Pentious would gulp down the rest of his bottle before you stepped in.

Youd be wearing a rather skimpy, of seductive, version of his outfit. The piece just covering enough to be seen in public, though obviously meant for the bedroom.

"I uh, I thought it'd be fun for... ya know... the bedroom~"

Pentious, red faced, smirked. His body recoiled, priming for a strike, and with the finesse of a heavily intoxicated snake, he snatching you up once more, throwing you onto his bundles up tail, his long lower form gripping you, holding you down.

"Well... I guess I've got to punish you~" He purred, leaning in.

"P-punish me?" You stuttered, face flushed as the man pinned your arms above your head.

Pentious smirking, face flushed lightly as he leaned in, hot breath on your neck as he purred.

"Of coursssssse~" she hissed, tongue flicking your neck. "You run around, scaring me to death~ Making me think the worst. "

His hands ran down your chest, tail sizing as it held you down, leaning in close before smirking, hot, wine tainted breath on your neck as he suddenly bit you.

Youd moan, the man injecting just enough venom to get you high. A speciality of Pentious', the man having used his vemon on your more then once~

But now, he was smirking, domineering you with little effort, tail bound, venom high, he'd trail kisses down your body, kissing you all over.

Youd be at his mercy, the man teasing, torturing you with the promise of pleasure, making you submit to him.

By the end of the night, you'd be a quivering, gasping and moaning mess, Pentious smirking victoriously as you lay besides him, face red, bite marks littering your body as you softly moaned and writhed in pleasure.

With a sadistic smirk covering his face, your legs wrapped around his snake hips, he'd lean in, whispering as he always did when in control.

"Don't worry darling... I'm not halfway close to being done with you~" He purred.

Valentino

Valentino was not happy.

You were deceiving him. Lying to him.

And that could not stand. He was out of the loop. And he hated being out of the loop.

Well that wasn't entirely true.

Truth was, you were telling him you were doing one thing, while you actually did something else.

Though he want sure why you bothered with the deception. He had more informants and eyes then anyone in Pentagram.

Well, except maybe Vox, man had eyes in almost every damn device in Pride, so he probably had him beat in that department.

But well, he knew you'd done something involving your anniversary. More then likely relating to a gift for him.

Though he'd intentionally not found out what it was, the man still liking some surprises in his life.

He'd watch you "sneak" into his penthouse, you smiling and giggling like an idiot. The man smiling as he watched you 'sneak' into his penthouse, covering something in your coat

"Welcome home darling." He spoke smoothly, smiling as you froze in place.

Youd turn suddenly, hiding thr gift behind your back.

"H-hey! Val! Baby! Didn't, uh, I didnt know you were home." You spoke awkwardly, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

You smiled a broad, awkward smile.

Val held back a smile, flushed with adoration, but couldn't express it, not wanting to let you on.

"I know." He spoke coldly, snuffing his cigarette before standing, you shrinking under his imposing form.

Reaching into his coat, you leaned back, eyes closed, expecting the worse.

"Happy anniversary sweetheart."

Opening your eyes, you'd find his hand extended, a white box with a big red bow atop it.

Staring at it for a moment, you'd look up at him with a cocked brow. The man simply smiling back, giving a little smile of his own.

Suddenly it snapped into place.

"OH!" You gasped, almost jumping in place.

Holding the present you'd turn rigid, before slumping, looking down you spoke glumly.

"Oh... Well... I'm guessing you know what this is then?"

Val just chuckled, reaching out and cupping your chin. "A gift. Anything else? I'm in the dark." He finished smoothly.

Youd release a relieved sigh, hand to your chest. Looking up at him you'd smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek before looking down at your present.

"Here, hold this." You told him, holding the present out to him.

Taking it from you, he watched as you turned around, lifting the rectangular present up, before carrying it into the other room.

When he tried to follow, you'd call back. "Nu-uh! No peeking! I'll tell you when you can come in."

To which he just chuckled, rolling his eyes as he leant against the door frame.

And so, standing there for a minute or two he'd wait for you, hearing you as you scrambled around, something glass shattering, your little mumbles and curses making him chuckle.

And so, after some waiting you'd call out.

"Come in."

After which hed step in, looking around the room until he spotted something on the wall. It was obviously your gift, covered in some sheet.

And so, turning to you, he'd give you your gift again, which you subsequently placed down, eagerly leading him to your gift.

Normally, he would have taken great insult at that, but given he was as interested in seeing your gift, as you were excited for him to see it, he decided to let it slide.

And so, with an eager nod from you, he'd tear the sheet off, the man stupefied.

It was him. Or well, a painting of him, and a handsome one at that. It was him sat back, his ever present luxurious coat complementing his stern face as he smoked a cigarette.

He stared at it for several moments before he turned to you, you utterly shaking in excitement.

"Do you like it?!" You asked, almost bursting at the seems.

"No." He spoke bluntly. He let it hang in the air for just a moment. Before reaching an arm out, he'd twirl you into his grasp, the man planting a deep passionate kiss. "I love it~"

Hearing it your smile came back in full force.

"Well that's good, cause I painted it." You spoke with a goofy giggle, puffing out your chest all proudly.

Now that took him off guard.

The man showing a rare flash of surprise, as he snapped between you and the portrait, That flash of surprise enough to make you giggle up a storm.

"Yyyyyep!" You grinned. "All those 'outings' were lessons. Been seeing this professional artist for lessons and now-"

You turned proudly, smiling at the present.

"I think I did the source material justice."

Val stood there for a minute, before the man scratched his cheek, telling you in a playful voice. "Well, for once I think my gift is outclassed."

Hearing that you'd release a gentle snort, rolling your eyes.

Picking up his gift, you'd step forwards, gently cupping his cheek. "Dont worry baby, its from you. I know ill love it."

Val smiled, gently kissing your palm as you pulled back, letting you open the gift.

It was a small red box, the words 'Love you forever~' etched into the top, the smooth rosey wood that expensive kind of glossy.

Opening said gift, you'd find a rather beautiful golden locket, the simple gold heart having the words 'My Love Forever~'. "Oh, babe, it's beautiful." You gushed, hand to your chest.

Val stepped forwards, still surprisingly meek as he took it from your hand, binding it around your neck before pulling up up, holding it in his palm as he showed it off. The man easily opening it open to reveal images inside.

The left was a beautiful image of you and Val in a loving embrace, you recognised it from one of your first dates. It was a good memory.

And in the right, well, let's just say it was a raunchy image of a very undressed Val, the man smiling a very Val like smile.

And so, clicking the locket closed, you smiled, taking his hand in your own.

"Ya know... I've been wanting to do one of you in your 'natural glory' for a while now~" you spoke, making sure your intention couldn't be missed.

"But first." You began, grabbing his fuzzy collar, pulling him towards the bedroom. "But first, I think I need some... physical refrences~"

Val, simply smirked, man shedding his coat as you made it to the bed, where the two of you... tried out some positions for your next piece.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Pathetic (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N loves Art but thinks he’s pathetic for still being in love with Tashi even though she’s using him.

Word Count: 1,327k

Y/N met Art in college along with Tashi, who at the time was dating Patrick. Art was obsessed with Tashi and Y/N was the victim. She had to hear about it all the time and it was annoying. He even went as far to try and ruin Tashi and Patrick’s relationship. Tashi was pissed at Pat but Y/N knew all along that it was Art. I mean he wouldn’t shut up about her. Art was there for Tashi when she had her injury, like a little puppy he bowed down to her. Y/N snorted when Art told her that he was going to help her recover and be there for her. She watched as Art left her room, she shouldn’t but she does care about him.

And maybe that’s why she feels the way she does about the situation. Tashi liked Art but not like that. Which Art couldn’t see but Y/N did. It was crazy that Art and Pat were no longer friends over Tashi. Bros before Hoes was always the saying but it wasn’t that anymore. Y/N watched as Art bent over backwards for Tashi but got nothing in return. She cared about his Tennis career, not him. Tashi would always bitch to Y/N about how Art wasn’t taking anything seriously and that he needed to focus on his career. To which Y/N replied, “He’s in love with you, Tashi.” Tashi laughed at her words and brushed them off but Y/N was right. 

10 years later, Art was still in love with Tashi but nothing ever came about it besides sex here and there that Art wore on his sleeve. Y/N had watched him all through his career and lost a lot of respect for him. Every time he lost a game, Tashi would get so mad and make him cry. He cried to Y/N about it and she put on a fake pity smile and comforted him. But not this time, never again will Y/N act like that. She was over it, over all of it.

He came into her room with tears in his eyes, sad that Tashi was mad at him for losing. Y/N rolled her eyes but let the man in. He sat on her bed, “I just don’t understand, I try and do everything for her and I get nothing in return.” He’s saying the words but they aren’t clicking in his head. Y/N just stared at him as he whined. She didn’t hug him like she usually does or coo in his ear. She was annoyed with him. When she hadn’t said anything, he looked up at her, “Why do you look so annoyed?” He asked her. “Cuz you’re pathetic.” She spits at him. He looks at her confused and hurt by her words. “What?” “Yeah, you’re a pathetic little boy that is dying for her love and attention. Well guess what? You’re never gonna get it.” She tells him. He couldn’t believe what she was saying, she never said things like that to him, especially when he’s upset.

“Don’t say that. She loves me.” “Are you that delusional? Art she only cares about your Tennis career because she doesn’t have one anymore!” She yells. He stood up, “Don’t say that about her!” He pointed a finger at her. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Get the fuck out!” She told him. He left and didn’t look back. Y/N sighed and sat on her bed, where Art was just sitting. She laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She wished that Art would just see that Tashi didn’t love him and that he needs to let that go. 

A week later everything seemed to go back to normal for now. Well besides Art. He didn’t talk to Y/N but maybe that was for the best. Tashi on the other hand begged Y/N to talk to him. “He needs you Y/N. He’s not focusing.” “He’s Pathetic.” Y/N told her. Tashi agreed and told Y/N that’s why she needed her help. But Y/N refused, she was done with Art and his bullshit.

Y/N and saw that Patrick was there as well and that he wasn’t doing the greatest. “Maybe if you were as delusional as Art, life would be better.” She joked. Patrick rolled his eyes at her, “Still in love with Art?” her smile dropped. He looked at her and chuckled, “It’s been obvious since the day you met him.” She shook her head and downed her drink. “Yeah well he’s in love with Tashi.” “Who wouldn’t be?” “I don’t get it. She only cares about his career, not him.” Patrick saw how sad that made Y/N. “Well he’s an idiot for not being in love with you.” She looked at him, a smirk on his lips. She shook her head, “Yeah well that’s never gonna happen.” He shook his head and downed his drink.

“You both are sitting on things that are never going to happen.” She looks at him, thinking about his words. “Art loves Tashi and you love Art, that’s not gonna happen.” “So we’re both pathetic.” She said as she stood up. He stood up as well, “Well I don’t think you’re pathetic.” She shook her head, “No, I am. And it ends here.” “What are you going to do?” “Leave.” She begins walking away but Patrick caught up with her. “Wait, you’re just gonna leave?” She nodded. “Why? He’s not the only thing here.” “Yeah, but I was here for him.” She said. He took her hands, “Stay here for me.” She looked at him with a confused look. “Wait, what?” She took her hands back. “Don’t leave just because of him. Show him what he’s missing.” Y/N thought about his words and realized that it wasn’t worth it. “I tried Patrick. It didn’t work. Goodbye.” She said and walked to the elevators.

He watched her as she walked away but realized how Pathetic Art was for not wanting her. “Y/N.” He called and ran into the elevator. “What?” “Don’t leave. Please.” He begged. “Why do you want me to stay?” She asked, he sighed. “I want you to and not for Art. He’s a dumbass for not wanting you.” She turned to him. “Are you telling me to stay for the reason I think you are?” She asked, he nodded. Truth be told she’s always found Patrick attractive but never looked too much into it thanks to Art. “Art would never forgive us.” She said. “Yeah, but do you really care?” She didn’t, not anymore. 

Y/N showed up to all the practices they had. Art saw her and was shocked that she wasn’t cheering for him but for Patrick. Patrick could tell that he was upset and smirked at him when he won and Y/N ran up to hug him. Art stared at them and everything hit him. He was pathetic and he lost a great woman because of it. 

“Y/N, wait up.” Art called as he saw Y/N in the lobby. She turned towards him as he came running up to her. “What do you want?” He caught his breath and looked at her. “I’m sorry for what I've been doing all these years.” “Oh now you see me with Patrick and you realize?” “Wait, you're with Patrick?” She rolled her eyes, “Maybe.” He sighed. “Y/N please i’m sorry. You’re right I am pathetic. Tashi doesn’t love me and she never will. I know that now. I can’t let you walk away with him.” She sighed and looked down. He needed to be taught a lesson. She needs to walk away and be with Patrick, Art deserves that. But she loves him and no matter how many times he’s made her mad, she can’t bring herself to leave. She looked at him and pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss that he gladly returned. I guess we’re both pathetic, she thinks as they make out in the hotel lobby.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Ok, I have two alternatives, pick which one you like the best.

Reader get picked to tutor Eddie even though they have always been at each other's throat, she thinking he's a drama queen, pissed that the popular people doesn't like him and he thinks she's a stuck up bitch without humor.

So they go back and forth but maybe one day when she's having a bad day and Eddie says something and she starts crying he gets all "what, how, why? What did I do, please don't cry!"

Or, that he catches her reading a romance novel and outwardly she has always just read classics - books that are 'high education'

Request by @somethingvicked 🫶💞 went with the first option 💞

Warnings; Little bit of angst, meanish Eddie, fluff. Accidental kiss.

💌🎀💌🎀

"You've got to be kidding me?" you gawk at Miss O'Donnell who has called you back at the end of class. She's asked you to tutor someone and at first you were all for it.

That's until you found out it was Eddie Munson, Munson who is currently sitting at the back of the class with his feet up on the desk in front of him, he gives you a sarcastic little wave and you turn back to Miss O'Donnell and hope she comes to her senses.

"He needs a tutor if he wants to graduate. You're the best student in the class. It will look wonderful on your college applications that you tutored Mr Munson" shit there was really no getting out of this.

Reluctantly you turn to Eddie who already doesn't like you. In his honest opinion you seemed prissy and stuck up. The two of you spent half your time at each other's throats, it had been like that for so long.

Equally you couldn't stand Eddie either. He was loud, a show off and you were sure he was jealous of the popular people he claimed to hate.

How you would manage to tutor him for weeks on end was anyone's guess. One thing's for sure, you were dreading this.

"Meet me after school tomorrow and we can get started okay?" You say to him already grumpy at having to spend extra time with him. Eddie swings his legs off the desk and smirks, then bows.

"As you wish princess" ugh, you storm out but not before hearing Eddie's laughter.

Asshole.

🎀💌🎀💌

The first week of tutoring Eddie is as horrible as you expected. He's antagonistic, makes no effort and needles at your patience until it's paper thin.

"How can you be expected to graduate if you don't make an effort?" You snap as Eddie strums on his guitar.

"That old bat has it in for me, even when I try my best she still doesn't care" Eddie hisses back and you feel the beginnings of a headache come on.

"You just need to apply yourself better, if you want to graduate then you need to ace this Munson" he glares at you.

"Don't you think I know that? It's easy for you though isn't it princess, since your little miss perfect" the insult flares up your annoyance and you and Eddie devolve into your usual arguments.

"Don't you think I have better things to do then tutor you Munson? So do us both a favour and start paying attention, so we can go our separate ways sooner".

He huffs and places down his guitar with gentle care, grabs his notebook and

"Did you draw these?" you ask curious as you trace your fingers over the images on his notebook. He nods and looks at you like he's expecting you to give him shit.

"They are really good Munson, you could think about applying to an art course after graduation" Eddie scoffs and takes his notebook back.

"Yeah like anyone's going to take me with my grades" his tone is all annoyance and it pisses you off.

"I was only trying to compliment you, why do you have to be so touchy all the time" you look away from him stubbornly, he is silent for a few seconds and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to a lot of compliments from people" this softens you as well and you turn to face him and give him a small smile.

"Well you're really good" there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks when you say this. He nods and settles back down beside you.

"You know uh, you're pretty good with the whole writing thing, uh shit, you know what I mean" pleased and a little flustered at his compliment you clear your throat and mutter thank you, then get started with the book you and Eddie are reading for class.

🎀💌🎀💌

Today has been the worst day. You overslept, forgot to hand your essay in to your biology teacher, the rain soaked you completely as soon as you left your home and you've been verging on a cold ever since.

So the thought of having to tutor Munson again does not fill you with joy, in all honesty all you want is your bed and to sleep. You couldn't get sick, you had too much to do.

Of course from the moment you meet up with Eddie he's difficult. All because it's Friday and he has a Hellfire meeting.

"I have to set everything up princess, I don't have time to waste here with you" furious you round on him.

"You think that I want to be here? No. I'd rather be at home so sit down and let's get on with this so I don't have to sit with your annoying ass any longer than I have to"

"Well at least I'm not a stuck up bitch with no sense of humour and a permanent stick up my ass"

Eddie's words cut to the bone and you stiffen in response. Don't cry, don't cry you chant to yourself, but you can't help as the tears roll down your cheeks, Eddie's big brown eyes widen in shock as you begin to cry.

Humiliated, you're just about to leave when he steps in front of you. "Wait, what did I do?" The two of you exchanged insults on a daily basis and you had never cried before, Eddie begins to panic as your sobs continue.

"Please don't cry" he says, he hates seeing you cry. Your little whimper stabs at his aching heart and on instinct he reaches over to you and takes your hand, the gesture surprises you both and it dries up your tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't like seeing you cry, please stop" you sniff and wipe the remainder of the tears away, Eddie's hand is still holding yours and it's making you feel things that you never expected.

Eddie gently strokes your hand with his thumb, marvels at the soft skin and how your hand fits perfectly in his own.

Uh, shit. This was new. You smile at him, suddenly seeming shy. His heart skips a beat. Jesus h Christ.

"I didn't mean it" he stumbles over his words and you sigh sadly, peer at him with an expression that tugs at his heart.

"Yes you did" he shakes his head fervently and assured you that he didn't.

"I just snapped back without thinking, I'm sorry" he pleads with you and you hear the sincerity in his voice and calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry too. Today has been so shit, I'm tired and I feel like crap. I just want to sleep" Eddie immediately grabs his notebook and pencil and sits down, he looks to you patiently.

"Let's do half an hour and I'll cram as much as I can in my brain and then I'm going to drive you home okay?" relived you nod but still feel worried.

"Miss O'Donnell won't be happy" you tell him and he shrugs as if he doesn't care one bit.

"Leave the old dragon to me okay princess?" touched at his sweetness you take his hand and squeeze it as a thank you. Surprisingly the half hour passes by cordially and Eddie is still sweet.

Before you know it the half hour has ended and Eddie is true to his word and drives you home. You don't feel much better and your stomach is fluttering like crazy being so close to Eddie.

What the hell was happening? Was this some side effect of the flu? Eddie's big brown eyes meet yours, "Thanks for driving me home Eddie"

He shrugs like it's no big deal and on impulse you reach over to kiss his cheek. The only thing is he moves so you miss completely and end up pressing your lips against his.

His eyes widen and you pull away embarrassed, your heart is racing and your lips are tingling from the kiss. You stammer out an apology but Eddie waves it off, you race out the door and into your house.

All the while Eddie is touching his lips, his own heart is racing a mile a minute and all he can think about is that he really wants to kiss you again.

💌🎀💌🎀

[ghastlyfilters]

Pleeease write some headcanons of Art trying to cheer up a GN reader who's stressed over school/work/etc. 🥺🥺🥺 pretty please 🤧🤍🙂‍↕️

art with a s/o who’s struggling with work!!

pairings; implied art the clown x gn reader

warnings; mentions of violence (this is what ya get when your fictional crush is a murderer babe 😔) stress, and gotta add in fluff

gifs made by me!! :)

THE HEADCANONS:

• If there’s one thing about Art that everyone should know by now, is that he is INCREDIBLY curious. However, when it comes to anyone studying, this man is bored out of his little clown mind.

• He thrives off your happiness when you’re in a good mood, but when you’re stressed.. Art’s kinda at a loss..

• Despite Art absolutely living for other people’s misery, seeing you so stressed actually freaks him out in a sense. He’s a ticking time bomb. And his brain can’t handle shit when your brain also cannot handle shit 😭

• His horn’s practically his best buddy at this point, and if it cheers him up, it’ll maybe cheer you up? Right?

…. Right??

• Yeah, him honking his horn in your ear whilst you were trying to study your ass off did not seem to sit well with you. When you told him to stop, he gave you that sassy judgemental look, raising one drawn on brow. He knows the power he has over you. Art could’ve honked that fucking horn all day if he liked. It’s not as if you could stop him.

• But.. your boyfriend has respect for you.. sometimes. And he did in fact stop honking his horn whenever he noticed that you were studying.

• Art is awake literally ever single hour of the day. He doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, he more so sort of lounges around. But he can sleep if he really wants to. This makes him literally ideal for going out and getting you food if you’re up at three in the morning studying.

• He did it so much now that you didn’t even ask anymore. You’d be up in the early hours of the morning on your macbook, and Art was already out the door. He could care less if anyone saw him. Most people think he’s some asshole just dressing up as the Miles County clown.

And that’s the mistake the cashier at Subway made that night.

• Art is so SO prone to being insulted easily. So if someone does think he’s trying to dress up as himself, it pisses him off. BAD.

• You learnt this very quickly when he came home with two blood stained Subway bags. And when you went to open one.. dawg.. it wasn’t your food.. ☹️

• It had been the severed head of the cashier he killed. But at this point you weren’t even squeamish anymore. Art always walked around smelling like someone’s insides. But it just made it incredibly awkward when he stood in the doorway blinking at you, making that O shape with his mouth, realising your food was in the other bag..

• One night you’d fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from filling out all the files your professor had sent you. Art smiled down at you before waltzing past with his usual looney tune, cartoonish looking walk. He wanted to raid your snacks again from the kitchen. Art could be a fat shit when he wanted to be. Your laptop was on the dining table, wide open. He hadn’t noticed at first, before a notification sound filled the room in under a second. Art had snapped his head round and squinted, noticing your professor’s name pop up. The prick sent an email lecturing you regarding not enough work being sent back, despite the fact he was sending a shit ton of files. This caused Art to type a very lovely little email back. And when you awoke, he was gone.

… So was your professor apparently when the head of your college sent everyone emails that morning to note that he would not be returning.

• When Art came strolling back in, covered head to toe in that familiar red liquid, you immediately knew.

And this was your long awaited break.

• At last you weren’t having anymore documents sent to you for a while. Atleast until they found a replacement for your old professor. So finally you could relax, watching your lanky boyfriend on the couch across from you, grinning like the madman he is at the horror flick on the TV.

Maybe that clown could cheer you up with everything after all.

HII! this was so fun to write. i adore art so much and i’m desperate for more requests for him!! (also ik a 24hr subway isn’t that common, don’t come for me 😭)

[mrsshabana]

𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro's become obsessed with pleasing you. So much so that it seems like his only purpose for living. And those feelings will only get stronger when his memories of you come flooding back. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, gore, body horror, fingering, oral, master/slave, masochism, sadism, praise kink ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.7k words. Thank you to @misskaorii for helping me brainstorm for this chapter!! ♡

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter one ⇢ Chapter two ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

After that night, Gyutaro seems a lot happier than he was before. And he's getting better at controlling himself too.

Always going around your apartment, cleaning up or preparing things for you. It's kind of surprising honestly. At first you thought the whole master thing was just a kink of his. But no, he literally does see you as his master.

After doing more research you discovered that when a witch resurrects a human they have an inseparable bond. Kind of like a contract. Where the resurrected person feels an undeniable urge to protect and serve their summoner.

It took some getting used to at first, but now you don't mind it. It's nice having someone always by your side to protect you and help you whenever you need. Though, you do wish he would relax more often. And stop calling you master too. You try to get him to call you by your name, but he can't help it.

It seems as the days pass, his undying servitude towards you grows more and more. And the feeling is mutual. You enjoy taking care of him and having him around. Even getting so close that you can understand what he's trying to say even when only mumbles and groans leave his mouth.

The hardest part has been keeping him a secret from your coven. If Lady Tamayo found out she'd be pissed. Probably enough to force you to live at the coven again. And you just gained your independence so you can't mess it up now!

It's difficult to keep Gyutaro a secret from all of your friends but you know you don't have a choice. You know you'll have to come clean eventually, but for now you're content coming home to your sweet zombie boy every day after your lessons.

"Gyutaro, I'm home!" You shout as you enter your apartment, closing the door behind you.

As soon as you kick off your shoes you hear something rummaging around in your kitchen. So you hurriedly follow the sound, fully expecting to see Gyutaro getting into some kind of trouble.

And that's exactly what you see. Him standing over the counter with a jug of milk. Why he feels like he needs to drink milk, you have no idea. He has a habit of seeing you do things and he tries to mimic you because he thinks that'll make you proud. It's cute but it often ends in a mess.

As you enter the kitchen you watch as he shakily tries to pour the milk into a glass cup. His clumsy hands spilling most of the milk on the floor and the countertop, barely getting inside of the glass. But he seems to think he did a good job as he happily hands the glass to you with a smile.

"F-For you," he smiles.

"Thank you, Gyu," you force an exhausted smile and take the glass. It's awfully sweet of him to try and you do appreciate it, but you can't help but feel tired. Knowing that you're going to have to get on your hands and knees to clean up this mess.

And Gyutaro can tell from your facial expression that you aren't pleased.

"Gyutaro... bad?" he frowns, looking hurt.

"No no! You aren't bad, honey!" You immediately try to reassure him, "You made a little bit of a mess but that's ok. You're learning!"

He shakes his head and gets on his knees, "Punish! Please!" he whimpers as he bows before you, "P-Punish Gyutaro f-for making mess..."

Your eyes widen as you watch his display of submission.

"Gyutaro, please stand up," you gently pet his hair, "You don't deserve to be punished. You aren't in trouble, ok?"

"No! I-I... I did bad thing. So punish, yes," he looks up at you with pleading eyes almost as if he wants to be punished.

And when you look further down, you see that this actually excites him. The obvious erection between his legs tells you just how much he wants this. It may be called a punishment, but if he enjoys it this much then it must be a reward. And you're more than happy to reward your sweet zombie boy.

"Fine, you're right. You do deserve to be punished," you proclaim as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug.

A needy moan leaves his lips, "Y-Yes master..."

"You were a very bad boy, Gyu," you pull harder, forcing him to look up at you, "Look at all that milk you wasted."

"M'sorry," he gasps, joyful tears flowing from his eyes, "I m-make it up to... to you."

His eyes dart to under your skirt, then back to your eyes.

You smirk, getting what he's hinting at. "If you try really hard, then maybe, just maybe I'll forgive you."

He bites his lip and lifts your skirt, "Won't s-stop until you forgive..."

Your face heats up as you watch him slide your panties down. His eyes widen as he sees your pretty pussy. Just the sight of it makes him so excited, thinking about how good he's going to make you feel.

He's sloppy and doesn't completely know what he's doing, but his eagerness to please you more than enough makes up for it. Starting by kissing your clit, then licking up and down your slit. Paying attention to how your body reacts and to the sounds you make. His observations pay off, and it doesn't take him too long to find a combination of tongue movements that you like.

Quickly getting you wet enough to slide his fingers inside.

"A-Ah Gyu!" You moan, grabbing onto his hair for support. He can't help but groan as you roll your fingers through his hair and moan his name.

He's slower with his fingers than he is with his tongue, as he's nervous about hurting you. But once he finds that spongy spot that makes your thighs tremble and your eyes roll back, he speeds up. Using two fingers, sliding in and out of you, pressing his rough fingertips on that spot that makes you scream his name.

He's not sure what feels better. The way your walls clench around his fingers, or the way your hands tightly grip his head and push him harder against your cunt. Begging for him to keep going.

He fucking loves it. Nothing feels as good as pleasing his master. Involuntarily rutting his hips against the fabric of his pants, he feels like he could cum any minute now just from pleasing you.

As your nails rake against his scalp and your palms massage his head, he begins to feel a strange sensation in his brain. Like your touch is bringing more life into his body. But it's different from last time. His brain tingles as memories begin to flow back to him. Memories of you.

He begins to remember you coming into the store he worked at every week. How he'd get so excited to see you, picking up shifts and changing his schedule just so he could see you more often.

Memories of how beautiful he thought you were but he was too shy to tell you how much he liked you. How he would jerk off almost every night to the thought of you when he'd get home after a long shift.

And how he had planned to finally ask you out. But death took him the day before he could do so.

It all comes back to him. And he can't believe that his face is actually between your legs right now. The girl he's crushed on and obsessed over for more than a year.

He doesn't have to imagine eating you out while stroking his dick late at night anymore. Because now he gets to live it. He may be a zombie now but he doesn't care, as long as he gets to love his favorite girl then he's happy.

"Y/N... Y/N..." he moans your name, barely audible as his mouth is still buried between your thighs.

"G-Gyutaro!" you shout as you reach your climax. Your walls tightening around his fingers, your fists pulling his hair, and your legs almost giving out.

He groans and can't stop himself from cumming too, staining the front of his pants until they're soaked. But that doesn't stop him from continuing. His fingers still slide in and out of you as his tongue circles around your clit.

"Ah! Ok-ok! I forgive you, I forgive you," you plead as the overstimulation gets to be too much. But he doesn't care, he doesn't let up until you're licked clean.

Once he's satisfied he moves his face away and looks up at you with a satisfied yet cocky grin on his face.

It's unusual, something about him seems different. But you don't think about it for too long as you sit on the floor, your back resting against the fridge as you catch your breath.

"That was... so good," you pant, "You did a great job Gyu. Good boy," you smile weakly.

He smirks and looks down between your legs.

Something is... off.

You see him sitting on the floor a few feet in front of you, yet you still feel his fingers inside of you.

His wrist, no it's his hand. It's not attached to his wrist.

You look down with wide eyes to see his detached hand still fingering you.

With an amused chuckle, Gyutaro's hand crawls back to him, and he reattaches it to his wrist.

"Sorry," he blushes, "F-Feels too good being inside you..."

You're at a loss for words. Never did you expect him to do that, but knowing that he can just detach parts of himself and control them freely is kind of exciting.

"I-It's ok," you pull your panties up and try to compose yourself.

All of those feelings he once felt for you when he was alive come flooding back to him. "I... I remember," he mumbles as he crawls over to you and wraps his arms around you. Holding you close and kissing the top of your head.

"What do you remember?" You ask as you lean into him.

"H-How much... I loved you."

It's surreal to him the life he's living now. His death, his resurrection, and his new romance. But it was all worth it to be with you.

[vrystalius]

Trick or treat..?

I suppose it’s too late for that huhu😭 but may I please have your take on Sanemi taking care of a drunk s/o after a (halloween?) party?

Sanemi taking care of his drunk partner

He knew attending Tengen’s birthday part was a mistake. Sanemi never wanted to come in the first place!

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

Again, this absolutely beautiful banner was made by @erexart !! Please, please go check her out! She makes fanarts (remember boxer Sanemi?) and art including her ocs and characters like Kyojuro and Sanemi— I love her comics so much, they are so so cute and I love imagining my own oc in her place XD Anyways, thank you so much for requesting and making this beautiful banner for this fic!

“Sanemiiii, you’re soo serious… lighten uppp, this a party, yeah?”

“Party’s over.”

Sanemi was steadily helping you to lean against his shoulder while his arms were wrapped beneath yours, trying to drag you down the streets, back to your home. He doesn’t step into the role of a caretaker often, but after watching you down drinks after drinks alongside the birthday-boy Uzui, he was already mentally preparing himself to finally pay you back for all the times you took care of him, physically and mentally. It’s the least he could do for you in his eyes, taking care of you while you are drunk. He had already stayed near you all evening, making sure that you don’t seriously overdo it and end up with alcohol poisoning, silently glaring at Tengen for again pouring you another drink. Sanemi was never fond of alcohol drinks and decided to stick to his green tea. Someone has to stay sober and make sure everyone is being responsible, right?

By the time you were stumbling away from the former sound hashira’s mansion, your husband steadied you carefully while you kept trying to wiggle out of his grasp, assuring him that you can totally walk on your own. Dragging you home and making sure that you don’t trip or decide that running off is a suitable option for you as well. You didn’t notice how Sanemi’s grip tightened on you as you complained about going home so soon, wanting to stay a little longer at the birthday party to celebrate more. By the time you two arrived back home, it was way past midnight. Your husband guided you to sit down while he prepared a small meal for you, scolding you to drink the glass of water he handed you slowly but surely, threatingly pointing his wooden spoon at you while standing by the stove.

“You’re so mean to meee! You’re lucky I like your pretty face.”

“Mhm, just drink your damn water.”

It’s a little ironic to him how Sanemi usually is spending his nights beating the shit out of demons, dragging himself home and almost falling asleep in the shower while you scrub his bloody back. Sometimes, despite how exhausted and how much you want to sleep right now, you still drag yourself to the kitchen and prepare a small meal for him so that he doesn’t have to go to bed hungry. You know that your husband would be too exhausted to make something himself, preferring to sleep. Despite how annoyed and pissed he seems with you right now because of how drunk you are, Sanemi still gladly takes care of you.

He always felt like he was taking more than he was giving in your relationship, taking your affections for granted, barely having any time for you due to his hashira duties and never really acknowledging how much you are doing for him. While holding the glass of water to your lips you still haven’t finished, his fingers carefully brushing over your rosy cheeks as a way to gently coax you into finally drinking at least a little bit of water. The quick meal he whipped up wasn’t anything too fancy, Sanemi feeding you with chopsticks while you lazy lean back against the chair, ready to crash into bed and hibernate until the late afternoon. Now you’re thankful for Sanemi dragging you home so early.

A shower he was planning on forcing you to take has to wait until later, you’re basically half asleep in your chair by the time he finished feeding you. Carrying you to bed was much easier than dragging you away from Tengen’s estate, your body basically limp in his arms while he carried you to bed. Your arms were lazily wrapped around his neck, playing a little with the hair on the back of his head while dreamily staring at your husband’s handsome face. My, was he always this hot? Or is the way Sanemi is removing your sweaty clothes just really turning you on? Before you could even open your mouth, your husband carefully helped you lay down properly onto your mattress, tucking you in with the cosiest sheets he could find. You grinned at him.

“What’re ya staring at?”

“The hottest man in the whole world.”

You relaxed under his touch as he ran his thick fingers through your hairstrands, detangling your hair a little while his eyes glossed over your features. Sanemi gave you a small hum of acknowledgement before leaning down to you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. A small giggle escaped your lips as you weakly tried pulling the warm body of your husband closer for a cuddle. He didn’t even try to protest despite him still being dressed in his street clothes.

“I gotta change, bug.”

“Mh, no. Dooooon’t caaaree.”

Sanemi groaned in annoyance but never made an attempt to move away or escape your grasp. The tension in his body slowly began to disappear the longer your body pressed against his. He lazily kicked his shoes off and slipped beneath the sheets, giving up on fighting against your drunk stubbornness.

“Just sleep, will ya?”

“As long as you stay here.”

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he began to smile slightly. He moved closer to you, burying his face into your warm neck, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“I ain’t going nowhere, promise.”

💠

I always feel so incredibly honoured when I receive art for my fics— when I first started posting on tumblr, I set some small goals for me to archive while being active on here: get over 100 followers, get a post to 1.000 interactions, get requests and get my favourite authors to like my works— one of those goals was to receive fanart or art for my works, and the first time erexart offered to make a banner for one of my posts, I can’t describe how happy I felt XD Once I gathered enough (like a goblin), I’ll make a small post collecting every piece of media I received from others— may it be art from you guys or own little fan-works or whatever, I always feel incredibly honoured to receive anything.

I apologise if this may sound desperate or demanding, I just feel like I don’t express my appreciation for you guys enough XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[artdcnaldson]

Tumblr user artdcnaldson do you have any virgin art for the soul while ao3 is down? When it’s back up I’m going to read all ur recs hehehehe

Patrick buying virgin!Art a fleshlight because it's 'the closest he'll get to a real, live pussy'. He does it as a joke, imagining that Art is so repressed he'll just blush and leave it in a box under his bed, or maybe even just throw it away.

And it does stay under his bed.... for a while! But Art gets so desperate and lonely :( It's embarrassing to be a virgin still :(( and maybe he's curious :((

He fits it between a folded pillow, because it seems less obscene that way. His thighs are shaking as he positions himself just right, the toy just dripping lube because he'd gotten a little overzealous with it.

He sinks in and it's so wet and feels so fucking good. It's better than his hand, better than just humping a pillow. It's better, he decides, to actually fuck something, not just jerk off into his fist. He gets loud, it sounds so pathetic. He's sure the people in the next room are pissed.

His entire body trembles as he fucks into the toy, it's taking all of his effort not to just rut into it until he cums. His thrusts are weak and jerky, it's hard to maintain any real rhythm.

"Y-yeah— ngh, fuck!— feels so— mmmphf— your p-pussy feels so good—" He buries his face in his pillow, moans into it, panting, desperate. "Fuck, gonna— nghhh— gonna make me cum—"

He manages two deep, rough thrusts before he buries himself inside of the toy, balls drawing up as he spills his load inside. His cock throbs, giving a few weak twitches as he continues to rut inside, but he's spent.

It's going to be a bitch to clean— he always cums so much, and the thought of cleaning out his cum from inside makes his stomach turn with embarrassment— but he already wants to use it again. It's just too good.

[rowretro]

𝒟𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓎 𝐼𝓈𝓈𝓊𝑒𝓈

✧warnings: mentions of abuse, blood, daddy issues ofc but nothing sexual. Mentions of jealousy-ish

♡synopsis: Riki is your sweet boyfriend, the 2 of you have been dating for 3 years now, you've all had your days, but it seems to him you have the shittiest day everyday. Despite having moved in with him, the way you always go back to your parents home, running about doing errands for a man who always hurts you. The first man in every girl's life that should be a challenge to top off by a boyfriend or husband, was Riki's sworn enemy now.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

"Sweetheart where are you off to?" Riki asked, knowing the answer full well. "I got a certificate for my final piece in art Riki... I'm just gonna show my dad-" she said with a smile as Riki sighed he hated it. How you still believe abuse is just a part of life. How you blame it all on the alcohol instead of the man himself.

All that hate doesn't just come from a bottle, he just lets out the shit he buried deep in his heart. Why won't you get that. He knew you won't listen so he just kissed your forehead "Call me if you need help ok? I'll be as lowkey as I could" Riki assured sternly as y/n nodded. She was nervous. Like a certificate is going to change anything. Art is just another useless thing about her useless existence. She wanted to go home for a different reason.

She wanted to clear out her room in that house. She wanted everything of hers to be out of that building. She wanted to be free from their grip. The abuse, the slut shaming, the hurtful words that made her cry waterfalls though she promised herself she'll never cry. Not even her mother can stand up for her, even if she wanted to.

"You think you're going to last with such a rich handsome man?!... He'll realize sooner or later, he's wasting his life on something so useless. You're a clear anomaly in our family, of course he'll leave you one day. Not even we want you... you slutty thing." Her father scoffed, as he watched her ignorantly pack her things.

"Are you even fucking listening you whore?! this is why I love you sister more." The man mumbled as you froze. SHE was the one who actually helped the family at their worst. SHE was the one who patiently put up with their crap. What did her sister do? go to a better school than you and get higher grades despite being a disrespectful spoiled rat that's what.

What's the big deal anyway? she's leaving "Fine you keep trusting that angel of yours while I go lead a successful life and get rich." she said leaving the room, the man pulling her back by her hair. Was she going to give him the reaction? no. She just silently pulled away. She looked and acted unbothered, and fuck the man was pissed off.

"you're home late- babe you ok? clearly not-" Riki helped her in, blinking as he saw a suitcase behind her "what's this about?..." he asked, feeling a little scared. was she going to leave him? "The last of my belongings... I have no reason to go ho- to my parents house." she simply said as she dragged the suitcase upstairs.

Only three weeks had passed since then, Riki wanted to believe y/n felt free and happy, but he caught her crying on multiple occasions like today. But unlike other days, where he let you get a breather, he wanted to be there for her. So he was. Her crying in his arms, wanting nothing more than him.

"So what if your daddy doesn't like you?.... You have me y/n, my love is way bigger than any man's love and you know it." He said as he kissed her forehead. It's true, all this time she's been moping over daddy hating her. When actually she has Nishimura Riki pouring his love for her unconditionally. Why waste her tears on a piece of shit when she has Riki.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

This is shit bro why tf did I think I cld write fluff?....