#mostly in a desperate attempt to learn how to draw him

[frogintheair]

the vampire that's been living in my head rent free this past week

[giorno-plays-piano]

Metamorph

Part I

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

P.S. Unhinged Aemond, my dear Ewan nation! No physical harm done to the heroine, though.

___________

"Are you ready?" He asks you calmly, but you can see his impatience, the way he restlessly looks at you and back at the door leading to one of the smaller studios he always keeps locked at all times. Aemond can't wait to show you something, some other paintings of his he prefers to hide from others, and you feel both intrigued and disturbed by what you will find.

He is a genius, no doubt. One of the best artists of the century, the critics say, and while your city literally consists of art studios and galleries, people speak of Aemond Targaryen with a weird reverence, and his name is constantly on the ear.

His drawings caught your attention the moment you saw them online, mindlessly looking through your feed. It was hard to explain what exactly made you stop and look at them - even after months of attending his course you still couldn't quite put your finger on it - but you saved the pictures, printed them out, and then was staring at them hanging from the wall for days like you had been hypnotized. The ones you stumbled upon first depicted all sorts of buildings, always only in black and white, overgrown with... something. Flowers, vines, some greenery that looked like flesh and bones, painted in vivid red, of course. It was sort of scary... but also sort of not. It was a work of art, not some background picture from a cheap horror movie. The architecture he chose, they way he drew it as if he was recording his own perception onto the paper, each stroke written with his style, perhaps his very soul embedded in it... It was impossible to describe it with words. One had to see it to understand.

So, you had visited a gallery where his works had been exhibited, and since then you were fully supportive of city's infatuation with Aemond Targaryen. There was no way you could stay indifferent to his art, especially considering your own desperate attempts to get better at drawing.

How could he be so expressive while mostly using just black, white and red paint? Most of the time, he wasn't even painting but drawing, making sketches, that sort of thing. And yet you were obsessively saving and printing all of his artworks you were able to spot online. Some you hang on the walls of your apartment, some - the ones that made you held your breath - you kept in a drawer like you were a dragon guarding your treasure chest. One time when your mom accidentally spotted them you literally wanted to fall through the floor. It was... too intimate for sharing with anyone. Despite the paintings and drawings showcased openly in the galleries for everyone to see, they felt like they were your great secret, your own hoard, too precious to even talk about it, less let people see printed artworks you kept hidden in the bottom drawer of your cabinet.

Who was he, the man who brought these breathtaking paintings to life, you had often wondered. How had he done it? How did he make the red paint so vivid, so expressive and yet not vulgar? How could he lay strokes with such precision, but not the same way most artists did? How did he build his compositions that they felt real and surreal at the same time? What sort of magic was that? Everyone around joked he must have sold his soul to the Devil.

When you saw Aemond for the first time, you thought the same thing because he scared the Hell out of you. First, he wore an eyepatch and had a long, ugly scar crossing half of his face. An incident from his childhood, someone whispered to you. Someone had stabbed him in the eye.

This felt disturbing and surreal, too. Stabbed a child in the eye? What the Hell? Wasn't he from some wealthy, upper-class sort of family?

Perhaps, it was one of the reasons why Aemond seemed so sullen and chilly, his only presence making the temperature in the room drop a couple degrees. Despite his obvious attractiveness, it felt like he was an alligator waiting in front of a crowd of stupid bunnies who came to admire his teeth. Didn't help he was dressed in all black, and both his skin and hair were alarmingly white like he wasn't really a human being.

A stupid suggestion, really.

He'd been through some serious shit, someone kept murmuring you in the ear as you stared at the artist, open-mouthed and frozen in place. His dad was really wealthy, but rumors had it he didn't really care about him or his siblings, and his mother was constantly on antidepressants. Then the incident with the eye-stabbing happened, but it was still shrouded in mystery even with journalists trying to dig up the truth for years. After he grew up, Aemond went to study business and started working under his grandfather. Rumours had it he made some crazy money but started hating his life, ended up having serious issues with drinking, and at one point, he suddenly left everything and disappeared.

Whatever happened then was a mystery, too, and the artists never spoke about it in any of his interviews expect for saying that drawing has saved him. Although nothing suggests he is a former alcoholic and had once been homeless thanks to the immaculate way he dresses, you thought there was something in his face that made you wonder if he actually got better. Aemond seemed... very hostile.

But he'a an artist, too, and you've found all of them weird in one way or the other.

Of course, despite the fact that you've been drawing for years, you've never thought yourself an artist. No, no, you just enjoy it as a hobby, and you're nowhere near people like Aemond Targaryen.

But when you heard he opened a drawing course for the general public, you were so frantic about getting in you swore to yourself, regardless how much it costs, you would get in. Even if you wouldn't be eating for the next few years.

Seriously, it was Aemond freaking Targaryen you were talking about. A literal King! He had been the talk of a month even in the capital thanks to his recent dragon paintings collection that was sold in an auction for a ridiculous sum of money. So what if he's scary and had this chilling-to-the-bone stare? Most successful people you knew seemed at least a little frightening. Besides, if anything, you could just drop out of class.

But if you were brave enough to apply, you could have a chance to actually see him at work.

How did his studio look? What sort of routine did he have? What kind of paint and pencils did he use? How had he gotten that amazing crimson color you were trying to replicate for months without any success? What did he use for inspiration?

Clearly, you just couldn't let this opportunity slip away. You had to try to get in.

Surprisingly, the course wasn't even that expensive, sold at nearly the same price as most other art courses as if Aemond was just like any other artist in the city. The problem laid in his way of choosing the students: he requested to see the artworks of applicants to determine whether he'd take them or not.

It nearly put a stop to the whole thing because you were terrified of him seeing your drawings. What would he think about an amateur like you? How could you even dream about coming to him instead of improving your technique first with some other, way less known artists? He was Aemond Targaryen, for God's sake.

But you knew he might never take other students again. He might even move to the capital that would give him much more than your city ever could. What if he just disappeared? It could have been your only chance to see him work.

When he accepted you along with 9 other students out of more than two hundred participants, you thought you were dreaming. How? Why would he? You were far from professional. Goodness, you weren't even planning on becoming a true artist, and it felt like you were cheating on people who did. So, how could he take you, knowing that?

Not that you were going to drop out before the start of the course. Over your dead body. You literally spent the entire week shopping for new materials even though you knew he would give you suggestions later. But how could you show him your pencils and brushes that looked like your dog chewed, ate, and then threw them back up? You'd rather jump from the roof.

___________

Alas, on the first day of the course, you stood there among other students, holding your breath as you watched the door of the studio open. Aemond Targaryen was going to teach you his art.

Part II

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

[rinsvg]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩— Tease, Armin Arlert

content & warnings: female reader, she/her pronouns, face seating, the usage of good girl, slight nipple play, armin being a big ass tease. Reader being embarrassed easily.

Summery: Armin is a quiet person by nature, and you’ve learned that through the countless conversations you’ve had with him, just nodding along while you ramble on and on about anything and everything.

He’s always been like that, and you’ve grown accustomed to him not being as vocal as others during day-to-day activities—that is, until night comes and he becomes the biggest tease in the world.

His fingers barely touch your skin as they ghost across it. You'd be lying if you claimed that you hadn't attempted to mimic the way he touches you and the way his long, deft fingers cause you to writhe. He dwarfs every ex-lover of yours. Your hands don't feel the same as before. It almost makes up for his flimsiness. Just almost.

Your face is cupped by his calloused hands. You lean in even more as you are drawn in by the warmth of his skin. You sense yourself gradually caving in to him.

He reclines. If it weren't for the evil-sounding giggle he lets out, you might not have noticed. He observes as your eyes enlarge. Your brows furrow in anger.

"Did you want me to kiss you?" He asked.

You mumble, "stop teasing," .

Armin gives you a swift peck on the forehead, than your jaw's curvature.

He squeezes your thigh and says, "It's my job to tease you; I enjoy seeing you writhe."

Armin brushes your hair away from your eyes while stroking it with one hand. Goosebumps start to rise along your shoulders at the soft contact. When he takes his hand away, you clearly pout.

“Please,”you beg.

He answers your pleas by grabbing you and giving you a forceful, desperate kiss. Armin bites at your lower lip until you allow him to stick his tongue into your mouth to feel how moist it is. He has a faint caramel flavor dancing on the top of his tongue from the candy he was eating earlier. He looks as though he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Your sweatpants are pulled down to reveal your already-wet pussy as they creep up your sides, stroking the delicate flesh of your breasts and hips.

One of his hands glides in between your knees while his broad, calloused fingers draw arcs over your clitoral area. You almost melt under his touch. Your chest was pressed against his in the most advantageous posture, with your knees firmly placed on either side.

He is fueled by every groan and gasp that is nearly allowed to escape your lips but is stopped by his tongue. Your face sinks into the crook of his neck as you breathe in his aroma. He smells mostly like sugar lychee and Angle soft laundry detergent.

You whimper as he removes his hand because you miss his touch. So close to your own freedom, yet so far away. He extends a hand to shake. You obediently put his fingers in your mouth and circled them with your tongue.

“Strip.” He orders. You comply.

The first thing to come off is the shirt you stole from him. You slowly throw it aside after pulling it over your head. He notices you are not wearing a bra underneath, and the corner of his lip twitches. Your nipples' delicate skin is gently pulled and pinched by his hands as they palm at your breasts. They are enthusiastically squeezed by calloused hands as they gush over their roundness.

Then come your sweatpants. You must briefly move away from his lap in order to slide the object down your legs. His hand gropes appreciatively toward your behind. He gives you a swift slap while smiling at the way your ass wiggles and admiring how you let out a small gasp. You wouldn't describe it as painful, yet it stings. The crimson mark he left behind is covered by his hand.

"Look at you, my good girl." His deep chest chuckles are audible. It is impossible to deny the heat that radiates up to your face. Your hands rise to cover your face in embarrassment. Your arms automatically cross over your chest. It's not like he hasn't seen your body before.

“Don't hide yourself sweetheart." He gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the lit candles reflects off your skin. “I want to see you.”

You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.

His tongue is poised to display his adoration. He guides your hips to rest on his chest as he reclines quite ungracefully. His blonde hair gathers around his head as he smirks while saying his next words.

“Be a good girl and ride my face.". 

There's no hiding the way your body heats up. From chest to forehead, you’re warm. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face and thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.

His tongue slithers around your clitoral area, dipping into your folds. To your clit, he presses kitten licks. Armin's touches are never just what you need, but they are always agonizingly close. Just like him, his touch is ephemeral. In order to get him to where you want him most, your fingers are buried in his hair.

“ you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine loudly.

He pulls you down into his face as his hold on your thighs becomes more firm. A hot tongue showers adoration on your yearning clitoral area. His deft tongue makes delicate circles around your genitalia while nibbling and sucking at the tender bud. Other than your own groans, you can hear a man who is happy with what he is doing. With his head between your thighs, he could pass away content.

As you pursue your own release, you slam down into his face. With each dexterous flick of his tongue, heat builds low in your stomach. You've become nothing more than a writhing, rambling mess, calling out his name as if it were a prayer.

The knot in your stomach finally snaps.

Armin holds your hips down while you experience your climax on his face. The overstimulation takes some time for your lust-drunk mind to realize. His tongue continues to dance over your clitoral area with eagerness, seemingly oblivious to your undulating form. Toji's face has a sparkle in the shadowy light on its lower half. His messy hair is sticking out in all different directions from your frantic hold. His face breaks out in a dreamy, sly grin. You don't frequently see him looking that calm.

You are wobbly and sensitive due to your post-Organism haze. His hands caress your reddened skin as he scans your figure with a hungry gaze. Though he doesn't express his feelings in the most verbal manner, what is happening in his thoughts is seen in his eyes. All at once, but also piece by piece, he takes you in. What his mouth won't say, his eyes will.

“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.

You swallowed hard, and you knew you were in for a long night.

Author note: this been in my drafts for months, I also just realized I haven’t wrote nothing in almost two whole months school must have really been kicking my ass 😂.

[desultory-novice]

Meta Knight would be a hard knocks mentor, wouldn't he? Especially when Noir is someone a lot more sharp and aware than Kirby, who he already trains by sending waves of hostile knights at betweenchonor duels. He also has that darkness and pain in him that I sense Meta Knight knows all too well. Well enough that he sure doesn't get the (relative) kid gloves Kirby gets.

Oh god, yes! If that's how Meta Knight trains Kirby - and this is mostly to keep Kirby ready in case of disaster and prepare them for their destiny (we assume...?) - then training Noir, an angst-ridden, self-destructive teen who is about five seconds from throwing himself off the nearest bridge on a good day, is definitely going to have Meta Knight use the "break you down and rebuild you from scratch" style of teaching. Which, frankly, Noir could probably use.

[Cont'd + Other Apologies Asks]

His life undeniably took a major turn for the worse after that fateful exhibition trip, but his cup runneth over with deeply suppressed stresses long before then. He's in desperate need of a mentor to help him escape his dangerous mental trappings of "...ensuring Adeleine's happiness and safety is all I have to live for."

It would not be fast. I'm pretty sure he's starting this new life out at negative levels of self-worth, and white-haired Noir still has unsettled issues in regards to Dark Matter, Adeleine's fate, and the New World project, but he's not a hopeless case either. The Rainbow Sword wouldn't have chosen him if he was.

...And for Meta Knight, who almost certainly has his own grimdark past, I can only imagine there's something very personal at stake for him to save this particular life: chosen by a magical sword during his darkest hour, everyone he loved and cared about dead, close associations with the powers of darkness and looks a little like a monster? Yeah, I'd say Meta Knight sees a bit of himself in Noir. And we know how hard Meta Knight is on himself...!

Yes, yes, yes! All this exactly!

Noir is incredibly awkward around her at first. Not trusting himself. Not ready to open up that wound. But Ribbon, like Adeleine, is a strong girl. She doesn't balk from Noir's stand-offishness.

The first time he cries in front of her (and he cries so much more easily now. He hates it. He'd never cried in front of Adeleine, no matter how hard things got...) it is unexpected. He checks their map and checklist, assuming aloud that Kirby drew it. 

When Kirby says it was actually Ribbon who drew it (1) and she giggles that she thinks drawing is fun, he breaks down so hard even Dedede puts down his meal to give him a soothing pat on the back.

...Once Noir slips down to a reachable height, because, of course, he still dwarfs the lot of them. Kirby is about the size of a throw pillow to him. But that probably makes him all the more huggable. Noir ought to learn to give Kirby more hugs.

-

(1) Thanks to Driftwood for the Ribbon's drawing idea

-

Oh, one thing worth mentioning while we're talking about white-haired Noir and friendships with the Dream Landers...

Unlike regular Noir/Dark Matter Swordsman, this Noir has a very strained and awkward relationship with Gooey. Noir has fear and trauma related to Dark Matter, and Gooey being a cutesy, innocent, happy Dark Matter that is still very clearly some kind of eldrirtch creature unsettles him for a variety of reasons.

He just can't bridge the gap between that and what happened to his sister. Sometimes it makes him wish...for something that didn't happen. Other times it makes him afraid for what could have been. He does his best to be kind but... it's hard for him.

Then I have done my job!!

I love Elfilin. Adore them! And I can admit that Fecto Elfilis has a very lovely design that makes one potentially want to sympathize with and humanize them and do cute things with them. But Fecto Elfilis also attempted to destroy TWO planets solely to kill Kirby. 

And Fecto Forgo is that same Elfilis only devoid of their mercy, their sympathy, their compassion, their joy.

It was humans who drove Forgo crazy, yes. But not every individual human participated in their torture. Yet Forgo has never once shied away from taking their wrath out on everyone they can get their hands on.

Forgo forced Leongar to put his tribe to work kidnapping creatures they could work to death in the labs. Forgo went on to shatter Leongar's soul to try and render him dead for good upon their loss.

Hyness told Zan to kill him if he ever went too far. Even Star Dream, being a computer, can be said to have sought the eradication of all life without malice! Forgo's situation is pitiable. Their actions, especially in the Apologies universe, are not.

(Nice use of green font, btw!)

---

Random aside:

It is only now, as I head into the end of the Shiver Star arc of the Apologies AU that I remember the classic 80s vampire movie The Lost Boys. And I suddenly realize that Noir's transformation is very old-school vampire-coded. (IE: back when becoming a vampire was treated as frightening and bad, not cool.)

:puts "Cry Little Sister" on loop:

[1loer]

@barack-fa: omg kazuichi and K1-B0 interacting would heal me.... kazuichi would desperately want to disassemble him while K1-B0 is trying to talk him out of it in terror🗣️❗ I finally did it!! Sorry for the wait;;; This one was super fun to write!! K1-B0's free time events in V3 are so silly, and having a reason to finally watch his Talent Development Program runthrough- the pairings he has in that are CRAZY LMAO. Kazuichi is like my favouritest guy ever thank u for suggesting him and someone so silly to pair with him! Their dynamic is so funny, but also I think they could learn a lot from each other uwu u know. if Kaz ever calms down enough for 2 seconds OIGAOIHIOE Thank u for the request!! I hope u like it!!

Buried in the back of Hope’s Peak Academy, the clock on the wall of the workshop ticked. 

The workshop in Hope’s Peak Academy was, as one may suspect, a hectic, messy, and oppressively loud place to be. What may be surprising to an outsider, however, was that the noise was not due to the work that happened within the workshop, but mostly from the people doing the work. The Ultimates who tended to make home within the workshop were rowdy, obsessive, and typically crass in some way or another. The space was not the place for the faint hearted, unless they had very good noise-cancelling earphones and a strong stomach when it came to smells. 

Kazuichi Souda would personally class himself as none of these things, despite what others may say and think from first appearances. But he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the workspace he shared with the others. Sure, it wasn’t his garage back home, but his garage back home also didn’t have the technology that this workshop did, so it was give and take, and Souda was willing to make adjustments for home comforts and personal preferences for how things are stored and managed to gain access to these things. It wasn’t like he was a control freak or anything. It’s just easier to work when things are where you expect them to be, you know? 

But today, unlike any other day, that noise and mayhem was gone. 

Today, Souda learned for the first time in his 3 years of being in Hope’s Peak Academy, that the clock on the wall ticked. 

The workshop was large, stretching wide enough that, even without the usual noise, if two people stood on opposite ends of the room, they’d have to shout to hear each other, and even then, they’d still have to strain to understand what was being said as the noise echoed between the two. Stainless steel workbenches stretched across the middle before stopping to allow space for the lifts, pits, and cranes needed to work on vehicles. Industrial shelves sat in orderly rows along one stretch of the room, and that was where the ‘orderly’ nature of them ended. Someone had attempted to label each shelf and area for ease of access. It had worked for maybe two weeks. The opposite side held a large expanse of paned windows that filled the room with brilliant amounts of natural lighting. Or rather, they probably did at one point when they weren’t covered in dust, debris, glue, oil, and other such liquids that were probably best left unidentified. Streaks cut through the dirt on some, a noble attempt at cleanliness (probably from the same person who did the labels, if Souda was to guess), others held greasy finger drawings that would make his grandmother cry. Well, it would if Souda’s grandmother was a normal grandmother, he’d assume. Actually, his grandmother could probably draw something bad enough to make even someone like Iruma blush.  

Speaking of. 

Hearing the workshop this quiet was strange. It put Souda more on edge than the typical irregular banging and clanging of tools and equipment usually did. He couldn’t help but feel like he was suspended in that moment in a horror movie, right when you know a jump scare is coming and you’re just waiting for it to happen. Souda always got scared by those, no matter how prepared he was. 

The reason it was so quiet was because Souda was actually here early. Before school started. Which was also unprecedented. He felt like rubbing it in the face of everyone who’d ever doubted him. But it wasn’t just for any old reason that he’d scraped himself out of his dorm room bed and out into the cold, dewy morning before anyone should legally or morally be up and ready and doing anything. It was for a very particular, very special reason. 

Miu Iruma was AWOL. And had been AWOL for a while now. And would be AWOL for a while to come, because she was on an important trip to an exhibition to flaunt her latest invention to investors that Hope’s Peak were very interested in getting under their thumb. 

What this meant was something extraordinary. It wasn’t that Souda could finally exist in the workshop without being bullied for being a ‘wimpy virgin cuck’ (that’s contradictory. He’d told her as much. She’d only laughed harder at him) or a ‘pissbaby pussyboy’ (that was hypocritical coming from her, who’d nearly pissed herself when Mondo had gotten too nervous around her the last time he was here) or perhaps, if she’d used the other insults already, a ‘second-hand scenecore fleshlight’ (Souda didn’t even know what ‘scenecore’ meant). 

What it meant, was as it stood, Souda was the only person on campus with hands-on and applicable knowledge in electronics, engineering and mechanics. Which meant that in the case of, oh, let’s say, a certain robot student whose professor lived hours away, even when taking the shinkansen, ran into certain troubles with regards to his circuitry, Kazuichi Souda, Ultimate Mechanic, was the only person available to help said robot student with said issues. 

What it meant was that this was the best day of Kazuichi Souda’s entire life. 

So, of course Souda was up early. Mostly because he could hardly even sleep the night before, tossing and turning like a kid on Christmas eve. Now he sat waiting, hands alternating between tapping a fast, consistent rhythm on the top of the stainless-steel worktable with a loose screw he’d found left there from the night before, and tucking his hands tightly between his knees once his hand grew too tired of the tapping, only to go back to the tapping because without it he was focusing on the clock which currently was torture. 

What type of terrible luck was it that, out of all people, Iruma was the one who got a robot in her class. Souda wanted to blame Komaeda for it, the bastard. He swore that the guy's weird luck thing was contagious. The fact that there was a whole walking, talking, fully sentient robot wandering around his school and the only person that had been allowed to see inside him was someone like Iruma was sickening. It was a sick, disturbing, horrible joke. It was despair itself. Surely that went against Hope’s Peak’s whole thing, right? Like it just was totally, completely evil and unfair! He’d even tried convincing that programmer chick from the class below him to help him make his own cool robot to shove it in Iruma’s face. He didn’t know what he did, but she started crying and then people got mad and Kuzuruyu dragged him away and yelled at him and Nanami talked to him gently about how enthusiastic he could get without realising but he knew she was disappointed which made everything worse and it was horrible!

Souda was convinced that he’d graduate before ever getting a good look at whatever was going on inside that robot. It kept him awake at night in a cold sweat. But no matter what he did or promised, Iruma wouldn’t let him look. Something about her ‘delicate feminine touch’ and something gross about fingering and lubrication that Souda was sure he’d need a therapist to help him work through hearing. 

But all his waiting and wanting and yearning, for once in his life, was finally going to come to something. Today was the day. 

Maybe this is what Komaeda was always going on about. About hope following despair or whatever. If it was, he could see why that guy was always so emotional. You could make a religion out of this. 

The clock ticked. Souda stopped tapping his heel, picked up the nail, and started tapping it against the table again. The rhythm eased his brain, and he focused in on it, changing the beat up every now and again, faster, and faster-

The door creaked. Souda almost fell out of his chair he’d turned around so quickly. 

“Sorry for the intrusion.” Came the call from the crack in the door. Then, like an angel through the gates of heaven, he entered and bowed, “Hello, Souda.” 

Be normal be normal be normal be so fucking normal- 

“YO!” Souda shouted with a stiff two fingered salute. 

“Thank you for seeing me so early,” K1-B0 replied politely once he’d made his way to Souda. 

Souda brushed his worry away with a frantic wave of his hand, “NO WORRIES.” 

K1-B0 leaned back a little, wincing, “Uh, Souda, my hearing modulators are fine. You don’t need to shout.” 

Hot blush bloomed over Souda’s face, “O-Oh! I was, uh, just testing!” 

K1-B0’s eyes widened, “Oh! My apologies.” He laughed a bit awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers in front of him and looking across the workshop, “Sorry. I’m a bit nervous. I haven’t had anyone service me other than my dad and Miu.”  

Souda’s eyes widened. He stared at K1-B0, on the edge of being slack jawed. No one else? No one? Oh, this just kept getting better. Souda wasn’t one to settle, but he’d take third in this instance any day. 

Souda took on a confident pose, his nose in the air as a wave of something smug joined the cacophony of excitement swirling in his chest, “Well I can’t say I’ll be as good as Professor Idabashi, but I can say for certain that I’ll be a million times better than Iruma- No, a billion!” He chuckled and shrugged, “You never know, after you’ve experienced this type of care, you’ll never want to go back to Iruma again! I’m a busy man though, so I’ll have to see if I can fit you into my schedule, of course.” He sniffed and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jumpsuit, fighting off the smirk that threatened to destroy the blasé attitude he was attempting to give off. 

It was good enough, because K1-B0 bought it. 

“Uh, sure! Thank you for your help.” 

Souda waved his hand again, brushing away K1-B0’s overly polite gestures. He was usually pretty happy to be addressed with such formalities by his underclassmen. It made him feel vindicated for all the time he’d spent using that stuffy polite talk to bastards who didn’t deserve it just because they were older than him. But he could put that aside for now if it meant K1-B0 would have a better impression of him, 

“No need to be so formal. Come on down and have a seat.” He tapped the table, going for something confident and friendly, but he did it way too loud and way too quickly. He snatched his hand away, suddenly feeling very hot underneath the navy Hope’s Peak jumpsuit he was wearing.  

K1-B0 didn’t seem to notice, and obediently sat where Souda had directed him, then waited patiently. 

Now, all that was left was to fix him. The big moment. 

Souda asked him some more questions about the difficulty he was having. Souda wasn’t as proficient at dealing with new machinery off the cuff like this as Iruma was. But the thing about machines was that they were basically all the same. Or at least, that’s what he found. Sure, his speciality lay in all things automobile, but even cars had a certain amount of robotics you had to work around. Rockets and other military equipment even more so. It took a little getting used to, moving from machine to machine, but in the end, he always found himself somewhere familiar. Bolts were bolts, and motherboards and insulators always worked the same, at the basest level. He could build from that, and usually figure it out from there, like one big, greasy, dusty, metal jigsaw puzzle. 

He’d probably have an even better understanding of exactly how K1-B0 worked if he could really be let off his leash here. He’d give anything to slowly take him apart, piece by piece, until each part lay in front of him, then slowly but surely work through the puzzle of building him right back together again. 

But apparently that was ‘creepy’ and ‘weird’ and ‘stuff you’d hear the killer say in a slasher movie’. 

Whatever. Those people could go suck eggs. He knew his intentions were pure, it wasn’t his fault if everyone projected such a violent image onto him all the time. 

He tongued his sharp, pointed teeth at the thought, deciding to throw the matter away for another time. This was way more important. He wouldn’t let himself get distracted and miss a second of it. 

K1-B0 sat in front of him motionless. A new sound joined the ticking of the clock, and it was the quiet whirring of fans and electrics just about reaching his ears from K1-B0’s chest. It sent a small shiver up his spine. He glanced at the screws keeping the front panel in place and attached the correct sized head to his screwdriver. 

He held his breath strong in his chest, rolled his stool forwards, and made first contact. 

K1-B0’s metal was high quality. Souda held back a sigh at the feel of it under his hands as he stroked his hand down it. Low on induction without sacrificing too much with regard to its strength and thickness, meaning it was still pretty lightweight. A really good metal for this sort of thing, though Souda could think of others that would’ve done just as good a job or even better. He wondered why this one had been chosen over the others. Professor Idabashi surely wouldn’t have been stopped by something as simple as cost. Even just this far and he already had so many questions and ideas his mind was racing as fast as his heartbeat. He couldn’t wait to open him up. 

“Uh, Souda?” Souda’s head snapped up. K1-B0 stared down at him with circular LED eyes, permanently half lidded to take the unnerving intensity of a wide-eyed stare away, making him more approachable, more human. With the way he was staring at him now, Souda was glad for it, “Are you okay?” Souda’s expression was blank enough that K1-B0 continued unprompted. He pointed at him, “You’re shaking.” 

Souda almost dropped his screwdriver completely. He fumbled, grasping for it and for some sort of reasonable thought or explanation for his behaviour, “Ah- Uh-” 

“Is it because you had to wake up early?” K1-B0 asked with a tilt of his head, “I apologise, I don’t know what it’s like to under sleep. Is it similar to when my batteries are low?” Then, he smiled, sitting up with his hands proudly on his hips, “Of course not that that happens often, because my battery life is awesome for a robot!” 

“Hell yeah it is!” Souda yelled, getting his confidence back now he had something to talk about, he started working again. The magnetic end of his screwdriver caught onto the screws, and he made quick, nibble work of undoing them. It was such easy work, he didn’t even need to think, leaving plenty of room in his mind for new ideas and concepts to flourish, “I mean, i could totally make adjustments to make your battery life even better than it already is-” 

K1-B0 gripped the edge of the workbench he sat on, “N-No thank you!” 

“What about speed? You know you could so easily attach some engines to the backs of your shins- Oh man, if I got my hands on the right ones, I could make you keep up with Formula 1 cars!” 

“T-Thats unnecessary!” 

“Or flight! A rocket powered robot! A robot with a jetpack-” Souda squealed in excitement, an untamed giggle escaping him, “That’d be even more amazing-” 

“N-No!” Before Souda could fully remove his front panel, K1-B0 jumped to his feet, making Souda stumble backwards to make room for him, his stool rolling across the room from him. K1-B0 turned away with a huff, “Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea-”

Souda’s heart dropped, before flying back up to settle in the back of his throat,  

“W-WAIT- WAIT! NO, DON’T LEAVE! PLEASE-” K1-B0 stopped, looking over his shoulder with a torn, sceptical look on his face. Souda scrambled, as if grasping at the air could help him, “I-I mean-” The seconds stretched on, no excuse came to him. He gripped at his head and growled with frustration before throwing down his arms, “AW come on, man! What do you mean you don’t want a rocket powered flight mechanism?! Are you crazy!”

K1-B0 scoffed, “Am I crazy?!” 

“You have all this potential to be so fucking super awesome!” Souda continued breathlessly, “I could do crazy things to your body-” The words left him unfiltered, and only when they passed through his teeth did he really hear himself. K1-B0 stared at him with a cold, slightly disgusted look. Blush bloomed over his face, splodging red hotness all over him and drawing further attention to his unintentional innuendo, “N-N-N-N-NOT LIKE THAT-” 

“IT FEELS LIKE IT IS LIKE THAT!” 

“IT’S NOT, IT’S NOT WEIRD- I-” Souda pushed at his hat, pulling it back and forth in a panicked motion, before exploding, “I-I’M NOT ATTRACTED TO CARS-” 

K1-B0 shrank away from his confession, “P-Please leave me alone-” 

NO

Souda sprinted to get in front of K1-B0, hitting the floor onto his knees, sliding a little with the momentum, “PLEASE, I’M SORRY.” He clasped his hands in front of him and begged. “DON’T LEAVE! GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE, PLEASE!”  K1-B0 looked down at him, and Souda did his best to pull his biggest, wettest puppy dog eyes, the ones even Hinata couldn’t say no to, and prayed their weight would translate over to something like K1-B0.

Not as effective as it was on Hinata. Noted. But K1-B0 seemed to be troubled, and he could work with that. He scrambled to his feet, adjusting his cap and waving his hands in front of him apologetically, “Okay okay, I won’t suggest anything.” He counted on his fingers, “No eco-fuel turbo engine, no hydro powered jetpack, no space navigation capabilities...” He lingered on that last one, voice trailing away as he looked pointedly into K1-B0’s eyes, shifting between both in search of even the slightest spark of interest. 

He didn’t find any. 

“...Tough crowd.” He coughed, fussing with his cap again before letting out a heavy sigh, “Look, I just- I wanna fix you. You wanna be fixed, this can work, we can do this. I’m sorry I got excited, okay? I’m…Told I do that a lot.” His gaze trailed away, his mind following suit. Then, he snapped back into it, clearing his throat and brushing it off, “A-Anyway. I really do wanna help, okay? I’m sorry I freaked you out. Really.” 

K1-B0 stood in silence for a moment. His digital face not showing any hint of what he was thinking, as blank as a brick wall. Souda slowly felt his hope fading, his heartbeat becoming heavier by the second. He chewed his lip anxiously, fussed with his fingers. Then, 

“Okay.” 

Souda couldn’t contain his excitement, punching the air with his success with a whispered, ‘Yes!’. As K1-B0 made his way back to the workbench he’d been sitting on before, Souda felt particularly lucky. He made a note to buy Komaeda a pack of Blue Ram for the next time he saw him.  

Souda tried his best not to speak after that, not any more than he needed to anyway, lest it mess it all up again. 

He undid the screws, placed them neatly into a small, plastic box used to keep track of nails and screws, clicked his knuckles and stretched his fingers, then finally, removed the front panelling of K1-B0’s body. 

He bit his lip to restrain the whining giggle of excitement he wanted to release. It was better than he even imagined. The wires were grouped so neatly, the insulation on them colour coded and perfectly wrapped to promote efficiency and safety. The fans he had working as lungs were a bit dusty, but nothing at all like they should be for how often K1-B0 was running and how long there was between cleanings. He’d have to tell that programming chick about this. He made a note of the type of filters that were being used to tell her later on. He could probably use a similar method on his cars. Maybe Oowada would let him try it on one of his bikes. If he could filter this well, maybe he could make the engine output much more ecofriendly while he worked on his hydro powered engine and-

His fingers were shaking. He took a breath and held it, bit his lip harshly, and got back to work. 

It was silent in the workshop, outside the sound of his work and the clock and K1-B0’s chest cavity, now slightly louder without the muffling provided by the front panel. Souda hardly noticed it, too caught up in the excitement of what he was doing, wanting to memorise every single second he spent inside of K1-B0.

“I didn’t mind that you got excited.” 

Souda snapped his head up, “Huh?” He’d been so lost in the experience he’d almost forgotten K1-B0 could speak at all. 

K1-B0 stared down at him, then looked away again, “I didn’t mind that you got excited. I…Actually really like that you got so excited over me. I wish more people would.” K1-B0’s expression turned a bit stern, lending weight to his words his monotone way of speaking didn’t provide on its own, “You just weren’t listening to me. That made me feel unsafe.” 

Souda stared at him, because he didn’t know what else to do, “...Uh-” He looked down at his hands, as if he could find answers there. He didn’t. He swallowed, then laughed nervously, “...Woah, that was, um, pretty direct.” 

“You needed a clear answer so you know what you did wrong, though, right?”

“Um.” Souda got back to work, muttering quietly in response, “I suppose…Yeah. I did.” 

“It’s just easier this way.” K1-B0 replied simply, “I know it’s not what a normal teen boy does, but social situations are made incredibly difficult for no reason because of beating around the bush like that. This is more efficient.” 

Souda breathed a laugh through his nose, “Figures a robot would think like that.” 

“I-IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M A ROBOT. THAT’S ROBOPHOBIC.” 

It was the most energy K1-B0 had put into his voice the entire time he’d been here. 

Souda snatched his hands up in surrender, “Jeez I-I’m sorry! I take it back!” 

K1-B0 let out a huff of indignation, then relaxed a bit, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table they wrapped around. 

“And I appreciate the consideration, but I don’t think I need any modifications to be cool.” he said, something harsh in his voice despite the way his body relaxed.

Souda stared at him, waiting for a punchline that never came. 

“...HUH?” 

K1-B0 seemed to lose confidence, hunching his shoulders a bit, “I-Is it really that surprising??” 

“Well, I mean.” Souda stumbled over his words, itching under his cap with the end of his screwdriver, “I think you’re really impressive anyway…” 

“But?” 

Souda’s eyes sparkled as he leaned into him, “Don’t you wanna be cooler?” 

K1-B0 actually seemed to consider it, which made Souda a bit excited. “Well…” Souda hung on even this single word. K1-B0 seemed to notice, and it made him a bit embarrassed, “There’s certainly things I want to get better at, and things I…Don’t feel so good about.”

“Really?!” 

“Yes.” K1-B0 nodded plainly, “I still have a lot to learn when it comes to replicating being a teenage boy, especially with regard to emotions. It’s all quite new to me. I am also jealous of people who can improve their physical strength.” 

“But- But that’s what I’m saying!” Souda adjusted himself on his stool, scooting closer despite how close he was anyway, “I could make you super strong! Much stronger than you are-”

“No, no, that’s not the point!” K1-B0 waved his arms, wiping Souda’s ideas from the air in harsh negation, “It’s the effort they put in, on their own. No amount of my own effort will change how strong I am. I could train, but I’d never reap the benefits of it. My body stays the same. I just think it's an admirable trait of humans. But it’s something I could never replicate.” 

“But… That’s crazy!” Souda shouted, grabbing at his hat as he jumped to his feet, the wheels on his stool rattling as it skidded away from him, “You get to be strong without the hard part.”

“That’s not it!” K1-B0 insisted. Souda stared him down, hoping to try and find some sort of understanding, but coming up blank. K1-B0 just stared back, resolute, his conviction unwavering. 

Souda sighed, his body dropping with the action. He grumbled to himself as he collected his chair, adjusted it, and scooted back in so he could keep working. 

“I suppose I just…Don’t get it.” He eventually mumbled, back wrist deep in K1-B0, talking as he fussed with his wires with precise, dexterous fingers, “If I were a robot- heh- I’d have every modification I could get!”

K1-B0 hummed, “...I suppose that makes sense for you.”

“What does that mean!?” Souda snapped, glaring sharply at him as he continued to work. 

K1-B0 didn’t seem phased by his offence, “Well, you do that now, and you’re a human, so…” 

Souda’s eyes widened, and he went quiet. He looked at his hands, black nail polish chipped to the point anyone else would have just cleaned it off. But, he didn’t. He’d probably just end up letting Mioda paint over it. “Uh…Yeah, okay. I guess you’re right.” 

Souda rooted around in his toolbox for a brush as K1-B0 continued to speak, “I just don’t think I need all that extra stuff to be impressive. I’m already impressive, just by being me.” Souda looked up at that. He stared at him and suddenly, despite his talent and his experience, he couldn’t make any sense of the machine sitting in front of him, “It’s just frustrating that no one else can seem to see that. It makes me…Unsure.” 

Souda felt…Quiet. Suddenly, the excitement that had thrummed through him this entire time settled, fizzling out of him. His mind filled not with ideas, inspiration, and buzzing but…Quiet. Static, still, quiet. 

He continued to work. He tried not to think about it. 

“...Well, there’s something we can both understand.” 

He heard K1-B0 tilt his head, “Do you not think you’re impressive just as you are? Is that why you do all this?” 

Souda snapped himself back and dropped the brush. 

“Oh look! We’re done.” He pushed away from the table and stood up. He ripped a cloth out of back pocket to wipe down his hands. Habit, more than anything. Maybe comfort. K1-B0’s insides were stunningly clean. 

“Oh!” K1-B0 said, genuinely shocked, “That was quick.” 

The surprise in his voice was enough to warm Souda up a bit, he grinned, clasping his hands as he pestered him, “I’m good right, did I do good?” 

“Let me check.” K1-B0 closed his eyes, expression stern, before they shot open again, lines of code and odd flashing lights running across the panels that worked his eyes and mouth, a loud, thrumming buzz sounding out of him. Souda was no robot, but he figured he knew exactly how K1-B0 felt in that moment, excitement shooting through him like an electric charge as he watched K1-B0 work. Then it was over, and K1-B0 blinked back into normality, a calm smile on his face, “Oh that’s much better! Thank you, Souda.” 

Souda giggled, then shot him a thumbs up, “No problem, easy peasy.” He nudged K1-B0 and winked, “Quicker and comfier than Iruma too, right?” 

K1-B0 tilted his head and smiled with a shy twist in his mouth, “Eh…” 

“Pfft, who am I kidding.” Souda laughed as he picked up K1-B0’s front panel and placed it back where it was supposed to be, “I’d never compare to her. If I was you, I’d rather be serviced by some hot chick than some sweaty guy like me.” 

“That doesn’t really matter to me.” 

Souda was glad he’d just finished tightening the last screw, because he immediately dropped his screwdriver, “WH-” 

K1-B0 stood up, unphased by Souda’s panicking and picking up his schoolbag, “Thanks again Souda. You’ve been a great help; I really appreciate it.”

It was over. Even something like this had to end. Disappointment filled him, drowning any of the excitement that had previously filled him as K1-B0 walked away. 

Souda worried his hands in front of him, fussed with his hat, as his thoughts nagged and nagged until, 

“Hey-” He choked as soon as he said it, anxiety cramping his chest. K1-B0 stopped and turned, looking at him expectantly. Sweat ran down his back as the morning sun beat through the dirt smeared windows and into his back. He felt none of its heat. “Uh,” His voice broke, he swallowed. He tugged the cleaning rag between his hands a bit, then shoved it back in his pocket, scratching at his neck, “Maybe…We could do this again sometime?” 

K1-B0 stared at him with that same, stiff, disgusted expression from before. 

Souda flushed hot, deep red, “N-N-NOT LIKE THAT!” he yelled, reaching out a pleading hand. It was for naught, because K1-B0 began to laugh, 

“I know, I was just joking.” Souda let out a long sigh of relief, laughing himself, strained and breathy. He swallowed again, hard enough it kind of hurt. After a moment, K1-B0 shrugged, “Maybe.” He said, then his smile turned sharper, “Or maybe we could just hang out, without you fiddling with my insides.” 

Souda’s shoulders dropped, and he bent down to pick up his screwdriver, 

“...Yeah maybe.” he muttered, rolling the screwdriver between his hands. 

“H-Hey!” K1-B0 shouted, stomping his foot with discontent, “You should be more enthusiastic! A-A robot want’s to be your friend! Isn’t that cool?!”

Souda considered it, poking the screwdriver into his chin. Then, his smile grew, “...You know what, I guess it kind of is.” He jumped to his feet, storing the screwdriver in his pocket and approaching K1-B0 with his hand outstretched, “Sure, why not.” Souda said with a boyish smile as they shook hands. Souda didn’t let go when it ended, pulling K1-B0 a little closer as he grinned, “Maybe then I’ll be able to convince you on the army-grade missile launchers.”

“What would I even need those for?!” 

“You never know! You’re thinking way too practically!” 

The sound of the bell tore through their bantering, and Souda finally relented, letting go of K1-B0’s hand. 

K1-B0 sighed, then laughed, shaking his head,

“See you later, Souda.” 

With that, he was gone. 

As he sat alone in the workshop, it was no longer as silent as it had been. There was the sound of commotion from outside as people rushed to the Main Building, but also the strong, heavy beating of Souda’s heart. Souda sat, staring at his tools, at the space K1-B0 had just taken up moments prior and let it all sink in. 

He’d worked on the Ultimate Robot. He can finally say that with full pride. He’d upgraded the Ultimate Robot. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit far, but who was going to know if he stretched the truth a little? It wasn’t too far off anyway.  

He felt like he’d stolen some electrical charge from K1-B0. His static still running through his veins from where he’d tangled them between his wires. He had an extra pep in his step, a glow about him that made it hard to stop smiling. 

Maybe, as well as a pack of Blue Ram, he’d buy Komaeda lunch, too.  

[hotcocoaandstripedsweaters]

OC-tober Day 22: Kisser having a difficult conversation

Recently, I’ve been working on a Star Wars fic with a higher than usual number of OCs. The fic isn’t posted yet, but I thought I might put a few of these out there.

Once again under a cut, what can I say

The original post is here by @icannotreadcursive.

Day 1

~+~

“Oh vod’iiiiikaaaa,” Kisser sing-songed in the manner of annoying older brothers everywhere.

“What.” Melt snapped. Her voice was muffled by the pillow she was attempting to smother herself with.

“Is that any way to talk to your favorite batchmate?” Kisser clicked his tongue in faux disappointment.

“Go. Away.”

Kisser would have continued to pester her, but instead his gaze caught a PADD on the floor, clearly flung in a fit of pique. He picked it up to find it unlocked and opened to a dense bit of legalese. He sat on the bunk, dangerously within kicking range.

“Do you want to tell me about it and keep your place on the page or let me figure it out on my own and lose it?” he asked.

Melt grumbled, “It’s not even about that. You won’t get it.”

“Fair enough,” Kisser settled in, locking the PADD and setting it aside. “I still want to help.”

Melt threw the pillow at him, but sat up. She scowled, but her eyes were tellingly red-rimmed.

“How is it,” she bit out, “that there are seven sisters in the 501st, but somehow I’m the only one in the fucking 212th?” 

Kisser winced. “Bad luck?”

Melt scowled at him, but accepted it. “Intellectually, I know that.”

“But it doesn’t feel fair.”

“Nope.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Before Kisser could figure out what to say, Melt spoke again.

“It’s like…I hear stories about other sisters who came out and because they were visible, other sisters realized what was up with themselves or finally felt like there was a word for it and they found each other. That happened for like…four of the 501st’s? But here, I’m the only one as far as I know, and it gets lonely, cause none of the rest of you can really relate and I don’t have anyone I can talk to who just gets it without me needing to explain.”

Kisser frowned. “Sounds like it blows.”

Melt snorted, nudging his back with her knee. “Yeah, it blows.”

“You can’t even punch the problem,” he said.

That got a bark of laughter. “I dunno,” she mused, “punching a Kaminoan might make me feel better.”

“I can draw one on the punching bag at the gym?” Kisser offered.

Melt properly giggled at that. “I’d love to see you explain that to the Commander.”

“If it lasts long enough for the Commander to see it, you aren’t punching hard enough.”

They didn’t go to the gym, though. Instead, Melt picked the PADD back up off the desk. “Did you know the legal requirements for a species’ eligibility for citizenship–besides, you know, approval by two thirds of the Senate–are sentience and sapience?”

Kisser desperately reoriented himself to the new conversational track. “Nope.”

“Do you even know the difference?” Melt teased, slightly too sharp but not hurtful–to Kisser, at least.

“Nope.”

“Sentience is about having sensations and emotions, sentience is about thinking and learning, basically. That’s the short version, anyway.” Melt highlighted a portion of the legalese as she spoke, like that was going to help Kisser any. Maybe it was just to have something to do with her hands.

“Makes sense,” Kisser said, mostly just to confirm he was listening.

“But that means they have to test for these things without being obviously specist,” Melt handed over the PADD, which Kisser politely pretended to skim. “So one of the tests is about extant socio-cultural structures and the capacity to interrogate them–not whether it’s punished to the point where no one does, that actually helps to prove it’s possible but gets into Sophont Rights issues.”

Kisser blinked, “Is that why the Kaminoans are so convinced we’re not sentient? They think we can’t philosophize?”

Melt laughed, “Kind of seems that way, doesn’t it? Anyway, an example given of this type of interrogation is ‘individuals assigned socio-cultural roles questioning, rejecting, and/or otherwise changing their assigned designations.’”

Something clicked into place. “Like gender?”

“Like gender.”

“So, by their own rules, we’re sophonts. And you’re literally proof.”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p,’ “Like, we both already knew, it’s not a surprise to literally any Vode ever, but–proof positive. I could be Exhibit A. Me!”

“Damn,” Kisser breathed. “I see why you got mad.”

“Yeah.”

~+~

Day 23

[pmpmyread]

Bento Box Blunder

A/N: My last-minute entry for the JJK Foodies and Goodies challenge created by @tsukimefuku! Pairing: Kento Nanami x Female Reader Summary: You’d always admired Kento Nanami from a distance, even harboring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Then one day, you stole his lunch. Content tags: SFW, fluff, gratuitous mentions of food. Read on AO3

The day you stole Kento Nanami’s lunch distinguished itself with an unusual spike in cursed spirit activity, resulting in a flurry of briefings, prep work and drop-offs for auxiliary managers such as yourself.

You’d just returned from one of said drop-offs, hastily grabbing your packed bento from the break room fridge, slumping onto the first bench you found by the campus greenhouse. A pang of hunger now gnawed at your empty stomach, outweighing your fatigue in the process.

You finally opened the box, finding an arrangement that was more akin to what one would find in an artisan catering box, in the form of a ground chicken, scrambled eggs and spinach meticulously layered atop a fluffy bed of steamed rice. An appetizing meal, no doubt.

Only it was not yours.

You swiftly replaced and re-opened the signature lacquered elm finish lid, as though the action would magically replace its unfamiliar contents with the meal you’d diligently prepared the night before.

You groaned as the realization dawned on you: in your fatigued stupor, you had somehow managed to mistakenly take off with one of your poor colleagues’ lunch. As if on cue, a buzzing notification on your phone confirmed that you wouldn’t have the time to return to the staff room and rectify this in time for your next briefing.

After suffering through the remainder of your extended shift, combatting both fatigue and hunger, you finally made it back to a now  mostly empty fridge, with your original bento box nowhere to be found. Still a bit scatterbrained from the eventful day, you desperately attempted to process the meaning of all this. Had your colleague taken your lunch in exchange? Had it even left your home in the first place?

“You must be the culprit returning to the scene of the crime.”

You turned to the source of the distinct voice, and found yourself face to face with none other than Kento Nanami.

Prior to this moment, your interactions with the Grade 1 sorcerer had been limited to the occasional greeting politely exchanged as you ran into each other within the campus’ common areas. He kept mostly to himself and you pegged him to be a serious, no-nonsense guy.

And you had robbed him of his lunch.

“I am so sorry, I totally got our boxes mixed up!” you meekly replied.

“I don’t fault you, I can now see how that would occur,”  he stated, bringing up a lunch box that matched the one you were still holding, lightly tapping them together before drawing his gaze back up to you. “After all, these are identical.”

You’d always admired Nanami from a distance, even harbouring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Now however, you suddenly grew aware of his stature as he towered over you, of his softer-than-expected demeanour and of the large calloused fingers that held onto your bento box.

Get it together, you thought to yourself, in a desperate attempt to centre yourself back to the exchange at hand. He spoke before you got the chance to do so.

“I was mostly curious to learn the identity of the talent behind this homemade meal. Did you make this?”

“I did, last night,” you reply cautiously, still taken aback by his compliment and its implications. Had he tasted your cooking?

As if reading your mind, he clarified, “I did of course leave your meal untouched, tempted as I was not to, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the sauce was made with, if you don’t mind sharing? It has a lovely aroma I was unable to place.”

This certainly was not the direction you’d expected the conversation to turn.

A flutter of excitement replaced the pit in your stomach, as you described the steps in making your spicy peanut sauce recipe, a dish you’d learned from your mother and had since committed to memory. Nanami occasionally cut in with clarifying questions, borne out of what you now discerned to be genuine interest.

This went on for a few minutes, until one of your colleagues popped into the room to grab a stack of reports, an interruption that served as a natural stopping point to an otherwise passionate conversation.

Nanami handed you your original box, stacking it onto the one you were carrying before tugging on the latter in a maneuver to trade with you. Possessed in a moment of boldness, you tightened your grip on his box in resistance, the movement inadvertently caused your fingers to brush, resulting in your breath hitching ever so slightly as you lifted your head up to meet his now inquisitive gaze.

“I could bring you some if you’d like,” you offered.

“Pardon?”

“Let me make you lunch? I was going to make a fresh batch today anyway. I’ll bring it tomorrow? It’s the least I can do, to make up for today.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’re able to register the thrill of a boldness that surprised even yourself.

He ponders this for a few seconds before finally acquiescing.

“Let me clarify that you absolutely do not owe me anything, but if you insist, and only if you promise you’re not going out of your way…”

“Promise, it’s no bother at all!”

That evening, you replayed the surreal interaction in your mind as you meticulously prepped, cooked and packed for your two lunches.

The next day, he graciously accepted your offering. The delightful micro-expressions that lit up his face as he savoured the fruits of your labor more than made up for the previous day’s ordeal.

Less than a week later, Nanami prepared a bento box of his own to share with you - a novel and delicious take on a chicken and egg oyakodon, that he remixed by way of adding some of the spices you’d shared in your own recipe, resulting in a fusion of both your cuisines, a gesture emblematic of reciprocity that was decidedly bringing the two of you closer. In the following weeks, without explicit consensus, you slipped into the weekly habit of taking turns preparing lunch for each other, eating together whenever your schedules allowed for it.

It did not take long for you to realize the extent to which Nanami was a foodie, and a very opinionated one at that. His otherwise reserved demeanour disappeared momentarily, if only for the duration of lunch time, an openness you easily matched, elated at the privilege to break up what were otherwise long and often draining work days in such good company.

Culinary themes easily dominated your lunchtime conversations as you broached upon everything from tastes to flavour profiles to fusion cuisine to kitchen equipment. Slowly, surely, and unwittingly, you both peeled back your layers over the comfort of your delectable shared meals.

Eventually, your discussions veered into other topics. On one particularly busy spring day, Nanami had left you his contribution to the shared meal of the week in the break room fridge: maple barbecue chicken with a side of glazed sweet potatoes, a stark departure from his usual, savoury rice-based meals. He’d informed you that he would be unavailable at your usual lunch time as he’d be working a later shift, and as such you’d planned to eat alone. As it happened, your tasks had pushed you to take an exceptionally late lunch.

You hadn’t expected to spot him alone, sitting on a bench by the training grounds, in a deeply pensive state.

You had half a mind to leave him be but your feet took you to him, and you seated yourself next to him at his quiet invitation. You thanked him for the lunch, and he expressed that he was glad you enjoyed it. You weren’t unused to comfortable silences in your conversations, but this one carried an unusually heavy charge.

After a while, he finally spoke. “It was my best friend’s favourite dish. He died 10 years ago today.”

Over a shared sweet dish that had once bonded two young optimistic best friends, you took stock of a depth in his eyes that appeared to broadcast a silent internal war struggling to break through to his surface as he unpacked the consequences of the perils that inevitably came with the nature of your duties. You listened as the 7:3 sorcerer reminisced on tender memories that punctuated his childhood friendship with Yu Haibara, like how this maple glaze had first tasted too sweet to his liking but eventually grew on him.

The day you were assigned on your first mission together tested many of your preconceived beliefs. The team consisting of Nanami, Ino Takuma and yourself as support, was assigned to a standard exorcism mission. In theory, you knew that the two of them were more than capable of handling it. And yet, somehow, something about your proximity to Nanami as he was about to cross the curtain you’d just raised made the dangers feel more real than ever.

Right as you whispered an inaudible word of caution, Nanami turned to you with a small nod and a reassuring smile.

In that very moment, it came to you more as a shock than a surprise that you no longer regarded him as just another colleague or friend.

That you had completely fallen for him.

The mission went without a hitch and was even completed far ahead of schedule. Ino left ahead of you, leaving you with Nanami who pointed out that you were  a short walk from one of the bakeries he had recommended you, and suggested you have lunch there.

You learned that the appetizing casse-croûte ordered at his recommendation had been a chance discovery, the outcome of a desperate quest to replace a favourite treat that had been discontinued during his former corporate days. You bantered over a philosophy he shared about the tolerance for life’s little despairs being a hallmark for adulthood, to which you playfully countered that the appreciation of creature comforts was more important.

“I will concede that this particular little despair may not be the best example, seeing as it eventually led me to my new favourite bakery.”

“Exactly, it’s called serendipity, Nanami. In a similar way, it was the little despair of mixing up our lunch boxes that led my enjoyment of this delightful casse-croûte!”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “You’re citing a situation where your own mistake led to your own benefit. I don’t think your logic holds.”

“Okay, sure. But all in all, aren’t you glad it happened?”

He dropped his gaze, fixating on the remainder of his coffee for a moment, before raising it again to meet your eyes, his expression indecipherable.

“I am,” he finally replies, quietly.

You took a bite to conceal your reaction, convincing yourself that you had gotten carried away and had been too forward, that you were feeding into your own delusions, that you should dial it back.

A few days later, Kento Nanami proved you wrong, by formally asking you out to dinner.

The reservation he’d secured for your first date was at a new dandy restaurant you’d seen advertised and had been eager to try out, on their highly coveted opening night, no less. However, the promise of a “memorable 5-course experience” quickly revealed itself to be little more than puffed-up TikTok fodder, all hype and little substance, as evidenced by the tiny portions of subpar meals.

You brushed off the situation as being more comical than disappointing, a sentiment Nanami was unable to bring himself to mirror at first. It was only long after leaving and several attempts to convince him that the burden of such a questionable choice rested squarely on you, having been the one to fall for the establishment’s deceptive marketing that he finally loosened up, eventually joining you in laughing it off. Together, you took turns in delivering scathing critiques and commentary on the experience, turning the ordeal into a nice humorous moment that stretched long after he’d parked back in front of your apartment.

Not wanting the evening to end just yet, you invited him up, and over what you later coined to be ‘redemption ramen’, the two of you candidly chatted until the early hours of the morning.

Some months later, over a truly memorable 5-course meal, this time of his own creation, you agreed to become Kento Nanami’s wife.

On the tail end of a particularly hectic week, you'd sensed that your fiancé could use a break. So when the young Yuuji Itadori approached you, practically begging you to convince ‘Nanamin’ to agree to let him show off his signature homemade meatballs, you jumped at the timely opportunity.

And thus, the three of you found yourselves in Kento’s kitchen that very evening, an occasion that granted you a front-row seat to the lovely bond that had formed between the two. You observed as Nanami seamlessly switched between the roles of mentor and student, diligently following Yuuji’s instructions, all the while using the exercise to dispense kind lessons in patience in response to the teen’s intermittent bursts of ardor.

Over a warm meal consisting of spaghetti and homemade meatballs, as you watched the man before you offer earnest congratulations and praise to his beloved mentee, who, in turn, proudly beamed with radiant joy, you couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful a father your future husband would be.

You hadn’t realized the reverie you’d been lulled into through the monotony of your continuous stirring movement until the gentle voice of your now-husband snapped you out of it.

“Darling? Are you listening?”

The two of you were in the middle of cooking together, in a moment of much anticipated domesticity that closed out an otherwise chaotic week. You had just moved into your new marital home a mere few hours ago. Boxes were still sprawled around the living space. While ordering takeout would have been the wiser choice given the circumstances, you’d both agreed to indulge in your common craving instead - a hearty homemade beef stew.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I was saying that I forgot to get some paper plates. We’d have to unearth the dinnerware from god knows which box, which I don’t think either of us has the energy for. I’ll run out and buy some.” he trailed off.

“Oh wait, I believe I may have just the thing!" you exclaimed as you handed him the reins of the spoon "Take over for me?” He watched as you sauntered towards a discarded reusable bag sitting by a pile of boxes, fishing out a pair of matching bento boxes that you’d insulated from the chaos of packing for this very occasion.

“You don’t mind using these, do you?” you asked, holding them up like trophies.

He returned your smile with a warm one of his own. “Not at all.”

Special thanks to @tsukimefuku for creating the challenge that finally pushed me to post my first JJK fic!

Thanks to @positive--space for helping me with the visuals!

Taglist: @strawberry1042 @darkfaerietails @Jay220a @fattybattysblog @suguru-nugget @senseifupa @aleigant @gigiculona @rahuratna

Thanks for reading! 🩵 | See my Masterlist

[valleyfthdolls]

📚📖🍬 :3

📚- how much book lore do you intertwine with the games?

I do this pretty minimally. I personally don't think there's a lot of reason to believe it all takes place in the same world. I think of it like how the movie is to the novel trilogy, in a way. A lot of the same events happening, but in different ways. Kinda doomed time loop coded in that way. It's always doomed to happen like this no matter what kinda deal.

All that to say, I think of each continuity as its own self-contained story, but I LOVE to draw parallels. "Eleanor is the springlock suit in SL" theory my beloved... bc that makes Eleanor Scrap Baby who is the most messed up and deranged and desperate Baby... "Mike in You're The Band is Fazbear Frights's Michael Afton theory" my beloved... robot Charlie as a stand-in of sorts for The Puppet my beloved... you get what I mean. It's all different versions of the same tragedy to me

📖- what's the general timeline?

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooookay. Sometime in the 70s- Fredbear's Family Diner opens. They create those fancy ass springlock suits and whatnot. October of 1982- Afton parents split up. William is volatile, abusive, and potentially alcoholic, and Wifey Afton (as my friend Max once called her) can't handle it anymore. William potentially kills Wifey and buries her in the woods. Halloween of 1982- Party at Fredbear's Family Diner. Henry drops off Charlie and comes back later to work, wearing the Fredbear suit. Doesn't see when Charlie is locked outside in the rain. Doesn't see when William kills her. Fredbear's closes. This is also where Midnight Motorist happens- Cassidy locks himself in his room, breaks his window and runs off. Later in 1982- Fredbear's reopens. With it, a sister location is being planned- Circus Baby's Pizza World, where the animatronics have an AI that can learn from watching and mimicking others' behaviors. This AI is probably powered by remnant, so it's in its early stages atp. William has some goddamn questions about how Charlie is possessing the Puppet and wants to recreate those results. Fredbear's goes forth without issue, but Henry refuses to let them scrap the Puppet because he's attached to it as a proxy of Charlie. April of 1983- Circus Baby's opens. Elizabeth dies, Circus Baby's closes. Cassidy was a witness to Elizabeth's death, but because his story is that she got eaten by a giant robot, no one takes him seriously. June of 1983- Bite of 83 and FNAF 4. Cassidy's body is kept in a box, then taken to Fredbear's and put inside the animatronic as a sort of last-ditch attempt to "put him back together". It works and William is like HOOOLY SHIT as he realizes he doesn't even need these super controlled experiments to get this result. He just needs these fucking kids to be in pain and miserable and then he kills them. Fredbear's closes, but the Freddy Fazbear chain opens. Afton family (Mike and William) relocate to Hurricane, the nearest Fazbear establishment. The Puppet is refurbished and repurposed. The Mimic AI is used in Fredbear and Spring Bonnie to mimic the performers so kids can't tell when someone is or isn't in costume. 1984-1985- Susie's dog is run over, maybe by Afton. Susie is murdered. Jeremy, Grabriel and Fritz are murdered. Charlie tries to stop Afton and fails. Probably doesn't happen all at the same establishment, but the possessed animatronics are mostly kept together. The Freddy's in Hurricane closes. 1987- Another Freddy's opens. Somewhere between 1985 and now, Henry commits suicide and William goes into hiding. November 13, 1987- Bite of '87. A police investigation determines no wrongdoing on the company's part, and all charges are dropped. The establishment remains open. Slowly, it downsizes due to budget issues. 1990- 7 years after Elizabeth's disappearance with no leads, she's declared dead. William reappears to Michael specifically and tells him to go put Elizabeth back together and make sure she's working right. Michael gets scooped, survives. Becomes aware of what's happening in the establishments and what his father did.

1993- FNAF 1. Afton gets springlocked, Michael comes in contact with Cassidy through the logbook. Somewhere in the 2000s-2010s- Fazbear Ent. files for bankruptcy. Privately, they hire a game dev to make a series of short games about the "rumors" of the missing children. Other things that happen between 1993 and FNAF 3: Baby gets kicked from Ennard, remakes her body, it's possible that the missing children end up possessing Ennard/Molten Freddy based on the evidence that implies They're In There but I have no idea how they would get in there Anywhere between 2015 and 2023- Fazbear's Fright opens based on these same rumors. Has arcade versions of the games. Michael becomes a nightguard. Uses the games to free the children and sets that shit on fire. Later that year, Henry (probably a ghost or something) brings all the animatronics together. Burns that shit down, killing all of them. Late 2020s- Fazbear Ent. rebuilds. Creates more stupid pizzeria chains and a VR game compiling all of the games from the 2000s-2010s. When creating the game, Spring Bonnie's Mimic AI is used and it creates Glitchtrap. The Pizzaplex begins creation. Early 2030s- Pizzaplex opens. Vanny becomes taken over. Kills off the therapists, infiltrates the system, and gets the animatronics to mimic the original Mimic. Only Glamrock Freddy avoids this. Several Pizzaplex employees are killed, including Cassie's father. 2035- Gregory escapes the Pizzaplex and frees Vanessa. They lock the Mimic inside the bottom of the Pizzaplex. It then manages to lure Cassie down there.

🍬- random headcanon of your choice

I saw someone talking about how Cassidy could've been considered "missing" even after the bite. their theory was something along the lines of if Cassidy was comatose and dying in his own home, which FNAF 4's dreams could totally support, and then when he died William brought him back to the pizzeria and put him inside Fredbear, well, obviously everyone would know William had taken the body and done something with it. But if he'd actually worn the Spring Bonnie suit while taking Cassidy (who people might not have known had died already as it was happening within the Afton house), then the identity of this person who abducted the founder's poor dying son from his own home would be unknown, and surely it wouldn't be Afton, because why would he put himself through that grief. When the founder's son, the victim of the tragic bite of '83 was one of the abducted children, it essentially cleared Afton of suspicion, because again, why would he put himself through that? I didn't explain it well, but it explains how Cassidy would end up in the Fredbear suit (if he's literally in there, which I've seen debated but I think is probable), how William avoids suspicion, and why Cassidy may be considered a missing child.

However, I do also like the theory that Charlie is the fifth missing child bc of the way she's always shown aligned with the missing children in a way Cassidy isn't.

[batwngs]

mornings with DICK are usually a slow start, at least for him. he most likely would be sleeping when you're getting ready for the day, having only gone to sleep a few hours earlier. on those days where you have to leave before he can get up, you usually a mug out for him to make coffee, and (with time permitting) small, heartfelt notes of "i love you"s, "have a good day"s, and cartoonish doodles.

but on those few days when you both don't have impending responsibilities in the morning (with these being far and few in between), you both sleep in a bit and sort of take your time getting out of bed. you both would share giggles, exchange glances, share the softest of kisses; during these moments where you wish time would freeze, you always somehow find yourself holding him (and him holding you at some points), drawing invisible musings on his arms with your fingertips, and gently losing yourself in him. even when one of you try to leave the comfort of your shared bed, the other pulls you right back in.

"five more minutes," dick would say.

he would have his pleading, yet drowsy half-smile, while he gently held and tugged at your hand so that he would not lose you to the day.

"five more minutes," you would repeat, as you slide back underneath the covers, returning to your earlier position with your arms wrapped around him.

for BABS, she would probably get up before you to start working, gently and quietly slipping out from under the covers without too much of a sound as to let you sleep for another hour or two. when you do get up and see her bathed in her computer’s glow in the darkened room (despite the sun desperately attempting to peak in) you would move around the apartment opening up the windows/curtains and making her some breakfast (as she most likely only had coffee)

"good morning, love" you would say to babs with your slightly husky voice still waking itself from slumber as you place her warm cup of coffee (just the way she likes it) next to her and plant a kiss to her temple.

"'morning. sleep well?" she would respond. and the two of you would share a gentle chuckle, the morning conversation rolling into what babs was up to so early, what you each had planned for the day, and any thought that came to mind. she would stay typing away at her computer, sometimes silence or her (very entertaining) quick quips following her while you would start on some chores, watch tv, do some of your own work, or read a book.

in this way, the two of you would mindlessly talk to each other throughout the morning while you both did your own things together.

like babs, I think JASON would also be the one that gets up first. he would wakes up hours before you, because he had this terrible habit of using the night for naps and the afternoon for sleep, unless you hold him close to your sleeping form the minute he finds himself under the covers at night.

in the morning hours, though, he would mostly be doing random chores and errands. he says he does it to "fill the silence until you're awake," but you suspect it to be an entirely different reason. in actuality, jason is still learning how to love. by doing little tasks--washing the leftover dishes, taking out the trash, picking up the mail, tidying up your shared living space--he tries to not only busy himself but to show you his love, as if through the simplest of actions like wiping clean the kitchen counter, he places little reminders that "yes, I am here! yes, i love you!" of course, he would never tell you this real reason

when you do wake up, you would find him already working on breakfast, a silly apron you purchased on impulse draped over his robe. you would slowly, groggily make your way to jason, who stood by the stove, where you would hum good morning and maneuver around him to make yourself some tea. as you would wait for your tea to steep, you would turn to him, take off his reading glasses (yes! his reading glasses; you find that he wears them to read the instructions on the boxed pancake mix as well as his latest literary endeavor, which sat alone on the small dining table) and place a gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose.

from there, you find the morning blurred with your shared laughter in the kitchen, not because someone made a joke or did something funny, but because in the face of a love like this, laughter is the only answer.

CASS's mornings with you are bit different from the others. with her, you both generally find each morning to be lazy, late mornings where both you don't get out of bed until around noon. especially since she works late into the night and with either you working afternoon/evening shifts or your classes starting late in the day, you and Cass always have mornings free to catch up on each other's presence missed from the day before. 

when you both do eventually roll out of bed, you find so much of your mornings to be shared--if not sitting or laying down next to each other, its spent dancing around one another. you both end up in your cramped bathroom, with her in the shower and you brushing your teeth or doing your morning skincare routine (and setting out some for cass too). you both waltz your way into your kitchen as you both decide on what to eat, whether to cook something or pull at the store bought breakfast items (it usually ends up being cereal, but you both love to dance around the idea of something new and fall back on each other)

at the end of it all, the two of you end your morning dance with bowls of colorful cereal in hand either on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table or on each other, watching the latest installment of the telenovela cass loves, or on the fire escape watching the clouds move across the sky at their slowed pace as the neighbors and stranger pass by street corners.

I think, for the most part, all their morning routines would be accidental, but they eventually became so essential to the day that its absence might ruin it all. even in their accidental nature, it was also very purposeful 

cleaning out my old inbox, thank u for the ask @70shorror <3

[victimized-martyr]

i dunno if i’m doing this right… but for the kyman ask thingy… 17, 25, 31?

17. headcanons, just give us some headcanons. anything.

edit: This is super specific and I’m very picky on this but— Kyle is straight. Terminally. Irreparably. He is attracted to Girls and Girls only on all levels. but, because South Park loves to torture Kyle, his first and only stable, most consistent relationship is with a DUDE and that DUDE IS CARTMAN. Kyle has no idea how it even came to be. He doesn’t understand and Kyle is such a logical person and is at risk of driving himself insane any time he tries to wrap his head around this notion. He’ll ask Stan and Kenny what it feels like to be in Love and to know the indications he should pursue a relationship on the rare opportunity he gets to go on a date with a girl, and while on the date with said girl he keeps their advice in mind and, yeah, sometimes he’ll come across a girl that ticks all those boxes but for some reason it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Oddly, he ends up recognizing his desires and sensations not in his dates, but in cartman. and that’s when he knows he’s fucked up. He’s comparing all his heteromantic dates to THE Eric Cartman Hjfkgkkffj

Kyle is the only dude in the show that’s never had a gf for long and w/ anything I write/draw I wanna maintain that. Kyle gets no Bitches. He gets Cartman tho. So, just deal w/ it Kyle, m’kay?

Kyle and Cartman fight irl but are always texting each other across platforms. Cartman is a heavy emoji user, Kyle is more conservative with them. They correct each other’s grammar to piss each other off.

Kyle’s got big brother instincts so as they get older, he expresses a willingness to help Cartman when he’s hurt (even when…. Kyle was the one to deal the blow. But whatever) He buys Cartman’s favorite bandages and has them on hand at all times.

Kyle loves pinching Cartman’s cheeks. They’re his favorite stress toy (aside from Cartman’s man bewbs. but that’s for when they’re older), and the squeals he makes in protest are criminally adorable.

This is from one of my previous tags, but Kyle desperately needs hobbies outside of like, the three things he’s always done. so Cartman and Stan drag him to musicals to expose him to “Culture”. Kyle complains that “musicals are overly sentimental and gay”. Stan drops any further attempts, but Cartman is a persistent if not an infectious guy, so it’s bc of him mostly that musicals grow on Kyle over time. Getting Kyle to appreciate musicals is one of Cartman’s finest achievements. (Kyle’s very fond of The Producers)

Kyle, by complete accident, comes across multiple playlists Cartman has made of Kyle. Playlists for when they’re in a rut and Cartman needs to vent, a playlist for their casual cooking sessions, a playlist that’s about him in general. Kyle feels guilty for invading Cartman’s privacy like that, and never brings it up. But Kyle thinks of it often in private and, god, does he feel loved.

Kyle’s a freak in the sheets yo, learning to match his pace was a sharp learning curve for Cartman. literally a matter of survival. that’s all i’m gonna say. actually jk let’s develop this further. bc i need to articulate this and i DONT see it anywhere else and i might be the only one with this opinion but whatever. TW south park shenanigans ahead:

Kyle grew up in a household where his parents had a healthy, loving sex life and Kyle was NOT afraid to get involved in their marital affairs, not cuz he was inappropriately exposed to it, he just… got involved out of self appointed duty to his family and his savior complex. (for example, his insistence in getting his dad a “ner-rection”because he saw how it was affecting his parent’s relationship, or Kyle sitting his parents down and lecturing them on infidelity in Insecurity ). He has a positive, if not pragmatic view of sex.

Cartman resides on the opposite end of this spectrum. He has a history of being assaulted by men and is humiliated by his mom’s whoredom. Despite growing up exposed to her sex, he’s unable to discern pleasure from pain. Canonically, he interprets Liane’s moans as cries of pain. Cartman views sex as something inherently degrading, as means of exerting power over others, his own sexual fantasies are of him being taken advantage of and coerced to submission like what the FUCK this man will NOT willingly dive into sex with Kyle when he realizes he caught feelings. Or even before he catches feelings. Damn, THAT especially. Rip to 90% of kyman fanfiction out there but I’m sorry, Cartman would not. This paper cutout mofo’s got trauma for days.

At the start, these two are NOT compatible in bed because this hurdle is probably the biggest cartman will ever have to face. Cartman is so, so lucky he has someone like Kyle to teach him and be patient with him and walk with him in healing from that damaged perception. Honestly?? I don’t see them getting shrekshual off the bat, I hc it takes time for them. But once they (slowly) get into it, it’s fireworks dude. It’s a huge asset to their relationship fr, emotionally and physically. (this is why i INSIST cartman’s a “bottom”. Bc with Kyle having better knowledge + practices, Cartman’s got no choice but to follow Kyle’s lead. and like?? relinquishing control and being loved in that manner makes cartman feel safe in ways he’s never experienced before?? it’s almost a religious experience for him)

25. favourite (canon) kyman moment

AAAA no don’t do this to me! I can’t choose! My fav changes from day to day!

Um, rn I’m in love with this scene in Faith Hilling:

ah just *chefs kiss* Cartman and Kyle in sync with their weird ass roast. AND, to top this all off, probably one of my favorite kyman interactions ever (it’s so small but it means so much to me), is Cartman leading Kyle away and is able to anticipate holding him back from unleashing his Kyle Wrath @ Stan and Kenny. It’s honestly the uncanny levels of intuition they have for each other that make such delicious moments like this. It’s hilarious. It’s drama over somethn dumb. It’s Kyman 🤌🏼

31. how do you think, in canon, kyle and cartman REALLY feel about each other?

🧍‍♂️ oh boy, umm

To put this in simplest terms, Cartman and Kyle care about each other more than they realize. Though, Yes, there is genuine hate.

Cartman drives himself crazy with jealousy over the things Kyle has that he doesn’t. He finds reasons to hate Kyle in order to feel better about himself and in order to feel powerful (and on a smaller level now, to get back at Kyle for when he didn’t know how to fight back in s1) Seeing someone as perfectionistic and annoyingly self-righteous as Kyle go all crazy and take the bait in his challenges is narcissistically cathartic.

On Kyle’s end, he goes crazy over how impervious to change Cartman is. Cartman seems to operate on nonexistent morals, he lives shamelessly, and Kyle simply cannot comprehend that. it bothers him and is why he fights Cartman on even the smallest things (though, as of the covid arc, Kyle’s growing weary of challenging Cartman in this manner sooooo) Kyle has always seen Cartman as a spoiled brat that is allergic to the words “no” and “don’t”, and feels it’s his responsibility to knock him down a peg.

And whether they like it or not, there is genuine love (broship love rn) because they’ve been through so much together, they’ve obsessed over each other their entire lives, they’ve rescued each other in secret out of fear of showing vulnerability, and DO hang as friends. So to summarize, like… in canon, they feel highly complicated things for each other. But those feelings have always been reciprocal and intense.

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

[adhdgwen]

Stolas and the hole he's dug himself into

This is probably part one of a series but let's go with episode 7!

Okay so we've finally reached the part where the "transactional fucking" is going to pose a problem to the development of stolitz relationships.

We saw hints of this happening through the previous episodes.

i briefly talked about how stolas's desire to draw blitzo out of the "transactional sex" zone was kinda met with resistance in episode 6 here

i also talked about stolas's development in his relationship with blitzo here and how he's been slowly learning from his mistakes. then there's the way blitzo has always viewed their relationship which was briefly touched upon here.

And i gotta tell you .. episode 7? wowza. was not expecting that. BUT LET'S BREAK IT DOWN.

episode 6 kinda went in depth on Blitz's views about their relationship especially with the hallucination (my personal interpretation of that here) but episode 7 mostly focused on stolitz.

we see him sad, eating cereal, watching a sad drama, relating to the person on screen whose only desire is to be loved and then! blitzo calls. He scrambles to the phone. He puts on this fake high pitched voice and his whole fucking demeanor changes. Blitzo. is the highlight of Stolas's life, and I kinda assumed that but that was made really fucking clear to us this episode.

it's an act on some level. this is a deeply sad bird demon who is desperate to be loved and more importantly, loved by the imp he adores.

And the Blitzo seemingly offers exactly that to him. A date! Their first date! He's excited, he's flustered, he's happy. he's trying so hard.

He's the one who recognizes that this is their first date, Blitzo doesn't seem to give much of a damn past interrupting millie and moxxie's date time.

And well.

the date goes horribly. From the get-go, it's obvious Blitzo is distracted. Even before asmodeus, fizzerolli, and verosikka dumped all that unaddressed trauma on him, Blitzo is at the edge of his seat, attention elsewhere. All attempts Stolas makes to get his attention falls flat, even when ordering.

But Stolas perseveres, He orders all the fucking wine. He attempts to strike up conversation about Blitzo's job (again! learning! ) and even after the whole fuckerdoodle that was asmodeus embarassing him in front of the entire club at Ozzie's, he still reaches for Blitzo's hand.

But this is where we come to the hole.

Stolas has spectacularly made one of the most obvious errors in their relationship (which kinda makes sense if you buy into the theory that this is actually Stolas's first relationship where feelings are involved.) He's assumed that sexual affection = romantic affection. He had mistaken their "transactional fucking" for an actual relationship, and with every sexual innuendo he makes he digs himself further into that hole.

Stolas's attempts to bridge this gap, appear to Blitzo as lies. He sees it as condescending, as fake, as a means to an end. And the end is the sex.

This is the third episode in a row we see Stolas have multiple conversations with Blitzo without the end goal of sex, and Blitzo continues to attempt to "cut through the bullshit" by bringing it right back to sex. And Stolas letting him, not understanding that sexual affection =\= romantic affection, appears to prove him right each time.

And in this one instance, this episode, where Stolas attempts to put his foot down, attempts -for what feels like the first time- to stick solely to romantic affection, Blitzo can't see it. He can't accept it as it is, because in his eyes, Stolas does all this to get something from him. Their relationship to him has always been driven along by their sex drive. Any attempts by Stolas just feel like deception, a way of conning him into sex when he's not in the mood.

(and while Blitzo is definitely not in the mood for sex, he very much does not want to be alone either. We see him go to Loona when he gets back home and he's sad when he sees her note that she's out. He's just as lonely as Stolas is. And they could have found comfort in each other but didn't because of their fucked up communication skills.)

We can see Blitzo's feeling that he's being conned in his reactions to stolas proposing a cuddle session. he can't see it as it is because once again, he's reading sex into something that made no mention of sex

He even feels the need to apologize afterwards bc he isn't giving stolas the sex he feels their relationship is based off even after he just called in stolas for what he assumes was a big favour.

it's not like blitzo doesn't care for stolas. He does. That's made really clear to us.

It's just that their relationship was built on a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding stolas unwittingly encourages with his mix-up of sexual and romantic affection, and one blitzo lets fester with his lack of communication skills.

In the end, nobody is happy.

[dogydayz]

could you imagine if Sega were to release a new game with seemingly no ties to any other games they've ever made, and the entire thing is like a very much story-based game with interactive world elements (almost like Presentable Liberty in overall theme and gameplay, though) where you play as a strange little girl kept in an unknown and mysterious sort of place. You can interact with her toys, go through various activities and hobbies of hers, draw and stuff as her, shit like that, and the whole time you're kept confined to a simple room where she simply overhears others outside of the room talking about her, talking about her family, talking about strange other things that seem.... Entirely otherworldly. You learn that she'd never gotten to live long on Earth, you learn that she's been isolated most of her life, you learn that she's loved greatly by her family.... And you learn that she's surrounded by very dangerous people. You still never learn her name, but as time goes on old time fans of SEGA games would begin to realize where the fuck this was all going, as references would start to be made about some strange undercover experiment being conducted, and soon you'd get to see the proper reveal of what this game is. Soon she would be finally be allowed to leave her room, escorted out by threatening soldiers, to a much darker area, where the actual storyline of the game would become known. The entire game, you've been playing as Maria Robotnik, and at this moment she would be shown Project Shadow. The second half of the game would mostly be interactions, still in her room, but every now and then a much younger Shadow would be brought to see and interact with her. No longer is the game hiding what it is, so Maria would be referred to by name, and you'd also get to see more of pre-trauma Shadow and how his mind would develop. Both Shadow and Maria would now overhear arguments and conflicts from her room, they'd hear Gerald yelling at the guards and fighting with the researchers on the ARK with him that he never really wanted there, they'd overhear Shadow being referred to as a bioweapon despite Maria seeing him as a friend, a brother even, and this would be before Shadow would've ever really known or understood his proper conflicted purpose... Aside from being designed to protect and help. You'd get to play silly mini games with him, Maria would sit him down and have tea parties with him and her plushies, and the two would just enjoy time together. Until Maria would start to understand just what exactly was happening, what those "strange guards" were planning to do with Shadow. And the ending climax would suddenly shift to a more horror-esc action part, where you play as Maria trying to divert the attention from Shadow as she desperately attempts to help him escape. And the ending, while it wouldn't visibly show what happens to her... You'd still see more of her perspective, seeing her closest companion screaming out to her as she sacrifices herself to get him out of there. And that would be the ending. To a game not ever initially called a Sonic game, to a game marketed as a small experimental piece, or perhaps hardly marketed at all. The developers would probably be some small team who simply wanted to add more to the story already shown in earlier games, who wanted to bring more life to a character with such great importance to the background of one of the franchise's most beloved characters. SEGA wouldn't do much marketing, but they'd license it and very briefly refer to it as "a fan-project made canon", but until one plays the game, whatever it's made canon TO would be entirely unknown.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Romanced companions react to an autistic!Sole having a meltdown because of sensory overload?

Romanced!Companions React to Autistic!Sole with Sensory Overload Anxiety

This was a great prompt! I hope I was able to do it justice, I wanted to get it posted, but I also desperately need sleep 😅 But thank you so much for the ask, Anon! I might expand on this more at a later date as well, when my brain decides to function again. 

This prompt with FO3 and FONV

Cait:

She understood Sole's reaction more than the specific cause of the overload. It seems like all Cait has ever been around are stressful and overstimulating situations, so it’s difficult for her to differentiate occurrences that will cause Sole distress and those that wont. Once Sole was able to specify what it was that was bothering them, Cait would put an end to it. Preventing whatever it may be from doing her partner any more harm. She’s not a particularly soft person, everyone knows that, but she can’t stand seeing Sole like this. She may not know a whole lot of fancy breathing exercises that are medical journal standard, but she knows enough from her own experience to be able to improvise something in the way of support for her partner. 

Curie:

She would be an absolute pro. Like, the perfect combo between health professional, and understanding romantic partner. If their surroundings were secure, she would focus all her energy on helping Sole, doing breathing and grounding exercises to help them through their breakdown in a clinical way. In the aftermath of Sole's overload, Curie would turn back to doting girlfriend as she looks after her love, helping them to come down from their nerves and maybe being just a tad too touchy feely for them in this instance. But she means well!

Danse:

If this were to happen in the midst of combat, Danse would instantly take a more defensive position, and would root himself firmly between Sole and any enemies they may be facing. In other instances, he would use what he had learned in the Brotherhood when it came to PTSD episodes that he would experience for himself. He would remove them from the pressured conditions they found themselves in, taking them for a walk to calm their nerves, engaging in breathing exercises with them, and encouraging speech when it seemed possible. He would try to be supportive in every way he could, but Sole would have to be patient with their partner when it came to more intimate forms of comfort, as Danse tends to turn back to soldier-type tendencies in these situations. As a more preventative measure, Danse would attempt to craft a power armor helmet modification that could aid in depleting noise during combat, and otherwise try and dull the senses to make the outside environment more bearable for Sole.

Deacon:

He would actually be really good at dealing with this situation? Given his own experiences in life, and the many interactions he's had with a variety of types of people (and synths) in stressful situations, he would be able to sympathize with Sole, trying to draw any attention away from them, knowing that'll only make it worse, and helping them recover afterwards. He wouldn't be phased at all by their outburst and would try to help calm them down by making a few jokes here and there, if only to let them know that it wasn't a big deal to him.

Hancock:

His mostly chill demeanor would work wonders on Sole's nerves when they were around him. He was just so easy going, and non-judgmental and he seemed to never strip their energy from them when they spent time with him. Should they get themselves into a situation where sensory overload does occur, he'd do his best to guide Sole to a safe place where they can unwind and focus on returning their breathing to normal. If they think chems will help, he'll be more than happy to oblige, even going so far as to specifically scavenge whatever type of treatment chem that Sole had in mind for these overwhelming instances and would always keep it on his person.

MacCready: 

He’s a little panicked himself in these types of situations, but he makes an effort to be the calm one of the two. He finds his way to Sole in whatever way he can, looking into their eyes and trying to ground them with his voice as he desperately tries to keep it from shaking. He’s never had any formal training or anything like that, but when his PTSD episodes flare up, he has a few tricks that he uses to get back to reality; identifying objects around him, breathing in through his nose, sitting down with his head between his knees. He’ll try and suggest a few ways Sole can deal with their overload, going through the motions himself as well, since his partner’s anxiety tends to somehow inject itself into him whenever these meltdowns occur.   

Nick:

He’s calm, collected, and used to dealing with people in distress. It’s like he was built for this. Though he isn’t as familiar first-hand with the reactions that the human body has in these types of situations, he knows how to help. He’ll quickly try and get them out of the environment that is causing their meltdown, or eliminate the person or thing responsible for causing their anxiety. Afterwards he will try to help them come out of it easily and on their own terms, trying not to pressure them, but acting as a source of unwavering support for however long it takes for them to settle down. 

Piper: 

The woman truly tries her best, but it always frightens her when Sole is panicked in this way. She’s just too damn empathetic when it comes to Sole, that she can’t help but dissolve into the same state of discomfort and panic that her partner finds themself in. She would try anything to calm herself down and would frantically gesture for Sole to join her as she works on her breathing, counting, and amateur grounding exercises. As the pair come out of their shared panic, she’ll try to return to her normal self as soon as possible. Once her breathing returned to normal and Sole calmed down as well, she would offer her companion some much needed verbal and physical support, as well as some snack material to replenish their strength in the aftermath of their overload. 

Preston: 

The man is the definition of “works well under pressure;” he knows what it feels like to let people down, to lose people because of his mistakes, and he doesn’t intend for that to happen again. Ever. Especially when it comes to Sole. When his partner is in a compromised position, feels uncomfortable, or looks like they're about to have a meltdown, Preston is immediately at their side, putting himself in harm's way in order to ensure their safety and comfortability. He tries to use his voice, which for some reason he can keep totally calm even when he's under great stress, to keep them grounded. Counting along with them as they try to stay focused and keep from becoming completely overwhelmed. He is usually able to calm them down before their discomfort can escalate to the point of a meltdown, but if for whatever reason he can’t, he’ll be there to support them through the entire ordeal. Afterwards, he’ll speak softly to them, taking them far away from whatever situation was the cause of their stress, and ask if there was anything more he could have done to help. 

X6-88: 

X6 tends to notice when Sole is becoming uncomfortable even before they themself know. He’s memorized the types of environments that tend to set them off, and if it’s possible, he tries to usher them away from the cause of their anxiety before it can become an issue. If he is unable to do so, X6 will then take control of the situation as best as he can, eliminating points of stress almost to the point of overdoing it. There may be instances where Sole has to pull him out of his protective frenzy as he relentlessly removes anything that could be causing Sole's distress. In that case, X6 tends to provide enough of a distraction himself to be able to help Sole focus and stay grounded as they try to aid him. Does he do it intentionally? If they ask, he'll insist he doesn't know what they're talking about. He’ll just thank them calmly for assisting him, and begin to tend to their needs in the aftermath of their distress, assessing their physicality and mental state before allowing them to continue their travels. 

[huenjin]

unhooking a bra for dummies.

pairing: han jisung x reader

word count: 6k words

genre: smut

tw: use of swear words and name calling out of sheer affection, detailed sexual content — hickeys, breast play, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, squirting, blowjob, deep throating, gagging, penetration, creampie.

note: this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous bts fic, the idiot's guide to unhook a bra.

The last time your boyfriend tries to remove your bra one handed, you are glad it is on your body and not his. Not with his strong history of trying to learn how to untie bras by wearing them and then snapping them only to ruin your pretty collection.

The last time your boyfriend tries to remove your bra one handed, it's on your request.

Not because you wanted Jisung to learn (not that it isn't a win-win situation) but mostly because you were so sex deprived from your boyfriend for two weeks now, thanks to his competitive arse. Thanks to his determination of wanting to learn how to remove a bra single handedly because some stupid magazine said it was cool.

Also because the movie was boring and your boyfriend seemed a lot more interesting than the movie's horrible direction.

You're on top of Jisung's lap, kissing down his neck, telling him to focus on how he's feeling and how he'd feel rather than being so competitive to remove the bra. Jisung pulls back and mumbles, "How does that work?"

"You've tried it enough for two weeks," you kiss him. "It's going to work."

"Is this a test?"

"Consider it," you sigh. "You're really killing the mood again, boy," you frown, before straightening up your spine and looking at him, "It's just a bra. Why are you so goddamn hung up over it?"

He confesses finally, "Because I saw some stupid article the day after I said everything. It told me that girls love it and that it'd make them happy."

Figures. You called out on this a week back.

You cup Jisung's face, a bit taken aback by his response, "But you make me happy either way."

"I—"

"Sungie," you press your forehead against his, smiling at how your boyfriend's eyes sparkle so brightly, "You're still going to be my star always. My sunshine."

You kiss Jisung, laughing against his lips when he coos at you. His hands are warm against that long brown sweater – way too long for you – you have always borrowed from him. He kisses you, his hands making way under his sweater, trailing slowly upwards as he draws out his kiss.

You know what he's trying to do and you choose to ignore, praying to all the gods out there that your boyfriend succeeds. He places his fingers on one side of the clasp and your thumb on the other. He moves towards your neck, peppering kisses against so as to distract you. He pinches both the sides together, sliding the right side against the left, freeing hooks from the eyelets. He pulls back from you, lips leaving your skin, at the same time your bra is undone.

"Bro," he stretches the syllable and you laugh, eyes wrinkling, commenting, "You sound like a white teenager."

"And you don't when you do?"

"Touché."

"But I did it," he screams, hugging you tight. The intensity at which he is joyous almost makes it seem like he won something great but that's Jisung for you. "I did it!"

"You did, baby! You did."

He kisses you again. Your boyfriend is so happy that he is smiling against your lips, breaking the kiss but he doesn't care and nor do you. He cradles your face in his hands, pulling back and laughs, "Hey, maybe we can sex tonight after all."

"Oh fuck, don't kill the mood. The last thing I want is Jeongin's catchphrase right before me getting hammered by my boyfriend after weeks."

"Like you haven't mentioned you don't want him around once?"

You flail your hands upwards in defense only to wrap it around Jisung and kiss him shut, mumbling against his lips, "Not today." Your lips tug onto his lower ones, latching onto it before pulling back and gazing at him. You could see how beautiful he was - his rosy lips that are parted and his nose that is good enough to bop. Han Jisung is a beauty carved from the finest and you are glad to call him yours.

"Fuck," he swears under his breath. You smile widely, eyes turning into crescents as he gazes at you, mumbling, "You're all mine, wow. I'm a lucky lucky man." You laugh, mumbling, "Yeah, you are." and lift your hand. Stretching your index finger, you poked his head, pushing it back, parietal bone hitting the bed's headboard.

Jisung gulps, his eyes turning a shade darker. You lean forward, catching Jisung midway for a kiss. You hold his face, guiding and directing the kiss, being forceful and trying to show the dominance you clearly lacked. Jisung always leads and you're hoping he takes back the reins soon.

And he does. Just as you prayed. His hands are on your hips, gripping it harder, his leg wrapping over yours in one swift motion and he has you pinned under him, hot air fanning over your face and you're giggling. Jisung frowns at you before kissing your pinna and mumbling, pouting, "You lost weight, babe. You need to eat more."

"I've been busy with this project," you respond and brush his hair.

"I'll take you out for a fancy dinner tonight after this."

"You think we could go?"

"Uh huh," he kisses your neck, sucking on the skin lightly sending tingles down your spine. "We could. I want to treat my favorite girl to some sexy food."

"I love you."

He kisses you in response not so gently, immediately coaxing your mouth open to allow his tongue inside. His hands forget all about being slow and teasing, the stress of not having you for two weeks straight sending him desperate, running all over your body, before pausing.

"This one goes off," he tugs at his sweater that you are wearing, pulling it off of you only to gasp at your covered breasts. "That bra looks beautiful on you, fuck."

He stares at the wine purple bra hardly covering your breasts now that the strap was off, ready to fall off any minute from now. Jisung gapes at how beautiful they make your breasts look before tugging it off, mumbling, "I like you better without anything though."

One of his warm hands covers your breast, fingers slowly digging into the skin. His palm squeezes your breast, thumb running over your nipple before he purposefully leans down and gives you a taste of his warm mouth for the first time that night and in weeks now. You gape open at the contact of his mouth on your nipple, teeth purposely grazing against the skin.

"I missed you doing this," you gasp for air, hand holding onto his hair for grip and to angle him slightly. Jisung hasn't bothered every time you push yourself onto him, aching and craving for more. If anything, it's always made the bulge more prominent. "You stupid boy focussed on a thing that weren't necessary like unhooking a bra when we could — ah, fuck, Jisung." He rolls his tongue over your nipple, your hand tightening around his scalp, tugging at his hair furiously. "Yes!"

He lets go of your nipple only to raise himself upwards and hover over your face. He bites your bottom lip, small kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth and you respond with a weak whimper before pulling away, breathing loud and clear and vivid enough for your chest to rise and fall.

His large hands trace along your spine, his palms trailing along your covered flesh, the figure that's carved into his head, a memory attested forever that he's glad for. Every single one of his touches sets your skin aflame with desire. Heat settles deep within the deepest cores of your abdomen, the heat slowly trailing downward stimulating your glands to release secretions that make your panties cling to your core. You moan when you feel his hardening shaft against the soft of your abdomen, involuntarily grinding against it. Your movements cause him to let out a grunt, limited and constrained, and he groans out your name.

He moves lower, tugging at the straps of your panties with his teeth, grazing the skin around it, sending goosebumps sprouting. You laugh post the rush, "You're good at this though. Like really good, Jisung."

"I know," he laughs against your skin. "Need to have you keeping me around. What if you decided a vibrator's better than me?"

You laugh loudly, hand falling on your chest, "Pretty sure a vibrator can't kiss me and love me like you do, baby."

Your mouth parts open when he kisses you, his lips brushing against the skin covering the bones and you let out a set of breathy moans, heat pooling deep within your pubic region as you find yourself growing wetter when Jisung kisses you around your acetabulum. He tugs your panties down partially with his teeth, fingers helping him out till he gets completely away from your skin.

He lifts himself up, throwing his shirt away. Dipping his head down, his attention is back on his favorite spot on your neck by your prominent jugular. Jisung kisses your neck, whispering sweet nothings into you. His hand lowers and lands on your inner thighs, goosebumps rising from your flesh and you gasp.

“Fuck," he swears under his breath. His fingers are dangling so close to your core that he can feel your arousal by your thighs. "You’re so fucking wet,” Jisung mutters, only to laugh and comment, "Maybe I should have fucked you.”

"Should have," you whine. "But guess what? My boyfriend's fucking— Ah!"

He absent-mindedly plays with strings of your arousal, coating his palms and fingers. You gasp at the sudden contact. Twisting and turning his fingers, he gathers up the dangling strings of arousal, before bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean. His gaze is still fixated on yours.

"Fuck you."

"Sure. On it, babe."

Tauntingly, he continues teasing your cunt — the tip of his finger lightly pressing against the entrance, but never enough to fully enter you. Each small action has you moving forward in pleasure as you try to push against his hand in an attempt to sink his finger into you. Jisung chuckles, kissing your clavicle, biting into the skin above and sucking furiously enough to mark you. He licks the mark before kissing down your clavicle.

He runs his finger through your core, collecting more of your juices onto his digit, before teasingly entering you barely. You find yourself hissing and bucking, your entrance twitching around the tip of his finger responsively.

“Jisung,” you whine, pushing your core further into his hand. “Please,” you implore, beg. You're desperate enough and two weeks of no contact has left you unhinged. The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy clit causing you to buck into him, your cunt soon contracting around nothing. He pushes himself up and lowers down your body to meet your core. Your core involuntarily clenches, releasing another gush of wetness, pooling down the skin and staining his bedsheets messily.

"Your clothes—" you point, tugging at his pants. "Off, hoe," you sigh. "Now."

"Not yet," he rasps. "Need to give you that orgasm I owe you."

"Ah!" You sigh pleasantly. Jisung moans, shuddering under your fingertips. “My girl is all pretty and wet all for me," he mewls. His fingers trace small circles further into your slit, until his digits are teasing your entrance again. A low mewl falls from your lips, your hips writhing into his hand and you try to get him to push his fingers into you now.

“Jisung, shut with the teasing, you bitch,” you murmur, not even bothering to hide the want in your voice exhibiting now through annoyance, along with the greed for so much more. He laughs at your name calling, against your skin, nose brushing against your skin and with a kiss to your mound, his digits lightly push against the tightness of your entrance. He relishes and dwells himself in the way you tighten around just for him. You are just for him. A being he has been blessed with that's made for him just as he is for you. His eyes sparkle in mirth at your core clenching and unclenching involuntarily around him. You whine, “Fuck," trying to tighten around his digit as much as possible, almost as if you think your orgasm is going to rush in just by the sheer touch of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend pushes one and then another finger into you. Your wetness allows them to slide in with ease and he gasps at how the jagged inner walls of yours feel — a memory he wishes he could remember every time. Somehow he's glad he can't because every single moment with you feels like a first time for him. The rush and excitement is unmatched. Drawing raspy breaths from you, he slowly begins pumping them into you. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. He pumps them into you, relishing every moan and swear word that leaves your lips. It's perhaps the very fact that you haven't had sex with him for so long that makes you want him more than ever, your arousal evident and dripping around, coating his finger.

He breathes in the scent of your arousal deeply, pressing kisses against your skin, softly at first before it turns into intense ones, licking and sucking on them to make a visible mark against them, staining your mound with purple and dark red hues.

“I fucking love you, man,” His voice is low, dropping a couple of octaves, and the deep sound that turns deeper every single time he whispers, thrums against your skin, before kissing against the skin again. You are so close to breaking down from just his breath against you, gripping on his hair so hard that you are worried you're going to rip his hair out. “Yes, yes, yes,” leaves your lips and letting out an appreciative groan, Jisung slides his fingers deeper into you till his knuckles touch the sides of your core and you are gasping, taking in heavy breaths of air, eyes squeezing shut.

“You're literally swallowing me,” Jisung breathily whispers against your core, pressing a butterfly kiss against your clit. His words cause you to clench involuntarily, squeezing around him tightly and then his mouth is against your core, more specifically your clit, licking on it, before sucking, inappropriate sounds hitting off the walls, eliciting a choked moan from you.

You are about to say a word before Jisung curls his fingers up into you and your back arches slightly at the rush that it sends, a moan leaving your lips loudly as you scream out, “Sungie!”

You feel him rubbing against the same spot that brings the loudest reaction from you — a discovery he makes every time all over again — before dragging his fingers back slowly only to slip his fingers easily into you again, the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess.

"Wet and dripping. I’ll give you what you want, baby. You were so patient with me.” He rubs your walls, his attention undivided on your enlarged clit and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately.

He lifts himself up – his hand still rubbing against your spot – trailing kisses upwards till he latches onto your mouth, tugging at your lower lip. He delves into your mouth, tangling with your tongue. The sensations are heightened, your head unable to focus on either. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips, your breaths heavily intermingling together. Jisung uses his other hand to hold your jaw and angle your head in such a way that your foggy gaze is fixed on his sharp ones and your mouth opens slightly.

"Come for me, babe," he urges. His command, along with the way his fingers rub across your clit, has you crossing off of the brink of pleasure and into an oblivion for the first time that night and in weeks. You see the stars as you squint your eyes shut forcefully, breathing loud and shallow as you chant your boyfriend's name like a mantra. You need a moment to calm down from how good that orgasm is and Jisung slowly rubs you through your high.

Skin flushing with heat and covered in sweat, you feel electric sparks jolt across your flesh under your skin as bright ecstasy rumbles in your veins all over again as your boyfriend rubs your clit vigorously. In a split second without any heed or warning, his mouth is still on you. He flicks your clit with a snap of his finger and instantly, your muscles lock up, your nerves oversensitized. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes and you tug at Jisung's hair, face falling to the side as you bite into your lower lip.

Out of breath almost instantly, Jisung hovers over you, cupping your face with one hand of his and kissing you, wiping your tears away. You breathe in his air as he kisses you, your jaw slackens sadly once he leaves. You let out a loud whineful cry as a powerful orgasm powers through you again, his hand leaving yours for a minute as you squirt on being overstimulated. Your thighs quake violently as your back raises and arches upwards slightly. Your boyfriend's other arm wraps around your back as he kisses you through your heightened orgasm, helping you settle down. Your muscles tremble and ache and soon you find your hips halting their movement as you lose yourself into pleasure, squirting slowly receding. His hand is covered in your juices, glistening in the light of the room and he chuckles against your lips after pulling back, placing you lightly on your back.

“That was so fucking hot,” he looks at you proudly, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are squeezed shut post that powerful orgasm, thick rivers of tears staining your cheeks. He moves only after your eyes open, making sure you’re alright and able to breath right.

"You're a bitch, dude," you barely let out. "But I love you."

Once you collect your breath, you move down his body, overcome with the need to please your boyfriend, to please this beautiful man who just made you come twice on his tongue, overstimulated you enough to make you squirt, embarrassing the hell out of your being. You hastily grip the hem of his sweats and begin to pull them down.

Jisung pushes himself backwards instinctively when you lift yourself up. You hold his shoulders, body still trembling from the after effects of your last orgasm and ask, "On your back, please."

"Baby, you don't— It's all you today."

"Yeah, and so let me."

Jisung lays on his back on your command and you kneel between his legs. He pulls himself upwards, one arm bending to support him and the other resting beneath his head to support his head up. He watches you position yourself between his thick thighs, practically drooling at the sight of his large cock. He finally lies there completely naked, a small smile dancing on his lips at the sight of you, skin glowing in the dim light of the room, soft music from the neighbours you are grateful for, muscles straining slightly despite his relaxed state, belly button piercing twinkling every now and then as the light hits the metal.

You take his cock into your mouth, working him in small portions. You remember how intimidated you had felt the first night you tried giving your boyfriend a head. Even though Jisung was kind enough to praise you through it, cradling and caressing you throughout, it was hard. With a girth as thick as his and mouth as small as yours, it was bound to be hard. With time, you learned of the ways to take his cock like an absolute professional, though it still managed to overwhelm you at certain times, if he really wanted to give it to you good. Not that you minded. You doubt you'd ever mind it when it's Han Jisung.

You bob your head, mouth coating his skin in your saliva, as your hand works what you can’t reach yet, encasing it in your grip. Above your head, Jisung is sighing, coral pouty lips parting and clenching his jaw as he watches his cock disappear inch by inch into your pretty, pink mouth, enjoying the sight of your lips wrapped so warmly around him. He loves watching you take him slowly. Jisung loves it so much that he thinks if he could stamp one memory forever or take a picture to treasure, it is this. One of his hands slips down to grip at your hair, only holding it back loosely for now, not applying any pressure. He loves seeing you like this as much as he wouldn't agree to you directly but he thinks you know. You seem like you know. Yet again, there is nothing you don't know about him.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs out when you take more of him in and suck firmly on your way back up, licking at the head and sucking on it leisurely, tongue lapping at the sensitive pink skin of his length. He curses once again, huffing out a heavy breath, going delirious at the sight of you bobbing on his length. The rise of his chest begins to increase its pace and his body begins to build up a sweat all over again.

He groans loudly when you go down once again, taking in the most that you’ve had so far. Your eyes are closed, hair out of your way and your tongue is at against his length. His arm supports his body and he sits up. You feel the movement and you quickly open your eyes, pulling away and moving upwards hastily. You attempt to pull him out of your mouth to see if you did anything wrong. However, he places his hand firmly to the back of your head — you feel the large hand cover most of your head, hand gripping on a ponytail he has made and fixates your head exactly where it is.

“Keep going, please,” he breathes out and your pussy practically melts at that, as you look up at Jisung, his eyelids half closing in pleasure, his grip on your hair getting tighter. He glistens in the dim light, body shining from the sweat and you press your tongue flat against his tongue suddenly and he jerks.

“Fuck your mouth is, shit—“ he pauses to groan, pushing your mouth further down and you try to fight your gag reflex as much as possible. “This is what heaven feels like, baby. This is heaven on Earth.”

He takes control of your movements now. Being the soft dominant human being he is, he clutches your hair tightly to guide your mouth on his cock as he pleases. He eventually begins to buck his hips up to fuck your mouth, the explicit stickling sound of your saliva coating his cock every time he moves, resonating and bouncing off the walls. You're gagging heavily, trying to breathe properly through your nose. Saliva is dripping down your chin because of his length which is so big that you know you'd never be able to take him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes roll over before your eyelids shut and Jisung's controlling your movements completely now.

“Love this pretty mouth of yours, baby,” he groans, pushing your head as far down as you could go. You choke a bit, letting out a stunned noise, one out of breath but you grip his thighs in an attempt to calm yourself and relax, despite the tears stinging your eyes at your gag reflex kicking in. Jisung slows down his movements, letting go of your hair but you refuse to move. You grab his hand before he could let go of you and you place it back over your head. He smiles and guides you again.

Your arousal drips down your core again and down your thighs, and you can’t help but push yourself forward. Your rear is pushing back against nothing but sheer want and lust for the man before you and his eyes catch onto the sight of your supple soft skin up in the air while your mouth is still locked on his cock. The entire position makes him lust over this woman before him that he proudly calls his.

“You’re so pretty,” he pants, eyes fluttering for a second when you suck on him harder, tongue licking a stripe along the underside of his dick all the way to its head, taking it home. Your hand grips on his balls, carressing it lightly under your fingertips when you feel it tightening. You know he's close and so you suck at the tip of his head furiously, letting out grunts from Jisung's lips, leaving them so deliriously that it has you moving quicker, jumping your groin into nothing. He finally pulls you off his cock, still gripping your hair firmly.

You cough for a while, stained aftermath of saliva on the corner of your lips. Your eyes are teary, some spilling from the corners and your lips are swollen. Jisung somehow, weirdly likes it. He loves seeing you fucked out for him over his cock. He loves seeing your slight makeup haphazard and your entire being disoriented for him. He thinks he's a fucking masochist because he wants to make you cry on his cock — cry for his cock.

"Why?" Your voice is parched as you manage to ask. "You were close."

He pulls you close, tugging at your arm and you fall on top of his chest. He kisses your nose and smiles, wiping the tears away from the corner of your eyes before whispering, "Need to come inside of you, baby."

And he flips you over in the flash of a second and you are under him for the second time that night, ready for a million times for the rest of your life. You kiss him, your shaking hands cupping his face, rubbing small circles into the side with your thumb.

Jisung holds one of your legs by its underside and lifts it above, placing it on your shoulder. You prop your body slightly upwards, ache residing by the joints and Jisung kisses the skin at your acetabulum. He brushes his cock against your cunt and a harsh swear leaves his pretty lips. The tip brushes your clit, tingles running down your spine. Your nails dig into his hand by your side, holding onto the bedsheet and you gasp.

He slides in slowly, letting you get used to his girth and familiarise yourself with it. He pushes it in agonisingly slow and it adds further to the sensuality. The stretch causes you to curl your toes in ecstasy. With your leg over his shoulder, heels digging into the skin by his scapula, the way he is holding you allows him to move deeper, sliding in until you can feel him by your deepest parts and his thighs are pressed against your purple bruised ones. He bends forward and you watch your boyfriend.

Fuck, you love him. So much.

His face is soft and yet so affectionate, his features molded from the divine being, flawless and perfect. Jisung is panting in your ears, the grunt soft and echoing in your eardrums, amplifying on their way to your cochlea and you surround yourself in him. His muscles are tense and the words come out in a low, deep tone, "Fuck, you're swallowing me as a whole. Baby, you are so pretty."

He kisses your lips, ceasing his movements for a while in your wet warmth, whispering against them, "I'm so lucky, so lucky, so lucky—"

He pushes once more to go deeper if it's possible and you moan loudly. He watches your eyes squeeze shut and he can't believe that you're all for him, made for him just as he was for you. You squeeze around him unknowingly and he swears under his breath, his grip on your hip tightening. He knows he could come with you just wrapped around him perfectly, with all your warmth encasing him like he's lucky. He grits his teeth and pulls out. When he slams into you again, his pubic bone hitting your nether region, balls slapping against your arse, you scream. He's close already from you giving a phenomenal head and now when you're squeezing him like your life depended on it, he knows he's going to lose his sanity to you.

Jisung picks up a pace. It is fast and hard and has you gripping onto him for the life of yours. Your hips move along to match his pace and when your moans get excessive, he locks his lips with yours, owning every one of them and making them his. You scream louder into his mouth, muffled screams slipping out. You can feel him twitching against your wall and the whine that leaves you is muffled by his mouth again.

"I want to see you come again, baby," he mumbles, pushing into you, jerking you up. "I want to see you come undone because of me. All around me."

He lets go of your leg, feeling your leg move unsteadily because of the ache that rests in your joints, and moves his hand over your clit. He taps on your clit at a steady pace and you fill your mind slowly coming undone, like a pearl necklace ready to snap. His mouth is against your ear, licking a stripe at the cartilage before whispering into it, "Look at you. So fucking pretty. You're a—" He thrusts into you, hitting a spot that has you shuddering down on him fighting an urge to come undone so quickly, both you and him that Jisung has to catch his breath for a second there. "—my goddess. You're perfect for me. Need to see you come undone under my touch. Need to see you break into a vulnerable mess because of my touch. Need you to wrap around me perfectly."

Tears spill from the corner of your eyes and it's all too much. Your senses are heightened and you feel his warmth around you perfectly and in you completely. Your hand finds its way back to Jisung's hair, tugging at the ones by his nape, digging into the skin by his neck before travelling to messily hold at his scapula, arm falling over his shoulders.

"Please, fuck— please, Sungie," you cry. "Want you, need you, need you, need yo—"

Your boyfriend grunts, his grip firmer than a second before, his stomach quivering and his hips striking, picking up momentum until he's pounding you against the warmth of your bed, the bed making sounds of creeking occasionally as it pushes backwards and falls back forward. You wrap your legs around his waist, hips moving upwards wildly because you know you're close and you know Jisung is too.

He kisses you, passionate and fiery. Your brain feels fuzzy, your consciousness diminishing. Your fucked out expression is the one look that he knows he'd want to get it sketched. Your eyes hooded, cheeks flushed, face glistening in sweat, lips swollen and red and parted, with moans leaving them so softly that he knows he's ruined for. You are whining, moans leaving your lips one after another in no particular order of vocal range — occasionally screaming so loud that you know the nice lady across the hall is going to give you a earful tomorrow morning — when his cock slams into the same spot that has you losing your mind and it snaps.

"Fuck, Jisung!" You come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you're weeping, desperately, mercilessly. The tears in your eyes fall at that, the combination of sensations you’re experiencing right now too much to handle and Jisung quickly catches onto it with an almost sinister chuckle. Your heart swells and you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain, filling you with nothing but love for Jisung.

Jisung continues thrusting into you, chasing after his own orgasm. He still whispers into your ear that makes you bloom in confidence, "There, baby. You're doing so well. That's my girl." You know that he is close and so you hold him tight, squeezing around his girth and your boyfriend moans. You kiss his neck, leaving marks on his skin as you bend forwards. His hips stutter widely and a deep groan fills your ears. You can faintly feel it as he comes undone in the sheath you are. It's pulsating, warm and hot and he holds himself in you, thrusting slowly and languidly to come down from his high, moaning into you.

His lips constantly peck yours, over and over again, lazily giving you gentle kisses as you feel his come leak out of you, once he pulls out of you, humming a soft tune against you, his voice surrounding you. He moves to lie beside you, pulling you to lie on your side in front of him, continuing to kiss you lazily as he begins to sneak his tongue into your mouth, leg draping over yours, arm wrapping around your middle to pull you closer to him and press your body completely to his, gently stroking your sweaty hair back.

The whole situation is a mess but there is something so domestic and warm about this, about Jisung just holding you in moments after sex.

You do the same, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the soft treatment and the gentle feel of his lips, your hands tracing his shoulders and biceps before going to his chest and sneakily tracing down to his belly button, poking the metal piercing. You pull away for a second with a tired giggle.

“You know,” you murmur, voice hoarse for all kinds of reasons clearly. “You’re really hot and all but this," you kiss his nose, "This is why I keep you around."

“What a bitch," he laughs. "A bitch I love a bit too much."

"Aw," you coo. "I love you too, babe."

"What's this, Jisung?"

You point at the beautiful packaged box, also tied with yet another beautiful red ribbon. It is surrounded by fresh rose petals in the side. Having known Jisung for years now, you are not completely wrong when you suspect something fishy. It's not even Valentine's.

"I swear to God, Sungie, if this is some weird shit—"

He raises his hands in defense, leaning against the doorpost, waiting for you to open the gift. He has a smug expression on his face, so ready to tease the crap out of you.

You pull the ribbon out and open the lid of the box, only to find a thong in it. A bright red colored one. You pick it up, holding the string between your thumb and your forefinger only to find the vibrator attached to it and the words, 'It Ain't Gonna Lick Itself,' on the fabric.

"You bastard."

And you chase after him, your hand stretched forward after throwing the thong back onto the bed. Jisung's already sprinting away from the bedroom and into the hall, jumping on the sofas to get away from you. You're laughing, finding the whole situation extremely ridiculous just as much as the present is; chasing after your boyfriend like you were five. And when you scream at your boyfriend as to why, all he has to say is —

"It's your fault. You were the one whining about not spicing up our sex life, babe."

"That was you!"

[binxyu]

Jungkook was meant to be just a guilty pleasure. Not your guilty pleasure, but a guilty pleasure. You knew never to fall in love with a man that thought loyalty was showing up on time. He was everything you never needed, but here you were. Your fingers pressed on the trigger that would start the flame of pain.

>>Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | fuckboy!jk x witch!reader

>>Word Count: 7.5k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Arguments, breast play, creampie, cum play, disloyalty, degrading, exhibitionism, fingering, hair pulling, marking, oral (receiving), praise, unprotected sex, and witchcraft

Jungkook was too beautiful for his own good.

From his pouty lips and sharp jaw line to his starry eyes. The man was perfection.

Even you had fallen for him, a woman that stopped believing in love.

But, all you could do now was remember the times you had together as the fire slowly burns in front of you.

As your love for Jeon Jungkook disappeared into nothingness.

Your fingers typed away at the keyboard, writing the second of three essays you had due. It was nearing the end of the semester and, while you were ecstatic at the mere thought of summer vacation, the stress of exams was looming over you.

“Can you look over this paragraph for me?”, you peeked up over your laptop and nodded, moving your own device out of the way to make room for Namjoon’s. Kim Namjoon was a journalist in the making, a man that knew exactly how to put events into words. He was quite different from you, but study sessions together were always eventful. You were the perfect person to correct his grammar mistakes or to help add detail to his work and he was the perfect person to help explain a certain historical detail you may have missed.

Studying religions was what you had decided was your interest considering your unique practice. You enjoyed learning about the beliefs of people centuries ago but the facts could get scrambled in your brain and that’s where Namjoon came in. He almost seemed to have a never ending timeline in his brain.

“I’d add more emphasize on Jungkook. He did beat the record after all”, you quickly realized when you read the paragraph that he was writing for the school paper again. Despite your attempts to persuade the man that he could do much better with his time, he continued to write for it.

“That’s true. Wait, how did you know about that?”, you let out an amicable chuckle. Of course Namjoon would assume you did not know. Just because you despised sports did not mean you were deaf. The whole school had been talking about the student since the track meet. While you couldn’t remember the exact record he beat, it was still a record.

“People talk”, you shrugged and Namjoon nodded. It was peaceful for a moment as you went back to typing, managing to push aside your emerging migraine. Your body was begging for a good nap, but you had to get this done. You were, among less appealing qualities, a hard worker. Perhaps it was due to the pressure put on you as a child or maybe it was because that diploma was just out of reach. Either way, nothing was going to get in the way of your future.

And, like the biggest fuck you from the universe, Jeon Jungkook walks in.

Yet, you hadn’t realized and kept typing until Namjoon cursed loudly, drawing you out of your world.

“Are you okay?”, your voice was soft before your eyes met the issue. Oh, poor clumsy Namjoon.

He had spilt his coffee all over his shirt, staining the freshly new white blouse he had worn. You couldn’t help but laugh as you dug in your bag for a napkin.

“Don’t bother, it’s too much for a napkin. I’ll go to the restroom. Be right back”, you gave him a brief nod and a thumbs up. Still, you got up with your little pack of napkins and tried to clean up the remaining coffee staining into the table. The librarian is sure to kill you both if it does end up staining the wood. Standing back to examine your work, you almost screamed.

Standing by your laptop was a tall figure with the most sinister smirk you’ve ever seen.

Jeon fucking Jungkook spilt your coffee all over your notes and laptop.

Your mouth hung open for a moment before fury overtook the shock. You stomped up to the broadly built man and yes you didn’t believe in violence as a solution but all you wanted to do was slap the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

“Why did you do that?”, you also wanted to yell but the librarian was already eyeing the table and you couldn’t draw attention to the mess.

“Because I like to watch you suffer, sourpuss”, how have you not killed the man in front of you? You had no idea. Because that name infuriated you.

You knew it was the student’s way of messing with you, wanting to strike that minuscule nerve inside of you. No one else believed you could get angry but Jungkook knew you could. Mostly because he had caused that anger.

“And why is that? Because Jimin told you another lie about me?”, Jeon Jungkook was so impossibly similar to Park Jimin that it was uncanny who he had learned his traits from. Truth be told, you had the smallest crush on the man in front of you during freshmen year. He was so affectionate, caring, and friendly back then.

But, instead of ending up with the sweet heartthrob, you had ended up with Jimin for that year and the next.

Starting out, he was simply a popular boy and loved you with his whole heart. But, time went by and his true colors shun through like the sunlight through your irritatingly useless blinds. He was a playboy. An awfully good one at that for you to have never noticed the extra pairs of undergarments that laid on his floor when you slept over at his dorm.

He cheated, but he blamed it all on you and even Jeon Jungkook hates your guts because you were sure Jimin had told him exactly what he had told most of your friends. That you had broken his heart with your “horrifying” witchcraft and that you were dangerous. It explained why so many students asked to see your devil shrine the next day or tried to barge into your dorm to look at what Jimin talked about.

The most ironic thing was that you had never used magick around the man and you barely used it to begin with. You supposed it was for good reason considering that happened the first time you told someone about it.

“Jimin doesn’t lie. He’s never lied to me and I’m sure you’re well aware of what you did”, his finger jabbed harshly above your breast, just slightly lower than your collarbone. Among many things, Jungkook was dense and forgetful. You noticed that quickly when you started spotted reminders written on his fingers or palm. Just like the little note saying “library 7pm” was written on the finger jabbing you.

Unless the track star had another reason to be in the library he never visited, he wrote that down just to catch you in time.

“Tell me, Jeon. What did I do?”, you tilted your head and moved away from him, realizing the coffee was now leaking onto the floor. You desperately wished Namjoon would hurry up and get back to help you.

“You broke his heart. Using magick or something”, you bit your lips in annoyance and turned around to face him.

“Or something? Jungkook, I never did anything to Jimin. I know you won’t believe it because you look up to him like some god, but he cheated on me. He broke my heart”, you jabbed back, hitting the same spot he hit you, “and, if you haven’t noticed, Jimin doesn’t seem heartbroken, does he?”. If he dared to say yes you may have to use that horrifying magick Jimin lied about because your ex was anything but heartbroken. He was with a new woman almost every night and, even with this knowledge, they lined up to be with him. Who could deny the charming Park Jimin?

Finally, Jungkook shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing as he did the movement. If he wasn’t such a nuisance, you might’ve wished you could run your fingers through it. It looked so fluffy.

“Then, leave me alone. It’s been years of your torment and I’m tired of it”, you sighed and slung your bag over your shoulder after shoving your slightly wet laptop into it, walking out of the library after sending a text to Namjoon that you had felt bad because no one really knew about your fights with Jungkook and Namjoon would surely try to beat his ass if he found out about it.

Leaving the coffee on the table was a bold move but a part of you hoped that the asshole would clean it up. It was his mess after all. Not your’s.

“You’re coming to the track meet, right?”, the voice startled you and you sat up on your bed, making direct eye contact with Kim Taehyung. The only guy with a key to your dorm.

“Tae, I love you but you know I do not do sports”, you grumbled and flopped back onto your bed. Your classes had you beat and the need for a nap was too great to give up. Even if it was for your best friend.

“I know but it would mean so much if you were there”, don’t do it. Don’t do it.

You did it.

You made direct eye contact with those big puppy eyes Taehyung always used to get his way. You had fallen victim once again.

Which was why you had ended up in the cold, shivering as you watched the team run around the track for what felt like an eternity.

Taehyung had done great considering he barely moved before the season but who really stood out was Jungkook. His back muscles were only moments away from ripping through the flimsy shirt he was wearing and sweat was coating his hair. He was aware of how good he looked. He always was. He even was ballsy enough to wink at one of the girls screaming his name in the crowd.

Thankfully, the pleasant bliss that was drinking kept your mind off how irritated you were. You had snuck in a beer to drink (not that everyone else didn’t) and the alcohol loosened you up a bit.

After the meet was over, a sweaty Taehyung was clinging to you like a massive koala. He was high off adrenaline and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or jump around.

“Tae, take this before you pass out on top of me”, you handed him a water and he gratefully took it, still leaning against you as he chugged down the drink.

Taehyung and you were polar opposites. He was an athlete, quite dorky, a great singer, and was overly optimistic. You, on the other hand, liked to keep to yourself, was not the best of singers, and always stuck to the reality of things. Even if you could manipulate that reality the tiniest bit.

“Let’s get you home”, you let the man lean his weight on you tiredly as you started to walk towards the exit of the field.

“Sourpuss, I need to talk to you”, that voice was definitely not the one you needed to hear when you were this tired and already agitated. What does a girl have to do to spend time in her bed?

“I’m a little busy if you haven’t realized”, you gestured to Taehyung, who was breathing directly on your neck and nuzzling his nose against the skin. It wasn’t an odd gesture considering your close friendship but his face was so cold it send goosebumps down your spine.

“I’ll help”, Jungkook offered, quickly coming to your rescue by crouching down and getting Tae on his back. The man grumbled but was happy to take the ride considering it was less soreness for his legs to endure the next day.

The Jeon Jungkook helping? What a trip.

“What do you want?”, you winced at how rude it sounded. Sure, Jungkook most definitely deserves said rudeness, but he was helping you.

“I’m sorry”, you legitimately thought you were hearing things and turned your head to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly”, the athlete groaned before turning to look at you, frustration evident on his face.

“I’m sorry. You were right about Jimin. He’s been talking shit behind my back for months and I had no idea”, if it wasn’t for your “told you so” attitude, you would’ve felt sorry for him. Jimin was one of his closest friends after all.

“Hate to say I told you so but”, he glared at you to shut up and you quickly did. His glare was so cold that a shiver went up your spine.

“Sorry, it was a joke. Jimin is really manipulative so don’t let him bring you down”, you reassured him, even bringing your hand up to pat his shoulder. By the way he flinched away, you would’ve assumed your hand was made of lava.

Noted. Jungkook hates being touched.

“I assumed so much about you and that was immature of me”, the man smiled softly at you. It felt like arrows pierced your heart. He had such a cute smile for an asshole. Like a bunny.

“It’s fine. Lots of people assume things about me”, you shrugged as you both started walking again, Taehyung looking down at you to make sure you’re okay. He was like your protective older brother and you couldn’t be more thankful to have him around.

“But they shouldn’t. So what if you follow a different religion? It doesn’t mean you’re evil”, that was probably the first time someone agreed with your practices besides Taehyung and Namjoon (mostly because he understood it better than others).

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot”, you finally smiled back at him, sending his heart right into his chest as his heartbeat picked up. Needless to say, he adored your smile.

“I hate to ask this of you but could you tutor me on Epidemiology? I regret ever taking it and I’ll pay you”, you were wide-eyed with shock to say the least. You didn’t expect Jungkook to go out of his way to learn. Especially, not with you.

“Sure, you can join Namjoon and I in the morning”, you nodded before you saw the way Jungkook’s nose crinkled up in displeasure.

“What? What’s wrong with that?”, he sighed in response to the question as you both reached your dorm building. You’d just let Tae stay with you for the night.

“Namjoon hates my guts. We’re way too different. Besides, aren’t you two dating? I don’t want to be some third wheel”, Jungkook almost sounded disgusted at the idea, probably imagining you making out with Namjoon in front of him.

“I’m not dating him. He’s just the only other intelligent male I can tolerate”, he seemed to relax once you finished speaking but there was still tenseness evident in his shoulders which wasn’t due to the large man on his back.

“I still don’t get along with him despite the fact that he writes about me all the time. He once yelled at me for cheating and wrote an article about it”, that was a slap right to your face. Right, Jungkook was a player and he could throw your feelings aside like one of his cigarettes. Do not get attached.

“Well, don’t cheat”, you said because, let’s be real, it’s the truth. You unlocked the door and helped Taehyung off of his back.

“Bye Koo, thanks again”, your words were quick and you kicked the door closed with your shoe, your hands full thanks to the oversized man child clinging onto you.

Koo. He liked that.

Weeks had ticked by and, somehow, Jungkook had managed to get your number. Honestly, Namjoon probably slipped it out or Taehyung gave it to him. According to Tae, the man had been oddly friendly to him and they were (borderline) friends now. They played video games together, practiced together, and even barged into your place for snacks together.

Great. Now you had two man-children to take care of and feed. It was definitely taking a chunk out of your paycheck each week to get extra snacks for the two. They ate like starving animals whenever they came over. A small part of you even thought it was just to piss you off even more.

Jungkook finally managed to get you to agree for a tutoring session with him. Just one. If this one went well then maybe you would agree to more.

The only sad thing about the session was that it was scheduled to happen right after your last class on Friday in your previous dorm. The dorm you had just finished cleaning up since the last time the two adult toddlers had destroyed it.

Surprisingly, when you had woken up one morning, Jungkook was still there. You assumed he and Tae were too drunk to get back to their own dorms and had decided to just sleepover at your’s. It was quite annoying if you were to be honest, but the way Koo looked actually interested in your religion was enticing.

He didn’t look scared or disgusted when he looked at your little collection of crystals on your desk or the jar resting on your end table sealed with candle wax. If anything, he actually looked amused or even impressed.

“I’ll pick you up after class. I can’t believe you don’t drive and walk to your dorm every day”, Jungkook shook his head as he walked beside you. Coincidentally, your last classes were next to each other but you were shocked to hear him offer to give you a ride.

“Don’t judge me, Mr. Playboy. I just have a fear of hitting someone. Have you seen the lunatics at this campus? They will run out into traffic for fun”, the man chuckled wholeheartedly at the pout on your lips. Plus, your joke was actually pretty accurate. Even he had almost hit a drunk idiot when trying to get back to his dorm late one night.

“Okay, that’s fair. So, you okay with me driving you?”, you nodded cautiously. While Jungkook was guaranteed to know every path to your dorm by now, you were still guarded. Being in that tight of a space with him was going to be difficult.

No, you don’t get those so-called “butterflies” when you were with him. Honestly, those butterflies were typically a bad sign to you. Feeling sick because you loved someone sounded a bit odd and almost contradictory.

You actually found yourself with more powerful emotions than anything. If Jungkook made you angry, you were angry. If he made you happy, you were happy.

Everything just felt so much stronger when you were around him. Thankfully, he almost always made you happy. He made you laugh because, once he discovered that beautiful sound, he couldn’t get enough.

So, after your class, you met him out in the hall and he walked you to his car. Now you realized how such an undetermined man got into college.

He was filthy rich.

Sitting there in the parking spot was a brand new Mercedes Benz. Its black color almost matched the distinct leather jacket that he decided to wear today. It very much screamed Jeon Jungkook.

However, it did not scream you whatsoever. You were almost afraid to get near it.

“Hop in. My grade isn’t getting any lower”, he opened the door for you and you weren’t sure if it was because you were friends, or whatever the fuck you two were, or if it was because he wanted a discount.

That’s not fucking happening. He’s already stolen plenty of money through snacks from your cabinets.

Meekly, you got into the vehicle, immediately buckling your seatbelt as if it was going to hurl itself into motion at any moment. Jungkook shut the door and went around to get into the drivers’ seat. Apparently he trusted his own driving so much that he never wore a seatbelt (Namjoon would’ve had a stroke if he was told that) and he drove with one hand (scratch that- make it two strokes).

Despite those things, he was an actual good driver. You felt safe and he drove the speed limit. Maybe it was just because you were in the car with him?

Getting out of the luxurious leather seats proved to be a hassle considering you knew your seats in your dorm were no where near as comfortable. You could sleep in that passenger seat without a care in the world compared to your own bed. Still, you forced yourself to get out and you two went up to your dorm. Jungkook is way too familiar with the place now considering he barely talks to you. It’s your place and, yet, he comes here for Tae.

“Alright, what unit do you need help on?”, you asked softly as you took the needed supplies out of your bag. You actually already took Epidemiology. It had nothing to do with your major but it was interesting to you. Who wouldn’t want to learn about the science of the world’s biggest killer: disease?

Jungkook simply looked at you, blinking a few times and pressing his tongue into his cheek in that nervous habit you realized he had.

“Oh- for fucks sake, Koo”, you grumbled as you realized how long of a process this was going to be.

It had been months since you began tutoring the student and, finally, there was progress.

Standing proudly with his shoulders back was Jeon Jungkook holding a test with a big number ‘92’ on it in red ink. Your heart swelled with pride.

“I passed! This was the exam review test so I’ll pass the exam, right?”, you smiled brightly as you looked at his excited eyes. You never thought Jungkook would ever be excited over passing a class but you can’t judge people by their covers, right?

“Yeah! Just keep up with the studying and you got it”, you nodded quickly, looking away from his puppy eyes when you felt happiness engulf you like a fire.

Ironically, you were actually playing with fire. Your hand tugged on the trigger and a flame flickered from the end of your lighter. You brought it down and lit the candle in front of you. To be honest, you were a bit of a goodie two shoes but you did break one rule.

No fire in the dorms.

“Hey, I really wanted to thank you. I’m actually passing all my classes now and it fills like my life has purpose again”, woah, didn’t expect that.

“No problem, Koo. Your life always has purpose. What do you mean?”, you looked up from what you were doing, noticing he was leaning against the frame of your door.

“All I did was party and drink. Sure, I was a good athlete but that can only take you so far”, you nodded in understanding and stood up, walking towards him.

He followed your every move like prey waiting for the predator to attack them.

But, instead of an attack, he was met with a warm, genuine, and, all around, great hug.

“Do you think of me as everyone else does?”, you looked up at him, meeting his starry eyes.

Oh, you hated them because of how much you loved them. They held the galaxy within them and you could stare into them for hours if given the chance.

You were many things but, tragically for Jungkook, a liar wasn’t one of them.

“Honestly, I did before. I’ve seen you do some of the things the rumors talk about-“, smoking, cheating, fighting, “but now I know that’s not all you are. There’s more to you, Koo”.

All Jungkook had been able to think about was your words. Sure, he didn’t care about your opinion before but it truly did make him happy to know you thought better of him.

“Jk! Where have you been?”, oh no.

“Jimin? I’ve just been at the gym a lot”, lies. He had been with you a lot.

“Ah, I see. How’s the bet going?”, the shorter man asked, running his fingers through his precisely cut hair. What a born model.

The bet. The bet you had no clue about. The bet Jungkook was too dense to refuse.

“It’s going. She hugged me yesterday”, Jimin scoffed and then chuckled, vastly different sounds that almost made Jungkook double over in fear. Truth be told, he despised Jimin. He despised him because he scared him. The only other man more influential than him was Jimin and that meant Jimin could ruin his reputation in a matter of seconds.

“That’s all? Damn, she really is void of love”, the bet Jimin was referring to was the one he made with the younger at the beginning of the year.

“I bet you can’t make her fall in love with you. She didn’t even love me, Koo! Me! I’m telling you, if you make her fall in love with you then I’ll get you anything you want”.

Time was running out with exams coming up and Jungkook needed to hurry if he was going to win such a bet. But, was it worth it if it meant disappointing you? Jimin may be scary but you made him feel so happy and so proud.

The only time he had seen you disappointed was when Taehyung broke one of your jars, resulting in a mess of coins, herbs, and wax on the floor. That’s the day he decided he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.

“Yeah, she’s guarded which is understandable-“, wait- did Jeon Jungkook just grow some balls? “I’d be void of love too if everyone judged me for something I believed in”. He did.

“Where is that coming from? She deserves it, doesn’t she? Come on, JK. Keep that head in the game!”, Jimin patted his head like he was a child with all A’s on his report card, which, for once, was actually true thanks to you.

What game? You? Were you truly just a game to him?

“Alright, I’ve got this”, damn. Maybe you were.

Most nights you found yourself at the library now. It was the only place that was filled with peace and quiet. Especially on a Friday. Not even the librarian was here.

“Guess who”, hands covered your eyes and you would’ve punched the man behind you if you didn’t immediately recognize his husky voice. It was soothing with just the perfect mix of roughness. You couldn’t help but wonder what it sounded like when he just woke up.

“An asshole who thinks it’s okay to sneak up on women in a deserted place”, you grumbled and Jungkook immediately removed his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, oh here we go. Argument number two thousand.

“I wasn’t scared. I was just saying that, one, you’re an ass and, two, don’t do that to women”, he nodded in agreement and you thought that was the stopping of an argument. Boy, oh boy, were you wrong.

“I won’t anymore but you’re so weak. I’ve scared you so many times now”, you glared at him. Thanks to months of being by Jungkook’s side, you had become a bit more out of control. The feelings you used to keep caged up were now more out in the open. You cussed more often, even tried drinking (and almost spit it out on him), and your frustration was no longer hidden from the world.

“Jungkook, you are a menace to society and I would like it if you leaved”, it was a pointless threat. You didn’t really mean it. You adored his company but you wouldn’t admit that with a gun to your head.

“Liar, you love me”, shit. Did you? No, don’t ask that. It was just a joke.

Damn you and your overthinking.

“No, I hate you. Shut up”, that was also a useless threat. Jungkook never shut up. He was quite the talker and shutting up was not in his vocabulary.

“No, you hate me. Shut up”, he sat on the table you were previously working on, knowing this would take a while. Your arguments always lasted between thirty minutes to two or three hours. You both hated to back down.

“No, I love you. Shut the fuck up”, wait a second-

“As you wish”, he smirked victoriously and leaned closer, his face so close to your’s that you could smell his musky cologne.

“That was wrong”, you glared at him and he shook his head, “don’t open your mouth aga-“ you were cut off as his lips connected with your’s. He kissed you so intensely that your mind was fogged up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Finally, with your brain still hooked on adrenaline, your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping his well defined face as you kissed back. You could feel him smile into the kiss before he pulled away, leaving a spark traveling down your body. Now, that’s a good feeling.

“Ah, I love when you shut the fuck up”, you were so close to beating him with your bag.

Everything was weird after the kiss. Life wasn’t some fairytale where you both lived happily ever after in some old palace somewhere.

No, you were both actually stuck in that “fuck, what are we?” mess.

Love wasn’t something you could control and that was why you never let it get that far, but, with Jungkook, it felt uncontrollable, spreading like wildfire.

So, you avoided him.

Of course, it wasn’t the most humane or easiest form of dealing with your feelings but it worked.

Well, for a little bit until Koo decided to block you off in the library, cornering you into the back section of the religious books. Oh, how ironic.

“What’s wrong?”, his voice made your knees want to give out. It was early and you assumed he woke up early just to catch you. His attire said that enough from his sweatpants to the tank top hugging his upper body. He obviously just threw something on before he left.

“What are you talking about?”, you tilted your head and tried to act innocent, but, once again, a liar you were not.

“Oh please, you’re obviously pissed off or scared of me or something”, bingo. You were horrified of what you were feeling and, in tune with it, Jungkook.

“I don’t know! Why do you even care? You’re obviously going to pass your exam so what am I needed for anymore?”, you winced at your own words, watching as the man’s usual bright expression turned into a sorrowful one.

“It’s much more than that, y/n”, that was probably one of the first times he had said your name. He usually called you nicknames like princess, sourpuss, or whatever else he came up with depending on his mood.

“Then what is it?”, the stare he gave you made you want to hide further into the corner. It was so predatory that your body was trying to fight its own instincts to run away and avoid the problem. You were always a flight over fight type of girl.

“You”, the one word made your eyebrows furrow, racking your brain for a response or understanding of what he meant. Jungkook shook his head as you watched your face twist in confusion.

“You’re so dense. Why would I kiss you if it wasn’t all for you?”, he leaned closer to you, hand resting on the shelf of the bookcase behind you. You silently thanked the universe that no one else was in there yet.

“Discount?”, it was the first thing you thought of and it caused a low chuckle to rumble out of Jungkook’s chest. He looked up into your eyes and it almost knocked the air out of you.

“Hmm, unless it’s a fuck buddy discount then I don’t think I want it”, he raised an eyebrow cockily and your eyes went wide. Little did Jungkook know that he just complicated your relationship even more.

“And what if I’m okay with making such a discount?”, the student practically groaned at the words, free hand finding its way on your hip, squeezing it. You don’t know where your new found confidence came from but you had gotten rather blunt since hanging out with Jungkook.

“Then I’d say you’re not the person I thought you were”, he hummed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. The way his breath tickled your ear sent sparks through your body.

“Is that what you want? For me to take you here against these books?”, yes you did. Looking around, you were met with many versions of Bible and other holy books of all religions. It was absolutely filthy and wrong to do it there which was why it was perfect.

“Yes, I want that”, your nails dug into the wood behind you, trying to ground your emotions down. It had always been an escape tactic to you.

“How naughty”, now you understood why he had chosen today of all days to corner you. He loved the skirt you were wearing and how easily it gave access to everything delicious underneath. Plus, your legs were perfect to him.

His fingers danced along your thighs before he pushed up your skirt, revealing the black lace panties underneath. Oh, you knew what was going to happen today and you definitely knew Jungkook liked his black.

“So pretty. Just for me?”, the question took you off guard, your own questions flooding your brain. Ultimately, after a few moments of silence, you decided he probably had a possession thing. Who didn’t like to feel powerful?

“Just for you, Koo. Fuck, touch me please”, so you decided to feed his little ego, edging him on until he pulled the panties to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

The dim light of the library truly didn’t do it justice but he couldn’t help himself from finding it to be also perfect. He was in deep shit now.

His long fingers ran down your slit until they reached their destination: your pussy. He rubbed around it before he slowly plunged his middle finger into the wetness, curling against your walls.

Fuck, you always hated that finger but with it inside of you? Maybe you could make an exception.

Your body shook in response to the stimulation since you hadn’t been touched in so long, your hands gripping the wood tighter to keep yourself steady. Jungkook smirked when you clenched around his finger before he added another, stretching you out wonderfully as he scissored you open.

And that was when Jungkook found his favorite sound in the world.

“Jungkook! Oh god”, you moaning his name sounded like music to his ears and he couldn’t get enough. The only thing he hated was how quiet it was since you were still conscious of the library around you. He wanted you to scream it.

“You like that, princess? You want more?”, you obediently nodded, not in the mood to be denied an orgasm (which you were sure Jungkook would do if you didn’t obey). The man chuckled and leaned down, still pumping his fingers steadily as if it took no effort at all. If you had done this yourself then your fingers would have been cramping by now.

Your body jolted when Jungkook’s plump lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly on the nerve as if he was starving. To be fair, he had skipped breakfast.

You feared for the books behind you as your body spasmed, orgasming on the man’s fingers. You took deep breaths once you were finished and watched as Jungkook pulled away, pulling his cum covered fingers out of you.

With prolonged eye contact, he slipped the digits into his mouth and sucked the juices off of them. A new wave of arousal went through you when he tapped your lips with them, making you open your mouth. You gagged briefly when they hit the back of your throat but you sucked on it, licking your way up his middle finger.

“Good girl”, now that was going to haunt you forever. You whined when he pulled his fingers away and he smiled teasingly at you.

“I’m going to need to see these”, your eyes went wide when he gripped the collar of your shirt and ripped it clean down the middle, tossing it aside as if it didn’t cost you a fortune.

“Jeon Jungkook! That was expensive”, you huffed but he paid you no mind, just reaching behind you to remove your bra too so it can join the rest of your clothes.

“What if someone sees? I can’t cover these up quickly, Koo”, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking around cautiously. Jungkook just laughed and pulled your arms away, pinning your wrists above your head so he can press his body against your own.

“Take my shirt off and you can put that over you for the day. It’s fine, sourpuss”, oh you would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so turned on. He let go of your wrists and you quickly removed his shirt for him, revealing a muscular chest you could’ve never imagined.

And he never imagined how beautiful you’d look with your hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. He grabbed them immediately and you failed to see the spark in his eyes as he squished them together.

“That was one of my favorite shirts. What a di-“, you yelped when he pulled your leg up over his shoulder, yanked his pants and boxers down, and pulled your panties aside to rub his angry tip against your folds. Your head rested back as he rubbed against your clit, covering his cock in your juices.

“What a dick indeed”, Jungkook chuckled deeply, arousal blurring his world into nothing but you. The only thing that mattered at that moment was feeling you.

His lips attached to your neck and you were so out of reality that you didn’t realize he was littering the skin with his marks, a silent claim on you as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh shit, it’s exactly as I imagined. So tight and warm”, and he was just as you imagined. So very big. You didn’t think anyone else could stretch you out as much as Jeon Jungkook and that thought made you groan.

“You’ve been imagining it?”, it was your turn to smirk and, for the first time ever, the man in front of you blushed.

“Oh please princess. I know you’ve been thinking about it too”, and you had been. Not that you’d ever admit that after he just basically friends with benefits zoned you.

“Just move you asshole”, Jungkook gripped your hair, tugging on the soft strands as he finally kept pushing, bottoming out inside of you perfectly.

His big hands moved to grip your hips, a little help to keep you up as he started to snap his own into your’s. He was mildly uncomfortable at first but, as you adjusted to his size, bliss filled your body.

Finally, you were doing something to make yourself happy and pleased. Maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best man to do it but he was making you feel so so good.

The man snapped you out of your thoughts as he brought your hand down to your clit. You understood and started to rub it, happy knowing that Jungkook was also looking out for your own pleasure too. Not that you’d know he had been thinking about you creaming on his big cock for months now.

“Keep doing that”, he whispered despite the heavy groan that threatened to come out. He was referring to the uncontrollable clenching you were doing around his dick, sucking him into your walls with each muscle movement. You listened and (despite knowing you were going to keep doing it anyways) clenched once again.

“Can I cum inside?”, you whimpered at the idea of Jungkook’s cum filling you up and, knowing you’re on grade A birth control, you nodded. While Jungkook was effortlessly attractive, kids were not part of your plans by far.

“You close too, princess?”, you nodded, a small moan spilling past your lips despite your best efforts to be quiet. With that knowledge, the man orgasmed and you could feel his seed start to coat your insides. The feeling made you tumble over into your own orgasm, coating his softening cock with your release.

“I think that’s the best sex I’ll ever have”, you praised him as you tried to put your cramping leg down off his shoulder. Instead, he held it tighter and pulled himself out of you. He watched as his cum started the spill out of you, dripping down your thighs beautifully.

So, he’s a man who likes to admire his work.

You almost screamed when he pushed it back inside of you with his finger due to the sensitivity.

“See you later, sourpuss”, Jungkook smirked and put your panties back to their original position before he pulled his own boxers and pants back up. He walked off and you were left gobsmacked with his cum dripping out of you onto your panties.

As the weeks passed by, the world became more vibrant and cheerful but also more chilling and worrisome.

Exams were over and you were free to go wherever you pleased but, somehow, you always found yourself wanting to be with what was supposed to be your secret guilty pleasure. Now, he was your everything. He truly brought color into your world; sadly, color always comes with black and white.

“I won the bet, Jimin. I want what I asked for”, you listened intently from the other aisle of books. The library had become your go to spot to find Jungkook. Surprisingly, the once unmotivated student was more frequently in here because of the sheer relief he got when you stood before him with a proud smile. What a softy.

“Really? She fell for you? Damn, you still got it. I can’t believe you asked for this though”, the disgust in your ex’s voice was evident and you so desperately wanted to see what he was referring to. You truly thought Koo had stopped being friends with Jimin after he apologized but apparently you were wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, you were wrong to love again.

Feeling your tears start to spill down your cheeks for the first time in years, you forced yourself out of the library. You should’ve seen it coming. What would a playboy want with you? A woman looking for a serious relationship? You’re an idiot and you’ll fix it.

Said playboy must’ve spotted you because you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you as you rushed out of the library, hurrying into a run with the safety of your dorm in mind. It was time to end this.

So, here you were. Remembering everything from the past few months as the candles in front of you burned, getting so desperately close to the string connecting them. You had carved an evident ‘JK’ on one and your initials on the other, bonding them to the people who needed to be apart from one another.

Watching his candle, you noticed the wax dripping down the long wick and you knew they were tears. You knew because of the loud banging coming from your dorm door, the man on the other side screaming and sobbing for you to let him explain.

Your candle, however, burned strongly with vengeance. It stood so tall compared to Jungkook’s and, as the fire finally burned through the string tying you both together, you felt free. It was like Jeon Jungkook had never affected you before and his name slowly slipped from your mind.

Eventually, the banging stopped as the candles reached their ends and the fire flickered out under your gaze. You felt so blissfully numb as you walked towards the door, opening it to reveal a confused Jungkook looking up at you.

“What did you do? It’s like-“, you cut him off with your hand, pulling him up rather roughly.

“You never knew me. That’s how I want it, Jeon Jungkook. You never knew me and I never knew you. Now, get your prize and leave me alone”, you slammed the door in his face. You felt pure relief but Jungkook could still feel a pang of want in his body.

You had failed to notice the little wax left of his candle that stood strong as you dumped it in the trash and he failed to notice that he had left his “prize” outside your door as he rushed off.

A gorgeous rose quartz necklace.

What a way to declare your love to a witch who just cut it all off.