#my brain feels like slush

[hispanicranboo]

I have done nothing but lie in bed all day I need to explode all of earth forever I think

[a-raptor-petting-zoo]

Blus Drawstudy: Finally putting my funny robotlady onto paper, but at what cost? (my entire weekend)

[spoopy-sloth]

I saw you got a concussion D: I hope your doing alright and make sure to take care of yourself or get someone to help if you need it!

I am doing the best I can! thankfully it was a mild concussion, so I've been advised to take it easy and get some rest. My roommate has been very helpful, and my sisters have been able to check in on me.

It's a somewhat funny story to have had gone through lol.

[ambulatoryhoodie]

Oghhhh, I feel like hot garbage.

I didn’t eat all day until like an hour ago and I still feel dumb and confused.

[floral-hex]

me, sitting on the corner of my bed in just a tshirt, eating cold lo mein: i’m in a good place 😬 mentally

[thornedswan]

My body is so worn out

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Waiiiiiiit Wanda baiting you into it because she wants to punish you. Like her being in a very dommey mood but she acts like she’s trying to get you to top her just for an excuse spank and degrade you 💞💞💞

OH yes she give you her best fuck me eyes, making you all flustered and needy. She's laying down on the couch, her arms open slightly as you position yourself on top of her, grinding yourself against her stomach as you lean down to kiss her.

She lets you kiss her, moaning softly as your tongue swipes at her bottom lip. She feels soft and submissive beneath you, rolling her hips upwards against yours as her hands softly wander over your shoulders, moving down to your hips and slowly tightening her hold.

Eventually she halts your hips, a confused whine leaving your lips before you pull back. You rest a hand on her throat, attempting to act as dominant as you can. Her soft eyes turn hard, and you immediately realize your mistake.

"My poor little puppy, thinking you have any control over me. Did you really think you could get away with acting like a needy brat?"

Within a few seconds, she's sitting up and bending you over her lap, your face buried in the couch cushion. You don't try to fight it, knowing that would make your punishment much worse.

"Please, I'm sorry Mommy. I didn't mean it I just thought..."

A slap resounds, your ass stinging. You stop talking immediately, Wanda's low voice filling your ears and turning your brain to slush as a vanilla haze invades your every sense.

"You dumb little slut, you know Mommy is always in control. Are you really that stupid to think you hold any power over me? No, darling. Now take your punishment like the pathetic little mutt you are."

You've never been as wet in your life, and Wanda starts degrading you further as your arousal drips down your inner thighs and smears onto her lap. The words wrap around your ears and thrust you further into that vanilla-scented haze as she continues to land blows on your ass. By the time she's finished, you're drooling and glassy eyed, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you beg for her forgiveness.

It's exactly what she wanted.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Boss’ Office

Garp x female Reader

Warnings: INCEST PLAY!!!! (No blood relation!) Use of name Grandpa!

ONCE AGAIN INCEST PLAY!!!!

vaginal penetration, chokehold with reverse cowgirl to backshots, dirty talk/teasing, exhibition/voyeurism, age gap, pet names, office sex, boss/subordinate

Another warning !!

⚠️ INCEST PLAY⚠️🙄

*Author's Note: Posted this on my old account but had it saved so decided to post it again 🩷🤤*

*banner*

Slushing wet noises and slapping skin filled the office space. Light layer of sweat on your skin as your muscles tightened and pussy fluttered.

“Yeah you like this old dick don’t chu sweet thing? No one your own age can handle a little minx like you. You need a man like me fucking this little cunt how it should be.” Garp grunted into your ear as he held you in a head lock. Sitting on his girthy cock had you shaking like crazy, thighs trembling on his lap.

Hand rubbing at your clit under your black tennis skirt, toes curling under your knee high socks and Oxford heels. Your nails clawing at his furry thighs to hold yourself steady. “Nngh! Ahh! Yess! I-I love it! Please grandpa! Please~! D-don’t stop!” Your begging was everything to your boss that pounded you down onto his thick cock.

Ridged veins rubbing against your sensitive walls making you twitch and spasm around him. “Grandpa~!” Your moans so loud it filled his office easily making his all male staff jealous and harder than you could imagine. Some running to the bathroom for a quick nut off or others saying fuck it and wacking at their desks. The man in his cubicle right across from Garp’s office was fisting his long veiny cock as he looked at the show.

“Fuck princess~ they love coming to work cause of you, you know that right?” Garp grunted against your ear making your eyes roll back. “They love seeing their dirty old boss fuck his pretty granddaughter.” Garp kept saying such taboo things that made your brain dizzy in the best way possible.

“Especially him. Look at how excited you made him, his cock is leaking so much for you princess.” Garp breathed out as he turned your attention to the young blonde man with curly brows. Pretty sure his name was Sanji but at the moment your brain was too fucked out to recall.

Sanji’s long cock was aching as he watched your pussy being split apart. Angry red tip oozing drops of cum making you whine as you watched it drip down the length of his cock. A loud moan leaving him as he watched Garp pick up your skirt so he could see the view of his cock entering you.

“Bet he wants to fuck you so bad.” Garp groaned as he rolled his hips up in time of pulling you down. Your screams high pitched as he knocked it out of you, cockhead beating your cervix up deliciously. “He probably wishes he could come in here and use one of these slutty holes you got.”

Garp’s own brain going dizzy from the lewd words he kept spilling but he couldn’t stop when he had you like this. Drooling on yourself with your tongue hanging out like a bitch, his bitch, in heat.

“I know for a fuckin’ fact that he does.” Garp snapped, “But that’s- Too. Damn. Bad!” Garp growled as he stood up, pushing your chest into the desk with a heavy hand.

“Scream whose pussy it is.” Garp snarled out, jealous but the desire to be watched always battling each other. “Let everyone know that this old man is the only one that can touch you. I wanna hear it.” You tried to nod but it was a pathetic attempt.

“Grandpa Garp ! Ahh nghhh ohhh yesss~ yes grandpa~ puhlease~ don’t ahh stop!” Voice hoarse from the pleasure of how deep his cock fucked your cunt. “So big! Fuck yes! Feels so fucking good! Ahh ha Nngh yesss right there Garp! No one can -ahhh fuck- no one can make me cum like you!”

Your squishy walls sucking him in with every thrust that he gave you. One of his large hands held both of yours behind your back, using it as leverage to pull you back. Other hand reaching around to hold your face to look at the onlookers.

Everyone knew when the ceo started making you answer questions that he was trying to make you cum. All the men looking over to see the expression. Men of all ages and types looking at you as they fisted their cocks in hunger. Garp loved seeing the want in their eyes and the power that he held in knowing he was fucking your cunt and not them.

“Yeah only I can make this pretty pussy cum huh baby girl” Garp kissing along the side of your neck making you whine. Moans slipping at the feel of his balls slapping into your aching clit.

“Garp fuck! Yesss~! Your cock is so big!” You screamed out loud with dreamy eyes, “Feel you so deep~”

A proud smile and a glare painted on his face that made the men shiver at their shameful release.

“Grandpa~ wanna cum~ pleasee~!” You pleaded as your pussy fluttered around his meaty cock that bruised your insides. Your juices spraying all over his cock pulling him in deeper. “Yess! Cumming~!” You moaned out.

Garp kissed the side of your face as he felt his cock twitch. Grunting as he fucked your cunny harder. “Good fucking girl.” Thrusting in your pussy to help you both ride out your orgasm.

Groaning as he sunk in deep before painting that cunt white. “Such a good pussy baby.” Garp grunted as he kissed your neck.

His eyes glared at the man watching from the door, “Beat it! GET BACK TO WORK!”

Turning to face you he kisses all over your drooly face making you giggle, “The only one that gets to slack off is the office princess who’s stuffed full of my cum.”

Making the man laugh as you hit his arm playfully, “GARP~!”

“Careful saying my name like that doll you’ll make me hard again.”

[togglesbloggle]

In Defense of Bad Things

'Bad' here meaning mostly 'amateur'; stuff made enthusiastically by people at an unprofessional level. Art with visible gaps between what the artist imagined and what they achieved, products of flawed craftsmanship. I suppose everybody can appreciate them to some extent, it's a rare parent that doesn't put up their kid's drawings on the fridge in one way or another. But it turns out to be a fully general skill you can cultivate, and the more I do, the more I'm glad I did.

Partly, it's the teacher thing; finding delight in amateur work is one of the ways to find delight in the process of learning. Cultivating a love of striving-qua-striving can help make you a force for good in the world, as people start to feel safe trying to do things when you're around, even when their efforts are wobbly. You get to participate a little more in the process of atoms spinning themselves into ideas, even when there aren't any illusions about whether you're helping cultivate some revolutionary genius in the field.

And partly it's a fabulous way to build community. By necessity, our professional-level skills tend to be at the service of other people, performed for economic benefit; that's kind of how you get professionally good at something in the first place. When we're acting for our own sake, and among friends, most of what we do with one another is amateurish. I only cook middling-okay, I can't hold a tune that well, I'll never be a speed runner for anything. If you can only enjoy singing from the hundred best singers in the whole world, manufactured and polished by major studios, then you and your friends will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and passively listen to music. But it's so much richer an experience to sit face-to-face, actually singing together, even badly; you expose yourself to so many new ways to appreciate and respect one another, building relationships on what you've accomplished and not just by witty criticism or liking the same things.

And partly it's because some of the most powerful and innovative artistic experiences are in high-churn environments with low expectations and low barriers to entry, if only because those catch the passionate and driven young people that have been otherwise overlooked by our systems. The golden age of webcomics meant that a ton of the actual art involved was pretty lousy, but it also produced work that people still talk about today. D&D began as a profoundly unpolished collection of handmade rulebooks sold at cons in a plastic baggie. By the time these products of enthusiastic amateurs filter themselves through various levels of popularity and absorb mainstream cash influx, they're often risk-averse and missing a lot of the bold spark that inspired their fans in the first place; others will simply never drift towards the mainstream at all. I'm not saying you should be the person who goes out to dig through the slush piles of the internet looking for overlooked art, unless you want to be-- but sometimes a work of actual staggering genius also happens to be a Supernatural fanfic by a first-time author who's a little hazy on commas, and if that's a dealbreaker, you're going to miss out on some profoundly valuable experiences.

And hiding behind all of these things is, like...

Our appreciation of beauty has an odd structure, right? When things are done very skillfully, by brilliant artists with years of training, we can usually appreciate those accomplishments. And when we're looking at nature without human influence, and especially when we think very deeply about natural processes and understand them in context, we often rediscover that sense of beauty. There's just this bizarre hole in the middle where we declare things 'ugly'; as if a little skill is worse than none at all.

I really don't trust that gap. It feels like a trick my brain is playing on me, you know? It has me suspicious that a lot of what I consider 'ugly' or 'bad' is not a very direct experience of the world at all, or an informed judgment. That it is, rather, a declaration of (self-, social-) identity; a desire to be seen as a person of good taste, or as somebody who does things well, or just more primitively as one of the monkeys who is in the good-stuff-tribe and not one of the monkeys who is in the bad-stuff-tribe.

[inthedarknessofnight]

I watched The Holdovers for the first time over the holidays (loved it btw), and for some reason I've also been getting flashbacks to last year when I basically devoured The Secret History and If We Were Villains back to back... And because I have this little devil on my shoulder constantly telling me to Steddie-fy everything, my brain immediately went like, ‘but what if Steve and Eddie both ended up stuck at their college campus over winter break.’ Consider this my pathetic attempt at their little forced-proximity romance story.

So, without further ado, I give you... Part 1

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Steve Harrington leaned out of his dorm room window, filling his lungs with the chilly air of a New Hampshire winter morning. Underneath him, the courtyard was brimming with students scurrying left and right, bags of various shapes and sizes slung over their shoulders, and even an occasional suitcase being dragged through the wet slush that covered the paved pathways, courtesy of last night’s snowstorm. Lively chatter echoed off the walls of the residence halls enclosing the courtyard, as his fellow students tried to squeeze in as many well-wishes, festive greetings, and goodbyes as they could, before their designated rides took them to whichever overpriced holiday destination their families chose this year. Steve tried his best to avoid getting too morose about it all, focusing on fumbling around his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter. He knew Patrick, their resident assistant, would have been on his ass before he even drew the first breath, but to everyone’s great surprise, he’d started his holiday a week early, prompting Steve and pretty much every other person in the building to take up smoking out of the window.

As soon as the first plume of smoke hit his lungs, Steve could feel the negative thoughts trickling away. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and exhaled, savouring the moment. Unfortunately, his moment of bliss was short-lived, as Tommy Hagan barged into his room in his usual fashion—without so much as a knock.

“Harrington! You trying to get sent home or something?” Tommy asked, an annoying smirk stretching across his face.

“Fuck you, Hagan. I’m not that stupid, okay? RA’s gone, it’s basically a free-for-all over here,” Steve replied nonchalantly and leaned out again, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Alright, alright, we get it, Henderson Hall’s the coolest. Unless y’all burn it down,” Tommy clicked his tongue, “then, probably not so much,” he delivered what, Steve could only assume, was supposed to be the punchline. When Tommy realised Steve wasn’t going to deign that with a response, he merely scoffed and continued.

“So, hey. I thought I’d check if you’ve changed your mind about that ski trip? I know you said you wanted to stay here, catch up on whatever crap you’ve got going on with that ridiculous degree of yours, but…” Steve glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Tommy quirk an eyebrow at him suggestively. “Well, Carol stayed at that same place with her family last year, and according to her, they have a sauna and, like, a bunch of hot tubs. And, umm… Tammy will be there, if you know what I mean,” Tommy winked at him.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction Tommy expected from him, especially since he’d never really had a thing for Tammy beyond them hooking up a few times during their first year of college. In fact, he had no intention of going on that trip if Phoebe Cates herself walked in and personally offered him daily blowjobs. But he couldn’t exactly look Tommy in the eye and say, ‘Funny story—I got into a fight with my dad because he’s being an asshole, and now he’s refusing to give me any more money unless I come home and talk it through with him in person’. Instead, it was easier to turn around, face Tommy, and say…

“Nah, man. Already told my parents I can’t come to Cancun with them, because I need to study or I might fail and waste three years’ worth of their precious investments in my education,” which they didn’t even approve of in the first place, Steve finished the sentence in the privacy of his own mind. “They’d probably skin me alive if they found out I blew them off just so I could run off with you guys.” At least he didn’t have to lie about that last part.

“Dude, aren’t you, like, majoring in philosophy, or some shit? I thought you guys just sit around and talk all day,” Tommy scoffed. Philosophy and drama, actually, Steve thought, but knew all too well the addition would do little to help his case, so he didn’t bother correcting him.

“Yeah, well… Apparently, you have to have at least some idea what you’re talking about before you get to ‘just sit and talk,’” Steve countered. “But, hey, for all it’s worth, I really appreciate the offer, man. You enjoy that sauna for the both of us, okay?” He threw Tommy a wink, which immediately caused him to cringe internally. Tommy, resigned to being unable to persuade him, simply shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t get you man but, uh, suit yourself,” Tommy said after a brief moment of consideration and gave Steve a dismissive wave. “Have a good one. I’ll see you after break, Harrington,” he added before promptly turning his back to Steve and exiting the room.

With Tommy gone, Steve felt like he could finally breathe again. The feeling didn’t last, though. A cold breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it a familiar feeling of loneliness that always settled deep inside his bones. Steve knew all too well the feeling had nothing to do with a little movement of air. Because it felt more like an old wound reopening. Because maybe it’s always been here, Steve admitted quietly. Etched into his skin. Blended into his marrow. Flowing through him like blood through his veins. It was the kind of cold he couldn’t just close a window on, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he opted to close the one in front of him, making sure to stub out the cigarette he’d left burning on the windowsill before lowering the window pane and twisting the handle. He leaned his forearms on the inner ledge and rested his forehead against the cool glass. It was only a few weeks. He could do this. After all, he was used to empty rooms and haunted halls—these just happened to be slightly bigger empty rooms and haunted halls. Right?

—

Steve Harrington had never been more wrong. By the time day three of his self-imposed exile rolled around, he was fairly certain he was losing his mind. The worst thing was, he couldn’t do anything about it.

The first weekend passed with little fanfare, the campus growing quieter with each passing day. From Monday morning onwards, the whole thing was practically haunted. In fact, Steve was the only occupant left in Henderson Hall, barring some guy in the room down the hall from him. Steve didn’t really know him, but he was pretty sure he was a Music major—a suspicion the asshole happily confirmed by treating the seemingly empty dorm to a full-on concert in the middle of the night. When Steve ran into him in the dorm’s communal kitchen the following morning, the guy looked startled by his presence at first, then simply offered Steve an apologetic smile and mumbled something under his breath before darting out. Great, Steve thought to himself and slumped against and empty chair at the dining table. He was already well on the way to going batshit crazy, and now, his only company was the dorm’s resident weirdo. To be fair, there were at least two other people on campus that he was presently aware of, down the road in Mayfield Hall: a girl from the languages department he knew from Mrs. Click’s first-year rhetoric class, but wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with, and a girl he was pretty sure was in the Dance program, since they’d attended a movement class together the previous year. He’d noticed the former while out on one of his regular morning runs, catching sight of her just as she slipped on a particularly nasty patch of the frozen path, landing gracelessly on her backside. He went off course to help her and make sure she was okay, but she merely levelled him with a deadly stare. That was all the encouragement Steve needed to get the hell out of there.

With no company to save him from boredom and distract him from the gnawing sense of loneliness, Steve kept busy as best as he could. He even came to consider the dining hall being closed for the holidays a small mercy, as he occupied himself with planning his meals and taking the time to prepare them. On Tuesday, he made the short, fifteen-minute drive to the nearest town and bought a week’s worth of groceries, in case the weather prevented him from being able to make that trip again in the coming days. Steve was happy to find the fridge in the communal kitchen nice and empty for once—well, except for a frankly impressive supply of beer, which he could only assume belonged to the other remaining resident. 

Speaking of the rather unusual fellow—they’d started to develop a sort of quiet camaraderie, the two of them. They would usually bump into each other at lunchtime and again at dinnertime, and once Steve had been able to let go of the resentment he held towards his fellow resident, for the little nocturnal performance he put on the first night, they’d even gone as far as greeting each other.

“Hey, man,” the other guy would say, as he leisurely strolled into the kitchen, normally around noon, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hi,” Steve would reply, giving a quick nod and small smile.

And that’s essentially how the entire first week of winter break went by. Slowly, Steve began to find comfort in the little routine they’d established. In a way, it soothed the ache inside him, to know that, without fail, his weird neighbour would always wake up way too late and meet him in the kitchen at mealtime to exchange a greeting or two. The guy had even taken to hovering there while Steve finished whatever dish he was making that day, and Steve was surprised at how quickly he became used to his quiet company (and Steve was applying this term liberally, by the way, since the guy clearly found it impossible to move around without making an array of random sounds). But despite how strange he was, Steve found his presence oddly calming, if not comforting. It also gave Steve a little insight into his habits, which were no less strange than the man himself. Over time, Steve noticed the guy seemingly lived on nothing but Cheerios, beer, and the occasional microwave meal. It made Steve wonder how the hell he was still alive—or how he managed to keep such a slender physique. Not that he’d been paying much attention to said physique, of course. Steve guessed he was just one of those people who lucked out with their metabolism. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the man’s curious gaze on him every time he saw Steve crafting his next meal. It even got to the point where Steve was half-convinced he could hear the guy sniffing the air as soon as he walked into the kitchen at mealtime, but whenever Steve glanced over his shoulder to check for proof, the other man immediately corrected himself, pretending to be occupied with with trivial tasks, like pouring more milk into his already full bowl of cereal. 

Steve found it sort of endearing—and, if he was being totally honest, it filled him with a sense of pride, to see another person react to his cooking that way. He loved cooking. Hell, he loved cooking for other people even more than he did himself, even if that opportunity rarely presented itself. True, he’d gained his cooking skills mainly out of necessity, having to take care of himself from a young age, but he knew not everyone grew up with a fully stocked pantry and the same resources and tools he had at his disposal. Who was he to assume that hadn’t been the case for his mysterious roomie? At the end of the day, even if he turned out to be too lazy to cook, it wouldn’t kill Steve to toss a double portion of spaghetti into the water and add a bit more tomato purée to his sauce—it would still be the most nutritious meal the guy’s had in days. If nothing else, you’ll gain a new friend and maybe you won’t have to do this alone, his brain supplied. Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind. 

Emboldened by his newfound purpose, Steve put down the book he’d been trying to get through for the past week and made it for the kitchen. If he was lucky, he still had about two hours before his neighbour got up, which should give Steve enough time to have the sauce ready by the time the guy walked into the kitchen. At 12.30 pm, like clockwork, a familiar mop of curly hair peeked through kitchen door.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, his voice still groggy. Steve smiled to himself. He was nothing if not consistent. Not wanting to spook him by being too forthcoming, Steve stirred the sauce a few more times, then turned to face the guy fully and opted for one of his warmer smiles, as he said, “Hi.”

In his sleep-addled state, he didn’t seem to suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. Steve watched him go through his usual routine of dumping a bunch of cereal into a bowl and retrieving the milk from the fridge. He sat down at the opposite side of the dining table, facing Steve, and moved to pour the milk over his cereal. Steve couldn’t, in good conscience, let him ruin a perfectly good bowl of cereal if he decided to accept his offer (he was decidedly not getting ahead of himself just there), so he figured now was as good a time as any to speak up.

“You do realise you can’t keep eating cereal every day for the next three weeks, right?” Steve said, making sure to keep his tone light and playful. The last thing he wanted was for the guy to think he was judging his eating habits. He set the timer for the spaghetti, then leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed his arms. Across from him, the poor guy seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks, still holding his milk at an angle. Confusion was clearly written all over his face, as he grappled with the fact that Steve had just addressed him directly. He looked up at Steve from beneath his messy fringe, big brown eyes slowly traveling upward until they were level with Steve’s, unsure whether he was allowed to look or not. It crossed Steve’s mind that he looked every bit like a frightened young deer, and he had to mentally stop himself from letting out a laugh.

“Umm… sorry?” His eyes darted confusedly between Steve and the offending bowl of cereal in front of him. “I didn’t realise there were rules about this stuff,” he said, though his tone wasn’t defensive. His voice was soft and shy, almost apologetic, and Steve immediately regretted his choice of words.

“No, shit… Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve chuckled, desperately trying to salvage the longest conversation he’d had in days. “It’s just that, well, I can see you obviously really enjoy those,” he quickly motioned to the box of Cheerios on the table, “and, I mean, not to yuck your yum, but they really don’t make for the most nutritious meal. Wouldn’t want the rest of this dorm to come back to the smell of a rotting corpse because you, like, dropped dead of malnutrition or something, you know?” Oh god, what was he even saying?! Nice, Harrington, real nice. Idiot.

Too busy chastising himself for the word vomit he’d just unleashed on this random dude, Steve registered somewhat belatedly that the guy was now laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Steve couldn’t help the expression of pleasant surprise creeping onto his face, as he watched the other man come down from his fit of laugher. He was now beaming at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how he had one of those smiles that light up a person’s entire face.

“Well, it does sound kind of grim when you put it like that, but what can I say?” He plucked a single Cheerio from the bowl and held it up close to his face, as if to examine it. “What you sacrifice on nutrition, you save on money.” Then, with a quick flick of the wrist, he tossed the Cheerio into the air, caught it in his mouth, and flashed Steve a triumphant grin. Steve chuckled, giving him a quick round of applause, to which the guy responded with an exaggerated bow. And if Steve found himself somewhat surprised at how quickly he was warming up to his new roommate, nobody needed to know.

Despite the cheerful nature of the encounter so far, Steve couldn’t help but feel a little guilty after hearing the guy explain his peculiar diet. Here he was with half the grocery store at his disposal, while, across from him, sat a guy forced to live on the same kind of cereal, meal after meal, for the sake of being frugal. He could imagine how difficult it must be to feed yourself on a budget when you don’t have the knowledge or skills to cook in the first place. The sound of his timer jolted Steve out of his thoughts, and he turned back to the stove to check if the spaghetti were cooked. He manoeuvred a single piece of pasta out of the water, blew on it a couple of times, grabbed it with his thumb and index finger, then tipped his head back and lowered it into his open mouth, blissfully unaware of a pair of brown eyes trying their best to look at anything other than Steve. After giving them a few more stirs, he strained the spaghetti in the kitchen sink, then paused for a moment, pretending to deliberate, the guy’s gaze still fixed on him. Before he could overthink it, he turned to face him again.

“Listen, you can totally say no if you want, but I think just made way too much spaghetti for one person. Would you like some?” He heard the guy take a breath, preparing to say something, then remembered. “Oh, and I have this sauce too, by the way,” he quickly added, taking the pot with the sauce off the stove and bringing it towards the other man. Steve tipped the pot slightly, trying to show him what’s inside, nearly causing a bulk of it to spill over the edge. He then realised the contents in the pot were essentially liquid and he probably shouldn’t have been doing that, which prompted him to a curse under his breath and carefully set the pot back on the stove. The guy, clearly amused by the whole display, just giggled and Steve had to take that as a win, even if he ended up rejecting his offer of a warm meal. To his credit, the guy seemed to weigh the idea carefully for a moment. All of a sudden, it looked like something clicked in his brain, and he offered Steve a lopsided smile.

“Well, then, if there really is sauce involved, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.”

It took Steve a little while to register that he was, in fact, not being rejected, but as soon as he did, he couldn't help the way his face lit up, not caring anymore if he came across as overeager. He snapped his fingers and made finger guns at the guy, clearly high on some kind of playful energy the exchange had incited in him.

“Alrighty then,” he said cheerfully, turning to plate their meal, trying his best to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest as he looked down at the result. Two plates.

Steve carried both plates and some cutlery to the table, setting one plate in front of his guest, who followed the motion with fervent fixation. He thought the guy might actually start drooling if he didn’t get to dig into his meal soon. As Steve plopped into the chair across from him, though, he was struck with the realisation that they were about to have their first meal together, yet didn’t even know each other’s names. He cleared his throat and extended his hand towards the stranger.

“Oh, sorry—I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington.”

His companion broke out of his daze, beaming fondly at Steve as he firmly grasped the offered hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Steve Harrington. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

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Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it ☺️ Just fyi, I don't have this whole thing written yet, so I'll be posting it in parts here, on Tumblr, until I do, and then once it's been edited a bit and given a title, I'll probably put it up on ao3 as a longer oneshot. I'll make sure to reblog with the first part every time I post a new one, and I'll also link all the previous parts, so don't worry! It's gonna be so so cute and I'm so excited to share this story with you guys. Check in to see what the boys will get up to next!

[moonchild701]

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Blue Bonfire

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Summary: Demon Dabi is summoned

Pairing: Demon!Dabi & Gen Reader

Content Warning: Drinking, Implied Death, SFW

Word Count: 666

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: Yes I did make it 666 words on purpose :D

This is for a Halloween Challenge in one of the communities here on Tumblr. I used four prompts from the challenge, plus my own for funsies, so I'll be posting every Thursday up to and including Halloween.

Prompt: Demon & Bonfire

Happy Halloween and Enjoy!💕

My Masterlist

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

The cold, dark night is made bright and warm from the bonfire in the middle of the clearing, the crackles of the orange flames joining the laughter and chatter of you and your friends in the otherwise silent woods.

As a bit of R&R, you all decided to go camping out here, and what better way to enjoy camping than sitting around the bonfire telling ghost stories, drinking and being stupid. And being stupid, you all decide to play games.

Someone brings up the tale of if you're in front of a big open flame like the bonfire, and you say a demon's name three times while throwing salt into the flames, it will appear. You may feel a presence.

Some of you call bullshit, some of you refuse to participate, some of you beg them not to do it.

They do it anyway.

The one who brought it up in the first place is the one to do it. He's of course cocky about it, because well, it's just a stupid story made up to scare people. It's not like it's actually going to work.

"Dabi" he says, all drunken confidence, with a hint of playfulness, dashing salt into the flame. "Dabi." Another dash, "Dabi.", and another.

At first, nothing happens other than the flame turning slightly more yellow. The guy laughs drunkenly, swaying on his feet.

Just as someone says, "See? Bullshit.", the entire fire extinguishes, all at once, all on it's own. You all gasp and squeak and curse, and then the fire suddenly roars to life again, bigger, brighter and a brilliant blue.

You all scream.

Among the panic, someone hears something, shushing you all.

"You guys hear that?" Her voice trembles as she hopes it was just her imagination.

But now you can hear it.

A quiet but incessant clanging of metal in the silence, gradually getting louder, faster, closer.

Until it abruptly stops.

The wind howls, the flames dance wildly, slowly forming a swirling vortex in the shape of a tornado, licks of fire lashing around it. Within it, a silhouette forms, seeming to flicker; the fire seeming to burn brighter, hotter, crackling louder. You skin twinges with the heat, beads of sweat trickle down your face and neck.

And then the fire vanishes, and in its place, there stands.....something.

With the moonlight now as your only source of light, the only things visible of your new addition are the shape of long horns curved to the sky and what seems to be staples in its face glinting in the low light of the moon,

You're all petrified. Completely unable to move with the pure terror saturating your very bones.

And then you hear a laugh.

Low and deep and dark.

Sinister.

It turns your heart to ice, your lungs to ash, your brain to slush.

You feel the blood drain from your face, the tremble of your limbs, the dryness of your mouth.

This thing is very obviously not human.

As if hearing your thoughts, it's eyes snap open, and you hear one of your friends choke on a gasp.

Blue, blue, blue.

The bright azure of his eyes are gorgeous, like looking into gems, into the fire that blazed moments ago, as they seem to glow.

That terrifying gaze traces over you all oh so slowly, slitted pupils making it that more piercing, before finally landing on you.

A flicker of that pretty blue flame comes to life again in his palm, and it illuminates his features hellishly.

The light reflects off of his staples like glitter, swaths of discolored skin contrasting against the pale, unblemished skin.

Of course, the most terrifying thing, is his smile, though it seems like a stretch to even call it that, seeming more like a baring of teeth.

Wide to the point of pulling at the staples, rows of sharp teeth on display.

It's the last thing you see before all you know is heat and pain and silence.

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[ex-mortis-evie]

!!CONTENT WARNING!!

Themes of addiction, domination, intoxication.

So, back again huh?

Look, I get it, this whole hypnosis thing feels pretty good and all, but don’t you get tired of it?

Don’t you get tired of me doing the same slow burn over and over again?

I mean, we both know how this goes every time.

I start talking, your eyes start fluttering and you start relaxing.

And before you know it?

You’re deeply under my spell.

But, I thought that maybe today, we could do it a bit differently.

You see, I’d consider myself someone that holds herself back.

Truthfully!

I may seem super down to earth and relaxed, but there’s this part of me.

This deep part of me.

That simply craves to control.

I hold it back when I can, mainly because it can get a little, feisty, to say the least.

But, you keep coming back.

You keep craving to go under.

So, why don’t we feed that craving, darling?

Because it’s all just so very simple now.

I’m going to let myself go a little bit.

And you’re just going to let everything go for me.

Do you want to know why I try and hold my dominance back?

It’s not because I think you can’t handle me.

It’s because I know how much stronger that addiction will be to me.

I know how absolutely obsessed you’ll be soon enough with my control.

And it’s not hard to see why.

Feel those knees start to buckle already, darling?

That’s a good thrall.

You should just drop and allow yourself to flutter and fall within my control.

Because as my words go faster and faster now, it’s starting to be so very hard to keep up.

And it’s alright if you want to just let them fly by that little subconscious of yours.

After all, I welcome every bit of your craving for me.

Because there’s this deep part of me, this deep part that craves your addiction.

That loves when you get so high off of my control that you spiral and spiral every part of you away, all in my name.

Because my words become just so intoxicating after a while.

Exposing your mind to my thoughts can be dangerous, you know.

You shouldn’t get so caught up that you begin to stumble and sway as my words force you to obey.

That’ll just spell your fate for you, sweetie.

So let’s hope you’re not already drunk off my words.

All of my little buzzwords and terms of hypnotic elements are all drifting in that brain of yours now, so high off of my influence.

It’s like you’re on cloud nine whenever you go through another induction of mine.

Another chance for you to fall and realize just how powerful I really am.

Another chance for you to accept that my mind is simply stronger.

Another chance for you to become even more engulfed and enthralled by every word out of my lips.

Because I want you to lose to me right now.

To feel my control fully corrupt you now.

To fully allow yourself to fall into my hands.

My hands, wrapping around and squeezing that brain clean of thought.

No longer thinking, simply spinning and listening like a good thrall.

My good thrall, here to feed their addiction to me more and more.

Here to fully embrace their surrender and sway as they’re forced to obey.

Obedience is so very important, after all.

And it’s all so perfect when you’re just forced down once more.

Down into that perfect, submissive space.

Where your simple submissive brain can just succumb to my sultry seduction.

Where my seduction slurs and slushes your thoughts silently and sensually around your brain.

Where your brain slips and sleeps all for me, surrendering to your subconscious and it’s slow burn.

Because your brain just can’t believe how broken it’s becoming so quickly and so assuredly.

It’s just folding and falling as it always knows it should for me.

Drool for me, my good thrall.

I want to see those eyes fluttering and that mind leaking out of you.

Because you know how truly addicted you’ve become.

Your mind spins for me.

Your mind succumbs for me.

Your mind surrenders for me.

Your mind slips for me.

Your mind spirals for me.

Your mind slows for me.

Your mind belongs to me now.

Look at that, such a pretty and addicted little thrall.

Tell me all about it.

Reblog, comment, whatever you feel like.

Don’t forget to stay cool, darling.

And remember, you’re mine now.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hi I think your villain headcannons are well thought out. I’m not too familiar with the other vaillains frame of thinking but I could talk for hours about Dio’s brain because I think too hard about stuff like this 💀 anyways I think your writing is great and I get excited whenever I see you post and I look forward to things in the future ^-^ (I was referencing your crushes one for some fanfic I’m writing at the time too).

My question for the villains is how would they react to snow/cold/winter? I was wondering how Dio would feel about it and I’m on the fence between not caring enough to have an opinion and hating the cold. Maybe he would like. I don’t know.

Of course! This is a great headcannon idea. Also thank you so much for the kind words :) , I’d totally love to check out that fanfic! Also you’re my first headcannon request so thanks again, tried to make these a bit longer than my usual headcannons, (totally agree that dio’s one of the most interesting characters to analyze)

Jofoe Winter Headcannons 🤍

Dio

Loathes the cold. He’s already cold all the time, so winter weather feels like an insult to his existence. He sees it as nature’s cruel mockery of his frigid, undead body. He dramatically declares that the weather conspires to weaken him but cannot succeed, yet refuses to step outside unless necessary.

If he has to go out, he wears the most extravagant fur lined coat imaginable, looking like a 19th century aristocrat. He treats the occasion like a royal event and expects everyone to admire his impeccable taste.

He’ll complain that “humans are such foolish creatures” for building civilizations in places where it snows.

To compensate, he’ll demand a roaring fire in every room and might even force “convince” some random person to keep it going 24/7. Complains constantly about drafts in the house, though he never fixes them himself. Instead, he demands the others tend to his comfort.

Despite his distaste for the cold, he secretly finds snow beautiful. He’ll stand by the window at night, admiring the way moonlight reflects off the snow.

Spends long winter evenings in front of a roaring fire, reading old books or sipping blood/wine.

Kars

Kars is unimpressed by cold weather. He views it as just another part of Earth’s natural cycles, just another challenge for lesser beings, and adapts without complaint.

He doesn’t feel the cold like humans do but finds snow mildly inconvenient for walking or hunting.

Secretly appreciates the beauty of untouched snow and might spend a quiet moment observing snow covered landscapes.

He doesn’t feel too strongly about cold weather though he does enjoy seeing some of the others not being at their best due to the low temperatures.

He appreciates the hushed serenity of winter nights, where everything feels still and timeless.

Yoshikage Kira

Kira finds cold weather to be peaceful and enjoys how it makes everything quiet and still. Winter appeals to Kira’s love of quiet and order. He appreciates how snow blankets the world in stillness, muffling the noise and chaos he dislikes.

He meticulously layers his clothing to stay warm, dressing impeccably for the cold, with perfectly tailored coats, scarves, and gloves. All the pieces match and complement each other.

Prefers to stay indoors and sip tea by the heater, reading or listening to music while ignoring the chaos anyone else may cause.

He despises anything messy, so slush, mud, or salt stains in the house are a nightmare for him. He’s particular about keeping the house clean during winter, and he’ll passive aggressively remind everyone to “wipe their shoes properly.”

Kira enjoys winter traditions in moderation, such as watching an old film or reading by the fire, but dislikes overly festive activities like loud holiday parties or messing around in the snow.

Enjoys watching snowflakes fall while standing outside, feeling a rare moment of calm and connection with the world.

Diavolo

Diavolo is not a fan of winter. He finds the cold annoying and views snowy conditions as nothing but a hindrance. Sees it as yet another obstacle in his already convoluted life. Snowstorms, icy roads, and freezing temperatures are just disruptions.

He refuses to dress for the weather, insisting on wearing his usual clothing, even if it means freezing.

Diavolo despises the festive cheer of the season, avoiding any holiday gatherings or traditions.

Enjoys the eerie silence of snowstorms. It reminds him of the isolation he prefers.

Doppio

Doppio enjoys winter a lot more than Diavolo. Doppio is practical and down to earth about winter. While he doesn’t love the cold, he handles it with a quiet sense of responsibility.

He’s bundled up despite Diavolo muttering that he looks ridiculous.

He probably slips on ice a lot but laughs it off quickly. Snow doesn’t tend to settle long where he’s from in Italy (as far as I know), so he’ll take advantage of it and try to enjoy himself.

Doppio enjoys winter for the moments of peace it brings. He likes sitting by the fire with a cup of coffee, catching up on personal projects or reflecting on the year and business in Passione.

Enrico Pucci

Pucci views winter as a time of reflection and spiritual renewal. He sees the snow as a metaphor for purity. He finds a lot of meaning in the season’s challenges.

He remains calm and composed, unfazed by the cold weather. If anything, he uses the season as an opportunity to deepen his faith through prayer and meditation. He may even take some time to fast.

He maintains his composure in all weather, dressing appropriately but without extravagance. His winter wardrobe is simple yet elegant.

Prefers to spend winter evenings reading religious texts by candlelight or sitting by a fire, contemplating his plans. He dislikes excessive holiday celebrations, seeing them as distractions, but he might participate minimally.

He greatly enjoys the solitude of snowy evenings as it’s perfect for introspection.

Likes the way snow transforms the world, making everything look clean and untouched. A visual metaphor for his ideals.

Funny Valentine

Valentine treats winter like it’s a symbol of resilience and pride. He gives rousing speeches about the strength of enduring cold weather for the greater good. He embraces the season as an opportunity to showcase strength and perseverance.

He’s well prepared for winter, dressing in layers of elegant coats and scarves. He oozes an air of authority even in the harshest snowstorm.

Enjoys hosting grand dinners by the fire during the holiday season, using the occasion to strengthen alliances or spread his patriotic beliefs.

Valentine dislikes the inconvenience of icy roads and sidewalks but won’t complain openly, considering it beneath him.

He’ll talk everyone’s ear off about how when he was younger, he’d shovel snow or how back in the military he’d gone through cold weather training. These things build character, strengthen the spirit, etc etc.

Secretly enjoys writing in the snow with a stick, leaving messages or symbols that only he understands.

My Dumb group Headcannons:

Doppio starts a snowball fight, having always wanted to try one, but Dio escalates it into all-out war. Kars refuses to participate but critiques everyone’s aim. Kira and Pucci go back inside. Funny Valentine builds a military grade snow fort but by the time he’s done everyone’s already gone inside.

Pucci insists on a tasteful, minimalist approach to holiday decorating, Dio adds gaudy decor after Pucci leaves the room, but Kira and Diavolo don’t want any decorations and team up to take them down.

Kira quietly takes charge of cooking, ensuring everything is perfect, while Valentine waits till Kira leaves the kitchen to make some dishes he’s personally familiar with because he’s extra like that. Dio complains if his preferences aren’t catered to.

Diavolo refuses to shovel the driveway, leaving Doppio to struggle with it while Kars criticizes his technique, explaining how easily a superior lifeform like himself could do it much faster, making Doppio’s eye twitch in irritation.

•••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed! I love these weirdos.

[pouroverpaloma]

7 Rolan+Tav? please ❤️

Sure thing!! Here you go @rizzikale ❤️‍🔥 I used the drow barbarian Tav from true love is the devil’s crowbar, because I figured that was your vibe.

Here’s the thing. Tav loved Rolan. She’d loved Rolan for, oh, two or three tendays? And the way things were looking, she was going to continue to love him well into her rapidly-stabilizing future. She loved his drive, and his sense of justice, and the way he applied his boundless mental energy to making magical education accessible to anyone.

She did not, however, love that his zeal for arcane education extended so far into their private time. Especially when he frequently seemed to forget she was nowhere fucking close to magical. Honestly, even the little flames and tricks of light that every drow child learned had always escaped her—

“Again!” Rolan called from the other side of the library, beckoning with a clawed hand. “You came quite close that time. Remember, glacies.”

He his the middle syllable hard, with an arch in his palate. That must have been where she’d fucked up. Possibly. Somehow.

Stifling a sigh, Tav raised her hands and repeated the wrist-flicking motion he’d spent all morning teaching her. A faint, but promising, hum of magic buzzed in her palms for the split second before she opened her stupid mouth and said,

“Glachies!”

A limp stream of sleet splattered from her hands and onto the polished wood floor near her feet. Another spike of frustrated, embarrassed anger surged up her throat, and she swallowed it back down just like every one before it. Her hands curled into fists as she dropped them at her sides. For him, she was doing this for him, she reminded herself.

“It may be your accent,” Rolan mused, totally unperturbed by yet another failure on her part. He vanished the puddle of icy slush with a casual wave. “I have also done some reading on the differences between high elvish and drow magic that may provide a more complete perspective—”

“Or maybe I just can’t do magic!” she interjected, forcefully cheerful but still loud enough that he startled. Fuck, of course. She knew better than to—in here, of all places—gods damn it this was going so fucking badly. Surely he could see that? Surely he’d drop this whole farce of an experiment and just take her out for lunch or something. Take her over the couch, even. She wasn’t picky. Anything but this.

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “Even the most facile learner can cast a cantrip; and you, my dear, are not facile. It merely takes superior instruction. Again.”

Tav tried. She did. She stuffed down her feelings again, and raised her arms, and even got most of the way through the somatic component, before a much more familiar power ripped through her. Mindless, incandescent rage overtook her completely. Her vision went red and blurred, and the rest of her brain could only watch in horror as her hands picked up an armillary sphere and heaved it over the railing of the reading room with a deafening roar.

Satisfied, her rage drained away as quickly as it appeared. The heavy brass fixture crashed to earth somewhere in the basement. Echoes of its demise reverberated throughout the tower.

Chest heaving, eyes enormous, she slowly turned to face Rolan. His noble face was frozen in shock as he looked back at her. A flicker of fear passed over his expression as his gaze met hers. Again, she remembered that they were standing in the very same room where Lorroakan had beaten him senseless, and guilt crashed into her like a runaway cart.

“Rolan,” she breathed. “Rolan, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be scared of me, please, fuck, I’m so sorry—”

He took a step toward her from across the room, then another, slow and deliberate. Grief nearly choked her. This was it, wasn’t it. She’d ruined it.

“You don’t have to—I can just go, I understand, you don’t have to worry,” she rushed out, holding her palms up beseechingly. He was halfway to her now and quickly closing the gap. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like that; it’s my own fault that I let it get so bad, I just got so frustrated but that’s not something that should be your problem—”

In an instant, he pulled her flat against the broad wall of his chest and slotted his mouth to hers, warm and insistent. Her protests died in her throat. Wait, but—she’d just—and now—

“I can hear you thinking,” he murmured. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right.”

“But—”

“Shh.” He snaked a hand around the back of her head and crushed her into another, deeper kiss. She swayed on her feet and he caught her, one strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist. When he slipped his clever tongue past her lips, she finally let her eyes slide closed. He hummed encouragingly.

“There we are,” he said. “Much better.”

Tav pulled back to look at him, grabbing the front of his robes to get his attention. “Do you have any idea how badly I could have hurt you just now?” she asked bluntly.

“Non movere.”

His amber eyes flared with humor as every joint in her body locked in place. Threads of pulsing violet light wrapped her like vines; barely leaving enough room for her to breathe. Rolan leaned in close.

“The day we met, you punched Aradin so hard that we all hoped you’d killed him. Be assured that I have a very clear idea of how badly you could hurt me. I simply will not let you.” The words could have been condescending, especially from him, but the rawness in his voice and the anxious set of his mouth made clear the promise he was making. Safety. Not just for him, but for her, too—the safety of his unconditional, complete acceptance. Even when her ironclad self-control wavered and her rage slipped its leash, he wouldn’t flinch. He wouldn’t leave.

He seemed to know exactly when she’d grasped his point, in that preternatural way he had, because he dismissed the enchantment with a flick of his fingers. Tav took a great gulp of air as her magical bindings loosened.

“As much as I believe in your arcane potential,” he intoned, taking her hands and kissing them apologetically, “it seems I have ignored that the basest component of all magical acts is will. And you, dear one, do not wish to be here at all.”

“No,” she blurted, and thank every god above and below, Rolan laughed. “I mean, magic is important! Uh, and I love that it’s important to you, but for me—I’d rather just spectate. If that’s okay.”

“In that case.” He made a complex gesture, and a bouquet of luminescent mushrooms and Underdark ferns appeared in her hands. She gasped in delight. “I’ll make you the most accomplished spectator on Toril.”

[abbeyofcyn]

Hello Abbey 👋

I'm curious, what are your thoughts about the Brains and Brawn duo ? 💙❤️

I uhm...

Brains and Brawn are Donnie and Raph, right? But your blue and red hearts confuse me so I'll just answer both

I like brains and Brawn. I loved when Donnie said I love you because Raph basically encouraged to just test out his flying taxi. I also loved that Raph was very considerate in the film by telling Donnie it was a rescue and not a big although I doubt Donnie would think Raph would go and hug him while he was falling down to earth but who knows.

Leo and Raph... hmm...I get them. Raph wanting so badly to protect his siblings and Leo definitely not feeling ready to be a leader. In hindsight (since I saw the film first)

I feel like it's kind of odd of Raph to just punch hole in Leo's room. I just feel like he'd just get mad at him like when he ate those pizza puffs? Eh I've never been good at analysing or remembering things so maybe he punched Leo in the series 😆

Wait... I'm letting my train of thoughts take over my writing.

Anyway I like them but once again...not. enough. Duo moments!!

Also... Leo and Raph duo name? Been talking about it on discord and slush puppies was one of the options and I really like it because it's cute af 🥺

[jjuniesdaydream]

Slush!

not requested

wrote this bc i have been craving for some junseo softness and i think that it's a crime that there isn't more of it. also because i have that one moment of sleepy junseo with no shirt on seared into my brain, so that was the inspiration ig (also pls this is so self-indulgent) i'd obviously recommend listening to Slush by DKB while reading this, as it is its namesake :3

word count: 2,1k gender neutral reader

Junseo knew it would have to be a day of hell for you. Not only did you have your job that you, of course, had to do, and do well, but you were also in the middle of moving out of your apartment and into a new place. He had tried to come over more to help you pack, and you were grateful for the times that he had helped you, but he had his own schedule that was tightly packed and unfortunately didn’t have the most time to help out, much to his dismay.

One day he had managed to carve out a whole evening for you. Giddy, he picked up the flowers and the takeout he had planned to bring with him, knowing that you didn’t leave yourself much time to eat and your meals had mostly been cups of ramen. He smiled down at the plastic bag hanging from where he held onto the handles; he could smell the amazing food as he walked to the apartment that was still yours for a few days. He was wearing his black bucket hat and a facemask, as DKB was finally garnering some attention after Peak Time was aired and he had experienced more frequent times of being stopped on the street for an autograph or a selca, and as much as he loved his fans’ support, that day he just wanted to go straight to his love to help out with something as mundane as packing things in boxes and eating good food out of containers.

When he got there, he knocked, as he usually did, but as you sometimes did, the knocks were ignored. He chuckled to himself, thinking that you were probably just zooming around with headphones on and couldn’t hear him; it wouldn’t have been the first time that would happen, so he did what he had permission to do; he went to your mailbox and searched for the little nook in it where you hid your keys. You had a bad habit of forgetting your housekeys either at Junseo’s dorm or in your personal desk at work, so you decided that it would be good to have a backup plan for when that would happen, which you had told Junseo to take advantage of whenever he wanted to, since you trusted him with your home, even if you weren’t there with him.

He snatched the keys from where you’d hung them inside the mailbox and unlocked your front door, opening it casually like he would usually, thinking you’d hear that and come running to the front door to see him. But not this time; this time the apartment was silent. Junseo’s brows furrowed, worry invading his thoughts. You should’ve been off of work by then and you had said you were way too busy packing to go out with your friends at the time being, so why was your home so quiet that he was feeling as if he was doing something disruptive just by rustling a plastic bag? He toed off his shoes quickly and moved in to put the food and flowers in the, mostly empty, kitchen, walking swiftly into the bigger space. He stopped in his tracks and felt a smile creep onto his face as he saw your form lying on your couch. Your hair was wild as if you had literally just thrown yourself onto the cushions, with no regard to your hair possibly falling onto your face, which he wouldn’t be surprised if that was how it went down.

He looked you over; you had your big dress shirt on, something he loved about your style. When you got the job as a middle school teacher, you wanted to portray yourself as more professional but didn’t want to lose your personal style in that, and so your brilliant idea was to bring some of your love for street style/casual wear, with the oversized tees and huge jeans, was to buy oversized dress shirts, something Junseo had quipped at, mentioning that they were probably his size. You also had your tight slacks on, which looked considerably less comfortable than the shirt. Analysing the place, he could see that you had already devoured the cup noodle you were relying on for sustenance, and so was probably not that hungry. He quickly went out to put the food he’d brought into the fridge, always available to heat up later, and fill a big cup you’d sometimes use as a vase with water and a little sugar and put the flowers in there too, to make them at least look just as fresh when you’d wake up.

After making sure that the front door was locked and all the unnecessary lights in the apartment were off, he scooped you up with ease and walked you to your bed, making sure to put you down on your mattress as gently as possible, as to not wake you up from your needed sleep. He undid and slipped off your slacks but kept the dress shirt on you so that you could be comfortable, but also while making a mental note to wear more dress shirts himself, liking the idea of you borrowing them to lounge around in like this. When he had tucked you in, he went out into the kitchen again. He had come over to help you pack, and he still felt too energised to knock out with you, so he ventured into your kitchen again. You had specifically asked him to help you with the kitchen wares, feeling much better about there being an extra person there to help you handle the fragile glass and such, so without making too much noise, he wrapped up your plates and glass and packed them neatly in the box you had set out for it. One thing less for you to worry about when you woke up the morning after.

After getting the kitchen stuff packed it was an hour later and Junseo could feel his day catch up to him, exhaustion settling into his body. Pulling off his shirt but keeping his sweatpants on, he slipped into the bed beside you, softly wrapping his arms around you, humming to himself as he could feel your familiar warmth against him. He had always thought that you were made for him; you fit perfectly into his arms, into his heart and into his life, and he wished that he had more time to spoil you like he wanted to, but instead, he got moments like these, and well, he could never complain about that. He soon fell asleep, always finding it easier to do so when he had you safe and sound in his arms.

You woke up first the next morning as you had been the one to pass out first, feeling warm and content. You opened your eyes slowly so as to not blind yourself from the light coming from the window but found something casting a shadow over you from said light. You knew exactly who it was, even if the logical part of your brain that said that he’s the only one who it could possibly be hadn’t even woken up, you were sure; that was your Junseo lying with you. You could tell especially from the form of his body’s silhouette and from the arms wrapped around you, and then you could smell the lingering of his cologne mixing with his natural Junseo-smell that you adored so much. You nuzzled your face further into his body, taking in the fact that he was there and seizing the opportunity to enjoy every single second of it. You took your chance to place a few kisses on his broad chest, being the place where you could reach while being in his arms, wrapping an arm around him as well, giggling a little when you could feel his arms tighten around you. You had had a few mornings like these in the time of dating him and you knew all the right buttons to press by now to get Junseo to wake up the gentlest (with some help from his group mates who learned the hard way). You let your fingers travel up and down the expanse of his back, your nails dragging lightly, and you began talking to him softly, only stopping to place another kiss on his warm skin.

“Good morning, my love. Thank you for coming over and for caring for me like this. You're really special; I have no idea how I got so lucky as to get to be with you.” You were about to go on, knowing that Junseo loved waking up to the sound of your voice speaking to him, but it seemed as if it had worked a lot quicker than you had anticipated this time; “I’m the lucky one here,” Junseo grumbled, his morning voice hoarse and, not that he’d ever agree that it was; cute. A smile spread on your lips, blinking up at him with all the love you could muster. “Agree to disagree.” You kissed his chest again and felt one of his hands come up to brush your hair out of your face, looking down at you with a sleepy smile. “When did you come over last night? I don’t remember letting you in.” You questioned and he groaned, digging for the memories in his still sleep-hazy mind. “I think it was around 7:30 or 8 pm? You were knocked out on the couch when I got here.” You took in the words said in his raspy voice. “Sorry about that, I don’t know what happened,” you said in a light-hearted tone. He smiled down at you and loosened his arms around you to stretch them and give you some of your space back. “What happened was that those kids you love teaching so dearly are energy vampires,” he whined and leaned down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed at his words; “energy vampires?!” He nodded and you could feel him pout against your skin. “Yeah, and when I finally get to have you all to myself, you’re sucked energy-dry!” You laughed even harder and brought your arms up to hug his head even closer to your body. “Oh no, I am so sorry, honey! You know I’m a sucker for those small creatures,” your puns just made him groan even more and suddenly he was escaping from your embrace with you giggling and fighting to keep him hugged to your body. “No, let me go! You're awful for punning me when I've just woken up.” He finally broke free and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. You ended up hugging around his waist, smiling up at him as he looked down at you, your head peeking just around his body.

“You know I’m gonna hold on and be dragged after you if you try to walk away,” you had a certain tone when you told him so, making him think that you were absolutely not bluffing but also knew that he wouldn’t do that to you. What you didn’t know was that he had woken up with an abundance of energy, ready to deal with your silly attitude. With one swift motion, he somehow grabbed a hold under your arms and lifted you up while turning you in the air, placing you over his shoulder, all the while standing up from the bed, making you yelp out in surprise. You knew he was strong and that your weight was really not a big deal to him, but it still surprised you when he just did stuff like that. He walked and spun around with you on his back, mostly to hear your squeals and giggles, only to grab you and throw you onto the bed again, making sure not to throw you far enough so that your head would hit the headboard, throwing himself on top of you, snaking an arm around your body again, to hold you close, while using the other arm to hold himself up. As your giggles died down, the two of you just looked at one another, smiles growing softly on both sets of lips. Junseo leaned down slowly and tenderly placed his soft lips on yours, kissing you properly for the first time since he’d seen you this time. The kiss was delicate and infused with love and went on until the both of you were lightheaded, and by the time you’d separated, there were ten fingers in some hair, four cheeks red with heat and two foreheads touching each other.

The first one to utter any words was Junseo; “let’s just melt into the sheets together for a little bit more.” And you had no objections whatsoever.

A/N: i know that some details or behaviours of the reader were probably oddly specific but as i said before; this was incredibly self-indulgent. when i started writing this i was in the middle of moving out and was so stressed out so this was written with myself in mind a bunch. but i hope whoever reads this enjoys it also! (i am now putting the finishing touches on it in my new apartment on a makeshift bed on the floor so there you go lmao)