#bc i had my name muse who i will call A and then jokingly i said i will pick up muse B... as a JOKE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

Plz make a prat 2 to its your fault!!! It was SO GOOD!!

LMAO I WASNT GONNA BUT I BROKE 100 FOLLOWERS PURELY BC THAT FIC SO-

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Kuroo x reader - it’s your fault (pt. 2)

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

part one can be found here! , and if the link is broken, check my pinned masterlist!

——————

Sports sucks. That’s the mindset (y/n) carried over to Karasuno, in his second year of high school.

He was doing great. He joined the writing club, he did extra well in his English classes, and even made acquaintances who didn’t force them to learn a sport for the rest of their life’s.

He doesn’t think he’d call them “friends” though. They weren’t as close as he was to his ‘teammates’. Or Kenma. Or Kuroo.

But then again, his relationship with Kuroo wasn’t real. And (y/n) will forever hate him for that. He’ll hate his guts for as long as he lives, for wasting his time and giving up his passion just because he couldn’t suck it up to tell him he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

“(L/n)-San, you’re late.”

A cold sweat broke out on (y/n). He looked up at his history teacher, with a nervous smile. He didn’t care for that class as much as the others, so it’s hard to keep up when you aren’t interested.

“(L/n), this is your third offense. I’m going to have to send you to detention. Take your seat and see me after class.”

“Yes sensei...”

He tiptoed to his seat and slid into his chair, with his head down. It was his first detention. He wasn’t going to lie when he said he was nervous.

————-

The detention wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. When he walked in, the teacher supervising was asleep on his desk, and there were only about 4-5 second years in there.

None really stood out, minus the one sitting in the corner, with his feet up, spinning a volleyball in between his hands. He had hair that reminded him of that bitch Kuroo, except it was styled like that on purpose, and there was a streak of blond straight in the middle.

The stranger seemed to catch his disgusted face, and said “Oi-you got a problem, pretty boy?”

(Y/n) wiped the look off his face and leaned a against the wall, not wanting to sit down. He stood there for about 5 minutes, before he heard the ever so familiar sound of a volleyball being smacked. Absentmindedly, he turned towards the sound, and brought his hands up to receive the ball. It’s the first thing they drill into your mind in that prison called Nekoma, so could you really blame him?

The thing he didn’t expect, was the ball to actually hit his hands. He thought the sound was in his head, or the boy just smacked the ball in his hands, but he didn’t think that he threw the damn ball at him. The ball effortlessly bounced off his arms and flew back into the hands of the boy, who had a shocked, excited, expression.

“You play volleyball?!” The boy jumped out of his seat and ran up to him. He was short, but then again, (y/n) wasn’t that tall to begin with.

“I...don’t...I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit! That was a perfect receive! I’ve seen guys on my team who don’t have a receive as good as that!”

Team? He thought there would be no ‘team’. This is the one school with that ‘fallen crows’ thing, right?

The boy was jumping up and down, praising his receive and making weird sound effects. He’s never really been praised on his receive before. It was heartwarming.

“-and you gotta join my team!”

“Hell no. I don’t play volleyball anymore. I’m done with it.” The words came out like an automated response. The boy tilted his head to the side.

“Why not? Your one of those new kids right? I don’t think I’ve seen you last year.”

“I don’t care much to talk about it” (y/n) chuckled and sat down. The boy sat down next to him, to his disappointment.

“I’m Nishinoya Yuu. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).” (Y/n) said nothing more, mainly because he was used to going by his first name at Nekoma.

“(Y/n)? Just (y/n)? Is that your first name or your last orrrr-“

“First,” (y/n) drummed his fingers on the desk. “I don’t like formalities when it comes to spor-“

That response came out automatically aswell. It’s something Kenma said so much, that he started doing it aswell. They weren’t even doing sports. They’re in detention for gods sake.

“Nice to meet you man!” Nishinoya gave him a pat on the back. (Y/n) flinched a bit. Kenma wasn’t touchy at all, and Kuroo avoided as much contact with him as possible. Yet this...stranger was talking to him like he was the last person on earth. He was the center of attention right now. And he loved that feeling.

Are all countryside people this nice? Back in Tokyo, or at least with Kenma and Kuroo, they weren’t so...touchy. And the team wasn’t touchy as well. But maybe this is different. Maybe...

“You have to at least VISIT the practice! I won’t force you to join! But this is my last day of detention before I finally return and it would be cool if I got another player in! Not that I’m assuming you’ll want to play instantly but-“

“I’ll do it.”

“Really!?”

He was just going to watch. He wanted to see how different the Miyagi players were compared to Tokyo. That’s all. After that he’s going to leave. No more volleyball.

————

Nishinoya and (y/n) became good friends during the remainder of the detention. He told (y/n) he was a libero, and asked what his old position was. He lied and said he was a libero too. There was really no reason to lie, but he didn’t want to say he was a setter either.

On their way to the gym, (y/n) could practically feel how excited Nishinoya was. It was something (y/n) could never understand. They neared the entrance to the gym, when Nishinoya suddenly sprinted inside. A ball hurdled towards him, and he returned in the direction it came from, with little to no effort.

(Y/n) jogged in after him. “Noya! Warn me when you start sprinting damnit! you scared me!” A boy with bright orange hair, also pretty short, stared at Nishinoya with wide eyes.

“He’s...he’s shorter than me!”

“Huh? Hey, what did you just say?!” The libero got ready to pounce on the other short boy when he choked out a panicked “s-sorry!”

They started going back and forth on stuff

(y/n) wasn’t paying attention to, when 3 other people walked into the gym.

“Oi! Noya-San!”

“Ryu!”

The unknown people started greeting Nishinoya, while (y/n) stood awkwardly to the side.

“Oh! Let me introduce you.” Noya gestured towards (y/n), who stiffened once all eyes landed on him. My name is (y/n), uh-just (y/n). I don’t like formalities when it comes to sports.”

“Yeah! He said he wanted to watch-“

“Actually I want to join.”

It was something (y/n) said on impulse, after looking at everyone’s friendly attitude. They looked at (y/n), even though he was a total stranger, like he was a part of the family. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth. Nishinoya went silent, along with everyone in the room. A smile grew on Noyas face as he shook (y/n’s) shoulders giddily.

“That’s great! What position are you going to play?” The black haired dude with tan skin said, walking up to (y/n) and patting him on the back. Again, with everyone’s kindness. It’s so weird.

“Set-“

His throat closed in as if it told him he wasn’t supposed to say that. He felt the piercing stare of a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He was most likely a setter. He also looked at the kind smile of the man with silver hair, but how his eyes betrayed his kind look. They looked sad, and droplet of sweat rolled down his cheek. He was probably a setter, too. (Y/n) closed his mouth, then opened it again.

“...Libero. I want to play libero with Noya, if that’s alright.”

(Y/n) hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision. Not of signing up as a libero, his defense was pretty strong and on par with Noyas. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret joining the volleyball team he sought to never set foot on.

But everyone’s warm, friendly smiles made him forget about his inner turmoil, even temporarily.

He’d guess he’d have to quit the writing club, then.

————

“Rolllllling thunnnnnder!”

Noya dove for the ball and tumbled away, before standing up, looking proud of himself.

Tanaka and (y/n) started laughing hysterically, while Suga awkwardly mused out a “N-nice receive..”

“Why did he yell that out?” Kageyama looked just as dumbfounded as Sugawara, while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stifled their laughter. “Pfft-what was that?”

“Kageyama! Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! I’m going to lecture you all! Crouch down! I mean-sit down!”

That just made (y/n) laugh even harder. He forgot why he hated volleyball so much, his stamina built to the point he wasn’t dying when he ran laps, and moments like these made him feel like he was on top of the world. He had a family. A new start. Things were going great. Nothing could ever-

“Everyone! I want you to gather around!” Takeda-Sensei burst through the gym doors, making everyone turn their heads. He started talking about some “golden week training camp” and how they needed to practice. (Y/n) wasn’t really paying attention, choosing to jokingly poke Tanakas waist with a “rollingu tsandaa~!!” Until-

“-and for the last day of golden week, I’ve arranged a practice match!”

Tanaka shooed away (y/n’s) hands and cheered. “Whooah! Who’s our opponent?”

“A venerated school in Tokyo, Nekoma high school.”

(Y/n’s) heart stopped. Every moment of his childhood he wasted cane flooding back just as he started to feel content with his new high school life. His eyes widened dramatically and his mouth hung open a tad. Sugawara seemed to notice, and gave him a concerned look as everyone was buzzing about the practice match.

“You okay?” No response.

“(Y/n?)” no response.

(Y/n) felt the ground swirling under his feet. It suddenly felt like there wasn’t enough air in the gym and the knee pads squeezed the everliving hell out of his legs.

“(Y/n)!” All eyes were on him. He was on the ground, sitting down and starring blankly at Takeda-sensei, while everyone silently stared back at (y/n).

This situation felt familiar.

————

The training camp flew by in a flash. It was one or two day before the dreaded match with Nekoma, and they were sprinting around the street to warmup. However Hinata, being Hinata, ran too far and unknowningly, to a place he didn’t recognize.

“Did I get lost?” His thoughts were intruded when he saw a boy, with bleach blond hair, sitting on the curb playing on his phone.

‘A bright red jersey. You don’t see much of those around here.’ Hinata thought.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Hinata ran up to the boy, who was obviously startled by Hinatas sudden exclamation. He looked from his phone, to Hinata, then to the ground.

“Um...I’m lost...”

“Eh? You’re from out of town?” Hinata cocked his head to the side, as the boy with the blond hair turned back to his phone.

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, with Hinata admiring the game the boy was playing on his phone, when he suddenly jumped up, squealing.

“Are you a volleyball player?! Those are volleyball shoes!”

“Oh...yeah...”

The boy put his phone down and looked at him though his mop of hair. Hinata jumped up and down excitedly.

“I’m in a volleyball club too. I’m Hinata Shoyo!”

Another silence engulfed them, before the boy spoke up. “Kozume...”

“Kozume? That’s you name?”

The boy, ‘Kozume’, looked down at his bag. He then drew his gaze back up, mumbling out a “Kenma” before he looked back down.

“So your Kenma, Huh? Are you in high school?”

“Yeah...I’m a second year.”

Hinata stiffened and straighted his posture rigidly. “Crap! Your older than me! P-pardon me!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t really like formalities when it comes to sports.”

That statement made Hinatas shoulders relax, now sporting an odd look on his face. Kenma noticed his gaze, but said nothing. The thing he said now, was exactly what (Y/n) always said. When he introduced himself when he joined, when he introduced himself to Asahi who joined soon after, and to everyone whom he didn’t know beforehand when in the gym. It was like his catch phase.

“You...remind me of one of my teammates. Uh-! Not exactly! He’s more um...rowdy? B-But you said something he always says and-“

Kenma perked up, whipping his head to Hinata with questioning eyes. He, however, noticed his abrupt nature, and looked back down, trying to focus on his phone.

“Um...what position do you play?”

“Setter.”

“Ehhh?! Really? Your waaay different than our setter! our setter is a litt-“

“Does your setter have (H/c) hair? Or is he kind of clingy who likes video games?”

Hinata looked at him with a confused expression. Kenma looked at Hinata with prying eyes that almost seemed desperate. He was clutching his phone in his hands a little too tightly, to the point his knuckles turned white.

After taking Hinatas silence for a ‘no’ he turned his attention back to his phone, with pursed lips and a “...nevermind...”

The conversation they had was pretty tame afterwards, Hinata complaining about how scary his setter is or how it’s odd that he’s short for a middle blocker.

(Y/n) came jogging down the street Hinata took, along with Sugawara trailing behind him. Once (y/n) took sight of the familiar orange tuft of hair, he smiled. However, once he was about to call out his name, he heard a voice and a name he hasn’t heard in forever.

“Kenma!”

(Y/n) looked past Hinata to see a boy with blond hair. It wasn’t the Kenma he knew, his Kenma has black hair, but it could’ve easily been bleached. He looked a little further and locked eyes with someone he sought to destroy from his mind.

Kuroo.

(Y/n) stood there, frozen to his core, before a harsh glare graced the cheery persona he sought to uphold. Kenma stood up and waved a goodbye to his new friend, before jogging up to Kuroo. Kuroo broke into a cold sweat, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes guiltily.

Sugawara rounded the corner, before his eyes landed on Hinata and (y/n).

“Ah! Hinata!”

Hinata flinched and turned around to see Sugawara, and (y/n), who was clenching his fists with a disgusted look on his face.

“Man, we were looking all over-“

“Who were you talking you, Hinata?”

(Y/n’s) words dripped with venom. He wasn’t one to get angry, but he grew to resent Nekoma as a whole. Not just Kuroo. He hated Nekoma almost as much as he used to hate sports.

“Uh-I made a friend-he says he plays volleyball too-“

“No shit.”

(Y/n) scoffed and walked away, presumably to go back to where everyone was. Suga and Hinata stood there awkwardly.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know...we should go back, though.”

The two boys trailed behind (y/n), deciding that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

——————

Pt 3??? Anyone??? Lmaooo

#hq x male reader #hq fics #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x male reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo angst

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mirahuyooo · 4 years

Text

Mori Art Ti | kth

Mori Art Ti | Recordatio — Soulmate! AU

— Remembering everything was something your heart longed for, but the moment you ventured in the deep end, you were reminded of a tragedy that haunts your mind.

Word Count: 3,741 Contents: DraMA, AnGSt, pINING, flUff, Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, tae loves art and his soulmate, S o F t HOuRS, y/n cries a lot in here sorry UwU Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

[masterlist] | Part of the [Recordatio Series]

A/N: I had to choose a name for Tae’s past life and their son so I went with Vincent bc I adore Van Gogh and artist!Taehyung a lot, so I had to incorporate those somehow adnfiaksdbgib this is a touch cheesy and cringey lmAO but I hope you all liked it!

Ah, yes, museums. They hold a dear place in your heart. Perhaps, it was because of how much of the past it carries, and how you liked to hope that you’ll see something that connects to your previous life in here. Perhaps, you were being a little delusional, but you weren’t being out of place.

A lot of people, if not gifted with memories, visit historical areas and whatnot, hoping to achieve triggers and to unlock the depths of the soul that held the past lives they’ve had with their soulmate. You’ve already tried your hand at the psychics and whatnot that the ladies these days were fussing about. Yet, you still don’t have triggers—at least something that could’ve told whether or not you have a LoveBook account to access.

“The few of the latest works in the exhibit were from one V. A., a French painter with not much history to his name. There were no self-portraits or entries found to tell how he may have looked like or lived, however the majority of his surviving works were of an unknown woman. Experts suggest that she may have been his wife, but there are not much known about her either. She has been dubbed as Amour, meaning love,” your good friend, Hazel, reads from the pamphlet, knocking you out of your stupor as the two of you walked through the hall leading to the new exhibit of the museum.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you continue on. It must be just the air conditioning. “Ooo, mon amour,” you jokingly muse, peaking over her shoulder only to see the small section for this unknown artist. The pictures of his paintings weren’t as prominent, but you had hoped that the artworks won’t disappoint in person.

Once the two of you finally reached the newly decorated section of the building, you were surprised to see only a few people walking around. “I guess we missed the party,” Hazel then whispers to you, making you giggle. Soon, you both started with the left side of the room. “Tae would love all of these though,” she quietly squealed to you, with a big grin as the two of you passed by large abstract painting.

An absentminded hum left your lips. “Who?” you then asked. Of the number of men she’s claimed as the love of her life, you were confused of who she was talking about.

Hazel rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment, as if what left your lips translated into some alien language. “Kim Taehyung from BTS?” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve told you about them like a gazillion times. He’s the one I perform as in my cover group!”

It was your turn to do the rolling of the eyes. “Ah, you mean the ones you scream about in the middle of the night or the ones you scream to father your children?” you sassed, batting your eyes before you proceeded to imitate her seizure-like expressions.

Hazel gasps like you accused her of some atrocious crime. “Yah!” she swats your arm, “It’s not like it’s going to happen anyways! Let me have my moments!”

You laugh as she childishly pouts and focuses on the pamphlet again in some attempt to give you the cold shoulder. Leaving her to her own devices, you finally began observing the works of art around you.

One particular masterpiece caught your eye. A painting of a woman looking out a window and into a garden just seemed to be calling you. Hazel was occupied looking around to notice you’ve left her to take a closer look. “A Wondrous Bloom, V.A., 1758,” you found yourself tracing the letters of the nameplate next to the painting.

Something came over you—captured you into the painting itself.

The air was suddenly wistful, a soft glow shrouding everything around you as the walls of white turn into worn wooden ones. The scent of petrichor and the sight of glistening plants told you of the rain that had passed. It was blissful.

“Do I not have errands to do today for you, mon amour?”

You felt arms around your waist, but your body doesn’t respond with the fear and panic going on in your head. Instead, you leaned into this man’s touch, lips moving on their own accord. “I have already done the necessary works. You needn’t worry yourself about it, darling. You should go on and finish your painting,” you tell him, your giggle echoing through your own ears.

Inwardly, you cringed at the way you were acting. Good God, you sounded like a school girl. This isn’t like you, (Y/N)! Why does it feel like someone’s controlling you? Why do you seem so fine with it?

Soon, a baby’s cry was heard. You weren’t that efficient with children, but this unfathomable worry blossomed in you when you heard the cries. The arms around your waist pulled away, followed by feet softly padding towards wherever the cries were coming from.

The unease in your heart settles as you hear the man, who had been entangled with you before, let out a soft coo at the child. “However, that will have to wait. It seems that our little prince is the one who is restless,” he hums thoughtfully, “Fear not, I will take care of it.”

Once you felt control over yourself, you turn to look at this mysterious gentleman and your supposed little prince, but you were met with the familiar walls of the museum. Everything felt empty, lacking the life and wonder that they had initially filled you with. Heart racing, you shake your head, rubbing your eyes to rid them of the tears that were threatening to fall. You were familiar with this gaping feeling within you. You’ve dealt with it for the past few days with your dreams. Had that really been a past life? Was that really my s—

“(Y/N).”

The voice sounded so urgent. You were shocked by the hand that suddenly grabbed yours and began to pull you towards the end of the wall. “What is it?” you asked Hazel once she suddenly comes to a stop. Rubbing your hand, you couldn’t quite bit back the irritation that laced your words. You were already emotional as is, and she just hauled your ass like you were a doll.

“Look!”

It was then you noticed she was staring up at a painting. You find yourself following her line of sight, and you were rendered speechless.

The woman in the painting wasn’t an exact replica of you, but the resemblance was there. She looked older, a little over her best years, with the same eyes as yours. Her (h/c) hair had wisps of white, flowing freely and reaching just below her hips. She was dressed in white, surrounded by flowers. The poise and elegance in her aura was very much different from you, but somehow, you could still sense a likeness.

Tears were now flowing down your cheeks, and you did nothing to hold them back. Little by little, the pain in your heart spreads like wildfire, wreaking havoc upon the joy that inhabited its domains. You began to understand just how some people could lose their mind over a simple trigger.

In your case, your very first trigger gave you a glimpse of a contented version of yourself in paradise, and proceeded to lock you out of that heaven. You felt like a helpless sinner forced to watch from the lifeless fields of limbo. The overwhelming desire to be with your soulmate again ensnares you as you stared onto the portrait.

Behind you, Hazel could barely hold back her excitement. “Please tell me I’m seeing this right. This is so awesome! Is she your past life, or something? Are you getting any triggers or what?” she happily shakes you by the shoulders. It was then she felt your shoulders shake with sobs following. “(Y/N)?” she makes you face her, “Why are you crying?”

Her panic catches the attention of other spectators. The room suddenly felt suffocating. You don’t remember. You want to remember, and yet all you were getting from this portrait are flashes you barely have the time to comprehend.

You could feel an audience forming around the two of you, their pitiful and curious gazes searing into your very being. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Clinging onto her arm, you miserably tried to piece yourself back together. “Let’s just go home,” you whimpered, “Please.”

“(Y/N)?” a voice gently calls to you. “Come on, sweetie. Say something.”

One week has passed since the museum incident, and you refused to do the tea-spilling that Hazel demanded as soon as the two of you made it back home. What made her current state different from the one that pestered you to from days before was the overwhelming amount of concern in her voice. You could sense it in her stare too.

The two of you had been up since three in the morning. The streetlights had still been lighting up the dark alleyways at that ungodly hour. Hazel had just awoken you from a nightmare. The sheets were as disheveled as you hair. Her heart raced as she watched you stare into nothingness with this empty look in your puffy eyes.

For days, this has been the sight she would often awake to. She has tried everything she could. She even poured you more coffee than usual, thinking it would lift your mood like it always does, but alas, you haven’t said a word since then—only breaking your silence tell her that you wanted to go back to the museum and look at more of V.A’s paintings. You would say this every other day, and it always ends the same way. She was doubtful, but she knew you were as stubborn as a bull.

And so, here you two were.

Your lips returned to its wordless state, as you spent your time staring at a landscape painting of a beach. The forefront was peaceful, where a woman and a child played, but a storm was rolling from afar, slowly turning the calm waters into raging waves. Hazel is even more worried than before. “(Y/N),” she whined, “at this rate, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

Hazel has no idea if you even felt the nudge she landed against your shoulder. You were still unresponsive. “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently,” she frowns with a sigh. “Who’s this Vincent you’re dreaming about? Is he someone I should beat him up?”

Not a sound came from you—save for the shaky outbreath that left your lips as tears slowly cascaded down your cheeks.

“Vincent...”

“Vincent,” you call after the little one with a chuckle. “You best be careful! You might injure yourself!”

Giggles only came to you as a response, easing whatever was left of your worries. You see your little boy chase after the flock of seagulls that made the mistake of landing on the shore and witnessing the blazing might his chubby legs unleashed upon them. Still, the clouds rumbled from a far distance. The storm will come soon—by nightfall, you suspected. This worries you once more.

You continued to follow his wobbling figure, just a few steps from behind with one hand out to reach for him in case he falls. You were the struggling to hold the armful of (f/c) cotton to save it from sea water that posed as another threat. The garment was newly bought by your husband—of course you had to take care of it well.

“You worry too much, mon amour!” a voice endearingly calls out to you, making you freeze for a moment. “He’s young! Let him play around!”

You look towards the voice, a smile tugging at your lips as you wave at the figure perched by a fallen dead tree with a makeshift wooden easel. “He’s reckless, like his father!” you yell back, laughing.

Crouching at your son, you brushed the tufts of his hair away from his face to see his eyes beam at you. “You really must only take after your father’s name and handsomeness, cherie,” you jest, tapping your son’s nose, “inheriting his personality too will make you quite a force to be reckoned with.”

Your son ignores this however and continued to play with the sand. It’s not like little Vincent would understand what you fully mean—he’s only four after all. You chuckle to yourself and look back at your husband.

His face was a little blurred in your eyes because of the distance, but your mind could envision the wide grin and nose scrunch on his handsome face before he continued to work on his latest piece. However, you caught sight of him scouring his box of materials. It concerned you for a moment, when he stands up, brushing off his worn pants. You took a few steps towards him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What is it?” you ask as you got closer.

He gestures you to halt midway and smiles. “I’ll return in just a few minutes, mon amour!” he informs you, “I ran out of linseed oil. I’ll only fetch my spare bottle at home, alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “Take your time.”

You walk on towards his setup, looking at the progress of his painting. The canvas was halfway finished, you supposed. The perfectionist in him tends to change his mind at last minute, but still, you knew well that your husband works hard. He’s been working on the beach landscape since last week in between other jobs, eager to earn more money for your little family.

“I wonder if it will be enough for winter,” you ponder to yourself. It was fortunate that he managed to sell two of his still life paintings to a travelling merchant last month. He had come home to you then with a big grin on his face.

This had made life a bit easier for the three of you. You all had better food, better comfort, and better heating at night in the past few weeks. He had even bought Vincent a new toy and gifted you with a dress or two.

“Maman!”

The outcry you heard harshly pulled you out of your thoughts. Your heart fell as you quickly turned to look for your son. He was nowhere on the shore like you had been expecting him to. The panic pulsing through your veins made it hard for you to breathe. You frantically looked everywhere.

“Vincent?!” you cry out, “Vincent, where are you?!”

Then, you saw it.

“Maman!”

A pair of struggling, little arms soon appeared from the waves that tried to drown out frightened cries. Vincent was desperately trying to resurface and breathe, all the while calling for help. Your heart pounded wildly against your ribcages like an animal. How could the waves carry him that far already? No, no, no!

Without a thought, you faced the sea and ran towards him as quick as you were able. The water was cold and weighed you down, but you persisted. “Vincent, maman’s coming! Don’t worry!” you shout, surging through the deepening waters and reaching for him. “Come on,” you encourage him, “come to me, cherie. It’ll be alright.”

Your brain demands you to go back to shore. You can’t swim. You’ll drown.

Your heart persists. You’ll drown to save your son. This is all my fault. I’ll save him—or I’ll die trying.

“Vincent!”

The water goes deeper, and deeper. You could barely reach the seafloor, but you managed to take your boy into your arms—even as the waves worked to only push the two of you away.

“Vincent,” you try to assure him. “It’s alri—”

You cough, spitting out the salty seawater that you were forced to face when you were pulled under. You lose him again.

“Vincent!”

You feel his small hands clutch your arms and immediately, you give your strength to keep him up. Your entire body aches as you try to stay afloat. Your eyes were fading into darkness, but you persisted. Save him. Save Vincent. Save your son.

Kim Taehyung walks into the white hall, securing the mask that covers his face and the cap that serves as his guise. His heart was thumping as he approached the exhibit—his exhibit.

Is it safe to say that? He’s not really sure, but it does feel weird. Back then, he was Vincent Auclair—V.A.— an orphaned son of farmers who married young and died young. He was Kim Taehyung now—V of BTS—a son of farmers who’s loved for his talent as a musician of a world-renowned boy group. Luck and times have changed.

He hasn’t seen any of V.A’s works in decades. Last he saw of them was around 1920s, when his incarnate then had been caught trying to steal one from a curator. He had been unsuccessful then, but maybe his chances are more favored in this lifetime. He could buy it now. He is, after all, a global superstar and multimillionaire.

Just one painting—that’s all I ask. The one I had painted for my wife an—

“Vincent…”

Taehyung felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes instantly looking to whoever it was. His eyes landed on the two women to his left, standing just a few feet away. One of them was profusely crying while the other fretted and tried to calm her down.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" The panicking woman asked, "I told you this wasn't a good idea! Why did we even come here to see these paintings? You always cry, (Y/N)!"

In spite of eavesdropping being a manner unbecoming of him, Taehyung slowly inched closer. She always cries from seeing the paintings? Could she be...

The woman huffed loudly after her rant, catching Taehyung off guard as she looked around. He pretends to stay busy reading a nameplate, as to not get caught. "Stay here, hm?" She tells (Y/N), "I'll go get you some tissues."

Once the woman was gone, Taehyung let out a sigh of relief. He can finally approach the woman alone and find out just exactly who this (Y/N) is—besides her name and reaction to the paintings, he knows nothing.

He watched as (Y/N) stepped closer towards the very painting he was looking for. Sobs wracked her entire body. Taehyung's heart shatters. After all these years of not meeting her, he can't help but wonder if she and the incarnates he didn’t meet had spent their years blaming themselves for such an ill fate brought upon by an accident. There wasn’t any need to, but the pain of centuries passed returned to Taehyung—the pain he’s fought long to move on from.

“It's in the past,” he found himself saying as he stood next to her, staring the painting as well. From the corner of his eyes, Taehyung could see her glare at him.

(Y/N) was enraged. The lifetime that’s been flashing before her eyes has been rough. The way it also ends was a tragedy, and this jerk just comes in like he knows what she’s been through?

“It’s not that easy,” she seethed, “I lost—”

“You didn’t,” Taehyung found himself seizing her hands in his. Thinking about the poison your memories pour into you, he became angry with himself. It was the same fury that seized his very being, back when he had received the news.

(Y/N) tries to tug her hand away from this stranger, but he persists. Something about his presence begins to settle with her. Her glossy eyes stared into his, softening as she sees the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Taehyung decides to put things to rest. “That day…” he says with a shaky sigh, “we lost you.”

Her (e/c) eyes widened and her breath hitched. Recognition flashes in her eyes and he feels one of her hands reach towards his face. “Vincent?” she stammers, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes.

Taehyung tugs his mask down with a bright smile, eliciting tears to run down his cheeks. “I’m Taehyung now,” he says, resting his hand over the one she had against his cheek. “Kim Taehyung.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened for a moment, but she shows him a soft smile that sent him into bliss. “(Y/N) (L/N),” her voice was just as soft. She leans forward, burying her face into his neck as she pulls him into an embrace.

Taehyung instantly secures a hold around her, trying to fuel all the love he’s been keeping bottled for years into this hug. “I missed you,” he confesses, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“What did you mean about losing me?” she soon asks him.

He pulls away to look at her. “In the lifetimes I’ve met you in, you didn’t remember at all. So, I never had the chance to tell you this,” he began, “but that day, our neighbor ran to me, just as I was about to return to the beach. He said that some fishermen managed to pull you and our little boy out of the water, but…”

“Only Vincent lived,” (Y/N) concluded and Taehyung confirms with a nod. As tragic as it was, she didn’t feel as broken as she had initially been. Her son lived—that’s what mattered to her.

A small smile remains on (Y/N)’s lips, as she let out a sigh of relief. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed and she could tell he was wondering why. “The guilt has been eating me away for days now,” she tells him, “I knew I had died then and there, but if Vincent had not lived, I would had never forgiven myself for failing to save our boy. Knowing now that I had died for him, I’m glad that it ended that way.”

Taehyung remains silent, and she knew why. He felt guilty about her death.

(Y/N) frowns. The tables have now turned and she couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault for bringing up such a topic. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as she rests her head on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back. He must’ve had it worse. He had lost his wife and had to raise his son alone.

“It’s alright,” Taehyung says with a deep breath before securing one arm around her. They look at the painting together. “We’re not them anymore,” he tells her, “this lifetime is a fresh canvas to paint with our adventures.”

All lifetimes are tragic in different ways, as it is fate’s ruthless work of art. The two you knew that well, and surely, this lifetime will have its pains too. The only way to keep going is to move on.

“It’s in the past,” he says again, and she softly agrees this time.

“We can start over.”

#bts #bts au #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #bts soulmate au #bts reincarnation au #bts kim taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung x reader #bts kim taehyung x reader #bts v

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oscopelabs · 6 years

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Elvis, Truelove and the Stolen Boy: The Tragic Machismo of Nick Cassavetes’ ‘Alpha Dog’ by Amy Nicholson

[Last year, Musings paid homage to Produced and Abandoned: The Best Films You’ve Never Seen, a review anthology from the National Society of Film Critics that championed studio orphans from the ‘70s and ‘80s. In the days before the Internet, young cinephiles like myself relied on reference books and anthologies to lead us to films we might not have discovered otherwise. Released in 1990, Produced and Abandoned was a foundational piece of work, introducing me to such wonders as Cutter’s Way, Lost in America, High Tide, Choose Me, Housekeeping, and Fat City. (You can find the full list of entries here.) Our first round of Produced and Abandoned essays included Angelica Jade Bastién on By the Sea, Mike D’Angelo on The Counselor, Judy Berman on Velvet Goldmine, and Keith Phipps on O.C. and Stiggs. Today, Musings concludes our month-long round of essays about tarnished gems, in the hope they’ll get a second look. Or, more likely, a first. —Scott Tobias, editor.]

A decade before the presidency that elevated insults like “betacuck” and “soyboy” into political discourse, Nick Cassavetes made Alpha Dog, a cautionary tragedy about masculinity that audiences ignored. Time for a reappraisal. Alpha Dog is about a real murder. Over a three-day weekend in August of 2000, 15-year-old Zach Mazursky—in reality, named Nicholas Markowitz—is kidnapped and killed by the posse of 20-year-old San Fernando Valley drug dealer Johnny Truelove (Emile Hirsch) with a grudge against Zach’s older brother. No one thought the boy would die, not his main babysitter Frankie (Justin Timberlake), not the girls invited to party with “Stolen Boy,” and not even the boy himself, played with naive perfection by Anton Yelchin, who played video games and pounded beers assuming that his new captor-friends would eventually take him home.

Cassavetes’ daughter went to the same high school as Nicholas Markowitz. The murderers were neighborhood kids and he wanted to understand how fortunate sons with their whole lives ahead of them wound up in prison. The trigger man, Ryan Hoyt—“Elvis” in the film—had never even gotten a speeding ticket. Prosecutor Ron Zonen hoped the publicity around Alpha Dog would help the public spot the real-life Johnny, named Jesse James Hollywood, who was still on the lam despite being one of America’s Most Wanted. So the lawyers gave Cassavetes access to everything: crime scene photos, trial transcripts, psychological profiles, police reports, and their permission to contact the criminals and their parents. Cassavetes even took his actors to meet their counterparts, driving Justin Timberlake to a maximum security prison to get the vibe of the actual Frankie, and introducing Sharon Stone to Nicholas Markowitz’s mother, a broken woman who attempted suicide a dozen times in the years after her son's death.

Alpha Dog, pronounced Cassavetes, was “95 percent accurate.” Which was part of why it got buried, thanks to Jesse James Hollywood’s arrest just weeks after the film wrapped. Cassavetes hastily wrote a new ending to the movie, but his problems were just beginning. Hollywood’s lawyers insisted Alpha Dog would prevent their client from getting a fair trial, and used the threat of a mistrial to force Zonen off the case. “I don't know what Zonen was thinking, handing over the files,” gloated Hollywood’s defense team. “It was stupid.”

The publicity, and the delays, dragged out the pain for Markowitz’s family, especially when they heard Cassavetes had paid Hollywood’s father an, er, consulting fee. “Where is the justice in that?” asked the victim's brother. “This just goes on and on, and I’m spending my whole life in a courtroom.”

The film, too, was pushed back a year from its Sundance premiere. Despite casting a visionary young ensemble—Alpha Dog was my own introduction to Yelchin, Ben Foster, Olivia Wilde, Amanda Seyfried, Amber Heard, and the realization that Timberlake, that kid from N*SYNC, could actually act—no one noticed when it slid into theaters in January of 2007. It wasn’t just the bad press. It was that audiences couldn’t get past that Cassavetes’ last film was The Notebook. No way could the guy behind the biggest romantic weepy of a generation make something raw and cool.

But he had. Alpha Dog is a stunning movie about machismo and fate, two tag-team traits that destroy lives. Think Oedipus convincing himself he can outwit the oracle of Delphi. But Sophocles’ Oedipus telegraphs its intentions, elbowing the audience to see the end at the beginning. Greeks sitting down in 405 BC knew they were watching a tale that came full circle. Every step Oedipus takes away from his patricidal destiny just moves him closer to it.

If you map Alpha Dog’s script, instead of a loop, it looks like a horizontal line that plummets off a cliff. For most of its running time, Alpha Dog could pass for a coming-of-age flick where a sheltered kid with an over-protective mom (Sharon Stone) taps into his own self-confidence, right up until the scene where he tumbles into his own grave. Audiences who’d missed the news articles about the case weren’t clued into the climax. Cassavetes doesn’t offer any hints or flash-forwards, not even an ominous “based-on-a-true-story.” (The film might have been more successful if he had.) Instead, he lulls you into joining the kegger, watching Zach crack open beer after beer as though he expects to live forever. “There’s a movie sensibility that the film doesn’t conform to,” said Cassavetes. “You don’t watch this film. You endure it.”

As Zach, his eyes red-rimmed from bong rips, not tears, is shuttled between party dens and wealthy homes, he’s given several chances to escape. He’s even revealed to be a Tae Kwan Do blackbelt who can jokingly flip his captor-buddy Frankie (Justin Timberlake) into a bathtub. But Zach stays put—he doesn’t want to get his big brother Jake (Ben Foster) in more trouble, not realizing that Johnny is too busy making nervous phone calls to his lawyer and his aggro father Sonny (Bruce Willis) to get around to asking Jake for the $1200 in ransom money.

Zach’s death is disorienting, almost as if Psycho's Marion Crane got murdered in the second-to-last reel. In a minivan en route to his execution, he innocently tells Frankie he wants learn to play guitar. “It bugs me that I don’t know how to do anything,” he sighs. Meanwhile Johnny assures his dad that there’s no need to call off the killing. “These guys are such fuck-ups, nothing's gonna happen,” he shrugs, a rare example of cross-cutting that defuses tension in order to make the shock of the gunfire even worse. Up until the last second—even after Frankie binds him with duct tape—a sobbing Zach still can’t believe Frankie would hurt him, and honestly, Frankie can’t believe it himself. And Yelchin’s own early death makes you ache for him to get a happy ending, which Cassavetes dangles just out of reach.

This is how evil happens, says Cassavetes. Masterminds are rare. Instead, people like Frankie can be basically good, but can also be panicky and passive and selfish. Shoving Zach in Johnny’s van was an idiotic impulse by upper middle-class kids, who flipped out when they realized the snatching could get them a lifetime sentence. There’s no honor or glory in the violence. Johnny, the cowardly ringleader, talks tough, but orders his most craven friend, Elvis (Shawn Hatosy), to pull the trigger while he and his girlfriend Angela (Olivia Wilde) get drunk on margaritas. And after the murder, one side effect is that Johnny can’t get an erection. When Angela tries to get Johnny in the mood in their hideout motel, the walls close in on him, suffocating the mood.

Away from his boys, Johnny is weak. Surrounded by them, he's the king. Alpha Dog sets up a culture of animalistic dominance. Johnny’s rental house is basically a primate cage at the zoo, only decorated with weight benches and Scarface posters. All of Johnny’s boys jockey to be his favorite and tear each other down in order to bump up their own rank. Kindness is weakness. When a fellow dealer with the ridiculous nickname Bobby 911 cruises by to negotiate a sale, he snarls at a guy who vouches for him: “You don’t need to tell him I’m good for it, man!”

Elvis, the future shooter, is the lowest member of the pack. He can’t ease into the group without Johnny ordering him to go pick up his pit-bull's poop in the backyard. Why do they pick on Elvis? He owes Johnny a bit of money, but the source of the scorn is simply group think. No one wants to be nice to the outcast, and Elvis is just too sincere to be taken seriously. When Elvis offers to get Johnny a beer, the guys tease him for being in love with Johnny. When he says sure, he does care about Johnny, they twist words into a gay panic joke. Elvis can’t win—they won’t let him—so he literally kills to prove his worth, and winds up sentenced to death row, where the real boy, just 21 at the time of the shooting, remains today. Another life wasted.

Cassavetes humanizes the killers because he wants us to understand how their micro decisions add up to murder. Not just the gunmen. Everyone’s a little to blame. The kids who got drunk with “Stolen Boy” and didn’t call the police. The girls who told Zach that being kidnapped made him sexy. Even Zach’s older step-brother Jake, an addict with a twitchy temper who escalates his war with Johnny to a fatal breaking point. Neither boy will back down over a $1200 debt, and there’s an awful split screen call when Johnny dials Jake intending to bring Zach home, but Jake is so boiling over with anger, his Bugs Bunny voice shrieking with outrage, that Johnny just hangs up the phone.

The opening credits, a montage of the cast’s own old home videos, underline that these were young and happy children—the kind of kids people point to as examples of the suburban American ideal. Over a treacly cover of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” we watch these real life boys being cultured to be brave: riding bikes, falling off dive-boards, running around with toy guns, going through the rituals of young manhood, from bar mitzvahs to karate lessons. Yelchin—recognizably dark-eyed and solemn even as a toddler—grins wearing plastic vampire teeth.

It takes another ten minutes for Yelchin’s character to sneak into the film sideways in a profile shot eating dinner with his parents, played by Sharon Stone and David Thornton. His Zach is barely even visible as brash Jake barges into the scene to beg for money. They say no, Jake stomps out, and Zach finally makes himself seen when he runs after his brother, begging to go anywhere less suffocating. Zach’s mom loves him so much that she watches him sleep. “I’m not fucking eight!” he yelps. He’s 15—practically a man, in his own imagination—and desperate to get away, even if it means mimicking Jake, a Jewish kid who’s so scrambled that he has a Hebrew tattoo on his clavicle and a swastika inked on his back. Jake starts to say that he wishes his own mom cared about him that much, but as soon as he gets vulnerable, he spins the moment into a joke. “Boo for me,” Jake grins, and takes another swig of beer.

“You could say it’s about drugs or guns or disaffected youth, but this whole thing is about parenting,” grunts Bruce Willis’ Sonny Truelove. “It’s about taking care of your children. You take care of yours, I take care of mine.” He’s half-right—his parenting is half to blame. Sonny and his best friend Cosmo (Harry Dean Stanton) taught Johnny to bully his friends. Cosmo, looking haggard and hollow, mocks Johnny for having one girlfriend. “You gotta plow some fucking fields,” he bellows. “Men are not supposed to be monopolous!” Not that “monopolous” is a real word, and not that Cosmo fends off women himself, except in his own big talk.

Cosmo and Sonny’s own posturing gradually emerges as being more dangerous than Johnny’s because it's more integrated into society. They’re the type of creeps who rewrite the rulebook to suit them, and attack journalists who try to tell the truth. When a fictitious documentarian asks Sonny about his son's drug connections, the father shrugs, “Did he sell a little weed? Sure.” But when the interviewer presses him further, Sonny snaps, “I’m a taxpayer and I’m a citizen and you are a jerk-off.”

Cassavetes, of course, understands growing up with a father who left a giant footprint to fill. His father, John Cassavetes, the writer-director of Shadows and Faces and A Woman Under the Influence, was one of the major pioneers of independent cinema. He died when Nick was 30, before his son attempted to take up his legacy. “We never really talked film theory,” said Cassavetes. “My experience with my dad was more along the lines of how to be a man, how to be yourself, how to free yourself from what society tells you to do, how to release yourself as an artist.”

It makes sense that Cassavetes would make his own ambitious, and maddeningly singular film. And perhaps it even makes sense to him that fate has yet to give him the reward he’s earned. Alpha Dog deserves to be acknowledged as one of the most incisive examinations of machismo and the banality of evil. But like his fumbling criminals, he knows he’s not really in charge of his life. Admitted Cassavetes, “I'm not smart enough to really have a master plan for my career.”

#alpha dog #alpha dog movie #nick cassavetes #john cassavetes #justin timberlake #emile hirsch #ben foster #amanda seyfried #olivia wilde #Nicholas Markowitz #Bruce Willis #Harry Dean Stanton #Oscilloscope Laboratories #O-Scope #musings #film writing

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kiraswritten · 6 years

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feel it coming | m’baku x reader

pairing: m’baku x reader warning: smut, unprotected sex, badly written blowjobs bc im fuckin terrible at writing it, this is really fucking sensual like i had to take breaks from writing this bc the sexual energy from this is so great word count: 1,298 (whoops) summary: getting lovin’ from your boyfriend on a cold night

authors note: i literally cannot stop thinking about m’baku and how much i love him. i’m probably gonna watch black panther four more times… honestly….

even though you’re used to the cold you’re still human.

the occasional cool chill would make you jolt up in surprise, m'baku would let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head as he presses a kiss onto your temple.

“need me to warm you up my queen?” he asks teasingly, his strong arms already wrapping himself around your waist, he pulls you onto his chest, sitting you on his lap.

you wrinkle your nose at the pet name he calls you when the two of you are alone, nonetheless it sends tingles down your spine. you melt into his touch, nodding your head as he begins peppering kisses on your skin, already you forget how cold you were seconds ago.

his calloused fingers rubbing against your skin, you let out a sigh, he smiles against your neck.

“always so responsive to my touch, even after all these years,” he says, the lowness of his voice making you whimper, you rub your thighs together to quell the heat building up from your core.

m'baku lets one of his hands trail down your body, his hand slipping past your panties, his fingers grazing your folds, you moan out, your back pressed against his chest.

“you’re so wet, so ready for me,” he inserts his middle finger whilst his thumb and pointer finger play with your clit.

“m'baku!” you cry out, whimpers and pants escaping your lips.

he lets out another hearty chuckle and proceeds, adding another finger with his ministrations. he keeps a steady pace, each time he pushes two fingers in, his thumb and index finger play with your clit, continuing that movement until your clenching hard on his digits.

m’baku’s kissing and sucking along your neck, leaving bite marks for the whole world to see.

“you’re almost there aren’t you my love, come for me, let yourself go,” he urges you, your whole body buzzing.

he continues to praise how tightly your cunt clenched against his fingers, how beautiful you looked each and every time you came, you clung onto his every word until you finally came, m’baku rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

“so breathtaking,” he groans, rubbing his clothed member against your ass, making you whimper again. “can’t wait till you’re riding me,” he grins, pulling his soaked fingers out of your core.

he licks his fingers clean whilst you took the time you catch your breath, with his other hand he taps on your thigh, signaling you to take off your clothing, you push yourself off of his lap, kneeling next to him as you undressed in front of him, pushing your clothes off the bed, m’baku does the same, getting rid of his pants.

you face your body back to him, m’baku was back to a sitting position, one hand pumping his shaft slowly and the other beckoning you to come forward.

you crawl towards him, sandwiching him between your thighs, you sit down on his thighs. you softly push his hand off of his cock, wrapping your left hand around his cock. he groans at your soft touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

you slide down his legs, bending your back so that you could take his head into your mouth. you press a soft kiss at the tip, teasing him before taking as much as you could.

m’baku pushes himself forward, his left hand holding you by your neck and the other palming your right breast, you moan against his dick, making him grunt.

“you look so beautiful with your cock in my mouth, fuck, my love, i-” he lets out a moan, the sound hitting you straight to your core.

you take as much of him as you could, the rest of his shaft you pumped your hand around his cock, the other massaging his balls, keeping a rhythm.

he squeezes your neck softly, signaling you to stop, you pull away, wiping the drool from your mouth, m’baku moans yet again at the sight of your lust-driven eyes and plump lips.

in an instant, he pulls you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and into another heart-stopping kiss. m’baku’s tongue dives into your mouth, grazing against your own, tasting himself on you and groans, his strong arms hugging you against him tightly as you continued to kiss, his cock grazing at your folds.

you pull away, letting out a pant mixed with a moan, m’baku thrusts up, grinding himself against you, “you’re soaked my queen, dripping all over,” he teases, “are you ready?”

you nod your head instantly, wanting to be filled by him, stretching your walls with his thick cock.

he aligns his head against your folds as you slide down his cock, the two of you groaning in unison. you stop halfway, letting yourself get used to his thickness, even after cumming previously, you still needed a moment to get used to his length.

m’baku kisses you all over, his hands caressing your face, “my queen,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, “so beautiful.”

you sink yourself lower until you’re filled completely, m’baku growls at your tightness, he does an experimental thrust, making you bounce on his lap. you start to grind against him, your arms detaching from his neck, now holding him by his shoulders, you begin a slow pace, m’baku lets you do as you please.

he watches you in awe, your eyes closed, lips parted, breasts bouncing with every move, he revels at the sight of you in absolute pleasure, his cock hardening at the thought that it was because of him.

“my queen,” he says as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you upward, his cock sliding out of you with ease, you gasp at the loss, only to let out a scream as he slammed you back down on his cock, now m’baku thrusted up as you came down.

“m’baku, faster please, f-fuck!” you cry out, your nails digging into his skin.

he lets out a moan, his grip on your waist tightening as he quickens his pace, matching his rhythm. it was amazing at how you could prevent yourself from coming once more, you swore you almost drew blood from how hard you were biting down on your lips, you wanted to last longer for him.

“so tight, fuck, gripping my cock so snug, baby, you’re close aren’t you?” you let out a sharp cry, “already?” he teases, “need to you wait a bit more my love, just hold on a little longer.”

you nod your head, focusing on anything else but the harder you tried to take your mind away from the feeling of his hard cock thrusting in and out of you, how perfectly he stretched you, how his tip hit your gspot perfectly, you became lightheaded, “m’baku please, i’m so close, i-i can’t last baby, please!” you say with desperation.

you didn’t care how needy you sounded, you needed to cum, “please, let me cum!” you cry.

m’baku takes one of his hands down where the two of you met, his fingers began to rub your clit, pushing you further off the edge.

you screamed out his name, rubbing yourself furiously against him as you came, your walls clenching his dick leading him into his own release. a guttural sound escaped his throat as he emptied himself in you, his thrusts erratic and jutted, your walls squeezed out every drop of his cum.

you collapsed into his chest, your breaths haggard as he lazily wrapped his arms around your form, you closed your eyes, falling into a daze.

the two of you stayed still for a moment, regaining your regular breathing patterns, m’baku moves first, pulling himself out of you, the mixture of your fluids soaking the bed.

“shower,” he mumbles, making you whine in protest.

“we can’t stay here my love, we need to clean up.”

“carry me then, and wash me,” you say jokingly.

“as you wish, my queen.” he muses, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom as you giggled in his arms.

–

tagged: (pls reply to this post if you’d like to be tagged in more m’baku stuff and send me a message if you’d like to be added to my permanent tag list aka the list where i tag you regardless of who i write)

some of the tags didn’t work, i don’t know why!

@peppermint–teas @melain-samii @lazy-bear23 @kazekagegirl @thats-so-bucky @mcuimxgine @witchypandamonium @magentarosegallifrey @weare–allofus–mad @nyras-marvelstories @mylifeisruledbyfandoms @yourfavoritegirl-no @fuck-yeah-nerdy-bloggin @addict4melanin @billymandykristoff @red-writer13 @buckynasty @margaretalli @flowerslilac @slytherin-in-blue @kanupps06 @melaninmarvel @quicksilverbells @angryschnauzer @girlmeetsbullshit

#m'baku smut #m'baku fanfic #m'baku fanfiction #black panther fanfiction #black panther fanfic #m'baku x reader #m'baku imagine #m'baku #I FEEL A LOT FOR HIM

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moonm0chi · 7 years

Text

Life Imitates Art

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst (?)// Sub(ish)!Jungkook/ Art Student!Jungkook

Warnings: graphic language/dirty talk, oral, cum play (if that’s what you’ll call it), masturbation, SLIGHT sub/dom dynamic

Word Count: 10.3K (bc I don’t know what pwp is)

Summary: A friendly favor for your crush develops into something truly sinful when you figure out his muse for his exhibition.

a/n: only lightly edited b/c it’s 1:30 AM HAHA....this wasn’t supposed to be sub!(ish)JK but idk it just worked; still feel like I’m struggling w/ writing steamy dialogue but oh well. Enjoy! More work to hopefully come, slowly but surely. Please send feedback it’d be greatly appreciated!!!

You grumbled all the way to the art gallery, adamant in your opposition to being dragged there by your roommate.

“Shut up, we’re already here. Are you going to brood the whole time?” Liz glared at you before pushing the glass doors open.

You’d pouted, clearly having lost the battle a long time ago. You settled on folding your arms defensively and letting out one last exasperated sigh. “Fine, but I still don’t know why you brought me here to begin with.”

Liz’s eyebrows shot up at the absurdity of the question, “You haven’t left the house for anything besides work and the occasional run. You’re starting to get boring, where’s fun Y/N?”

Her words only made you pout further because she was completely right-like most of the time despite your inability to admit it to her.

“Plus,” She continued, “this art show is actually showcasing some of the students pieces.”

Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrows, “Liz...are you saying that you’re being showcased tonight?! Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked shocked your roommate and closest friend hadn’t told you the good news sooner.

“Well I had wanted it to be a surprise. But it’s only one of my pieces- you know that one of the piggy bank and cut up body pieces being put into it to sho-”

“Yea I know the one.” You’d quickly cut her off before she went on a rant about politics and the economy that you really couldn’t have cared less about.

She rolled her eyes and just dragged you further into the gallery. But somehow in between rooms you’d lost her to the other art students that flocked to congratulate her showcase- a small victory for any struggling art student.

Your rounds through the various rooms brought you to stand in front of one particularly plain portrait. It was a boy clearly standing in front of a mirror but everything that reflected back was dissimilar to what lay beyond the reflection. You scratched your head absentmindedly, racking your brain for what someone could possibly mean to convey with this.

“Alternate realities.” You mumbled, coming to an absurd conclusion. Your imagination ran too far with the image, ignoring the symbolism behind each brush stroke.

“You’d be surprised at how many people have actually said that.” A voice chirped behind you.

You jumped at the intrusion of another voice in the otherwise fairly empty room before turning around. What you��d describe as the typical art student was looking back at you, an amused look written on their face.

You cleared your throat, “So what does it actually mean?”

You folded your arms waiting for an answer. While he formulated a response you took the time to give him a once over. His brown mop of hair was tousled, with hints of pink highlights that had began to fade. He wore circular glasses, and simple white t-shirt with tight black jeans. You tried not to gawk in surprise at the muscularity of his thighs.

He pursed his lips before finally responding, “Life isn’t always as it seems.”

You looked on at him with a doubtful stare, “It took you that long to figure that out?”

He chuckled, “That’s the summarized version….in my opinion.”

You continued to stare in disbelief, “But doesn’t life imitate art?

“At first, art imitates life. Then, art becomes so beautiful life imitates it. But you’ll have to speak with the painter himself if you want any real answers.” He smirked, his answer made your head spin.

You turned back to the painting and studied it harder believing that if you stared long enough it might reveal its secrets to you.

“The guy must be a cynic, always seeing the worst.” You mumbled while you squinted harder at the painting.

The loud laugh made you watch out of the corner of your eye as Pink Highlights stood next to you now, a wide smile on his face but it irked you, seeming insincere. You studied his side profile, his sharp jawline, long eyelashes, a scar on his cheek. You internally agreed that he was pretty cute for a snobby art student.

His laugh ended with a sigh, “Yea, I guess you’re right.

And before you could ask further, Liz ran to your side pulling you from your debate. You turned to her, she was buzzing and a huge smile engulfed her face.

“Y/N you won’t believe it...someone actually wants to buy my painting!”

She’s gripped your shoulders tightly and you smiled back at her good news, “Liz, oh my god..I- that’s so amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

You brought her in for a tight hug. You both giggled, bubbly with excitement.

“We’re going out to celebrate!” She exclaimed and for once you didn’t protest.

Pink Highlights is congratulating her too with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled back warmly with a polite ‘thank you’ and he quickly exited the room.

“Who was that?” You asked.

“Who? Oh, Jungkook?” Liz replied, “He’s a student here...actually...that’s his self-portrait.” She pointed to the piece that’d you been standing in front of with said artist not too long ago.

Your insides buzzed with the new found information. “He didn’t tell me he painted this though.” You said furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

She smiled sheepishly, a sad tint washing over her face, “It might be because he hasn’t painted anything new for a several months. Apparently he’s so uninspired he’s just been re-painting old pieces.”

You nod, biting your lip feeling only slightly guilty for the way you argued with him about the meaning behind the painting. But you had little time to dwell on the thought of the cute and troubled artist before Liz dragged you out into the night air and to the nearest bar for celebratory drinks.

You’re at the bar, 3 vodka sours deep having a grand old time watching Liz try and flirt with a grad student in her department when your eyes catch a flash of pink. They traveled to a baby pink bomber jacket. You scrunched your eyes in the dimly lit bar before an excited smile flashes across your face.

You jumped off the barstool and shuffled over to Pink Highlights.

“Hey Pinky.” You gently poked him to grab his attention.

He turned his head toward you and a look of amusement washed over his face.

“I highly doubt that you still don’t know my name.

You rolled our eyes, “J-Jing...no...kook was somewhere in there.” You said making a last ditch effort to remember his name.

His amused face is replaced with a quirked eyebrow as he watched you decipher his name.

“Okay, please stop butchering my name.” He pleaded at your futile attempts.

“Can I call you Kookie?” You asked jokingly but he just shrugged his shoulders, indifferent to the nickname.

You settled into the chair next to him, “Not that you asked, by I’m Y/N.”

You had your head leaning on your palm while you studied his face. The three vodka sours making you a little more comfortable with passing your eyes indiscreetly over his features.

“You’re staring Y/N.” He stated, turning his head towards you again.

“You look nice in pink...but, that’s not why I’m over here despite what you might think.” You quipped.

He rolled his eyes but the smile tugging at the corners of his lips told a different story. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

“That painting...that painting was yours. Why didn’t you say anything? And what does it really mean?” You asked eagerly leaning towards him.

He furrowed his brow and his jaw tensed, “It’s a shitty painting, I don’t want people to know me for something like that.” The disgust was evident in his voice as he spoke about his work.

He paused, watching you watch him before he continued, “And the meaning I gave you back at the gallery still stands - everything isn’t as it seems, it’s usually a lot more fucked up than you think.” He chuckled darkly reminiscing over memories that you didn’t have the luxury of knowing.

“Man...you’re so bitter. What did the world ever do to you, you’re only 21.” You proposed the rhetorical question, and wondered to yourself before you posed your next question, a glint of suspicion on your eye.

“Who did this to you?”

The look on his face, a flash of surprise, anger, and then melancholy told you that you had hit the nail right on the head. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and folded his arms defensively

“M-my girlfriend...ex-girlfriend.” He started and the look you gave him told him you were expecting more details before you left the topic alone, “we were together for 3 years...and she- she uh- cheated on me for over a year we were together with my best friend.”

You softened when you saw his eyes dim with sadness. You hadn’t expected sadness, you thought he’d be angry at the world or someone not...heartbroken.

You shifted uncomfortably, “So you painted that?”

He nodded, still looking sadly down at the table, “About 6 months ago, the one in the gallery is a duplicate.”

You huffed, feeling angry that he wasn’t, “So why hasn’t your rage and hate fueled some more paintings...I don’t get it.”

He shot his eyes up to yours and looked at you, a mixture of frustration and confusion stared back at you, “Because…I can’t hate them...I loved them both..I just- I can’t hate them alright. And besides I don’t have to explain myself to you!” He defended himself.

Your curiosity peaked but his defensive stature told you that he wasn’t going to be so loose with his personal life with you. You were tired, physically, mentally, and of this conversation that you clearly saw wasn’t going to go anywhere

You got up and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, “You should start painting again soon, it was a good painting. See you around Pinky.

Liz laughed while you told her about your chat, reprimanding you for being so bad with names. In your defense, Pinky was much more memorable.

But as fate would have it, you’d be learning and remembering his name a lot sooner. Your best friend’s car had broken down and it was now your job to pick her up from the shared studio she rented with other students on the other side of campus.

You parked the car and walked up the 2 flights of stairs to the open studio. Tarp lay haphazardly over the linoleum floor and tapestries hung as separators for each artists space. You carefully walked through looking for your friend, trying your best to leave the other students undisturbed.

“Y/N, that you? I’m over here.” You heard Liz yell from the farthest corner of the studio.

You walked toward her when a familiar mop of hair catches your attention. You smiled mischievously and pulled back the tapestry

“Pinky!” You exclaimed and watched his head just barely poke from the top of the easel. He sighed exasperatedly when he saw you

“It’s Jungkook.” Was all he said before he dipped his head back to his easel.

You studied the partially painted canvases all around him, all dark blues, reds, blacks- it looked like someone spat melancholy straight onto the canvas. You refrained from mentioning the paintings, sensing that he’d be sensitive to any teasing about his works.

“I didn’t know you painted here.” You said

“I usually don’t but the smaller studio I use downstairs is being used for a photography project, there are weird props everywhere and it creeps me out.” He grunted not even sparing you a second glance.

You nodded silently, continuing your snooping until Liz told you she was ready to go.

“See you around Pi-Jungkook.” You smiled, satisfied with your remembrance of his name. Out of the corner of your eye you swore he smirked.

With project deadlines creeping closer, you found yourself picking Liz up almost 5 days a week, which to you meant more time to bother Jungkook who had finally started to warm up to you. And you’d be lying if you said that staring at him was a boring pastime. You’d most certainly developed a small crush on him but chalked it up to the frequency you were seeing him.

And it’s one day when you’re casually talking, splayed out on the crumpled tarp that he brings up how he’s finally come up with his end of term project proposal.

“Kookie that’s great!” Genuinely happy that he’s fought through some of the painters-block that’s been hanging heavily over his shoulders. You propped yourself on your elbows and looked towards the easel he sat behind.

He poked his head to the side, a half hearted smile on his face.

“But since it’s so close to the deadline, I can’t get a model, let alone pay them.” He huffed, explaining his road block.

You smiled and bit your lip, “I mean I could help you, I’m always around anyway. Might as well help out if I’m going to be in your space.”

And you swore that your heart stopped the second he looked at you. It’d been the first time a genuine smile lit up his face, the first time you’d gotten a look at his bunny teeth and to watch the light in his eyes flicker on. Your head buzzed and heart sped up at the way heat flooded your body. You smiled back even bigger, happy you were the reason for that look.

“You really wouldn’t mind? I just need you to pose for me with some props so I can get some rough sketches.” He explained enthusiastically trying to convince you.

But you’d been sold the second he had said he needed help.

“Seriously Kookie it’s not a big deal, all my finals are presentations and group projects so I’ve got time to spare.” You chuckled at the excited look on his face.

“So is there like a certain look or something you’re going for?” You asked laying your head back down on the tarp.

“The seven deadly sins.” He replied and your imagination ran wild at what he’d make you do. A blush settling across your face when you realized Lust was one of the sins. You had opened your mouth to start discussing with him but Liz interrupted, a smirk and a knowing look on her face.

“Bye Kookie.” You stood up and gathered your bag, taking out your car keys

“Oh wait, can I have your number, I want to text you if I need you to bring something and what time to meet me.” He quickly scrambled to his feet.

You exchanged numbers, heart swelling with the thought. So maybe your crush was a little bigger than you let on but no harm if that’s all it was.

Liz eyed you while you both walked to the car, “Falling for the broken artist....I’m shocked.” She said, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

You jabbed her with your elbow, hoping the blush creeping up your face wouldn’t be a telltale sign that she was right.

“Shut up, I’m just helping with his project. Because that’s what friends do.” You retorted and just got an eye roll back.

“Mmmhmm, and I pose for all my friends when they ask too. You’ve never even posed for me.” She said matter-of-factly to which you mumble a “you’ve never asked…” but you knew she had and that you’d rejected multiple offers.

And despite how boring posing seemed to you in the past, you couldn’t help but feel excited when you knew you’d get to spend more time with Jungkook.

It was going well, even though his eyes on you had heat flaring to your cheeks like a hormonal teenager. You’d gotten through three sins (Greed, Sloth and Gluttony) and he’d told you to meet him in the studio so you could start on Pride

You’d realized how different Jungkook was when he actually was focusing on something. He pinched his lips together and furrowed his brow deeply.

He didn’t like to talk when he was fully immersed in something so you usually sat in silence, and sometimes studied his mannerisms. He seemed to sigh a lot, he was very hard on himself and you were sure there were more crumpled up sketches that littered the floor than “good” ones after the end of one session. But you liked how passionate he was. The way his hair fell while he bent over his sketch book. The way he mumbled words to himself or absentmindedly scolded you when you moved from being tired. It was a side you felt lucky to see. It was his own kind of vulnerability.

But while you waited in the dimly lit studio another student you sort of recognized, Namjoon you think his name was, pulled the tapestry back and looked at you curiously

“Oh, didn’t think anyone was still up here.” He stated and you quickly got up from where you sat. You’d been waiting about 45 minutes by now and it was unusual. Jungkook would text you if he was going to be late or if the session would have to be postponed.

“Uh..do you know where Jungkook is?” You asked

He pondered on your questions before he answered, “I think he’s in his studio downstairs. If you’re going down there can you tell him to lock the building up.” He threw you a pair of keys before turning to leave

You gripped the keys tightly before exiting the studio and walked the flight of steps down. The hallway was dark except for the window at the end that gave off eerie light from the street lamps and the neon sign from a Chinese restaurant. You silently shuffled through the hall, unaware of which was Jungkook’s. You tried each knob until one finally twisted open.

He must’ve heard the door open because it was mere seconds after you’d stepped through the doorway that a sketchbook was being thrown your way, and not in a warm fashion. It hit the wall right by your head and you jumped, scanning the room for the body that projected it towards you. You walked further into the room only pausing to listen for any sign of life.

“Go away.” You heard Jungkook say grimly.

“Ju-Jungkook? Are you okay?” You asked cautiously.

He chuckled darkly, “Do I seem okay...I doubt it.”

You finally saw him, slumped in the far corner of the room hidden behind a multitude of different sized canvases. Under your feet you saw crumpled pieces of papers, either with holes in them or huge X’s drawn through the sketch.

You swallowed nervously, “What-what’s wrong.”

A sigh and a groan before he answered, “I hate it all.” The shrill sound of paper ripping sent a shiver down your spine

You felt your stomach drop, was he saying you weren’t a good enough model. You averted your gaze from his figure and scanned the room. You could see a plethora of paintings with the same girl- different poses, background, and facial expressions but nevertheless it was always the same girl. A pang of jealousy fired through your body. And then anger.

How could he still have so many paintings of his ex when she had cheated on him. You were angry that her face was good enough to produce painting after painting but you could barely help him get through one good sketch before he tore it to shreds.

You stood there angry at him for no plausible reason which made you even angrier. You huffed and folded your arms. His eyes finally found yours and he quirked his head to the side

“Why do you look mad?” He asked before his eyes widened like he was coming out of a haze and he checked his phone. Guilt washed over his face, “Y/N I’m sorry I didn’t text you, I just got so angry that I forgot….”

You nodded and turned on your heal. Jealously still pulsed through you and your heart quickened when he grabbed your wrist.

“Wait,” He started looking at the floor before back up at you and biting his lip. You bit your own lip and looked at him expectantly. Hoping he’s say something to ease the heaviness that had started to form in your stomach.

“Can I text you tomorrow about when to meet up?” He asked giving you a small smile and your wrist a reassuring squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, scolding yourself for hoping for the impossible. You rolled your eyes, a small, curt smile plastered to your face accompanied by a nod before you ripped your hand from his grasp and walked out. He stared in confusion and perked up when you came back into the room, hopeful you’d explain your irritated mood. But his face dropped when you just chucked him the set of keys Namjoon had handed you.

And you didn’t even wait for him like you usually did.

After that you tried your best to keep the sessions as professional as possible, saying a polite “hello” and “where do you need me?”, not even attempting at your usual small talk that ended in Jungkook grunting in annoyance before either completely ignoring you or mumbling a “shut up I need to concentrate.”

You’d sit still, mostly mulling over your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from his intense gaze and the bubbling annoyance at your own stupidity for liking this guys. As soon as he’d relax from his hunched position and place his sketch book on the floor, indicating he was done for the day, you’d be quickly gathering your belongings and making a beeline towards the exit.

The pattern repeated itself until you got a text from Jungkook:

Hey, instead of the studio come to my house to model.

and bring lingerie if you have any

Your cheeks flared up at the text but you knew it was only because today he’d be sketching you for Lust but it didn’t keep your thoughts from wandering.

And when you arrived at his house, punctual to the second, his eyes lite up in surprise before smiling fondly at you. It always seemed he was genuinely shocked whenever you showed up. You relaxed under his smile just a little at the welcoming look in his eyes. You followed him to a spare room

He began to explain the look he was going for and so you followed his instructions until he mumbled, “Did you bring lingerie?”

You turned 10 different shades of red as you nodded shyly. He turned around even though he was about to see you in your bra and underwear in a matter of seconds anyway- your heart nonetheless swelled at the kind gesture. But it was also pounding so hard I’m sure once he started to draw you he’d notice

You stripped, wearing a red lacey bra and panty combo that’d you bought on a whim once during the Victoria’s Secret semi-annual sale but never had the opportunity to show off. And you admit, you jumped at the chance to use it.

You laid back down on the blanket that Jungkook had previously put on the floor.

“J-Jungkook..you can turn around now.” You stared at the ceiling way too embarrassed to look at him. If he was feeling any type of emotion towards your exposed body you felt blessed you didn’t have to see it, afraid his eyes would pass over you in harsh scrutiny.

“Okay, lift your arms above your head...good. And arch your back slightly.” You followed the requests. You stayed perfectly still except for your hammering heart. And it may have been 30 minutes before he cleared his throat and sounded his next request, shy for the first time since you’d started posing for him.

He sighed, pausing to choose his words carefully but then choosing the blunt route nonetheless, “Do you think you could pose naked?”

You look at him for the first time since you’d stripped to your undergarments, a look of disbelief at the questions he had just posed. You swallow thickly, biting you lip as you debate with yourself

“Look, if you’re uncomfortable with it I could just use old sketches for ref-”

“No, I-uh..I’ll do it.” You hastily replied a wave of jealousy washing over you at the thought of him using his ex's “nudes” to help with his project when he had a perfectly viable girl in front of him

He nodded and got up, “I need to go get something...uh take your time.” He smiled awkwardly before exiting the room.

You wrung your hands together anxiously, still horrified at the situation you’d just put yourself in. You don’t know how long you’d been lost in your own thoughts of doubt and worry when Jungkook came back to the room.

“Oh..” He said ready to leave again to give you privacy to undress. But you held your hand up stopping him, what was the point he was about to see you naked no matter if he was in the room or not

You gulped, conscious of his eyes on your figure. You turned your back to him in an attempt to feel less shy. You unhooked your bra and threw it towards the rest of your clothes that sat in a pile by your feet. You squeezed your eyes shut as you quickly took your panties off next and threw them into the same pile. Hugging your arms over your exposed chest you kept your eyes on the floor as you laid back down

Staring at the ceiling, with your arms still over your chest, legs clenched together tightly in the hopes it’d make you feel less naked you said, “How do you want me?”

It took a few seconds before Jungkook answered sluggishly, clearing his throat, “Same as before.”

You shyly lifted your arms up to the positing before and arched your back again.

“So...I’m going for a post-sex sort of look...I’m going to spray you with this water…you know to look like sweat. I want to make sure I can draw the sheen of sweat correctly” He said to which you quickly nodded, past the point of embarrassment, completely lost in the shock at what you were doing. The shit you did for this kid, he was lucky you’d become so smitten with him.

You gasped at the feeling of the cold mist over your body from where Jungkook sat. You heard the chair scrape and suddenly Jungkook was standing over you with the spray bottle, wetting your chest liberally.

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry it’s so cold, I should’ve waited for the water to warm up a little.”

You try your best to feign indifference but a small hiss as the cold water hits your warm skin gives you away. You made eye contact for the first time and fought back your embarrassment to smile at him. If you weren’t so delirious with the overall heightened sensitivity you were feeling would’ve notice the slight flush across his face for sure when he smiled back.

Once he was satisfied that you looked like you had enough post sex “sweat” covering you he began sketching. This time you snuck glances at him, his stare was getting you heated in all the wrong places and your legs began to tremble ever so lightly from clenching them together so tightly.

You glance back at Jungkook and see his brow furrowed, a tell-tale sign of his concentration before he’s pausing to look back at you, you flush at the sudden eye contact. He tugs his lower lip in between his teeth before giving you a look that you weren’t familiar with.

“This is going to sound weird but could you look like you’re..feeling good or something.” You realize the face in a mix of bashfulness and worry that you’ll deny his request.

You stiffen, not exactly sure how to comply with the request. Shyly, overwhelmingly self conscious of his eyes on you, you toss your head back and your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you try to feign a look of pleasure.

“You look like you’re in pain.” He stated matter of factly

You sighed in frustration, lowering your stiff arms from their previous position above your head, “Well it’s hard to actually do when I’m not actually feeling anything. It’s kind of a heat of the moment feeling” You mumbled

You relaxed your body and propped yourself up on your elbows, the initial awkwardness of being naked slowly fading the longer you laid there. Despite the lack of pleasure you were currently feeling, you were feeling aroused. The beads of water slowly rolling down your chest, the cool air flowing through the room making your nipples hard. You were certainly feeling like Lust.

He pondered on your statement before he answered like it was the most obvious remedy to the predicament, “Why don’t you just touch yourself then?”

Your eyes widened to the side of golf-balls, “What?!” shocked he even had suggested you do something so intimate in front of another person. But deep down, in the back of your mind, you secretly hoped he’d keep asking knowing that you’d eventually bend to his pleads.

He quirked his eyebrow looking completely serious at the suggestion and your own resolve is starting to crumble under his gaze. You really didn’t think you could feel anymore exposed to Jungkook but he had completely shattered that assumption.

You licked your incredibly dry lips and darted your eyes around the room at a loss for words, wanting to say yes but your pride keeping you from doing something so shameful in front of another.

“If you want,” Jungkook began shifting in his seat, the long white button down pulling at his torso, “I could turn around until you’re comfortable, you know...until you get into a rhythm or something?”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and you sighed knowing you’d take the bait. You nodded timidly watching as he spun around. You bit your lip as your hand traveled down to your core, not surprisingly you were already wet from both the stimulus from the water bottle and Jungkook’s intense gaze.

You closed your eyes and tried to relax as you began to fondle your breast in one hand and slowly circle your clit with the other. You imagined Jungkook’s’ broad back that was mere feet from your body, and the provocative vulnerability you felt under his gaze.

It was a slow pleasurable build and you weren’t sure when he’d finally turned around but when your hooded gaze swept up to his figure, he was gazing at you just as you dipped one finger into your wet heat. You ministrations stuttered and he gently goaded you on, “Keep going, just like that.

He sporadically would praise you, the edge of your orgasm too close to even think of stopping now. You’d let out a breathy moan every once in a while or a whimper when you dipped a second finger in an curled it against your g-spot. You were sure to bite your lip if you felt you were going to moan his name, sparing you some shame.

“Just a little longer.” Jungkook could be heard distantly as your head swam in pleasure.

“Ju..ah..kook...go-gonna…” You managed to choke out.

You were so close you could taste it. Your head flung back, your eyes squeezed shut and real sweat began to coat your chest, back and face. You could feel a flush spread across your face and an intense heat build in your abdomen.

He breathed a sigh of relief, clearly having finished whatever he’d been manically sketching

“Okay, go ahead.” He assured you and you didn’t know you’d been waiting for his approval until those words were spilling from his lips. Those words were music to your ears as you eagerly felt your orgasm wash over you. You chased the high for as long as you could before you relaxed back into the blanket

He left the room while you recuperated from the intense orgasm coming back with a warm washcloth that you took with a small smile before wiping your sweaty forehead, hands and slick thighs. Shakily, you stood up and began re-dressing. Feeling the tangible awkwardness in the room you still managed to make small talk.

“So, when’s the exhibition?” You asked pulling your jeans up.

“Uuh 2 weeks.” He answered. You saw how antsy he was and you frowned inwardly at how fast he was leading you out the front door once you were fully clothed

“Okay, I’ll see you-” But the door was already closed having heard Jungkook mumble a lackluster “Goodbye.”

“Around”.” You finished to the closed door.

The next two weeks passed painfully slow. And despite Jungkook had never texted you outside asking for times that would work for modeling sessions, you’d hoped he text you and ask your opinion on some of the pieces he’d been making for the exhibition considering you were the model.

But your hopes were doused when not a single text came your way from anyone besides your mother and Liz. She’d told you that she had met someone and that she’d be getting rides from him to the studio. You were happy she’d finally been successful with the grad student but now all you did was sulk around your apartment. All your friends were slowly being paired off and you were becoming more and more lonely not realizing how much time Jungkook had taken up these past months.

And after his curt attitude the last time you’d met you were positive that your crush was nothing but one-sided. Honestly you weren’t even sure he’d use your poses as reference for the project he’d been working on after his temper tantrum in his studio. The thought made a pit form in your stomach and the uncalled for jealousy flash through you whenever you thought about it.

By the time the exhibition for the students had come around you were actually dreading it, not wanting your desires to be shattered. You didn’t want to know that he’d decided to use past references for all his paintings. Or to see him ignoring you. You missed his smile, his cute bunny teeth, that scar on his cheek, his stupid hipster pink highlights.

“You’re kidding me! You posed stark naked for this kid and you’re not even gonna go see his paintings?” Liz reprimanded you.

You winced at the memory, only slightly regretting telling her that you’d posed naked for him. To which she laughed saying, “Damn you got it bad, didn’t even ask you on a date and you’re already getting naked for the kid.”

You’d blushed at her teasing words and although you didn’t disclose it to her, that’d probably been one of the hottest orgasms of your life. It made your little goody-two shoes self feel dirty in the best way. You often found yourself daydreaming about his gaze on you resulting in a throb between your thighs.

“What if he doesn’t even use me for his paintings?” You addressed your doubts to her out loud.

She sighed, used to your self doubt by now. “Hun, I doubt he’d have made you keep coming back to pose for the last 2 months if he wasn’t going to use them.”

Her matter of fact tone instilled some confidence in you. But you couldn’t deny that there were butterflies in your stomach from the idea of coming face to face with him again

You bit your lip, weighing the pros and cons of going to the exhibition and in the end, you were being placed in a familiar position- being dragged to the gallery but this time less grumbling and more nervous babbling.

You fidgeted with your fingers behind your back as you walked through the gallery, on high alert for Jungkook’s tousled hair, pink highlights, and circular glasses.

You’re walking aimlessly from room to room casually admiring the artwork of the students.

You stop in your tracks.

Your face heats up before a swell of pride makes you feel like you’re going to burst.

You’re stared, eyes widening, at a painting- it’s called ‘Wrath’.

You’re staring at a canvas of a young woman, hunched over, a knife poised in her hand with blood dripping down in. Two familiar eyes reflected in the knife.

You studied the rest, soon realizing the young woman was never alone, a set of hands, a flash of hair or eyes of another somewhere in the painting.

You came to stand in front of the last image you’d posed for, ‘Lust’ and felt yourself blush, feeling just as naked while you looked at the painting

The young woman arched in pleasure, naked, a fine sheen of sweat glistening off her skin. But what caught your eye was the set of hands that were roaming her body greedily. You tilted your head confused, unsure of the point of the other character in each portrait

You studied the painting longer, tilting your head at every angle trying to figure it out. An old man had crept beside you.

“Perplexing set of portraits aren’t they?” The old man said.

You glanced sideways at the man, he held a stack of papers and a knowing smirk on his face. You blushed and averted your gaze to the floor.

“Do you know the concept behind them?” He asked looking at you before shuffling through the papers.

“The seven deadly sins.” You answered.

He chuckled and cleared his throat, “These set of portraits are the story of a cynical man who inadvertently causes the woman he loves to commit the seven deadly sins.”

He hands you the paper which you take hesitantly before he studies you, a wise shine in his eyes, “You must be the lady behind these portraits am I correct?” He quirked his eyebrow and you timidly nod your head.

“I’m Jungkook’s professor for studio art, it’s nice to meet his muse.” He smiled shaking your hand.

You scoff, “I’m not his muse, that’d be his ex-girlfriend.” You stated bitterly, folding your arms.

“I’d advise you to look through his sketches that are required with the project proposal. He didn’t draw all of those in one night. I’ve been teaching him for 3 years now, and it’s so difficult for Jungkook to find anything worth making because once he finds it he can’t stop thinking about it. You’ve been his muse far before he asked you to be his model.”

Your eyes widened at the statement and you found yourself flipping through the pages of his paper, all sketches of you. Different poses, background, and facial expressions but nevertheless it was always the same girl- you.

You found yourself biting back a smile.

You looked back at the man, “Is Jungkook here?”

“I’m sad to say that he is not, he had said that today was the deadline to clear out the studio space he rented.”

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment. But your inner-Liz gave you a small pep talk and you took matters into your own hands.

You found your friend quickly who was leaning against her new boyfriend, Namjoon.

“Hey,” You said breathlessly, heart pounding with excitement, “I’m gonna go I have to go do something.”

She glanced down at the paper in your hands, sketches on display and a smirk played across her face. She clasped your shoulder and squeezed giving you a small nod to go pursue your man

The small gesture gave you enough strength to continue on your quest, getting into your car hurriedly and zooming well over the speed limit to the studio.

You ran to the building, your whole body buzzing as you prayed that a) the building was unlocked and b) that Jungkook was still in fact here. You sighed in relief as the door easily pulled open and you shoes pounded against the steps loudly as you made your way up the two flights.

Your chest burned as you sped towards the plain white door to the studio that Jungkook rented. You stilled in front of it, heart pounding and butterflies forming in your stomach. You gripped the doorknob. It turned- a sign that it was unlocked

The room was a lot emptier than when you’d seen it the first time. You glanced at the corner where he’d been slumped, and your lips tightened bitterly at the memory. You rounded into the second part of the room and your eyes landed on his turned back, feelings of shame and embarrassment bubbled in you as you remembered your last encounter

Not that it wasn’t really hot that he watched you get yourself off, and that he’d made you his muse but there were certainly more conventional ways to let you know he could possibly like you. You rolled your eyes- typical art student theatrics.

He turned around, struggling to hold the various sized canvases in his grip and froze when his eyes landed on you. They expanded to the size of saucers in shock.

You smiled smugly, no reason to be coy in such a situation. You held the paper that his professor had given to you up so he could see that you knew his dirty little secret.

His gulp was audible, or maybe it was so obvious that you swore you could hear it.

You hadn’t really thought ahead of time in the frantic rush to get here what exactly you were going to say to him and so you blurted out the first thought that creeped into your mind, “I thought you still loved you ex.” You weren't quite sure if it was a question or a statement.

His eyes widened even more in shock, clearly not understanding just how deep your intuition went.

He set the canvases up against the wall any chance of peaking at what they were foiled when he made sure the actual image was facing the walls. He cleared his throat and for the first time you didn’t see a stereotypical, hipster, art student. He wasn’t wearing a mask of half annoyance and half amusement like he could care less what happened like he usually did. He opened his mouth and a worried expression quickly settled over his features as he desperately struggled to find the words

“I….I was.” He stated, emphasis on the ‘was’. He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly and you took the moment to admire his outfit- all black. God did he make it look good.

He looked back at you sheepishly and quirked his head as if to say here goes nothing, “I was struggling so hard to draw, couldn’t find anything worth drawing and then I started drawing you..I could remember your features so easily….and then I only wanted to draw you. That’s when I told you about my project. If you hadn’t offered to be my model I would’ve asked.”

You nod, slowly processing everything, “What about all those sketches you ripped up, you said you ‘hated them all’.”

He hummed in remembrance before a light chuckle left his lips. He bit his lip unsure before he answered, “I hated how I couldn’t draw you perfectly.” His gaze slowly dragged back to your eyes. A sincere smile on his face that made your heart beat just a little faster than it was already was.

“You’re still quite the cynic.” You commented with a snicker, referring to his paper and the topic of his showcase, “I saw that one, your hands all over me.” You quirked an eyebrow.

He laughed uncomfortably and you watched his face blush. “I...I’m s-”

“Sorry? Hmm...should’ve told me that sooner. Were you even going to contact me? Even after you watched me touch myself...for your benefit might I add?”

You walked closer, you wanted to tease him. You liked seeing him flustered, the opposite of his usual stoic mask. And you were frustrated, a little hurt also to say the least. There were some true questions that lie under your taunts.

“I...I was going to come to the show...talk to you then.” He swallowed and licked his chapped lips and he watched you stalk closer to him. He shut his eyes, seeming to hone in on any courage he had and said as confidently as he could, “Your body, is the best inspiration I’ve ever had. I stayed up for hours painting after you’d left that day.”

You hummed as you placed a hand firmly against his chest and pushed, backing him into the wall.

“Is that really all you did? Is that why you kicked me out so quick, so you could paint?” You asked, tilting your head and feigning innocence. But the air was heavy with tension, ready to crack at the slightest misstep.

His eyes darted around the room, flitting to yours before he hung his head towards the floor. The night outside was coming quickly once the sun started setting but you could still make out the faintest blush across his face. You blushed as well, the unspoken words causing heat to swirl in between your thighs

“Jungkook.” You whispered, your hand still firmly on his chest felt his heart pounding just as fast as ours, and your other hand cupped his jaw.

He slowly made eye contact with you, his doe eyes showing expectancy as they spared a swift glance to your lips. He inhaled deeply, his mouth parted. Your hands snaked into his hair- something you’ve fantasized about doing since the moment you laid your eyes on those stupid pink highlights. You played aimlessly with it and you felt the hot breath from his satisfied sigh run over your face

That’s when his arms, that had been hanging limply by his sides, timidly fell to rest gently on your waist. He searched your eyes for a reaction that may have showed your dissatisfaction but you bit your lip instead to hide the smile that would've probably split your face in two.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes and tilt his head for easier access and gently press your lips to his. You feel his hands grip you tighter and pull you closer. You melted into the kiss. It was so satisfying and you just want to keep kissing him, over and over and over. And all you could think about was his warm tongue and the moans he’d let out the closer you pushed into him. You felt his large hands begin to slide down your body, arriving to the curve of your ass.

Breaking from the kiss, a small whimper sounded from Jungkook and he chased after your lips for more but you stopped him with a firm press to his chest. You licked your lips, feeling how tingly they felt.

You gripped his hands and pulled them off you taking another step back to farther yourselves. You studied him, he was leaned up against the wall for support, his breath was ragged, veins bulging from his forearms at how warm you both were getting

His disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, and jeans so tight you’d believe if someone told you they’d been painted on. You smirked and more heat pooled in your groin when you saw the obvious outline of Jungkook’s semi.

“Did you jerk off when I left your house?” You asked outright, sick of beating around the bush and too drunk from the kiss you’d both just shared to care about the lack of discretion.

He sighed, “Yea…” an apologetic tone in his voice.

Your core pulsed as you said the next words, “Show me.”

His hands slowly came to rest on his belt before looking back up at you, ‘are you sure’ written all over his face.

You bit your lip eagerly and nodded to encourage him further, “It’s only fair Kookie.” You pressed

He nodded in understanding, his hands slowly unbuckling his belt. You rubbed your thighs together, his veiny hands and the seductive picture of him unzipping his jeans enough to start aching for friction between your legs.

He looked up at you through his fringe, when he pulled his pants and boxers down simultaneously. You gulped back a moan. His dick was definitely hard than when you’d first asked him to show you but not yet fully hard

You raised your eyebrows, “Go ahead.” You pushed on, “Show me what you did after I left.

A devilish grin met his gaze - a mixture of lust and timidity. He grabbed his shaft and immediately his head was knocking against the wall. After a few pumps he shyly opened his eyes and looking directly at you spat into his hand before stroking his hardening length.

By this point your panties were sticking to you with arousal and you were itching to be touched. But you kept yourself planted. Kept watching.

He started to moan and you could tell his dick was very hard by this point. The head flushed- the same color as his lips that were being assaulted by his teeth in vain attempts to quiet his voice.

The veins in his neck began to stand out, and you began to move forward. He stopped pumping his length and lifted his head when he heard your footsteps.

You stopped your advance, “Did I say you could stop?”

He immediately started again, no questions asked but kept his gaze turned to you

You were now close enough to read out and touch him, just before you were chest-to-chest you moved to his side and began to nip and suck at his neck.

A deep groan erupted from his chest. “Y/N.” He choked on the rest of his words and you could tell by the faster movements he was coming to the end.

“Stop.” You whispered.

He whined, only slowing down but not completely stopping.

You grabbed the hand that was wrapped around his shaft, “I said stop.”

He whimpered, having come to a complete halt now. His cock was an angry red color, having been so close to release.

You back up from his once again, staring- his face glistened with the beginning traces of sweat, cock on full display. You began to undo the wrap dress you were wearing watching Jungkook’s lust filled expression follow your every move.

Once the dress you had on was discarded and you were only in your undergarments you ordered Jungkook to strip which he abided by eagerly. You approached him once more, and ghosted your fingers over his toned chest

You sighed at his warm skin under your fingertips. “You’re so beautiful.” you smiled up at him appreciatively.

He blushed and whispered back, “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

Your fingers snaked but up to his face and brought him in for another kiss, much more fervent than the first. He pulled back and held your foreheads together, “Y/N…” He licked his lips and his voice pleaded for something that wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

You looked up at him, “What?....show me, show me what you want.”

You stepped back and watched as he fell to his knees like a desperate sinner in church and slid his calloused palms along your legs before looking up at you like a puppy begging for food.

You just nodded, letting him spread your thighs further apart and slid your panties off your legs.

He inhaled sharply, “You’re so, so fucking beautiful…” and he finished the statement by attacking his lips against your clit, kneading the flesh of your thighs adoringly.

Your hand fisted into his hair and exhaled a moan your felt you’d been holding in since you stepped into the studio.

He licked harshly, “So good….so beautiful….You’re such a fucking goddess” He’d say in between licks.

His praise and intense licking has your legs shaking. He twirled your body around by your waist so you were leaning on the wall before he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and sunk a little lower on the floor to get better access to your dripping core.

You moaned and tugged on his locks sending a groan through his body and straight to your clit. You gasped when he slowly put two fingers into your heat, “Jungkook.” You dragged his name out in a moan

He looked up at you, eyes big as a baby deer, the deepest affection present in them.

He pulled away from your clit for a moment and broke into the biggest smile- the kind you’ve only seen him wear when he spoke about art, “I could do this all day.”

The transparency and sincerity of the sentence had you flushing a deep red. At a loss for words you grabbed his head and pushed him back into your heat.

“Stop talking and make me cum.” You commanded, struggling to bite back a smile that you were sure Jungkook could hear in your voice.

He nodded, re-attaching his lips to your clit and pumping his fingers faster into you. You whined, beginning to rock your hips against his tongue. He curled his fingers brushing against your g-spot and you clenched around his fingers.

“R-right there, keep going Kookie..” You managed to spit out before shoving his face further into you.

It didn’t take long after he found your g-spot and with his mouth on your clit before you came around his fingers. He pumped into you, letting you relish in your high before he slipped them out and began to lap at your release, only stopping when you whimpered and tried to push his head away. He placed feather light kissed to your inner thighs before sitting back.

You shuddered at the pure lust behind his eyes while he cleaned his fingers of your release before you found yourself looking at his very hard length. The vein on the underside prominent and the color even deeper than before. You saw pre-cum oozing out of it and you clenched at the thought of feeling him inside of you .

“Lay down.” You said. He obediently laid on his back propped up on elbows. You straddled his thighs soon after and rid yourself of your bra. He tentatively raised himself farther and ran his tongue over your erect nipple.

You shut your eyes reveling in the feeling of his tongue, a whine coming bubbling in your throat and warmth swirling in your core when his teeth nipped at your sensitive bud. His head traveled to the other nipple, repeating while slowly massaging the other tenderly.

You carded your hands through his sweat hair and slowly pushed him back down by his shoulders. You delicately took his shaft in your hand. Your small hand wrapped around his larger shaft made Jungkook groan loudly, which turned into a drawn out whine as you pumped him a few times and swiped your thumb over his tip before you brought your thumb to your lips.

“Shit, you’re making me go crazy.” His forearm hung over his face as his complains came out more desperate than annoyed.

You slide up his thighs until your heat was grinding back and forth over his shaft spreading your discharge all over his length. Another low rumble sounded from his chest.

“Jungkook, look at me….tell me what you want.” You grabbed at his arm when he didn’t move it

He looked at you. His eyes were filled with pure lust, hooded, glazed over, and blown out.

His face was serious nonetheless, hair sticking to his face, a few beads starting to gather around his neck and chest.

“I want you to ride my dick until you’re cumming all over it.” He said breathy

With that you sunk down on him, the slide easy from your own arousal. You hissed at the stretch, never having taken any as thick as Jungkook before.

You pressed your hands onto his chest to steady yourself, “Jungkook, you’re so big…” You said through gritted teeth before you elicited a whine.

He just looked at you, your face both pleasure and pain, his eyes wide with your comment. You felt him twitch inside you.

“P-please don’t say that again...I really almost just came in you.” He declared

“I can’t believe this is happening, you’re so beautiful...amazing..I don’t even know how this is ha-” His rambling stopped when you started to swivel your hips in circles. He groaned loudly and laid your hands lightly on your hips.

Then you slowly began to bounce on him, setting the pace. Moans, whimpers and pants were all that could be heard between the both of you. But as you felt your second orgasm start to near your legs tightened in exhaustion.

You whined, “J-Jungkook..” You childishly pounded on his chest playfully while you pouted

He seemed to get the message as he started to help, meeting your hips halfway. Your jaw when slack at the change in speed, the way he was filling you in a new way.

“So...so good” You groaned

He repeated your statement in agreement. “I’m so close…” He stated

“Don’t come yet.” You commanded despite his protests. You leaned, hovering your chest over his.

“Kookie, where do you wanna come huh? My mouth? Tits? Maybe inside of me?” He shook his head in protest to all your suggestions

You slowed down and swatted his hands away from your hips so you were in total control, making sure you were slowing down his chase to orgasm, “Then where?”

“I-I don’t...I would never come anywhere on you. I’d never defile you like that.” He looks away, a look of disgust on his face from even thinking about it.

“Jungkook,” You grab his jaw and force him to look at you, and start to ride him agonizingly slow, “Where do you want to come?”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes just flicker to the canvases and it dawns on you.

“You want to come on one of your paintings? Never thought you were such a dirty boy.” You lean down and lick at his lips and he complied by opening his own mouth. The kiss is just as dirty as Jungkook’s fantasies.

“Okay...but I get to choose the painting.” You agree to his dirty desire.

“Wha-” He begins to disagree but then you stop riding him altogether. He whined.

“If you want to come at all, you’ll do whatever I want.” You smile sweetly, grinding on his dick.

He grunts but nods his head and before he can verbally confirm your wishes you’re already bouncing at a faster pace again.

You replace his hands on your hips and let him slam back into you, almost yelping in pain as he brushes against your cervix.

You shut your eyes tightly, “Please, please keep going I’m gonna-”

A soundless scream left your mouth wide open and you felt yourself start to clench around him. You still your hips and clamp around his dick a few times before moving again, trying to ignore the sensitivity

“You gonna come you dirty boy...hmm...ready to come all over one of your paintings yet. Mmmm so filthy, I can’t believe how filthy you can be.

Who knew something so beautiful was so. Fucking. Filthy. ” The dirty words that filtered into his head was enough because he was roughly lifting you off his dick.

You scrambled to his feet and saw a half-finished piece. It hadn’t even finished drying. You could tell it was a project he’d given up on but you could also decipher that it was a sketch of you. You grabbed it and laid it on the wall.

You motioned him over, standing to the side and began to jerk off.

“N-no, I c-can’t do this to a picture of you. It’s..n-no.” He furrowed his brow in protest but kept still as you pumped his shaft.

“Come on Kookie, you’re gonna make this painting so nice with your pretty cum. It’ll mmix with the colors, it’ll be a masterpiece after that.” You cooed sweetly, peppering kisses along his skin.

He threw his head back and let out a guttural groan before warm spurts of semen were shooting onto the canvas.

His breath was labored, eyes still shut in euphoria. You let go as his cock softened

You nudge his cheek with your nose affectionately. “Kookie, look...look how pretty.”

He cracked his eyes open and blushed when he saw you swirling his cum with the semi-wet paint. He buried his face into the crook of your neck embarrassed.

“I can’t believe I let you make me nut on one of my paintings.” He said into your neck.

“I can’t believe you wanted to….but it was really fucking hot in a twisted way.” You laughed soothingly petting his hair. You lifted his head and looked at him seriously, “But next time, please just come on me…” This time you blushed at your confession, “I-I want you to defile me.”

“So I’m not the only dirty one.” He gripped you tightly into his chest before pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“Jungkook! Stop drawing me and hang out with me.” You complained when you realized he hadn’t heard a word of what you had been saying.

He sighed placing the sketch book down and giving you an apologetic glance, “Just as I was getting in the zone.”

You pouted, “I’m your muse, do as I say.” You stomped childishly.

He got up and laughed at you, before you circled his arms around your waist. “What do you wanna do Y/N?

“Liz is being showcased at the gallery again and we should...no, have to, show our face.”

He groaned, “No, don’t wanna. I wanted to paint tonight. Plus some weird and cynical art student might try and hit on you.” You could feel the smirk against your head as he mumbled his protests into your hair.

You huffed in frustration, “No, not gonna happen. Apparently I only like cynical art students who have pink highlights.” You wiggled from his embraced and ruffled his hair, with fresh pink highlights.

Once you’d a grumbly Jungkook to the gallery and exchanged your congratulations with Liz, you began to wander the gallery with Jungkook.

Your gaze fell on a painting that had you biting back a smile. A boy and girl holding hands, in front of a mirror. Their reflections identical, from the stupid pink highlights to the adoration shared between them. You thought you saw Jungkook smirk.

The painting was called ‘Art imitates Life’.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #namjoon #jungkook #rap monster #suga #jhope #jimin #taehyung #bts V #yoongi #sky writes #BRUH

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seesgood · 7 years

Note

#the footsteps thing for timoline bc I low-key wanna hear your ideas for baby west ngl

&. send me 👣 and i’ll talk about our muses’ child and how they are as parents.

MY BABY WEST. --- fucking hell literally like i’m so in love with this kid and he doesn’t even exist. like do they even have other kids??? is it just west? WHO FREAKIN KNOWS

pregnancy

do the parents have one child or are there twins, triplets, etc.? — one at a time.one at a time.

what do the parents name the baby(ies)? — okay, 3 kids — amelia elizabeth ( as you said, but care will always call her lizzie or liz or mia or something id ), baby west, and probably another accidental one when west is like 2, maybe named like jason? or taylor? JASON TAYLOR RIGGINS? called JT for short bc he’ll probs be the total jock of the family bc there has to be one ok

did the parents discuss other names, too? — they probably pick these on the first go, like caroline would buy a shit ton of books and then tim would be like “what about west?” and it would be like badda bing badda boom #done

how do they decide on the name(s)? — “what about (insert name)” “i like it” boom, baby named.

what would the child have been named if they had been the opposite sex? — if west was a girl, they probably would have went with like scarlett after scarlett o’hara obviously bc that’s caroline’s idol and bc he probably wouldn’t let her name a kid rhett

did the parents find out the sex during pregnancy or is it a surprise? — dude hell yes. control freak caroline forbes? she’d want to know the second she could.

were there any complications in the pregnancy? — a few. the forbes women don’t exactly have easy pregnancies, so with west she went into labor a bit early, but the hospital fixed things and she was assigned bed rest for the last month or two of her pregnancy ( which she was not happy about )

which parent carried the baby? — tim was def the one that was preggers. honestly. what kind of question is this?

how easy was it for them to conceive? — well, i mean, like lets just say that they have 2-3 kids but they never actively tried to have any kids, ya feel?

was the child carried to term? — west was a week early, which sent caroline into a panic bc they didn’t even have diapers yet ( she sent tim to get them while she was in labor )

did the parents deliver in a hospital, at home, or somewhere else? — they don’t live too far, but not too close either.

did the delivery go according to plan? — not according to caroline’s, but then again she had like a super strict ‘down to the minute’ plan that would have been impossible to keep

did the parents have any daily rituals (reading to their belly, etc.)? — probably not official ones. but he’d probably make her dinner, and they’d watch game tapes together and cute things would happen

do the parents have a baby shower? — yes. and jfc the amount of football shit they got was obscene.

what about a babymoon? — what the fuck is that

how supportive was the other parent during the pregnancy? — supportive af. like overly supportive. like caroline might have had to snap at him a few times to get him to chill tf out bc she wasn’t that breakable.

which parent worried the most and which one was chill? — neither of them are chill when it comes to their babies

which parent left pregnancy books all over the house and which didn’t touch them? — caroline left them everywhere, tim pretended not to touch them but probably flipped through when she wasn’t looking

infancy/toddler

is the child a good sleeper? — the perfect sleeper.

how often does the child cry? — only when tim accidentally lets him watch bambi, or when the stray cat they feed eats a bird in front of him.

which parent finds it easier to get them to stop? — both of them. he’d stop the second they picked him up and took him inside.

how does the child behave at bath time? — he sings songs. and talks a lot about what he’s learning in school.

what is the child’s first word? — ‘ball’

how bad do the child’s diapers smell and which parent has the misfortune of changing them? — it’s not too bad. but tim changes everything bc he’s a gent

which parent has a harder time adapting to their new role? — they both do, but it’s not too hard. it’s harder with two kids because you have less hands but with west they don’t have too much of the ‘we wanna go out but cant’ kinda thing because they probably don’t want to leave him all that much

just how terrible are the terrible twos? — not bad, which is slightly terrifying for them because they just keep waiting for the terror to hit

does the child go to day care? if they do, how old are they when they start? — yeah, he does. but daycare is more like ‘go to football practice with daddy’ because he has separation issues from both parents

if the child doesn’t go to day care, who says home to look after them? — they take him to work on the days he doesn’t wanna go to daycare

which parent babyproofs the house? — caroline. tim tries, and kinda fails.

which parents designs the baby room? — they both do.

which parent is more likely to give in to tantrums? — caroline, shockingly.

is the child spoiled with toys? — yes.

which parent does the potty training? — they both do.

which parent do they take after more? — it’s an even mix

what habits do they pick up from their parents? — when he’s older, he picks up tim’s accent ( which is also bc they live in dillon but still ), caroline’s empathy, tim’s grumpy look, and caroline’s eye roll

how often is the parents’ date night now? — every week. they make it a priority

who babysits when the parents go out? — the entirety of the dillon panthers.

child

how did the parents decide what school to send the child to? or was the child home-schooled? — there’s probably only like one school in the town

who packs the lunches? — caroline. tim slips in an extra pack of cookies when she’s not looking

are the lunches eaten by the child, or thrown away? — he eats them

which parent helps with homework? — tim tries, but then he gets all like ‘what the hell is this shit and why does my kid need to know it’ so caroline takes over

what does the report card look like? — a’s and b’s with a shit ton of teacher’s comments about him being their favorite student

is the child/ren popular, or only have a few friends? — he tries to make friends with everyone.literally everyone.

does the child play a sport? — they try him in football, but he’s not cut out for it, so no, currently he’s not in any sports.

does the child play an instrument? — no. but he loves music.

do both parents turn up to the matches/recitals? — if there are any, care and tim are at every damn one

which parent buys their clothes? or does the child pick out their own clothes?— he picks his own but care takes him shopping and has some input

what’s the child’s style? — plain. simple. flannels, jeans, t-shirts, he kinda takes after tim. caroline tries to buy him things that are more like stylish and he just shakes his head.

is the child more interested in playing inside or outside? — outside.

how often does the child get in trouble? what do they get in trouble for? — never.

does the child have any siblings/cousins? how well do they get along? --- literally everyone gets along with west. he’s deemed himself protector of all of his siblings though, and his parents. even though the feel the need to protect him bc he’s a precious cinnamon roll

what pet does the child beg for? do they get it? --- a goat. and yes. thanks to tim. knowing a guy. like tbh i feel like it would be one of those super low key sketchy things like yeah nbd tim riggins just knows like...goat dealers.

is the child shy and reserved, or outgoing and gregarious? ---- shy and reserved unless you get him going on something he likes in which case he will not shut up

does the child still take after the same parent they did as a toddler? --- he’s kind of a perfect mesh of all the good parts of the both of them

teen

what does the child want to be/do when they finish school? --- god ugh this little fucker probably wants to work for the peace corps or something, or doctors without boarders, or be some kind of marine biologist who would crusade for cleaning up the oceans

which parent does the child get along with better? --- both of them.

is the child out all night partying and drinking with their friends, or staying in studiously doing homework? or both? --- he does both. except they’re not all that worried about him getting into trouble because he’s the guy that will stay out until 3am making sure everyone else gets home safe and the only time he’s ever been arrested is when he punched a guy for not backing off when a girl told him to ( tim had to pick him up from the police station. both parents were super hella proud )

how does the child go on their SATs? do they make it to the SATs? --- he’s wicked smart. he passes with flying colors.

does the child go to prom with their friends, or a partner? --- he goes with his “friend” before he comes out to his parents but like...caroline definitely knows. hence why she makes them “jokingly” take all the cliche prom pictures

how do the parents feel about their first boyfriend/girlfriend? --- tim gives west’s first serious boyfriend ‘the talk’ like straight up. caroline is super excited about them dating. literally will be the biggest shipper.

what are the child’s friends like? do they get along with the parents? --- he’s friends with all types, from the good studious kids to the football team to the loner, reject stoner crowd, so whenever he has friends over it’s always a mix. he’s just that guy that wants everyone to be happy, so he’s there for everyone.

what kind of music is the child into? --- he raided tim’s old music collection, so anything that was in there, he adores.

how do the parents and child/ren go learning to drive? is it a disaster, or does it go fairly smoothly? --- it’s a mutual decision between both tim and west that caroline should not be allowed in the car for any driving lessons. so tim teaches him, and it goes mostly okay.

does the child have a casual/part time job? what is it? --- volunteers at the youth center a few miles out of town, also works at the tasty freeze bc it’s literally a rite of passage at this point

does the child hang out with their family, or are they too ‘cool’ now? --- nah man he’ll have friends over just to hang out with his family.

what’s the child’s personality like? --- tough but tender.

who does the child take after now? --- caroline says it’s tim. tim says it’s caroline.

adult

does the child make it to adulthood? --- he makes it brilliantly. ( wow dude i coulda angsted you so hard but i didn’t so you’re welcome. )

does the child end up in the job/lifestyle they dreamed about? why? --- no. he probably becomes a lawyer or something, someone that could have the power to help people who needed it, to make a difference.

are their any hiccups in the road? --- he gets into a pretty serious car accident when he’s away at college, driving someone home from a frat party and a drunk driver ran a red light, he was pretty banged up. a few broken bones, a couple nights in the hospital and two freaked out parents later though he was still trying to make sure the other driver was okay.

does the child move far away from their family, or stay close? --- he drifts, but he calls once a week just to stay in touch. if he’s in town, he’ll crash on the guest room and go to football games.

what would the parents prefer? --- that he be happy.

does the child have any significant others? any children of their own? --- okay but hc that west stays with the same guy he started dating back in high school and that they’ve had a rough go of it being from small town conservative texas and all that but they’re still together and basically like tim and caroline just adopt his partner as their unofficial bonus child

how do the parents feel about being or not being grandparents? --- oh my fucking god they would be the best grandparents.

#everything is west riggins and nothing hurts goodbye #brxknbxnes

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