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#yes i absolutely judge things by their cover. so what

harrysfolklore · 2 months

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jacob elordi and yn make valentine's dinner | vogue

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi Vogue, It's Jacob," he greeted the camera, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans but looked absolutely dreamy, "And today I'm cooking a special Valentine's dinner for my girlfriend YN."

You smiled at him from the side of your kitchen, ready for him to introduce you.

"She's actually here to help me," that was your cue to walk into the frame, he pulled you by the waist and you grabbed the side of his face gently and pecked his lips, "She cannot cook to save her life," he spoke to the camera again, "So my role in the relationship is basically to be her personal chef."

"Okay, cut the sass," you chimed in, "Let's do it, what are we making today?"

"We're making a heart shaped pizza, since It's Valentine's day, then we're making espresso martinis, and a chocolate lava cake to top it off."

"Sounds delicious," you said, "Perks of having Jacob Elordi as your boyfriend, he grabs the stuff from the top shelves for you and he cooks a full course meal."

Jacob winked at you and then to the camera, then the crew stepped in to give you everything you needed for your dish.

"Right so we're gonna start off by making the pizza dough," Jacob began, "We need flour, oil, water, sugar, salt and instant yeast."

"And of course, a good looking sous chef," you teased, batting your eyelashes at the camera.

"That you are," Jacob pecked your cheek, "Now, sous chef, we need two cups,"

"Of this?" you pointed to the flour bowl.

"Yes," he put the ingredient on the mixer, "Two teaspoons of sugar,"

"I'll do that one," you grabbed the small bowl that contained what you thought was the sugar, and Jacob abruptly stopped you.

"No, love, that's the salt."

"Well dammit," you quickly put the bowl down, "Can we cut that part?" you told the crew and they laughed, Jacob just pinched your side affectionately.

"Let me add the ingredients into the mixer and you can help me pour the water, okay?"

Jacob put everything that was needed on the mixer and you slowly poured the water as the machine started working.

"So this is starting to come together now," Jacob spoke to the camera, "Just need it to turn up the heat a little bit," he said playfully and winked at the camera.

"You did not just say that."

"I did just say that," he winked at you now, "Now help me put the oil on."

You did as he said, pouring the oil on the mixture and then covering it with plastic foil.

"We need to put it in the fridge for two hours so it can rise,"

"I feel like Martha Stewart," you put a hand on your hip, "This is like, my dream."

The video showed a time lapse indicating that two hours had passed and it was time to get the dough out of the fridge.

"So Jacob is getting the dough out of the fridge," you explained to the camera, "And we're going to make two separate pizzas to see which one turns out the best."

"Are we actually gonna cut the heart?" Jacob approached you with the bowl, "But it looks so pretty, love."

"Sorry, I'm going to break your heart today on Valentine's day."

"Jesus," Jacob's eyes widened, "So this has been chilling for two hours, and now we have to make it look like a heart.

"Okay, move aside," you moved Jacob's hand away from the dough and he laughed, "This would be easier with a rolling pin but okay."

"So to do the heart shape we need scissors," he sad after carefully folding the dough in half, "Try it, love."

"Like you do with a card, right?" Jacob gave you a confused look, "A Valentine's day card."

"Just don't cut the whole pizza in half," you rolled your eyes at him, "I'm not judging your cooking abilities, love. Just guiding you through the process."

"Just go get the ceramic pizza stone and let's get this in the oven."

"We need to put on the ingredients first, don't we?" Jacob raised his eyebrows

"Oh you're right," you grabbed a bowl with tomato sauce, "So I'm going to cover the whole thing, just leaving space for the crust," you poured the sauce with a spoon, "Am I overdoing this?" you asked your boyfriend.

"No, you like it, like a lot of tomato, don't you?", you nodded, "Just spread it out a little bit," you did as he said, "It's perfect babe, well done."

"We're diving this," you signaled with your hands, "This is your territory and this is mine.

"Okay but let's not cut it, because then that's like cutting the heart and that's sad."

The crew asked you to describe a romantic moment as you decorated your pizza, and Jacob was the first one to speak.

"She is really romantic," he said as he peeled an onion, "The other day when we got back from New York she planted this cute, like herb garden outside on our patio and we had a picnic there, it was lovely."

"One of the most romantic things Jacob has ever done for me was when he surprised me with a spontaneous road trip to a secluded cabin in the mountains," you added, sprinkling shredded mozzarella cheese on your side of the pizza. "He had everything planned out, a cozy fireplace, a bottle of wine, and a clear view of the starlit sky. It was incredibly romantic."

"Yeah, that was a special trip," Jacob smiled at you, his eyes soft at the memory, as he arranged slices of pepperoni on his half of the pizza, "She was freezing so we cuddled a lot, that was nice."

You finished up your pizza and Jacob carefully placed it on the heated oven, then the crew got everything ready to star with your dessert.

"Alright, so we're making the chocolate lava cake," Jacob clasped his hands together, "Do you think you can do it, babe?

"Let's do it!"

You and Jacob followed the recipe for the cake, you helped him pour the eggs and mix the ingredients together, earning compliments from him about your cooking skills improving.

"So now, these," Jacob grabbed the tray with the two small chocolate cakes, "Which YN just poured very perfectly, are going in the oven for about 12 minutes at 450.

You closed the oven and the final thing to prepare for your menu was your drinks, the espresso martini.

"So we're going to make the espresso martini, the virgin espresso martini," Jacob said to the camera, "Because this one is on a non alcohol diet."

"You gotta keep the system healthy!"

Jacob poured all the ingredients into the drink mixer and moved it up and down, his biceps twitching at the movement.

"I'm impressed," you said as he poured down the drink in your glasses, "That was sexy, baby."

"Thanks, glad to know," Jacob winked at you, "Cheers," he handed your glass, you clicked it with his and sipped at the drink, "This is pretty good, let's take it to the table."

You moved to the table, where you pizza and cakes were perfectly placed along with some lit up candles and flowers for decoration.

"This looks amazing," you said as you looked at the food in front of you.

"Looks nice, doesn't it?" Jacob took the seat in front of you, "My side of the pizza looks nicer."

"No," you said with a serious tome but then your eyes softened, "Happy Valentine's day, baby."

"Happy Valentine's day," he smiled fondly at you, "You happy? You like this?"

"Yeah, I love it," you squeezed your hand quickly, "Can we start eating?"

You ate your dinner, bantering about which side of the pizza was better and which one of you had been the better chef, even though there were cameras and crew around, it felt like an intimate moment between the two of you.

"Here, try the dessert," Jacob said once you were done with your pizza, spoon feeding you a bite, "It's good, isn't it?"

"So good, I'm such a chocolate lover," you said, "I feel like I was great help to you in the kitchen, what do you say?"

"Really good help," he took a spoonful of the cake, "Best looking osus chef ever."

"Thank you, I really appreciate that," you squeezed his hand again, "I really tried for you today."

"Yeah, cause usually I make her a drink and she just watches me cook," he told the camera, "She's obsessed with me, can't take her eyes off."

"Cheers babe, I love you," you ignored his comment and raised your drink, "happy Valentine's day,

"Happy Valentine's day,"

"I'm going for it," you said as you rose from your seat, "Why do I always am eager to be the kisser?"

"She just wants to kiss me so bad," he stood from his seat and placed a kiss to your lips, "Love you."

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lixie-phoria · 5 months

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ੈ✩‧ ➛ han jisung thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : han x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.8k words

summary : han jisung couldn't be more subtle as he pined after you. ranging from eagerly buying your merchandise to watching your favorite shows just so he has more reasons to talk to you. it would've been adorable if it hadn't been going on for so long.

if there was one thing han jisung would never judge overly zealous kpop stans for, was their passion. Never for the way they would viciously defend their bias or spend an unnecessary amount of money when trading photocards. He would never question their excitement. He couldn't. Not when he was on the same boat as them.

You were a rookie idol, so new to the world of kpop, so full of life and love for what you did, never letting the fame get to your head. Nobody could blame han for falling for you, really. The poor boy was so in love it was comical. He thought he was subtle with the way he was always steaming your music and buying your merch. He thought nobody would notice the secret fan account he ran for you on Twitter and Instagram. Han jisung thought he was a mastermind for the way he "skilfully" kept his crush a secret. But the boy could fool absolutely nobody, not his members nor yours. yes things were hard because of JYPs dating ban for rookie idols but did that stop him from being delusional? absolutely not.

the members caught him multiple times giggling to your instagram posts or marveling at your vocals during a performance. it was like watching a teenage boy fall in love for the first time, complete with the dreamy sighs and feet kicking.

when changbin caught jisung eagerly watching a show in their dorm early one morning, he wasn't that surprised. but when he found out it was a romance show? that raised a few questions because nearly everyone knew han was more of a horror lover. that was until the older man found out the shows name. of course han jisung was watching the show you had recently revealed in an interview you were obsessed with. the excited grin on his face and slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated on the plot would've been adorable if changbin hadn't been so exasperated. This was the seventh k-drama jisung was watching for you. just so he could find more reasons to talk to you, as if he didn't spend nearly half his time texting you either ways.

"Enjoying the story, han?"

of course han hadn't noticed changbin walk into his room. not when he was dutifully remembering every moment playing on the screen so he could talk to you about it later.

"yeah it's a nice show."

"i bet the person who recommended it is real nice too, huh?"

"hyung!"

changbin wished he could take a picture of the blush spreading across jisung's face and down his neck and send it to you with a message in big bold letters reading THIS MAN IS IN LOVE WITH YOU PLEASE ACKOWLEDGE HIM!!! but jisung would go wild so he chose the safer option of leaning again the younger boy's door frame, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

"do you like this show better than the one you finished watching last week, which was also recommended by y/n?"

"i am not watching these shows just because y/n likes them."

"oh ok, so you're not going to text them about this episode the instant you're done watching it?"

"nope."

"good! so you don't mind if i text them about it instead? because i just finished the show last night."

it was a lie, obviously, but han was immediately scrambling up from his position on the bed, trying to convince changbin against it while trying not to blow his cover.

"just tell them you like them, jisung, y/n's not gonna avoid you for it."

"chan hyung just finished teasing me about this too, please don't start again."

changbin wished he could record han whining his denials too, because he couldn't believe how whipped someone could be.

that was until jisung's phone vibrated with a notification, and his disbelief only grew as he watched his member's eyes light up. jisung kept only your notifications on, so it was obvious who had texted him. all thoughts of changbin were forgotten as jisung eagerly read whatever you had sent, typing back his response immediately, earning a snort from changbin. jisung was known among their friend group for being a ghoster, but of course he was texting you back immediately. changbin knew he wasn't going to get any more responses when han didn't even look up from the screen.

"you better confess soon or im going to text them from your phone one day."

"you wouldn't dare!"

"i most certainly would."

changbin cackled as he left the younger boy shouting indignantly from his room. he knew the seven of them would breathe a sigh of relief only when han finally came clear to you about his feelings. until then, all they could hope for was the boy mustering the courage required to do so quick.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak22 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

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manicformunson · 2 years

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the freaks

master list

pairing eddie munson x fem! reader

summary Reader's friends find out about her crush on Eddie Munson and tease her about it constantly until one lunch period they take it too far

Y/N had no idea how it happened, one day she was spending her lunch period with her friends gossiping and the next she found herself spending it drooling over the leader of the Hellfire club, Eddie Munson. Of course, in true teen fashion, her friends had caught her staring at him and had started teasing her about it daily.

Today had been one of those days except Y/N was in a really bad mood, having failed an important math test and all so she was pretty annoyed once she had sat down at their lunch table, even though that shouldn't be an excuse for the shitty thing she did.

After getting her lunch out, she glanced over at the Hellfire table, which her friends noticed and started giggling. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." "Oh shut up." She replied before taking a bite of her sandwich. Y/N couldn't help but look at him, he was gorgeous and it confused her how her friends couldn't see it.

Not long into the lunch period, the group had started their daily boy talk and judging everyone's crushes. "Well at least I'm not in love with the freak." One of her friends, Susan, laughed with her thumb out at Y/N and igniting a flame she didn't even know was there.

Before Y/N could even comprehend what was happening she was shoving a lunch tray across the table in Susan's lap, covering her in what was barely considered spaghetti. The cafeteria fell silent, even the Hellfire table, and Y/N's face got hot at all the eyes suddenly on her.

"What the hell!?" Susan screamed at her, standing up and looking down at the mess on her front. "I-I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me-" Y/N had tried to explain but Susan cut her off.

"God you are so obsessed with that freak Munson and it's making you fucking crazy!" Susan ran out of the cafeteria just as it erupted in whispers, most trying to figure out what had happened while Y/N was standing there dumbfounded.

Eddie was sure to have heard that and she was too scared to glance in his direction, much less stay in the cafeteria so she ran, ran all the way to the woods behind the football field and cried.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. Did she deserve it after spilling Susan's lunch on her? Probably. Was she absolutely modified and planning to run away where no one would find her? Yes.

Y/N had wandered around sobbing quietly to herself before she stumbled into a broad frame, gasping she jumped back to see Eddie fucking Munson. Of course she would find him when she didn't want to see him.

"Sorry," He said, offering her a smile, "I didn't mean to scare you." "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to I was," Y/N tried to say but found her eyes swelling up with tears again and decided that if she tried to finish her thought she'd start bawling again. Eddie took note of this and stepped an inch closer, "Hey you okay? I, uh I saw what happened back there."

Well shit, she didn't really expect him to just flat out say it, then again it was Eddie and he was a little forward. "Oh, again I'm sorry, I should just go. I'm sorry." If Y/N said sorry one more time today she was going to drown herself in a lake.

Eddie just continued to smile at her and hold out his arm, "You got nothing to be sorry about sweetheart, come on let's sit down. There's a picnic bench over here somewhere."

Reluctantly, she grabbed Eddie's arm and walked with him still sniffing. "I'm sorry Susan called you a freak." Y/N muttered so quiet she didn't think Eddie had heard her until he looked at the ground smirking and then bringing his hand up and over yours that was gripping his arm.

"I am a freak Y/N, and I'm thinking maybe you are too."

That made her giggle, "You think so?" "Oh I most definitely know so." They both let out little laughs until reaching a small picnic bench, just like Eddie had said.

They sat down across from each other. Y/N was still a little anxious and Eddie could tell so he tried to lighten the mood. "You know you should come see our band." He mentioned almost a little too casually, after all they had never really spoken before.

It would be a lie if Eddie said it wasn't absolutely adorable how Y/N's face lit up at the suggestion, but she still didn't look up at him, her eyes focused on picking the skin away from her fingernails.

"Corroded, Corroded Coffin? Right?" Y/N guessed. She had heard about his band from ease dropping on previous conversations while passing the Hellfire room.

"Yes! Yes!" Eddie clapped excitedly and jumped up, "Seriously it'd be an upgrade having you there, we usually get a crowd of about...5 drunks."

Now Y/N felt a little more comfortable, at least enough to look up at him and giggle but her mind ruined it and flooded back to the incident that had happened not even an hour ago.

"You don't have to pretend to be interested you know? I understand if what happened was embarrassing for you too."

She watched his face scrunch up in confusion and cross his arms in front of his chest. "What? That back there?" Eddie looked back and the school and shook his head, "That was nothing, I've made bigger scenes by myself." He smirked proudly before sitting back down and leaning closer to Y/N.

"And, actually," He rested his chin in his hand, "I would love for you to come. We could even hang out after, you know if you want." Y/N could barely think about what he had just said, too focused on the way his eyes stared at her almost in timid excitement.

Her eyes slowly widened before nodded slightly. Eddie Munson had just asked her to hang out? "Alright, it's a date then. We can go after school on Tuesday?"

Once again Y/N was too nervous to say anything, only nodding again with a shy smile playing on her lips. Off in the distance, the bell ending lunch rang. They both stood up, "See you then, don't forget." He pointed a finger at her before running off back to the field, leaving her dumbfounded.

"See you then?"

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #joesph quinn #st #stranger things fic #eddie st4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson simp #eddie munson supremacy

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bigguyenthusiast · 9 days

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Ass or tits post but they barely answer the question

NSFW text !!!

Btw if yawll have any headcannon ideas do send them in pls !!! Smooches !!

John price

this is absurd, to think you would ask him such a disrespectful question, I mean if you weren’t dating this is a huge HR violation, plus he won’t just pick like you’re some object he gets to use to his pleasure (thighs and fupas)

Simon Riley

Ass…. No wait he likes tits

Actually he likes ass… but maybe more so the thighs… nah nah it’s just ass … actually here, go wear these outfits and come back to me, I need to make my mind up for sure, you know, for research purposes.

John McTavish

Couldn’t choose, had to go run a few laps to clear his brain

Came back and just held your shoulders and said

“Yes”

You’d be confused and ask him the question again and he’d just look at you with sad eyes and whimper out

“Please don’t make me chose”

Kyle Garrick

Tits, absolutely tits, this man has a thing for milfs, my darlings with big or small tits, if he sees you in a blouse or a tank top that shows your cleavage, he’s running the nearest bathroom to relieve himself.

You had to go undercover on a mission once, having to dress up as a server at a strip club, you needed to have ears on the inside, and he had to save all the footage he was watching… for safety purposes of course, what if he didn’t notice a very illegal bad thing happen to you on his 89th rewatch ?!

Rodolfo parra

Tits, but also into necks, he also loves your back, and the curve of your hips, and how your rolls show when he has you in a weird position, and he loves watching you change or slip into your everyday clothes, how some tights fabrics tug at your pretty plush skin, he loves it when you lay your feet on his lap, silently asking him to rub them for you, watching you stretch, watching you walk, how you interact with others …

Wait sorry what was the question ?

Alejandro Vargas

This whore…. Ass.

He’d slap your ass ever time you’re walking by, if you’re leaning on a counter, on your phone, he would stand behind you and slap your ass bongos, laughing and kissing your temple as you try to smack him.

If he sees you sleeping on your side he will crawl lower and cuddle your ass, it’s just such a nice cushion :(

One time the team all went out for drinks after a successful mission, and you changed into a white tank top, low cut bell bottom jeans and Rudy handed you a cowboy hat as a joke, but all Alejandro could think about is which bathroom is the closest for him to take you.

Also steals your panties after every quickie

Valeria

See….. here’s the thing, Valeria loves one thing, and that thing is seeing you all submissive and ready for her to take, she loves sitting in a meeting with some dealers, her legs spread, you by her feet, hugging onto the lower part of her legs, humping on her dirty boot, your tits pressed against her knee as your clothed pussy rubs in messy motions as you try to get some sort of release, she loves holding a gun to your head, asking you to only make eye contact with her, in a room filled with judging eyes.

She needs everyone to know what’s hers, and what would happen if they even dared to speak of what’s hers.

König

Listen, I see könig as a little weirdo, a lil freaky boy. When he’s infatuated with someone, he won’t be able to find a single flaw in them, seeing your skirt riding up at bit too high that shows your ass that’s covered in opaque stockings, and if there’s a little rip in those stockings, even if the rip is like, down near your ankle, he’s gonna pop a boner.

If you’re a fashion girly that likes to show their body off oh baby he’s buying you anything you want if you just give him a show, tops that barely hide your nipples, about 90% of your tits out on display, one slip and you’ll be flashing him.

Seeing you in his clothes, seeing his hoodie bunched up around around waist as you hold it up a bit, fixing your pants, oh he’s going to jump that hoodie later.

Horangi

Tits, or so he thought, he’s always found your chest gorgeous, what he wouldn’t give to be able to suck on your nipples day and night, that is until you were sparring one time, you had him in a chokehold… with your thoughts pressed against his neck, his head resting on your lap as you look down at him, animalistic fire in them as you grin down at him, all he could think about was how your eyes gazed down on his, how the pressure of your thick thighs pressed against his neck felt like heaven, like the pain in his neck was cured (it wasn’t)

After the sparring match he just had to collect his thoughts, he needed you to be on top of him, preferably with your crotch right on top of his face with your soft sweaty thighs caging him in .

Laswell

This lady……… she’s the hard dom price wishes he was.

She’s so calm and collected on the outside, at her work everyone sees her as this no nonsense lady who refuses to listen to some old fart tell her what she can and can’t do, she’ll always do what’s right

And so when her pretty girl, in a gorgeous dress she got for you, comes to her job, holding a tiny bag filled with her lunch, hair done, makeup looking flawless, and a bright smile that makes her coworkers envy her.

She loves her sweet girl that’s too innocent to notice how promiscuous she looks in that form fitting dress, how her tits press together when she hands her the bag, Kate would simply thank you, kissing you briefly before giving your bum a smack as she tells you to get back home and get ready for her tonight

What? The woman is stressed at work and her girl comes in looking like a goddess in a tight dress, plus it’s not like any of her coworkers blame her.

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liveontelevision · 2 months

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Tap Out Vox X Reader

Ok, I am in LOVE with this god dam TV head lookin ass, so here's a quick one shot of him being an absolute Sub! Mess!

------

The All-Mighty Vees were the central powerline for entertainment and technology in Hell, but even those three dorks liked to have fun. Sometimes, they would play poker games on their rare nights off that miraculously lined up. Of course, money means nothing to these business partners, so they like to bet on favors. There were times when Valentino would lose to Velvette, who would get to use his studio for a day, or Valentino would get to borrow some of Velvette's actors for a shoot, little things like that; things that would be considered a minor inconvience. Until tonight, that is.

•••

Velvette created a sort of dancing competition program, and it was booming in Hell. The show was spiced up with a stage covered in landmines, falling spikes, randomly shooting arrows, etc. Contestants were judged by their talent and if they came out in one piece by the end of the routine. The season finale was fast approaching, but Velvette was lucky to get a quick game of poker in between her packed schedule. With her cunning and wit (and some cards under the table), Velvette managed to weasle a win from Vox. He was never one to complain about carrying through with these favors, so Velvette took the chance to bring her program to the next level.

"You have to compete!" She declared with pride, her hands slamming on the table, with a sly smirk. "It'll be easy, i'll get someone to train and. but i need a hook for this finale, and your dashin' face would be perfect. And! I'll pair you with my best dancer, eh? How's that sound, love?" She explained, showing no sign of wavering. She clearly had this planned ahead of time.

"Fuck me, Velvette." He squints, throwing his cards behind his shoulder. "Fine.. i guess the publicity will boost viewers on both our fronts- " He groans and crosses his arms over his chest. "- Hate to admit it, but i haven't been tuning in, doll. So, who's this dancer i'm stuck with?"

•••

You arrived in hell after a life of drugs, sex and booze. You always joked about going to Hell. It was obvious you wouldn't make the cut into heaven. What you definitely werent expectingbwas for Hell to look just like the busy and messy streets of the ritzy cities you would party in. With absolutely no shame or doubt, you were quick to work your way up in the industry to work for the Vees. You started with Valentino, working up quite an audience in that field. And he didn't even make a contract! You said yes to anything, so really, there wasn't a point. That grew to helping Velvette with some small rolls in some shows, then moved up to you, performing and acting often. You were the lead singer of a band in your life, and you had quite a few talents hidden up your sleeve. Truly, a perfect byproduct of the Vees. Once Velvette pitched the show to you, you immediately auditioned as always and were quick to get in.

Weeks pass, and you're finally in the top 3 of the show! You were a solo dancer throughout, but with the routines provided, you were required to find a dance partner. Velvette to the rescue, somehow managed to bag the other Vee, Vox himself. You'd be lying if you said this didn't get you excited.

During one of the dress rehearsals, you were finally able to work your routine with Vox. Sure, you've met him before and said hi in passing, even going out with the Vees for some press events, but you never expected to get this close to him. Velvette would provide some amazingly embarrassing footage of his dance lessons. The two of you couldn't help but giggle at the powerful demon, getting so frustrated to music. Still, seeing his towering figure made you siddently nervous to have such intimate contact with him.

He came into the rehearsal space with a black turtle neck and pants, going along with some heeled boots that he'd have to wear during the performance. No matter how nicely those tight clothes hugged his figure, it was immediately disheartened by the scowl on his face. You couldn't help but hold in a laugh, picturing the compilation of videos that Velvette had previously shown you of his many failed lessons.

You weren't wearing much, a lilac cropped tank top and some yoga shorts that almost seemed too small, as well as strappy jazz shoes that you had to wear doing the final performance. This get-up made Vox look you up and down when he finally meets with you face to face. His unethusiastic expressions made him look more childish and grumpy than intimidating.

To you, at least.

"So! Pleasure to work with you, sir. Can't wait to see how you keep up with me." You commented smugly, reaching a hand out for a formal handshake. He scoffs and brushes your hand away before simply walking off to discuss something with Velvette. You crossed your arms across your chest and huffed, letting some random assistant tie your hair up as you glared in his direction.

After Velvette scolded him on something you didn't hear, the rehearsal began. Since your usual style was fast pased and almost always involved some sort of sexual overtone, the plan was to choreograph something intimate to create a sort of power couple for people to route for. This involved a lot of close contact that you and Vox were immediately struggling with. With movements that involved swinging you around, dipping you, and generally keeping you close to his chest, it was no simple task for two demons with a competitive streak.

After hours of eventually getting the choreography down, the main notes involved the constant glares you two were giving each other.

"Hey! You owe me this, I won game night! So make this work, fucker!" Velvette was getting fed up with Vox at this point and there was a scheduled photo shoot for some promo images coming up, so you had to break anyway. You went into your dressing room to change into your costume for the shoot. A slinky red sequence dress with a tightened corset that hugged your hips and stopped right at the point where you had to pull it down every so often as to not flash anyone. Paired with some fishnets and black shiney jazz shoes. It was simple compared to some of the stuff Velvette's had you wear, but it'll definitely draw some eyes when plastered on a big enough billboard.

Finally reaching the studio after hair and makeup battered your face, you got a look at Vox. He wore a white button-up that was neary opened down to his clavicle, where the red belt of a tuxedo hugged his waist, tying your outfits together. He cuffed his sleeves while waiting for some kind of direction. You couldn't help but pause to take in some of his features that you've never seen before. The bare skin of his chest and the strong arms that led into the same blue claws that were just around your waist during rehearsal. He caught you staring and knew exactly what was going on in your head. His first response was to send you a smirk that you couldn't decipher as harmless or not. You both snap out of your gaze when Velvette yells in some directions to push you into the camera's frame.

You were menuvered physically, someone essentially adjusting your position until it looked right. The final pose had your chest flush to his, and your leg hiked up his body as you swung backward to look at the camera. Vox was there to hold you in place by gripping underneath your thigh and having a tight hold onto your waist. It was difficult, but after multiple other provocative positions, the shoot was finally done. The two of you quickly pulled away from each other, smothered by the clashing energy.

"This'll have to do, i guess. Okay, flat face, you're good for today. The next rehearsal is tonight, now shoo." Velvette doesn't even look up from the screen in front of her as she nearly throws the two of you out of her studio. The door shut with a slam after you stumbled directly into Vox. He had grabbed onto your forearms, forcing your hands to lay on his chest to brace your fall. You quickly pushed off of him to stand straight, crossing your arms and stubbornly looking away. The tightened laces of your dress pushed your cleavage up a bit, giving a lovely show for the TV demon that towered over you.

He lets out a sigh of disgust after snapping his gaze away from your body. "Knock it off, will you? You're acting like a brat." He hissed at you, beginning to walk towards the hallway with the dressing rooms. You quickly stumbled in the same direction, attempting to keep up with his long strides.

"Fuck you, Vox! I'm just trying to do my job!" You quickly retorted, finally walking alongside him, your arms crossed again. He takes another quick glance at your body, unfortunately getting caught. "And stop that, you freak! You'vs been eyeing me up all day, you might as well fuck me in the dressing rooms if your so interested in my tits." You snapped at him, but your last response gave Vox a wicked idea. He wasn't one to refuse a challenge.

"Sure, we've got time, doll." He shrugs off the comment as you start to turn into your room. You quickly turned your body to face him, an angry yet reddened expression on your face.

"Seriously, fuck you." You muttered, turning to enter your dressing room. You go to open your door before you're cornered against it by Vox's arms, caging you in. You turn back to face him, trying to appear disgusted even with the heat crawling over your cheeks.

"If you think you can handle it, sweetheart." He smirked down at you, enjoying watching you squirm more than he'd like to admit. It finally evolved into an unspoken game of chicken. You took your doorknob and opened the door, letting the two of you fall in. Aware of your action, you slid back to keep Vox from falling onto you. He stumbled forward while glaring at you, still not planning on backing down. But neither were you.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips against his. It felt like a cold screen for a moment before quickly melting into the sensation of physical lips. He was shocked by the bold move but has played this game all too many times. It was always easy for Vox to charm or hypnotise his way out of a situation like this, but his competitive spirit was strong. He was quick to lift you up from under your legs and essentially drop you onto the vanity. The wood hit your tailbone with a thud, and you let out a flustered yelp into his lips. Your arms quickly found their way to his shirt, untucking it until it loosely hung around him. He lifted himself away from you but was still close enough for your legs to be nearly draped around his hips. He began to unbotton his shirt that you had so kindly untucked.

"You sure you wanna keep this up, sweetie? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you or worse -" he leaned in, becoming uncomfortably close to your ear. "- injure you before your big show." The threat only made your blood boil, but a flashing light caught your eye. His chest was dark, with glowing blue circuits that occasionally seemed to flicker.

"As if. You couldn't even keep up with me even if i was injured." You spoke smugly, trying to keep your cool while denying the heat pooling in between your legs. He scoffs and starts to undress you, while you assisted. It was aparently a two person job, with an unspoken understanding that Velvette would kill both of you if the dress was ruined in anyway. After it was safely tossed the side, Vox was quick to start running his claws along the curves of your body. You pulled him impossibly closer, your legs nearly wrapping around his hips. You tried your hardest to stifle any response to the claws trailing down the center of your stomach. Finally, you pushed him away, letting your hands lead him to fall back on some decorative couch that was nearby. You were quick to straddle him, feeling the buldge in his pants to gauge how much of an upper hand you had.

"Aw, was the idea of fucking me on my own vanity getting you all excited?" You asked him in a teasingly sweet voice, running your hands along the bottom of his screen, then tracing your hand down towards his pants.

"I could ask you the same thing." He muttered, taking a hold of your hips and pullimg them closed towards his groin. You were quick to lift your hips off his lap, pushing his back fully against the backrest and breaking that contact. You let out a deceivingly sweet chuckle, before planting a small kiss on his neck. His skin really was metal, no matter the heat you felt through his pants. It was cold to your lips, but once you noticed a reaction from him, you just had to keep it up.

His breath became a bit heavier as his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing his clawed fingers into it almost to the point of skin breaking. You tried your best to not let a noise out, luckily your face was hidden in the nook of his neck and his shoulder. Even with his robotic anatomy, his skin was melting with each mark, bite and kiss you left on his chest. The action of covering his chest in the bright red lipstick you wore, brought the both of you closer to together, your hips finally meeting his again. As your chests became flush, you looked back up to him, seeing the eyes on his monitor glazed over, somehow some dewy tears beneath them.

You were winning.

You tilted your head back for a moment, seeing the large mirror from the vanity was directly behind them, leaving the both of you entirely visible to Vox. You tip his monitor foward with a forceful lift, holding tight as you made him look over your shoulder.

"Look at you.. quite a sight, huh?"

You teased in a harsh tone, leaning back a bit for him to see the cluster of marks and stains you left on his collarbone. "What do you think? Red really is your color. You look soo pretty." Your words were meant to piss him off, but seeing how he melted and let out a breathy groan when you called him pretty was an even better reaction. He looked away from the mirror, flustered at the sight of himself.

"Ohh, is Mr. Bigshot here enjoying some tender love and care? Aww, well, all you had to do was ask, baby~" You crashed your lips against his again, shocking him back into the moment, as he held onto your hips to brace himself. You were quick to pull away, leaving him unfulfilled before peppering multiple kisses across his screen and making sure you were to leave as many vivid red lip stains as you could.

"F.. Fuck you..." he mumbled, "fuck this'll be a pain in the ass to get off.." You look down at him from your higher position, an almost dark look across your face.

"Then tell me to stop. Either give up and accept defeat-" you started, beginning to stand in front of him." Or give in. And let me take care of you." You ran your hand along his pants, your fingertips brushing across the stiff tent in his pants. He let out the smallest yelp, not expecting the sensation. You continued to just lightly touch his groin, reaching to fiddle with his belt buckle.

"So? What are you gonna do? You gonna give in? You want me to keep touching you, hm?" You teased, leaning towards his face by placing your hands on his seated thighs. Your bent position left a great view of your ass, still clothed with sleek red underwear and fishnets. He pouted, looking into the mirror momentarily to appreciate the sight. You looked over your shoulder, grabbing his screen to jerk him back to your eye level.

"Tap. Out." You hissed, glaring into his eyes.

"Fuck! Fine, whatever! I tap out.. I-I.. Keep touching me.. i want you to keep touching me." He let out, getting progressivly flustered as he spoke. You looked at him, trying desperately to hide a smirk by biting your loeer lip. Noticing that you still weren't making a move and definitely wouldn't let him take the upper hand at this point, he rolls his eyes and looks towards the ceiling to avoid your eyes. "Please." He blurted out, a cyan hue growing across his cheeks. You let out a confident chuckle, before immediately dropping to your knees in front of him and continuing to fully release his throbbing cock from his already dampened trousers.

"Good boy~ Now enjoy the show, okay?" You let out before taking a hand around the base and sending a long lick up his length, immediately drawing the head into your mouth. You worked your magic, running your tongue in circles around the head and pumping your hand across the rest. The heat of your mouth on his tip and the coolness of the room barely breezing across the rest of his hard on made him shutter. He was looking down at you, instinctively attempting to buck his hips. You were quick to use your other hand to push his hips back down, running your neatly done nails across his thigh to the point of leaving marks, clearly indicating don't try that shit again.

You start to take in more of his cock into your mouth. Bobbing your head to set a nice rhythm, nothing that couldn't finish him off just yet, but enough to make him lose his composure more than he already has. You look up to meet his eyes, seeing him stare down at your work. You slowed to an impossibly slow speed before quickly pulling your mouth away, a line of saliva still connecting your lips to his member.

"That's not what i meant." You spoke strictly, reaching up to tilt his screen back towards the mirror. He did enjoy the pretty sight of you on your knees, but his mess of an appearance and reactions embarrassed him."If i see you looking anywhere else - if i see that you're not enjoying the show-" you squeezed his cock that had cooled from your hot spit hitting the cold air of the room. Almost too tightly. He winced, looking back down at you with a wide concern. " -Then i'll just have to stop. I can't reward that sort of behavior, hun." You sounded almost threatening and continued to tighten your grasp. He reached down, squeezing your shoulder before fixing his weary eyes to look at his wreck of a reaction in the mirror. "There we go! See? Look how lovely you look." You switched almost immediately to a sweet voice, loosening your grip and nuzzling his cock against your cheek, right at the corner of your mouth. "So? Are you gonna play along? Be good for me?" You spoke with hot breath against his member, your lips hovering just over the head. He nodded reluctantly.

"Say it." Another sudden transition from that sweet tone back to a stern voice.

"Nng... I'll be g-good.." he spoke quietly, ashamed that he had to say that while looking into the eyes of his reflection. You let out a sly chuckle, immediately assuming a quick pace. You weren't quite able to reach the base, but you made up the difference in your hand, and your other still dug your nails deeply into his thigh. The combined sensations of pain and pleasure made him whimper, struggling to keep his eyes open and his head foward. Every time you saw him start to lose his computer, you either slowed to a complete stop, ran your sharp teeth across his shaft as a warning, or behan to squeeze at his base. Each warning was enough for him to realize he was losing his attention. As he got closer, still somehow managing to stare into the reflection, he reached for your hair, running his claws across your scalp.

You allowed this, he's been doing so good for you, after all.

Holding his hips down to prevent any involuntary jerks, you began to sloppily cover his cock with your spit, speeding up even more. You needed him. Now. He was quick to let out moans and groans, not very domineering ones, which almost surprised you. He was truly unraveling.

"I-I'm gonna.." he started to say in between breathy moans. As soon as you heard you sped up right until you felt his cum hit your tongue. But as soon as you felt the smallest amount, you stopped and held your grip tightly around his base, not stopping him from finishing but definitely making it more difficult to enjoy. You pulled your head back, catching your breath. You sit up on your knees and pull his monitor to reach your lips, kissing the small amount of his cum into his mouth with your tongue. His eye twitched at the new flavor in your mouth and was quick to pull away, wiping his lips ftom a combination of drool and his own fluids.

"That was good! You handled me so well.. But i didn't give you permission to cum did I? And you ruined my hair." You almost pouted, looking back to the mirror to attempt to fix your hair up as much as possible. You got a good look at his full body and smiled into the mirror. "God, you're beautiful, Vox." You said, your voice dripped with sweetness as you turn a decievingly genuine smile his way. It only made him blush more. The sight made you absolutely giddy. You finally looked down at him, seeing him begin to go soft." Ah ah~, you need to deal with the mess you made, baby." You took a hold of his still twitching cock, moving your hands along it again. It was quick to stiffen up again, but the overstimulation from just finishing drove Vox to lean his head back and let out more breathless moans. In a quick motion, you were back in his lap, just hovering your entrance over his member. You moved your underwear to the side, running your own fingers between your folds and lifting your hands back up to his view.

" See what you're doing to me? You lost your little game, and now, i'm left with this mess." You spoke matter of fact, licking your own fluids off your fingers. You quickly pressed another kiss against his mouth, the mixutre of both your fluids making this an especially messy one. His senses were overloaded. Every now and then, some moans would come out with a slight delay or glitch to them. He placed his hands on your hips, wanting to get at least one victory out of this. With one claw, he carefully ripped the fishnets covering yout entrance before forced himself into you, bottoming out immediately. You shot up, yelping at his sudden courage. Giving you time to relax into him, you gripped onto his shoulders. He led you up and down on his cock, barely guiding you before you began to move at your own pace, beginning to unravel yourself. He tilted his head to look into the mirror again. Seeing you from both angles made him drive up into you harder. He had to admit, it was a great view.

As you bounce yourself on his cock, you take his hand and lead his fingers to rub your clit. He immediately picked up the note and began to run tight circles with the sharp tip of his finger. The sensation made you shiver, his metal like claws a start contrast to the warmth you were amitting. Beginning to hit your g spot timed with the constant contact of his finger to your clit, left you breathy, a moaning mess. He was reaching his breaking point, making his body physically react to yours. Small and sudden shocks would amit from his finger and occasionally through his cock, causing a sensational pain. His voice continued to glitch, indicating how he was about to finish, which you noticed immediately. You slam down onto him, lifting his eyes towards you by grabbing a hold of his neck, lightly squeezing.

"You have to get permission to cum. Got it?" You said sternly, your sudden halt making his leg twitch and shift underneath you. "O-okay.. fine..! Keep going, i'm close-" you yanked him closer.

"Ask. Nicely."

"Fuck... C-can I cum for you..? Please... let me-" his voice began to trail off as you quickened your pace again. "Such a good boy. Okay, but only because you asked so nicely." You praised and tapped your finger against his nose(?) mockingly, then felt another shock run up inside of you. He finished almost immediately hearing those words. You felt his cum fill you up, but you guided his hand back down to your clit to continue rubbing as you kept up your pace. His sensitivity left a twitching static shock inside of you, which was quick to lead you to finish, the heated pain in your stomach finally releasing.

You fell onto him, your head resting on his shoulder as you simply stay seated om top of him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. He was nuzzling the side of his screen into your ear and kissing just along your neck. As soon as you regained your senses, you melted into his aftercare. You wouldn't expect him to be so sweet to you after this, but he was holding on to you like his worse fear was you getting up. You ran your hands along his back, enjoying how much comfort he seemed to need so desperately.

The sweet moment lasted for a while, before you pulled away gently and looked up towards the clock near the door.

"Fuck! Rehearsal! Get up get up!" You quickly lifted yourself off of him, before you looked at eachother. Your fishnets were ripped, some small bruises on your neck. He managed to plant a few, but that was nothing compared to the sloppy lipstick covered state he was in. "Ugh, god dammit!" You stormed off and quickly grabned some wipes, scrubbing the lipstick off his screen and chest." Velvette's gonna kill me..!" You groaned, nearly getting everything off.

"Calm down doll, I'll get some people from hair and makeup to fix up this mess." He snapped his fingers, which somehow alerted an imp assistant to knock on the door. You quickly reached for a nearby robe and tied it around your waist just as they entered the room. "-and they will have no problem with keeping this little secret, right?" His eye began to run hypnotic waves as he was quick to brainwash the assistant. You hesitantly sat and let the imp quickly fix up your messy appearance after finding new fishnets and hanging up your delicate dress to put back on later. Vox sat there, his shirt still completely undone, his legs crossed and arms splayed across the back of the couch. He simply sat there, watching you get pampered to perfection again. Every tine you made eye contact with him you began to turn red. Sure, you had the upper hand just moments ago, but the effect this demon had on you was immense, making the immediate poeer dynamic switching back to him.

Once the two of you had cleaned up a bit more, you headed towards the door. He spun you before pressing a quick kiss on your forehead, then turned you back and let you walk out in front of him.

"I told you i could handle it, and it for sure seemed like you couldnt keep yourself together. So, i win!" You clarified as the two of you walked down the hall, back towards the rehearsal space.

"Fine. Sure. Watever you say. Keep telling yourself that.. if that's what it takes to make you do it again." He shrugged off your obviously victory with that dumb invitiation. You punched his arm as the two of you continued to argue. It was still clear to you both. You came out on top this time.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #hazbin smut #vox x reader #vox x you #vox #submisive sissy

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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months

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ok but would spencer ever be ashamed/shy about any kinks he has... like i feel like he'd be totally over-analysing everything and just burying himself into a hole until he finally blurts out his concerns and his s/o says 'why would i ever judge u bby???', and he's like :0 ps i love your hcs & ur fics 🫶

yes absolutely, spencer is a walking bucket of shame at all times, he thinks everything he does and likes should make him feel ashamed but you help him realise that there's no shame in liking things, sexual or otherwise.

he's terrible for bottling things up and letting them fester until it all comes tumbling out all at once, and this was one of those times, he was sat across from you at his little reading nook as you both read, well, you did, spencer had just been pretending, his mind elsewhere as he fought with his own brain.

he had recently discovered a new kink that he wanted to try with you but it was pretty out there and he didn't know how to breech the topic with you, worried you'd be grossed out or uncomfortable by his request, which is the last thing he wanted to do.

so instead he sat bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip nervously as he tried to muster up the courage to say something, anything.

"c-can i call you mommy?" he blurted out abruptly, his mouth moving faster than his mind, his hand quickly moving to cover his mouth as you blinked back at him, surprised by his sudden question.

"what makes you ask that?" you inquired, genuinely curious to what made him suddenly want to call you that, you weren't opposed to the idea, in fact, it's something you had thought about many a time but you never really knew how to ask him.

"d-dunno, sorry if t-that's weird" he stuttered, avoiding your eyes nervously and biting his lip to distract himself from the fact that your eyes were boring into him.

"why would that be weird?" you asked so nonchalantly, catching spencer off guard at your completely unbothered nature about the whole thing, him blinking back at you with a slightly dumb expression. "there's no shame in having kinks, spence, remember? we've been over this." you reminded him, giving him a sweet smile at the sight of one tugging at his lips.

"just don't wanna make you uncomfortable" he explained, pouting slightly at you as he avoided your eyes again.

"oh baby, you could never make me uncomfortable, c'mere, come to mommy" you spoke softly, the name making spencer's eyes widen and cheeks flush red as you smiled back at him teasingly.

#📬 maeve's mailbox!#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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deadwasteland-dazaisfan · 3 months

Text

ִ ࣪𖤐Teenage romance₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ᯓ★Synopsis: Being in a relationship with Dazai Osamu seemed like a huge problem to you, because his behavior often made you confused, and everything suggested that he would remain a silly guy who would remain alone for the rest of his days. But one day you had to realize that this wouldn't happen. Because he has you in his life.

ᯓ★Pairing: pm!dazai×fem!reader (both 16-18y.o);

ᯓ★Contains: fluff/comfort, hugs, kisses, hanging out together, teenage romance, nonsense, pm!reader, mention of murders, mention of criminal organizations drabble&headcanons, sfw, affection, mention suicide attempt;

| author's note: This is my first work, I hope you'll like it. Please don't judge too harshly I tried my best ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა |

The whole situation was so strange and unexpected for you that you really didn't understand where you were and what you needed to do. When you woke up in a dimly lit room, you found yourself lying in a room that looked like an infirmary. There was practically nothing around. There were no sounds either, but they soon appeared. There was a door at the end of this room, as you assumed, there was a corridor behind it. It turned out to be true.

A couple of minutes after you woke up, the door opened a crack, and a guy came in — funny shaggy hair, dark eyes, bangs on half of his face and a bandage covering one eye. He was dressed quite formally—a white shirt (although slightly frayed and wrinkled), a black tie, black trousers and shoes. He had a black jacket slung over one arm, he looked rather rumpled and seemed tired. Sitting down on the bed, you looked at the boy with bewilderment and suspicion when he finally came up to you and scratched the back of his head. Yawning lazily, he said:

«Well, hi, silly suicidal. Mori-san asked me to give you something, but I don't think you need it right now. Congratulations! Oh, though... It would probably be more accurate for me to say that I'm sorry, though...Aaaahhh, okay, never mind. I'm Osamu Dazai, don't be surprised, you survived your failed attempt and Mori-san and I dragged you here. He wants to recruit you...So you'd better come to your senses as soon as possible and come to his office. He doesn't like to wait too long... In short, you have no choice. Come on, get up! Can you walk?»

He gave you a dubious squint that made your skin crawl, and then silently walked away. He pulled out a small old chair (which you didn't notice right away), sat down on it, and crossing one leg over the other, began to read a small red book. Still in a strange trance state, you didn't even understand how he was doing everything, it was hard for you to figure out where you were sitting at all. After a couple of minutes of silence in the room, you finally came to your senses a little — you noticed that the room was not so empty, you were sitting on a fairly soft bunk, somewhere above there was a small window through which white light entered the room.

After that, you had the next challenge — to talk to this unknown. He has already introduced himself, and you instantly remembered his name. But still, he didn't mention where you were or who he was at all... So, swallowing hard, you turned your head, but then froze when you found that he was already looking at you. With a sigh, the boy put the book on his lap and looked at the ceiling, muttering

«You're probably wondering where you are and all that... Well, you're in the infirmary of Yokohama's main criminal organization, the Port Mafia. Welcome. No, don't worry, we won't kill or torture you. The boss has slightly different plans for you. But still... You know, if I were you, I'd think twice about choosing this stupid, absolutely shitty way! I'm sorry, but do you even have a brain? To what extent does one have to be a stupid girl to use such a non-working method! And yes, you don't have to ask about all the details of your "rescue." I'll just say one thing — you looked lousy. Yes, however, nothing has changed now...»

Finally, he fell silent, continuing to stare at the ceiling for a while, and then turned his gaze to you. Maybe it was time for you to introduce yourself?...

«You said your boss wants to hire me... Why does he need this?... I... I'm probably grateful for the rescue, but... What does he want?...»

Dazai just raised one eyebrow and then looked away, continuing the dialogue:

«Well, obviously he saw something useful in you for the mafia. He will definitely find a job for you, especially since our staff is very small now. Well, according to him, he just couldn't leave such a poor thing to die»

You've got your head down. The answer was obvious, and why didn't it immediately occur to you? Then you should have introduced yourself properly. You made some kind of pathetic gurgling sound, after which you quietly whispered:

«My name is... My name is Y/N...»

The young mafia turned a curious look at you and got up from his seat. Putting his hands on his hips, he said:

«Yeah, so Y/N you said... Okay. Come on, let's go. The boss should see you before lunch»

You carefully shifted on your bunk, and then lowered your feet to the floor, still sitting. But the real problem for you was getting up — no matter how much you tried to lift yourself, nothing came out. Apparently, your body is very weak, and your legs are numb. You began to have a slight panic, tears began to come to your eyes, and you began to suffocate from them. But it didn't take you a second when Osamu came up to you and gently pulled on your arms, and you were finally on your feet. Exhaling, you were about to take the first step, but the guy stopped you with the words "Where are we going?" after that, he easily picked you up in his arms. It was so unexpected that you squeaked, but he shushed you and said in a dissatisfied tone:

«Hey, I actually don't want you to break all your legs or overwork yourself... Anyway, it's not profitable for the mafia to keep you here for a few days.»

you were more than ready to object, but for some reason your inner self told you to keep quiet. Apparently, this was not the right situation for outrage.

So, after some time, you finally got out of the Mafia boss's office. Dazai seems to have understood everything in the blink of an eye from your distorted face. You were accepted, and now you could consider him a "colleague." He somehow abruptly and very unexpectedly jumped up to you and smiled broadly, said:

«Well, now you are one of us!»

This was your first meeting.

❛━━━━━━━ ••• ━━━━━━━❜

And then everything went the way you couldn't have expected, but it's not that you didn't like it. Conversely.

You had to go through many situations and complete many missions together. He also introduced you to other members of the Port Mafia. You were received very cordially, and, frankly, it warmed your heart.

Osamu kept saying how unprepared you were to work in this organization, and that you shouldn't have been here at all, but he supposedly couldn't contradict Mori (Of course, he was a brazen liar— he was the one who begged so desperately to keep you in the mafia for his own good). In short, you got along, you became even more than just colleagues.

One of the situations that you remember the most was how you fooled around and played cards together. It was funny, even though you never managed to win. But you always laughed maliciously when the intense struggle between Odasaku and Dazai continued without your participation. You knew that Oda would always have a way to beat the youngster, so you weren't surprised by Sakunosuke's next victory.

Basically, you've always been a witness to the endless quarrels and swearing between Dazai and Nakahara. It all got to such an extent that you started to get a headache from their shouts of indignation (it's good if they used only speech, and did not get into a frenzied fight). In the end, you just got up and left, but both boys, catching themselves in time, immediately fell silent and quickly followed you, simultaneously apologizing for their antics (in fact, while you were silent, they continued to whisper insults). You didn't have much choice, you were a kind-hearted person, so you just couldn't get mad at them.

But even though they "hated" each other, they were ready to unite at any moment just for the sake of your safety. You were a valuable person to them, not only in terms of being a mafia member — everyone knew perfectly well that one day you would have to make a choice.

But you were like friends with Chuuya — it seems that even on his part there was no initiative to enter into a romantic relationship. You spent no less time together than with Dazai (which made him, by the way, jealous, but of course he would never admit it). So at some point Osamu realized that it was time to throw away the final card. Many of your memories from the mafia are quite clouded — it is clear that the job was not easy, and there was not much light and fun there. But you will always remember the moments spent with a bandaged mafia member.

Your belated winter walks, when it's already starting to get dark outside, and many teenagers your age are already running home, worried that something might happen to them or their parents will scold them. But of course you weren't like that, because you are a fearless mafia that can walk around whenever and wherever you want.

Although many called him a "Demon-Prodigy" you could only agree with one part of that nickname — he was indeed a prodigy, but a demon perhaps only in appearance. He kept in himself those weakened, smoldering particles of warmth and love that he allowed to warm his heart only with you and Odasaku.

And you, like no one else, saw it and appreciated it. Perhaps you didn't even realize it yourself, but at some point your heart literally began to ache from the accumulated warm feelings for him. You endured this mental anguish because you were sure that he didn't need it, or he would reject you.

But fortunately, none of this happened.

You remember how you went for a walk in the snowfall, and you caught snowflakes in your mouth, and he called you stupid, but you didn't care. You called him stupid when he threw a nice snowball at you with all his might... You remember when the skin on your cheeks and hands was already starting to pinch and tighten from the cold, and you were laughing while you were fighting, and he always throw you to the deflection, and you landed in a giant snowdrift. All your clothes were soaked from the snow, and Dazai only stopped laughing when he saw you desperately trying to keep warm, shivering from the cold. Then it finally dawned on him, and you quickly went to the mafia building or to his "home". He wasn't particularly proud of his house, which was just a shipping container. So basically he took you to the mafia building, but if you insisted, he could agree to spend some time with you at his house.

In winter, Osamu was a real simpleton — he almost never wore a hat, scarf, or mittens. It could be bitterly cold outside, but he still went out without any warm clothes. His warm wardrobe for the winter was everything he wore in all other seasons, and the only thing that was added was a warm black coat that Odasaku gave him. You were always cursing why he was walking around with uncovered head and not dressed properly, but he waved you off and ignored your requests to wear a hat/scarf.

But still, one day, when you, having excellent knitting skills, knitted him cute warm mittens, he grunted with displeasure and took them without saying a word. However, during your next walk, you noticed that he was wearing them.

Right after that, you started knitting him a scarf, and after a couple of weeks it was ready. You also packed it as a small present, but as usual, Osamu did not appreciate your efforts with the decoration; but he wore the scarf all the time (not without your reminders ofc).

You wanted to go to the rink together to try yourself at it, but unfortunately, by the time you remembered your intentions, all the rinks were already closed, so you had to postpone this entertainment for the next year.

When spring came, everything always changed somehow: the mood improved, the work went easier, and everyone began to live a little better. This wonderful time of the year was something enlivening. Everyone knows that it is in spring that you can catch a wonderful natural phenomenon — cherry blossoms. The second name is hanami. You really loved these few short days when you could catch this sight. And Dazai, knowing this, finally decided to hint at inviting you to go with him one day (of course, he consulted with Oda and Hirotsu before). He's very lucky that you didn't hesitate to agree.

The preparation for the traditional holiday took place slowly, you managed to do all your business and buy all the necessary attributes. On the day of the celebration, you were wearing a very beautiful kimono in delicate, light shades, and Dazai made do with a simple dark haori. Don't have to mention that he was fooling around for almost half of your walk, but at some points he was unusually serious. You were a little confused by his sudden mood swings, but given his nature, you weren't too surprised. This youngster was unpredictable.

Admiring sakura went great, although Osamu managed to piss you off a couple of times. You saw his face when his dark eyes were staring into the distance, looking at the delicate pink, mixed with white petals slowly flying down — it was a look of anxiety and peace at the same time. And yet, a slight smile touched his lips.

Time passed, your relationship was at a stable level, but still your heart felt the insufficiency that the lack of love gave you. You tried to overcome these feelings with all your might, but nothing came out; it got to the point that one day you had a dream with him; but it was very touching and gentle — a spacious field, waving grass, a cool breeze and a scorching sun, and in the middle of it you, and only you two. More than half of the summer has already passed; Work has not stopped, of course, there are no summer holidays or vacations in the mafia. But sometimes you and Mr. Bandaged Mummy managed to get out of the hectic world of blood and murder.

It was very hot, and you couldn't stand the heat, so you tried to stay in places where the temperature was more or less stable or slightly cool. You always have taken ice cream from the same stall: Dazai has always chosen some strange and tasteless ones, but of course this is only in your opinion. You took your favorite flavor, and often offered him a taste, but he always refused. Boring jerk.

And one day it happened.

His birthday has just passed; it was only a couple of days later, when his 2-day absence from work became suspicious, and you found out that he had made another attempt on his holiday. It was like it cut into your heart — it was so painful to realize it. You tried to contact him somehow, called him, but he seemed to have forgotten about the existence of his phone. You knew it wouldn't be the best idea to show up on his doorstep, so you just had to wait him to show up himself.

And you remember that day by heart: when the bell rang at your door, then a small knock in confirmation. You immediately went to the door and opened it... Osamu was behind. You saw him like this for the first time — with a slight smirk on his lips, an apologetic expression on his face and ...a bouquet of white lilies... You didn't know why, but in that quiet moment when you saw him, you caught your breath and almost burst into tears.

All the emotions mixed into one huge lump that came to your throat, and you, knowing perfectly well why he was here, carefully, timidly took a step forward and hugged him, burying your face in his shoulder. One of his hands was holding a bouquet, so he lightly hugged you with his other hand. After a couple of moments, you heard him whisper:

«Well, don't whine... I can't stand it, you know»

Those words made you smile, and you pulled back a little. Without further ado, he handed you a beautiful, elegant and delicate bouquet of lilies, after which he added:

«Well, I hope you've at least guessed that this is an occasion....»

«Sure... You wanted to apologize, didn't you?»

«And you're smart today, mouse»

You smiled at his comment; he always called you that in a teasing manner, but now it sounded more affectionate. You understood everything at once — white lilies, such a beautiful flower, which means apologies and kindness of intentions. It was his way of earning your forgiveness for what he tried to do to himself.

You spent the evening together; Lilies flaunted in a pretty vase, you watched some kind of movie. It's been dark outside for a long time, but it seems that both of you had no plans to let each other go. And yet, you both felt the tension in the silence that you allowed to hang.

You've been waiting for this. And he knew that there would be no better moment.

«Y/N.»

«Yes?»

«Forgive me»

«For what?»

«For what I'm about to do-»

As soon as he uttered the last sentence, you felt his hands on your shoulders, and he left a light, almost weightless kiss on your lips. It was so funny and embarrassing for you at the same time. Osamu looked at you for a while before hugging you to him and burying his face in your hair.

«You're all I need. You're all I can ask for.»

He muttered softly. After a couple of minutes of hugging, you finally did what you wanted — interrupted his speech and pulled him into a real kiss... But don't think he gave up on you so easily. No way. He's going to take matters into his own hands anyway...

But that day was what divided your life into before and after.

In a good way.

|P.S I think I wrote too much (( I have such a writing style, I hope you liked the headcannons mixed with drabbles. Thanks for reading! I hope I will release some more works. 𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ |

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sugar-petals · 1 year

Text

The Canvas (m)⎮𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕!𝚓𝚓𝚔

/ - CANVAS (n.) a tattoo client or professional ink model.

pairing. › dancer!jungkook + female tattoo artist!reader

❞ SUMMARY. jk serves as your canvas for a renowned LA tattoo competition. experienced in keeping it calm, you lift the trophy by giving him a full torso makeover. the prize money and glory is yours, plus his new tattoo couldn’t look any better. so, what are you gonna do with all that?

MASTERLIST | [READ IT ON AO3]

↳ WARNINGS/TAGS. slow burn, femdom undertones, ponytail jk, friends to lovers energy 💕, smut + slice of life, jk is buff and shy (...and a sucka for pain 😛), warning for needles obviously, profanity, jk earns money as a camboy, riding, sub-ish koo {terminology note: `skin break´ ≠ injury, but blank skin space left between ink bits}

word count. 14k

↦ CARO’S NOTE. happy 5th year blog anniversary — gotta celebrate it with a story! you will find a lot of tattoo slang and the various schools of practice in this, but it will be explained along the way. enjoy, and thank you for all the support over the years 🐯

✪ PS. in the banner you see a famous tattoo artist, miss ryan ashley and her partner. it’s just for the aesthetic 😄 the reader insert doesn’t look like this, her description is vague as always :)

„Turns out we got actual money to blow!“

You overlook the six tied-up cash stacks on the makeshift plastic table, presented in a small iron case. In between, a massive champagne bottle: Unopened, because neither of you drinks. And, to be honest: It would not be necessary, nor pleasant in today’s oppressive heat.

The shaky nervousness from before the contest, far gone. Only adrenaline remains. And a jumping joy that makes Jungkook cover his face with both palms flat.

„I still can’t believe it!“

Since it’s his first time doing something like this, the whole event has left him increasingly weak in the knees. Jungkook really did look surprised when the results were announced in bright screen colors and the room was in absolute shambles. Standing ovations, even a couple cameras, big noise, everything.

„I know, man,“ you reply. „Wild day.“

„We did it.“

„Yeah. We can definitely be satisfied.“

You sitting down after all that maneuvering around on stage and behind it — it felt like a good way to cool off. Standing before an audience for two hours was something not to be underestimated.

Thank God there was an actual aircon back here. But still, there’s so much excess energy in your body. You can’t help but turn and turn the metal trophy in your hands, and kick your feet ever so lightly at the thought of really taking it home this time. Jungkook can’t settle on a chair at all. He’s just pacing around not knowing what to even do with his hands.

„The competition… They were so strong,“ he puffs out — the tone loaded with genuine respect rather than the much stricter attitude of discernment shared among today’s attending pros, yourself included. „They really preferred yours and not the tiger. Or the guy with the Leonardo DiCaprio portrait. That’s incredible.“

„Maybe. I think we got a better rating because yours healed so well,“ you gaze over your work again. The masterpiece of ink on him. You’re carrying a certain admitted pride in your words, but also relief. This has been one of your most ambitious tattoos in all the 15 years you’ve been in the game. It’s seriously been a journey.

In fact, the preparation cost more time and effort than inking a month’s worth of regular clients. Yes, daily practice was one thing. Competing, another. Especially with a model like that: Jungkook, whose performance had been nothing short of electric and stellar. On the ink bed, and on stage alike.

Even your fiercest opponent trying to impress the judges with their wannabe surrealistic tiger didn’t stand a chance against the level of 3D shapes and shading you created on his body. But the decision of the jury seemed close regardless, maybe for dramatic effect, so you retired backstage overjoyed. Where, and you really feel like you did his body justice, his tattoo looks just as vibrant under more crisp and cool energy-saving lamps overhead.

„Yeah, it really did heal nicely, though,“ he pats his solar plexus, almost massaging it. „It feels good.“

You bet it does. Jungkook is the type of client you would describe as— well. Very healthy.

Your mind would add some more colorful adjectives to that. But that string of thought really does stay at the back of your brain where some of your naughtier tattoo ideas reside as well. Which, and you were fine with that anyway, was certainly not the topic of today’s contest. Which rather wanted artists to show off their clean lines and some pretty harmless motifs, mind you.

Sure, the process of contests was always a little different. You didn’t care much. Some tattoo awards had the artists ink their models literally a couple hours beforehand. Others did a speed challenge on-site. Mutually nerve-wracking, but it was doable. Artists with a tight schedule did the same in their personal studios, after all. Canvasses would walk on stage with red blotchy skin all around the tattoo. This show, however, placed emphasis on longevity, the final result. To be prepared until the last detail, Jungkook had walked up in your downtown studio ten times beforehand.

As of now, a highly stylized XL rendition of Jungkook’s Doberman graced his torso. An illusion of color, created by brush strokes in ink rather than an exact replica of the polaroid pictures he had given you. Bam was a pretty cute pet dog, but also a very lively sight to see. Since you had insisted to watch Bam in motion like a live study, Jungkook brought him to the parlor more than once, which added to the hours you had spent together.

He was quite a majestic, eye-catching, streamlined dog. You had often tattooed smaller portraits of pets. Their faces usually, but not the entire animal, on a whole upper body for that matter. People usually wanted other tattoos to take precedence, like a landscape design. It took you five hours to come up with a dynamic winding pose. One that showed Bam in a slightly right-twisted bird’s eye perspective. Not in actual brown that was true to the real-life dog, but black, adding to the feel of a severe-looking brushstroke painting. Which apparently left an impression with the judges.

„And, the jury wanted enough contrast,“ you cuff your shirt on either side. „Was a good idea we went just as dark as your hair. Wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise.“

„It all fits together really well, I think. It’s become a bit, how do you say. One with me.“

Although you wouldn’t blurt that out like a preschooler, you do think so, too. Jungkook stood out among your clients as one of the cutest, with a body that was nothing short of meticulously sculpted. A waist that shocking, you’d never seen it. Even some of the bodybuilders you had tattooed didn’t have this kind of hourglass. Perfect to pick up on some carefully planned artistry, and easy on the eye anyway. However, nothing you’d say to his face.

Yet.

Who knows. You keep your expression neutral enough when he’s around. All day, you paid special attention to maintaining a stern composure in general, given how it was such a hasty crowded event to begin with. Not that competition would always favor the stern, but it sure helped with focus.

„To be honest,“ you put the trophy onto the table now, „The judges don’t splurge their points if it’s some muddy shit. The tiger paws looked pretty washed out from some angles. Your tattoo will fucking pop in any lighting. It has to.“

Bam was as eye-catching as a tattoo as he was in real life. You paid special attention to adding enough solid black. Contrast always needed a certain amount of courage. On your side, and a client’s.

Even now, in the solely artificial lighting of this shabby backroom, the heavy blocks of extra strong ink on his ribs, sternum and stomach create a nice interplay with the shape of his upper body. Unsurprisingly, Jungkook didn’t remember to put his top back on yet. And why would he bother. It’s been piping hot in the valley districts since 9:30 AM. So hot, a couple palm trees on your way to the contest site have been looking crispy.

„That’s one of the best parts,“ he nods, all while toweling down his neck from all the sweat. The stage had burning hot overhead lights and the audience number was breaking the four digits. Stressfully enough, in terms of decibels as well. Jungkook walked offstage with you saying his ears were reeling for a solid minute. It was more than necessary to get away from all the hustle and bustle after the supposed celebration was dispersing.

„Glad you like how it turned out, then. Took a lot of risks here.“

„I, uh. Really gotta thank you though,“ Jungkook proceeds to retie his little wavy ponytail, plucking the crown and baby hairs that went astray on stage back in.

He leaves some side bangs to the front, which is what you once remarked looks the best on him with his current hair length. Little did you know he’d take this so seriously, but you haven’t seen him without a hair tie since.

„You invested so much time,“ he continues. „You couldn’t take so many other clients because of me.“

„Time doesn’t bother me that much,“ you shovel some money bands into the bulky grey rucksack you drag out from underneath your chair, then take out some bottled sparkling water instead. This backpack has been both your lifeline throughout the day. „Those weren’t the easiest sessions, that’s what I mean. But you made it through.“

„Yeah,“ he smiles. You can tell he is a bit flustered by the money.

„The other clients can honestly wait. They know I do competitions from time to time. The regulars, at least.“

A dozen people sure said they missed you. Some newbies at the studio resented you for spending your „efforts and talent on one singular canvas“, but as today’s MC of the show had said: It’s for the greater good of a career to pursue contests, and helps a tattooist to be out there. „It’s an adventure!“ was the cheesy contest tagline. Not to mention that an artist who was good enough… would meet attractive people as a `pleasant byproduct‘ as one of your fellow West Coast contestants had joked backstage.

You had rejected that mentality beforehand. Craft came first. Ironically, it was you who simply searched for the right skin, motif, and proper frame who ended up with someone attractive indeed. Those things always happen if you don’t search for it. And it was an adventure, sort of.

Jungkook didn’t exactly pass out when you moved up to the rib with your tattoo gun, but damn. He was bleeding. In essence, the first appointment turned out to be a three hour groaning session. Since he already had a complete and partially reworked sleeve, it appeared like another tattoo following many. But the second visit was so intense, it had your canvas screaming out loud at some point — albeit he stubbornly refused to take a break. `Keep going… I can handle it.´

You usually did mid-range tattoos as your specialty, but his one was gigantic and painstaking. How he muscled through that psychologically, at his tender age, you’re not sure how. After the session was done, you would hang out eating pizza in the shaded backyard of the studio, listening to pop music and talking about tattoo shows as if nothing had happened.

„You mean, it was demanding?“

„Oh yeah,“ you screw the bottle open. „Demanding is the word. I mean, count the elements. That’s almost 150 sepearate parts to fill out.“

„Right.“

„If you want a tattoo to look like a real ink stroke, you need to consider how the separate hairs of a brush would behave. The color needs to be, sorta— like disconnected. I’ve freestyled a lot of it.“

That’s also a reason why you’re sure the tiger didn’t win, and Jungkook got full points. Which surprised you more than him, something that caught you off guard in a peculiar way, even if you were endlessly happy, of course. That Jungkook was sure that you had winning potential was definitely an emotional pat on the back.

Your New York-based opponent sure did ace the Old School American style. It had some pretty memorable turquoise highlights that made the other competitor’s trendy watercolor freestyles look boring, and his canvas was beautiful. But: In your eyes, the design didn’t have an elaborate sketch behind it, and tried too hard to be East Coast.

To their demise and Jungkook’s gentle content, the judges ruled that your tattoo had 99% razor-sharp edges and a smart construction of the design: „You’ve done your studio justice.“ Because Jungkook looked promising as a canvas and he was kind as a person, you were willing to sacrifice some things to approach that level of hard perfection, even if it was `just an edgy tattoo of a random guy’s pet´ as some of your rivals had criticized you arriving on stage.

It took you three days to draw it all beforehand, and one to make a stencil that could even remotely fit on a body as curved as that. You didn’t wing it. Got creative. Stayed up. Talked a lot. Played around with the dog. Filled in every blank, and calculated every skin break to make actual sense from a distance. Jungkook had an unbreakable patience, too. Making the tattoo a big deal and taking it this far was worth the extra eye-squinting hours.

„It was fine by me. I’ll have this masterpiece for life,“ Jungkook rubs his stomach, almost as if he could caress the motif. He really does genuinely like it.

„You will. Those colors won’t fade anytime soon.“

Three weeks of successful healing time proved the durability of the tattoo and the raw diligence of preparing all this. It all went by in a hurry. The whole competition was a sequence of travel, rehearsing, check-ins, and finding some suitable lotion to oil Jungkook up with since you quickly ran out of what you brought along. He was okay with you touching him like this. Jungkook said, since you had been under his skin, being simply on it was not the slightest inconvenience.

You did over a dozen contests before. You wanted your canvas to be shining bright in front of the discerning jury. Oil would add a gleaming touch to any tattoo, and helping Jungkook apply it was more than gratifying — not just artistically. You gotta drink a big sip on that.

„Amazing,“ he continues looking down on himself, his eyes really telling how exhausting the show was, but how rewarding. The 6’3 guy who got an entire sleeve and snake motif looked like an amateur canvas next to your model. Sure, the micro tats of some other competitors weren’t exactly precise and outstanding either so it had been easy to move to the Top 10, but when a tattoo artist was talking big game, big motif, big color, they better deliver.

„So— what do we fancy for the evening,“ you wave your backpack left and right, letting the cash tumble around. „Bowling? You’d be killin’ it. Buying some clothes? Or maybe we’ll go to an expensive club. You dance on the tables, I watch random people. You know, to judge their bad tats.“

He’s laughing at that. You’re sure you’D just be watching him move at best, he’s a dancer professionally — but anyway.

You continue listing ideas, but Jungkook sort of gapes at all the options without saying anything. He’s from a modest home like you were, the big city overwhelms him, as does the fact that you won 20,000$.

„You know what,“ the bottle wanders back into your rucksack, half empty. „We probably don’t have the energy to just straight up throw some big balls at a couple bowling pins, eh.“

Jungkook laughs again.

„Guess not. Would all just land in the gutter.“

„And shopping, that’s running a marathon. Maybe we can go to the club next week. What if we just sit on my terrace and watch some clouds? Back to the roots. I always do that to get inspiration.“

Jungkook perks up. You already invited him to your house before. It was a quicker, gentler recoloring session on a pretty dull rainy morning. To make sure he was competition ready, you carefully retouched some of his existing tattoos. His oldest, dearest ones. That’s how he got to see the Grey Room. Your art atelier, so to speak. Why grey? Because you don’t smudge — and the chair will prove it. Messy tattooists won’t go far, that was your opinion. Buying a black tattoo chair was an excuse.

„Hm, why not, I mean,“ he stumbles over his words, but you can tell he’s interested.

„Okay,“ you get up from your creaky chair, collecting the rest of your stuff, and he helps you with it. „It’s a done deal. You’ll see more of the house. The food is all prepared. Like, to perfection.“

During his recoloring session, Jungkook had to catch the bus right after, plus another client, Namjoon, came in for a lengthy consultation. It was all about whether you’d be sending Namjoon to an aesthetician for a laser treatment, or try to cover up the botched crooked rose on his pecs with a bigger design to one-up your precursor, this absolute idiot of a ‚line artist specialist‘. Your ass. It’s a crime to soil a person’s skin like that. Namjoon came in completely devastated and in need for help, so Jungkook quickly left. It ended up being the latter option, you tattoed a big fat 3D bonsai tree across the rose.

You only got back to Jungkook two days later, checking how his color was healing through video chat. He had stripped down enough for you to see the progress, and you tried your best to be professional, analyzing the next steps. Which had you excited, he always recovered exceedingly well, but you were both in a busy phase. Yet, you really couldn’t complain about not having him around. This tattoo and contest was a once-in-a-lifetime two-people project. It felt like being an Italian designer, taking your flagship testimonial to fashion week.

„Food?“

„I had Yoongi handle the ice cream maker this morning,“ you put on your shades, ready to go with your backpack filled to the brim. „But don’t tell anyone, lest my house gets robbed again. Banana flavor, by the way.“

Jungkook strangely doesn’t look as happy as you thought he’d be. But then again, not so strangely. Once the needle is inside and the first drop of ink settles in, you can read a canvas’ mind. It’s a connection that cannot be explained.

„Okay,“ is the lukewarm reply. He shoulders his own cross-body bag without really checking it once. Since he forgot his tank top, you hand it to him. It takes a couple seconds to register at all.

„Something not right?“

„It’s just, I wondered,“ he fumbles with the bag’s kinda tucked-in zipper. „You have— a boyfriend? Yoongi?“

„Ah, him,“ you chuckle. „No, Yoongi is my personal chef.“

„Oh, I see, the chef. I just, um.“

Jungkook looks wildly flustered at that realization, trying to find an excuse of looking away by fixing his ponytail, and rubbing his neck. Almost as if he got caught red-handed.

„And assistant. And the one who cleans my pool. And he schedules all my clients unless I do it myself. Yoongi handles everything on demand basically, so I can do this,“ you point at the surrounding hallway after opening the backroom’s lanky door.

A big red banner reading - LOS ANGELES ANNUAL TATTOO AWARDS - stretches well across the wall, and the area seems completely swept of people.

You did spend quite a lot of time talking backstage after you gave an interview for the local press while Jungkook posed for the camera — despite his first time doing this, like a natural.

„Seems like the competition headed home already,“ is your dry comment, but you’re not that surprised. It was too warm to linger in this building complex for any longer than the show lasted. You didn’t even register how stuffy the air was since you got so carried away together, talking. Although you would have loved to talk to some of the attending experienced masters, maybe it had been a good idea to dodge the hype.

„They really did hurry home.“

„That’s what we’ll do as well. Fifty scoops for each of us. Yoongi always makes a generous amount of ice.“

„Wow, it’s really all taken care of then,“ Jungkook finally manages to stuff the tanktop back into his bag, absent-minded. He hasn’t even considered putting it on, then. He’s too busy admiring that you have such a thing as a personal assistant and cook. The two of you tread down the hallway, causing a bit of an echo.

Jungkook looks at ease learning that Yoongi is more of a janitor. You give him the side eye, which he shamefully returns with a nervous laugh.

„I figure you like banana. And walking around like Abercrombie and Fitch.“

You point at the mauve-colored tank top that’s hanging out of his bag, caught by the zipper.

„Oh, oops!“ it finally clicks with a big flinch. He’s really been half-naked all the time, and only now makes an effort to pull the crumpled little piece of clothing back on. „I didn’t notice! I think the tattoo makes me feel dressed, um.“

„Car’s gonna be piping until the A/C runs full throttle,“ you head the way to the motor park, sandals randomly clacking onto the heated concrete. „Next thing you know, you’re gonna chuck your jeans into the Malibu beach waves and don’t even notice.“

„No, no worries. I uh, I’m back to behind the scenes mode,“ Jungkook’s giggling to himself, trying not to make it too obvious that he was quick to react.

„Took you almost half an hour,“ you say through a big grin, getting out your dangly car keys with the miniature plush bunny attached to it. Flashback to last month, Jungkook bought it for you as a thank-you present after he heard you mope about always overlooking your keys.

„Dancer thing,“ he says, sounding wildly apologetic. „I usually don’t wear that much.“

„Talk about getting naked,“ you both settle in the car, a block of heat hitting you in the faces. „You can use my shower to scrape off all that oil. There must be some kind of special cleanser I got, the one with the light green stripe on it.“

„Yeah, it’s gotten so sticky—“ Jungkook turns to check his back. „My shoulder will smudge that oil on the backrest… sorry.“

„I’ll leave the seat cleaning to Yoongi, he likes looking after the car,“ is all you can comment, kick-starting your car. What follows is the deep humming noise that the engine typically emits when the LA heat is extra crazy. „You can turn on the radio over there. It’s kind of a one-hour ride from here. You said you sing pretty well?“

The now switched-on A/C blows his tanktop around the way it wants. Maybe L.A. is cooking today because Jungkook is out here.

Rolling into your garage, you realize you’ve brought home everything: Except the champagne bottle. Fuck it, the heat in the car would have done weird things to the oh-so sparkling content, and putting it in a flash freezer at home would have resulted in a fizzy explosion that would leave Yoongi with some high ceilings to scrub. Treating yourself to some cold juice sounds much better. You have no interest acting out drunk and passed out on the floor in Jungkook’s presence. And in case an impromptu tattoo happens, alcohol is the last thing you want in his blood. The same goes for everything more than just a tattoo.

The metal trophy, which is elegantly shaped like a stencil and lighter than you thought, is more important. After parking, that one goes straight to the Grey Room award wall. You’re chugging the rest of your bottled water in one whole go. Sitting next to him had your eyes averted from the street more often than not, which in and of itself was a bad idea — but who knew a traffic jam could be a nice thing, especially if it took two hours.

Jungkook is busy otherwise. Exhausted from the black seat’s stored warmth, he exits the car moaning out loud at the heat outside. And, from a later-day sun having grilled the right-hand side of his body. Through the car window, all the way. His body is chilled from the A/C, almost freezing down the sweat on his tanktop, at least that’s what it felt like, until you noticed he was shaky and dialed it down. Jungkook is actually a little hoarse from singing his heart out. That will fade in a minute, though, he says.

While he takes that so needed shower, you dig through an absent Yoongi’s clothing rack, built into his assistant wardrobe. Since Yoongi is on the smaller side, there aren’t too many options, but you guess he’ll survive.

Feeling much better now, Jungkook winds up dangling his legs into your garden pool fifteen minutes later. That is, with extremely tight tennis shorts and otherwise nothing on, yet again. The white of the fabric might be opaque, but his thighs are big enough to let either leg ride up. Yoongi can be glad he buys so much stretch material, otherwise, those shorts would be bursting at the seams.

Unlike during the way home from today’s show, the yellow-pinkish color of the sky is finally worthy of a tattoo artist’s eyes looking at it. The white pillars of your terrace frame the outlook effortlessly like a little arcade, and the pool water feels like it has been cooling down significantly around your calves. No smog, no direct sunlight, no skylines. You’d not allow Jungkook to step even one foot in your backyard topless as he is if the sun was still high up. His tattoo had to be carefully preserved.

„I do like banana. Anything banana.“

He licks up a drop of surplus ice cream from the back of his thumb. It’s all melting in record time despite the 9 PM cool approaching. You both have to be quick. Luxury problems — at the expense of your waiting lemonade. Which you told Jungkook to feel free to pour up for the both of you during your own bathroom break some minutes ago. You changed into something even looser, put your base cap on, and the ice was already getting a little too creamy under the poolside evening glow.

„Mmh. Self-made ice cream is a whole ’nother level,“ you twist your cone. Mainly, to take off the melting edge of your scoop with the right corner of your mouth. „Cools the vocal cords, does it.“

„Seriously didn’t sing that much in a while,“ he cracks a smile, and you can tell he missed having free time like this.

„You’re not out of the loop, though. I could have taken you to America’s Got Talent and we still would have won. Hell, the Masked Singer. Dressed as a Green Raccoon. Or a fencing man. Lord knows what. You got a beautiful voice.“

Jungkook almost chokes on his ice cream at the mental image of that.

„I guess I’d rather be dancing,“ he shakes his head, „and walking around at a tat con. I’m really nervous about that one.“

„We can chill, that’s four weeks from now,“ you sip on your lemonade eventually, swallowing an ice cube that has melted down to a peanut-sized chunk. „You’ll get used to your new look by then. And everyone is out there, it’s packed. They all wanna outdo each other. We’ll blend in somewhere. Even if it’s probably not gonna be much cooler and we’ll still look like glazed donuts. We might as well leave the oil at home.“

Which didn’t sound to unrealistic. You’ve had Yoongi book the two of you for a tattoo convention display down at Hacienda Heights. Body Art Expo — one of the biggest events in the area. You could finally showcase your latest craft and meet some of your role models. This year, an influx of famous contemporary Japanese masters was guaranteed.

The overarching theme was announced to be traditional horimono craft. You’ve been dying to set up a little booth and take Jungkook with you to see the best of the best, and also flaunt his own frontal tattoo.

„Yoongi might as well park an ice cream truck for us there,“ he jokes.

„You’ll definitely need ice indeed after I go buckwild and give you a whole beginner’s hand poking treatment.“

„Hand what?“

„Hand poking,“ you laugh. „Tebori artists don’t really use automatic needles with some exceptions. It’s all done manually. You prick the skin by hand. Even the tattoo needle you have make on your own.“

„Like DIY, completely yourself?“

He got you started on one of your favorite topics. Well, well.

„Yes. It’s like a small wooden or metal stick. It has a grouping of needles fastened to it by string.“

„Oh… so that’s why— by hand.“

„Yes. And it doesn’t stop there. A machine has say, nine to 35 needles. My favorite tattoo gun has 22. Japanese traditional can go as far as 42. That’s why outlines are so difficult to do in that technique. And the gradients. Those are fucking hard. Getting a tebori tattoo is expensive with good reason.“

„42 needles!“

„Depends. It actually bleeds less. You feel relaxed after a session. The whole thing is like. Eleven inches long, bit more. The artist has ultimate control over how deep it locks in the coloring fluid.“

„Um, yes,“ is all he can say staring.

„The artist will use a sponge to pick up the ink, and drive the stick in by hand. Hence they call it hand poke. A full-body tattoo can take a year to complete. But the color has the best saturation. The needles are thicker, you can put lots and lots of ink under the skin that way.“

Which is why you’re so interested in it. Six years plus until you’d be able to fully practice that technique on someone. It’s your goal for your later career. To have your own tattoo family, apprentices, and letting the art live on through your canvases.

Maybe settling in Japan itself to learn from the best, or remaining overseas. As long as you’d be able to hand poke a clean line like a true master and sketch properly, artfully, just as the craft demanded. Time and place wouldn’t matter.

„You said that Japanese tattoos work with woodblocks, right?“

„It’s inspired by woodblock carving art,“ you nod, pulling out your phone. Plenty of pictures to show him, over 600, if not more. You shade the display with one hand and sit closer to Jungkook, swiping through the gallery.

„The actual design is painted with soot ink beforehand,“ you keep on explaining. „Like, a phoenix. A river, with flora. Some scenes of a kabuki theatre play. Or a goddess figure, that’s pretty common.“

Jungkook does look as hooked as you are. And— as a side note: He smells damn good from the cleanser you gave him. That shower must have been thorough. You sort of don’t smell it anymore when you use it, but when it mixes with his scent, that’s a whole different thing.

„That’s so cool… Would you do that on me?“

„Jungkook,“ you raise your brows at him. „That technique takes years to learn. With a mentor— And endless copying practice of their grand pieces.“

„You even need a teacher and copy what they do? That’s crazy.“

„When we go to the fair, I might get my hands on a bamboo needle to see how it’s like to hold. But I’ll probably just stand there and watch in awe just like you.“

„Wow. We’ll really be able to see a lot there.“

Jungkook’s posture appears significantly less tensed-up now, and you know you took his nervousness about the convention by directing his mind to a new idea. That he asked you to give him a traditional-style tattoo by hand without even hesitating has left an impression, but you try not to let your face show your respect. Most canvasses would be skeptical, frightened, or completely dismissive of the technique. Jungkook is nothing short of sexy, it’s literally right next to you — but it’s his open mind that makes him interesting.

„I know, right. But you still might be lucky getting a Japanese tat from me.“

„Really?“

He almost jolts up, which makes his left thigh rub against you by accident.

„Okay, I can’t just walk up and hand carve an entire body suit into your skin. Right. But you can actually do parts of horimono with, you know, automatic needles and stuff. Many traditional studios do outlines by machine these days, and only the coloring or shades by hand.“

„They do it both?“

„Pretty much. Hybrid tebori. The art of doing precise lines by stick is recently dying out. If we use the gun instead, for everything? You can still get a goddess tattoo like an original motif. It does take practice and immense research. But it’s doable with modern machines and an excellent design.“

If you think about it, Jungkook might just be the perfect canvas to dive deeper into Japanese tattooing, even more so than you already did. Not being able to do it the manual way would irk you, but you can work with what you have.

„Any suggestions where?“ he looks across his body, traces his hands, deliberating. „I mean, it could go anywhere for me. But, I mean you should choose where it fits the best.“

You do know a perfect spot, in fact.

The slimness of his hip makes it so that an ascending motif would widen up perfectly on the shoulder area. On the other hand, the extreme curve of his spine could easily warp the design when looked at from afar, so that had to be carefully considered. It’s all a matter of adaptation. You can already see details of this next project form before your inner eye, still.

„Your back is completely virginal, so. What about that.“

„Right, of course!“

„And that’s where you find a traditional placement anyway.“

Some proper skin breaks between the shoulder blades, maybe some more grey towards the waist level, putting in more contrast across the shoulders and neck… it all starts to form in your head. Fuck, Jungkook’s neck is actually your dream target area. Front and back. The underside of his jaw as well. Peak difficulty.

A pet peeve for many of your colleagues in the field because the skin is so delicate and hard to put a design on. Many people just say fuck this shit and freehand it completely. But to you: Sweetest spot you can think of. If he’s good to go, you’ll ink him with his neck hung from the edge of your tattoo furniture one day with an extra anesthetic. Maybe some kind of animal or interlocking pattern. It’s gonna look fucking awesome.

„Would you like, actually sketch something for me?“

„Sure. Or we’ll work together with a master who will design something with ink on paper to suit your body perfectly. We still need an entry piece for next year’s tat awards.“

„But I only want your stencil,“ he finishes biting off the lower half of his ice cream cone, looking pretty disgruntled at the idea of someone else being in charge of his back. You would rather consider an expert, but you can see his point. Everything on his body should look coherent, as in one singular handwriting. And you heard it. He only wants your stencil or nothing at all.

Of course the back has to match the abs and the pecs. Only a consistent style would ensure that Jungkook’s tattoos would come together as an aesthetic whole that carried your signature, which was not just something a show jury would appreciate. It was a just because thing.

„Fine by me, it’ll just take longer. And we do color.“

Which means, more time spent in the Grey Room, where you would keep all of your treasures. The inner city studio you share with your colleague, Taehyung, who was more of a Neo Traditional and portrait enthusiast. He also did blackwork just like you. That meant the present ink supply was either batshit crazy colors and dark shades only. Hence, you set up your own extra coloring studio at home to specialize.

„Love the idea!“

„So it’s a done deal, huh. We’ll do the project in the Grey Room by then, I’m thinking.“

It needs a different atmosphere and lighting to really get the most out of the hues. And: You created this area to make a canvas open up and relax. With your technique and shading style, coloring in the big areas was always a real pain in the ass for anyone with skin that wasn’t super thick.

Taehyung’s philosophy was always to ‚paint‘ his clients in a suave and fleeting way, whereas your approach was always go hard or go home. Jungkook could handle it, and his skin was rewarding to work on when it came to recovery. You can tell he’s more than excited.

„Really, thank you for this…“

„If a couple months work sounds like fun to you, we’re gonna walk up with another 20,000€ price money next year.“

You are starting to enjoy this idea of Jungkook being a tattoo muse, sort of like the faux Greek statues and busts that you had Yoongi put up around the garden when you moved in here. A lot of tattoo artists you were friends with were inspired by the renaissance, and you could see the appeal. That Jungkook was a walking Greek aesthetic with his curls and decadent body really does fit well into your home, now that you think about it.

„I have no problem hanging out here at all,“ he’s munching, tongue in cheek. „Your house is amazing. I bring along some groceries and such when you’re too busy. If, if you want.“

„Really?“

„Long as you can sketch in peace. I like doing laundry and those things.“

„Yoongi will appreciate it. More time for cooking his latest creations. You’re already renting out his clothing, we can cut him some slack there, huh. Doing a full landscape and figure will take us twice as long as with your ribs.“

And those were already insane to do. The skin was behaving almost like paper in some bits. Only the fact that he works out decently enough has probably saved Jungkook from losing his mind then and there. His back is going to be much easier to tattoo.

„A background landscape as well? “ he drops his jaw. „This is genius… Maybe we should do it later this year, September or so.“

„Good call,“ you blink. „Gonna be a bit colder. And you’re gonna be a birthday boy. A tat’s always a nice gift to yourself.“

The reality is: Most tattoo artists would kill to secure a canvas that was so patient. It was a biased view, but Jungkook would not just be a wanted man in his dating pool (which he already is, he’s told you about a lot of concerning things in his DMs) if he graced the cover of `Inked´ magazine.

The whole ink world would come running. You already brace yourself for the storm of showing him off at Body Art Expo. He would be noticed. Today’s experience showed his potential. People found him likable and sweet, and the muscles got them going. You worried if Jungkook would have to be protected from too much attention in the community. It wouldn’t be long until you wouldn’t be alone in a cool-down room. Today’s show wasn’t the busiest, but an Expo would be. People would absolutely bother him. Rather than asking you about your tattoo journey, or anything else constructive and useful.

„I’m really getting a back tattoo,“ Jungkook is buzzing with energy, splashing around water with his feet. His voice is just fine by now, only a hint of raspy at best. The energy low of the backstage room is pretty much forgotten.

„I’ll sit myself down with some books and I’ll get back to you next month with a first rough draft, yeah?“

„Can’t wait!“

„And after that,“ you shoot him a warning gaze more jokingly, „I’m sketching for your legs, too. Maybe with a realistic thigh tattoo. Or with some big red highlights and otherwise black only.“

„Woah! Red and black?!“

„Anything’s possible. Though, you know. Only if you want to, of course. I’m just brainstorming.“

But those thighs basically scream for ink, oh my god. You can’t even hold yourself back. Was he actually okay with that? By the looks of it, Jungkook didn’t have a single problem with you planning out his whole body’s new design.

„I have nothing against being a BLACKWORKS gallery,“ pats his thighs the most innocent way you could imagine. „I know I’m in good hands.“

BLACKWORKS was the name of your tattoo parlor, carrying with it the color you had specialized in. Ironically, setting up the Grey Room was the exact opposite, making a space to dabble in color. It was sort of the bane of your existence. One or the other, both, or alternatingly? Your sentiment changed with every larger project or every other client.

„Well, thank you. Any further questions?“

„I um… I don’t want to sound rude, but.“

„You don’t sound like it’s anything offensive, though,“ you lower your shades to squint at him.

„What are you like planning,“ he kneads his palms against each other, „I mean, with the prize money? I was, you know, just, uh curious. You always create cool projects and stuff, that’s why.“

„Oh that? We need that money for all the fucking ink you’ll be wearing!“

„Help!“ he squeals out, just as joking now.

„Seriously though. You’re gonna be my most expensive canvas. Taehyung spent a fortune finding the right pigment for all the True Black that went here,“ you point at his chest. „Only the highest quality Acrylic components in there. No metals, no allergens. No nothing.“

„Is it organic? That’s so Los Angeles,“ Jungkook giggles into his hand, trying not to make some organic this, organic that joke most probably.

„Better than having that shit in your lymph system. We don’t want that.“

„Thanks, you’re looking out for me.“

No toxins for your canvasses. And nothing you don’t know the effects of. More clients gotta get some education about this.

„Just duty. And LA sucks, I don’t care. Cheers.“

For the last sip of lemonade, you toast, and Jungkook reiterates that he’s feeling very much in safe hands — especially now that you offered him a sofa place to sleep on.

It’s really too late to drive him home. The highway ride would take ages, the traffic is even more terrible at this hour. Returning at like 2 or 3 AM would set you up for a lackluster sleep routine. He’s living alone in his flat so there’s nobody to inform, he’s not urgently missed and needed for something. That there’s no one waiting for him always surprises you.

That Jungkook is his own best roommate and doesn’t cohabit with his parents, all in a decently well-off part of the city on top of that — not the most flashy one, cozier, but still — tells you that he must dance pretty damn well and knows how to live life. He probably thinks the same about you anyway, although he keeps on saying you work too much for your own good, which might have a grain of truth.

You do wish you lived a bit like him. Then again, you’re well aware he has a hard time sometimes. Going by pictures he showed you, the flat he has isn’t a bad one at all. You don’t charge him for the tattoos, obviously. They’re competitive entries based on your decisions, not commissioned pieces. He offered pay, but you rejected the eight hundred bucks.

On a day where he let his guard down after three hours of conversation, Jungkook told you he’s selling his pics and videos between otherwise casual sentences. That was about two month ago. He didn’t say what pics and what videos, but you were beginning to connect the dots.

All the signs, they were there. The way he undressed, the way he was aware of how he came across, the way he was so photogenic. You worked extra hard on getting the clarity of the tattoo right. It’s one thing to look at black ink pigments in daylight or below the artificial lighting of a studio, but on camera, it’s absolutely a different thing.

Why he opened up to you, you don’t know. It was inconsequential. He didn’t mention it again, and it didn’t look like he was observing your reaction to it.

There was no telling what his shy tone of voice was supposed to say, or his intent, and you guess it all had many meanings at once. Maybe he just said it to say it. To get something off his chest. Jungkook often hesitated to vent, but he was honest telling you that. If anything — he trusted you enough to do so.

„I’ll just give you one of these at this point,“ you weed through your closet, pulling drawers, checking metal hangers. Eventually, Jungkook catches a white sporty tee that you’re tossing him, and lays down on the white king-size couch in the center of the living room. 11 PM. Sunday tomorrow. None of you caught a heat stroke. You’re both not that tired yet. There might as well be something left to do. So… Well.

„Have a good night’s sleep then,“ Jungkook smiles, already half settled— about to put on the shirt. You gotta stop him in this tracks somehow before he’s dressed again.

„Maybe it’s still time for a little treat,“ you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him, which he reciprocates with unbridled surprise.

„Did Yoongi put some other desert in the fridge, or—“

You shake your head.

„No, no. Something else. Actually, way else. Wait here, Jungkook.“

„O.k.?“

„Heading back in just a minute,“ you turn your head across your shoulder. „Look at my drawings on the wall or something.“

He does, gazing around the spacious room that is actually pretty bright and light at this hour. The team that did the electrics in here were absolute top tier in their field, although the house did not pass as 100% interior art. Rather, the tall walls were clad in big unfinished pen sketches and other blackwork ideas behind frames, mostly showing anatomical poses and various animals from all around the globe. Looking up, Jungkook got lost in a painting that showed a distorted self-portrait of you while drawing something on a table. Art of the artist doing art.

„You need to get yourself some of this,“ you interrupt, posturing yourself in the doorframe upon returning. Jungkook’s head twists in record time. His confusion is more than visible all across his face reacting to what you’re holding up with your right hand.

„Is that… Is that— Lubricant!“

Someone looks pretty damn flustered right now and it’s not you.

„Oh my god Jungkook,“ you shuffle closer to the sofa, thoroughly amused. „Actually read what’s on this tube. Here.“

You hand the mysterious black item to a very panicked mess of a weekend guest.

„Aftercare cream?!“

„Read on.“

„…for protecting tattoos.“

He just looks mighty exasperated now. Oh Jesus.

„Come on. It’s not some kind of after-bondage ointment,“ you laugh. „Just plain ole tattoo balm, okay. Nothing BDSM going on here.“

„Yeah… Yeah.“

„The whole thing’s pretty much a vibrancy serum, healing cream, moisturizing lotion, et cetera. All in one. That is considered a treat in my book. Treat as in skin treatment.“

„I uh, should have figured.“

Jungkook’s knee-jerk reaction has him crouching together in a gullible pose on the sofa, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. Broke a sweat for a minute there, did he.

„Your tattoo had a lot of stuff going on today. Oil and sun and sweat and chlorine, too. We’re not gonna let it rest unprotected tonight. There’s some regeneration it has to do.“

As per the contest rules, tattoos need to be fully healed to enter anyway, so today he’s not been freshly inked under the UV rays outside. But it’s still better to apply cream to support the tattoo as it is. And exposing Jungkook’s dirty mind for the sheer fun of it.

„Am a bit of a dummy,“ he hands the lotion back to you.

„The clean air around here has you wearing tennis shorts… and your mind in the gutter, does it,“ you snap the tube open, squeezing a generous double dime-size amount into your palm. It’s not like you didn’t check him out all day. Two minds in the gutter? That’s twice the fun.

„Sorry.“

„Don’t be. Now let me work it in, I’ll do that for you. The shirt needs to wait for another minute again. Fine by you?“

„Okay!“

„Then relax. It needs to be spread out properly.“

Running your hands across one’s favorite canvas should be considered a therapeutic method for any tattoo artist out there. You need to listen to a lot of shit, discuss a lot of shit, compete against a lot of shit, and draw a lot of even more shitty shit. It’s only fair you get to enjoy the silver lining as well. Savoring what you all do it for: Enjoying the aesthetic and the feel of the skin.

Jungkook is as pliant as ever accepting the treatment, and the balm does what it’s supposed to do. Seeping in, refreshing the skin, cooling it off. You knead his body in broad strokes of your palms, making sure the coverage is even. The tattoo again proves its bold winning ways shining bright even under the low ceiling lamp, and you again congratulate each other. No scabs at all, and the whole jury convinced. You beat a tiger, the watercolor dudes, tiny tat mania, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the tall snake bloke. The result was a memorable rendition of a pet dog that your client could not get enough of. What more could you really ask for.

Jungkook visibly hums under your touch and seems to react with cozy noises having his sides massaged. You’re careful with the ribs, his sensitive area. You’re totally not lingering on the pecs for a little longer. Your mind revolves around the thought of sitting down on his thighs to unpack the real treat and finally ride out your craving.

„What if we,“ you start, „You know. Actually use some lubricant. Here on this sofa.“

„Huh—? Really? In a way that…“

Jungkook awakes from his half-slumber that your hands had so calmly induced. In fact, he goes from sleeping beauty to wide alert in two seconds, propping himself up from the sofa cushions. To meet you face to face — he’s incredulous. Well, you aren’t exactly feeling coherent either, which surprises you, too.

„Sure! I mean. If you want to. There’s some of it in the other room that I can fetch. I figured we might. Just for fun, and… We know each other for a while now. To me it would be nice. Nothing fancy, just. We just do our thing if we like it. I’m still your tattooist. I wished we could sleep with each other at some point. I didn’t say anything because we had to focus on competing. Sorry for that.“

„Please, please don’t.“

„I preferred to make it about work until we sat at the pool today. If we’re fucking… It should be a comfortable moment where we really got to know each other already. You were pretty shy. So I was careful, right, although I’ve been teasing you anyway, I don’t know what you thought about that, if that was funny or not. But you know, the heat of the moment.“

„Don’t worry, I liked it.“

„I also didn’t want to make it look like I was trying to get in your videos for money or just because you do them, or mess with your personal business. I know this is a separate thing. So I was more, uh, asking casually. With the conventions and our projects, I want nothing to change there.“

„No, of course.“

„If we make this a big deal, I thought it would be risky. When I ask you this, there’s always the chance that it gets weird, people are being particular and act different when getting intimate like that, no matter if the night is good or bad or boring. But to me, I thought, after all our sessions being the way they were we had a body feeling for each other that was more progressed than just having sex. And I was curious how it would be naked, how we’d be catching up. Because you’re really hot to me… I really want to be on top of you. I waited so long to say this. God, fuck, Jungkook.“

„Yes.“

„Hm?“

„Yes, I want to. I’ve… been thinking about it as well.“

It’s a bashful confession that comes with a lot of baggage off his shoulders, you can tell. This all has been simmering underneath the surface. At least you managed to spill it all out yourself. Drawing a 3D face was infinitely easier, tattooing an inner fucking lip was easier. But now he was in the know, if he wasn’t before.

„Makes two of us,“ you twirl at his curly bangs with one digit finger. „Should I get it? And some other stuff. So we’re safe.“

„I, I have some protection in my bag,“ Jungkook goes on stumbling over his words, clearly not prepared for you touching his hair so playfully. „Just a minute. It’s upstairs. In the shower.“

Standing up, you both separate ways with telling, loaded glances. Jungkook couldn’t climb the stairs any faster, his expression is so sheepish. You really fucking did it. You asked and he said yes. Damn, hell yeah.

Walking into your dark bedroom, you pick up a non-fragrant wet wipe to clean your hands from any tat cream residue, although you’ve really worked it into him. Every last corner of his torso. The sleeve as well.

You constantly taught him how to take care of his arm and the other tattoos, but this was a new one. Jungkook will keep the healing cream, you’ll gift it to him. It’s high-priced stuff, but why’d you care. Your home tresor now holds a whopping 20,000$ in cash, and you can topple into your bed happy and content after knowing you own the L.A. tattoo scene as of today.

Jeon Jungkook, he was truly a standout client. Picking up the bottle of lube from underneath your bed, you couldn’t believe you just make the step to breach the professional, invisible wall of being artist and canvas. The excitement gave you a nice gut feeling that was similar to walking up at the show’s venue this morning. You’d have him on the couch, you’d get some fucking dick tonight, no sketching, no planning, no phone calls, no nothing.

You bring a large towel that Jungkook puts under his back and legs, protecting the sofa. Two water bottles, too, there he goes. Although you don’t want this to be the most sweaty exercise of all time, you both have to stay hydrated. After such a stuffy long day, anyhow.

He looks hot chugging it down up to the half-a-litre mark, and you drink from your own bottle with one hand pulling down your pants to the knees. He helps you remove them across your ankles, and he leaves two little kisses on your lower shins. It’s the first time feeling his lips are on you, and it’s a peck just as unique as you thought it would be.

When you hook your index fingers at the top of his shorts, you notice that Jungkook already fitted a blue condom inside his pants.

He didn’t want to do it in front of you and make it awkward, or expect you to touch him just for practicality first rather than touching him for sensuality first. Obviously it could be hot rolling it down on a guy, feeling up what would be inside of you, the whole girth. But safe to say he knew what he was doing. Jungkook didn’t want to compromise you. With all your thoughts that you had, that was a subtle act of reassuring.

Since you brought along the lubricant, you could still get to enjoy having your hand wrapped around him, spreading the heavy liquid rather liberally, feeling it melt around him. You wiped your hand on the towel and climbed up to his lap while Jungkook was kicking off his pants with a hip-to-knee coordination that you haven’t seen yet.

It dawns on you. How could you forget what he usually does. He wasn’t just a dancer by profession, but at heart. Those things were hard to suppress or not do. Just like you couldn’t look at Jungkook without feeling inspired to create tattoos. Which, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, his bare skin was desperately begging for, it was so inviting. You already saw him more than scantily clad, but with his shorts down, his waist and hip showed themselves in their best light. You loved his body shape.

And damn, it felt so good to finally be naked in that summer evening heat, feeling the A/C lightly tickle up your spine and neck from behind. It cooled down your back just right, and you chucked away your underwear for it not to lay around on the sofa. Although the lube was more than enough to go by, you gathered some saliva in your mouth to spit on his dick. It made him twitch and moan, „Yes please.“

There was no need for any aperitif, you weren’t in the mood to go through any foreplay. Jungkook looked delicious enough to have you on edge, and the lubricant would do the rest to make him gliding inside even smoother. You squatted over him and aligned yourself, got comfortable in stabilizing your legs this way.

Jungkook closed his eyes and only looked when the tip was way in, approaching the mid-length of his cock squeezing inside of you. Of course you were still a little tight, but some positioning would change the angle for the better. Jungkook asked if he could use his hands and got green lights from you. Judging by how they were slightly dry on your skin and the scent they had, Jungkook soaped them down when he was picking up his cross-body bag from the bathroom some minutes ago. Everything by the book.

One on your hip, the other playing with your clit, you began to realize just how good he was with his beautiful fingers. It wasn’t just you having the manual skills in this relationship. He was remarkably cautious and had concentrated eyes. So far, you enjoyed that Jungkook was more observing rather than staring, and had such a nice ring to his moaning voice as if he was a singer.

From your perspective, seeing his tattoed fingers curl between your labia and his tight chest muscles moving right along made you crave more cock inside. It slid in almost naturally with the stimulation that came from his fingertips. Jungkook’s voice went right along with it, describing in sounds rather than words what the situation was like.

„That’s really good, stay in that spot,“ you told him, and added a slight up and down to your movement on his dick. Only a slight drag on his shaft made it harder to push him inside further, but that was likely because he had been growing in size a little more.

Learning how to tattoo meant studying some architecture as well to be able to pull it off, and in your case, you soaked up all historic Greek building styles there everywhere. If you were to describe Jungkook as a column, it would be Doric. Full in the middle, definitely not Corinthian in length, actually more Roman Tuscan which was full and convex with a slender, triangular tip that extended toward a nice curving girth the further down you went to the middle.

„So pretty. Your dick feels good.“

„I really hoped you’d like it.“

Meanwhile, he had less circumference at the base. Which you found pleasing to the eye, and pleasing when you sunk down on him fully. That meant squeezing down some lube which would squirt on his balls and made your labia extra slick and juicy, stretching on the sides of his shaft like soaked little lips.

A bit would splatter to the side and smear across the lower side of your ass. It pulled threads when you were reaching the lowest point of your bounce, which alerted Jungkook’s usually waist-bound hand. He had noticed that you felt discomfort with it and wiped it flat to the side in one go.

To your surprise, he gently licked across the sides of his fingers to clean it up. Jungkook licking his tattoos had to be something you didn’t know you needed and one of the top five things happening today. The innocence but quick efficiency with which he did it, priceless. He didn’t stick out his tongue that much, just a decent fourth of it. His calm and naughtiness spoke of low performance anxiety, which you attributed to him being camera-savvy, doing his solo videos.

Still, going balls deep had Jungkook whimpering through his teeth with his eyes closed again, an immense tension spread across his face. Even his left hand on your clit briefly stopped. He had to accommodate to being inside, so you wouldn’t go on moving until his features would relax a little more and he sighed out. It was all fully in the moment and you loved to continue moving up once he was okay again.

Jungkook and you were comfortable with one position for now. In your head, you have a thousand things just like a full-body tattoo would look like, but in reality, you can only ink one thing at a time. Perfecting his little quickie would pay off much more than bending each other around. He had been hectic enough going up the stairs, he had been nervous and confused all day. You had so many ups and downs of adrenaline yourself. This had to be deliberate.

Although you told him he didn’t have to if he couldn’t do it, you found yourself asking Jungkook to give you some understated hip work. Just to begin meeting you halfway, to press his balls against you softly, to create some more lewd noises — and to see his whole body go like clockwork so you would see his tattoos dance above his muscles.

Since he observed you well, Jungkook amped up the stimulation enough for you to feel your pleasure starting to build up fast like a coil waiting to be undone, at its very peak of feel-good. The thought of having a climax right on his dick was spurring you to move, chasing the high and needing the smack of your ass against the jerk of his desperate thighs.

„Keep going… I can handle it!“

Jungkook sounded like he was about to cry, which told you he must have cum inside the condom. Hell, he was moaning so passionately, it could have been at any point in time. Going by his usual policy, he didn’t want to put pressure on you or mess up your own timing. He left you to do your own thing, just like you said you wanted. Lord knows he might have popped a pill in the bathroom to keep his dick up for long enough.

All you knew was, the suction created by you riding him very roughly at a high pace kept him erect, leaving you space to cum on his sloppy dick before Jungkook would enter a post-sex delirium. It was sudden and left you clenching up, heart rate thumping and a huge wave of release making the round through your torso. You squeezed him tight, he reacted by slowing his waist down. That way, you could savor the orgasm without disturbance, and leave your eyes shut for a moment. Jungkook helped you go from squatting on the heels of your feet to the knees, coming much closer to him now and leaving him buried deep.

„Fuck, so good!“ you plant your hands on either of his shoulders, cooling down. The A/C continues to release a calm stream of air into the room, which is deeply needed. You can’t believe it’s already happened. Or, how fast it could happen once you asked this way. He gave himself away freely without expectations, Jungkook went along like a champ.

You stay seated this way for a long time. Relaxing. Up until you both have normal breaths, up until your sleep hormones are kicking in. You glide off his dick with Jungkook’s help, him kissing the inside of your thigh while you lift it across his face.

Jungkook insists to stay on the couch, he doesn’t want to move or just come along to the bedroom he’s never been in out of nowhere. He mumbles that he’ll somehow get himself to the bathroom in ten minutes, it’s okay, he doesn’t want aftercare just more to drink. And a little snack from the fridge, maybe.

He cleans you up with love and care, then discards the more than ruined condom that had to endure being soaked from either side, outside, inside. It didn’t rip, but it looks as mushy as it gets. You really fucked the shit out of him. Everything wet and full of lube. Although it looked messy, it didn’t feel like it. Jungkook was effortlessly good in bed and immediately grasped what you wanted. The fully wet condom was a mere testament.

Seeing just how drenched and mixed up everything was, though, Jungkook points to his bag, you pull out a flat paper box.

„Yeah, just to be sure,“ you nod and pop the contents on your tongue, downing the little pill with a bunch of water. Jungkook probably made the cutest babies ever, but your whole stomach was your former first teacher Boa freestyling the absolute madness of an impeccably scaled dragon in every available color that was your lucky charm, so that wasn’t happening.

Where stretch marks would mean a ruptured masterpiece, a whole C-section would give you a thousand years of bad luck for chopping off the dragon’s feet. It would be an aesthetic crime for someone aspiring to perfection, and you wouldn’t want to draw the wrath of Boa for the sake of a kid you had zero time for to begin with.

Come to think of it. Your conservative neighborhood would probably call the cops if they learned about how the eccentric tattoo artist raving about ‚hand poking‘ and homoerotic Greek culture all day had a lovechild with the Doberman chest guy whose main source of income was shaking his ass into a camera.

So — Jungkook himself was more than just prepared. Even if he didn’t look nor act like it, he had his sex life together. Hacks, contraception, technique, hitting perfect pitch on his moans, everything. This guy was a professional in a way that you would tattoo abstract art. You admit to yourself that you tasted blood despite 85% of California men not doing it for you, and that included the majority of model canvasses. Jungkook had something completely unoffensive and pleasing about him. Something intricately submissive that was worth exploring.

Even if he came too early, he didn’t complain about it or give himself a hard time, or get in your way with it. If anything, it let you know that Jungkook liked what you did. You felt complimented that he reached his climax so easily with you, though you have to ask why he wanted to remain in the living room when your bed was much less improvised than the couch.

„Not making it a big deal,“ he says, smiling a little at you. „Nothing much changes. You’re my tattooist.“

And he’s right. He would have slept here if you didn’t fuck. The couch is big and comfortable, anyway.

While you get dressed in the bedroom, you hear him sneak upstairs. Using the tap, and you hear the clothing dryer being switched off.

You’re already tucked in when a little „thank you for todays session 🐰“ text lights up on your phone screen, followed by „and congratulations 🎊“. You reply with a „right back at you“ and call it a day, recounting today’s events in your head with an excited feeling. Good one. You even forgot you actually had a phone. Today felt like the longest 24 hours of this year.

Jungkook gets comfortable with a cold drink on the living room table next to him. Even if he’s not getting the hang of this house yet, that’ll do. He’s closing his eyes at some point. Everything that’s happened feels like it’s locked into his body. Big show, big lights, photoshoots, karaoke, brainstorming for the future. The two of you need some well-deserved rest tonight. He’s not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere.

The heat of the summer nights in this part of the town is reliably stable. Still, you left him the shirt in case he still needs it. Yoongi will take care of breakfast before either of you wake up tomorrow, and the kitchen will be clean as day. A nice thought to hold onto, as well as the confetti raining down on stage. And that fact that you just hooked up.

„Rise and shine my queen,“ resounds the upbeat voice of Yoongi. You always twist around under the duvet for a solid minute, then realize every time that it’s just your phone alarm sounding off like that. On a grumpy day, you once told Yoongi to record something that will get you out of bed, and this was the result. By the time you’re waking up, though, your house is all prepared. Yoongi took off for errands already.

After handing Jungkook an illustrative traditional tattoo book from your little house library to get a feel for possible designs, you sit down together. At the kitchen counter-turned-bar-turned-breakfast-table, Jungkook is fresh out the shower in a bathing gown he found nearby. Again — a garment way too short for someone with tempting legs like that.

On him, it’s basically a mini wrap dress. Not to mention the cleavage, where his tattoo is boldly peeking. Crisp edges, deep color, the black consistent. Not to brag, but you want to pat yourself on the shoulder for that job. It looks just as scrumptious as the little buffet that awaits the two of you.

„How’d Yoongi react to the tennis pants on you?“

„No idea,“ Jungkook ruffles his hair, damp and strongly curling. „Probably didn’t even register that it was his clothing at first. I was sleeping anyway when he arrived.“

„Right, he comes in around 5:50,“ you pick up a brimming sandwich, stacked with lettuce, bell pepper, and extra-layered vegan cheese. „You just saw him leave or so, right.“

„We said hi for like ten minutes when I woke up,“ Jungkook gets busy putting cherry jam on a croissant, „and he congratulated us.“

„I sent him a link to the interview we did after the competition.“

Your group chat is just a cat picture, event info, and meme dump at this point, this was one of the more serious entries. You know Yoongi for too long.

„Then I asked if he also got tattoos from you,“ he stirs his tea, and a little smile rises. Of course he had to ask that. Yoongi was plastered in freestyle 3D tattoos and song lyrics. „Then he told the story about how he started working here. So that was hilarious.“

„Abbreviated, though.“

„Abbreviated?“

“Yoongi never tells the full version where he freeloaded getting a portrait of Holly on his underarm. He didn’t have the cash, but we were college friends. I almost fell for the trick when he wanted a matching one for his girlfriend. As an exchange, he was cooking here for a week. I ended up hiring him, he’s really good at those things.“

„I was still so tired, I think I didn’t quite pay attention to the story anyway,“ Jungkook laughs. „After he showed me his knuckle designs up close, I was thinking about how I got my own.“

„Hand tats are different gravy,“ you fill up an empty glass with extra orange juice, one eye still in Jungkook’s cleavage. „Probably ’cause you see ’em all day.“

You think he does notice your gaze tracing his body. But you never know when Jungkook is terribly shy or ready to flirt the house down when he does that one wide-eyed expression.

„And then Yoongi said, I should just put on his stretchy sweatpants from the lowest drawer? I didn’t really know where that was.“

„Oh right, he doesn’t use that drawer anymore. That chapter is closed.“

„Anymore?“

„Yoongi stopped playing golf. He had his shoulder messed up in an accident.“

„Oh no…“

„Five years ago, I think. He got hit by a delivery car a mile up the lane. Never fully recovered.“

„Ouch…“

„So all that golf stuff is unused. Might as well steal a polo shirt and socks from there as well. Down the hallway, last door to the left. I make sure nobody eats your croissant in the meantime.“

He’s giggling. Golf clothes, it is. The morning is significantly cooler, you can feel it in your bones. A welcome refresher.

„Sucks. Sorry about Yoongi’s injury,“ Jungkook gets up, which loosens his belt a little too much. The bathroom gown really is falling apart left and right. You can see his thigh exposed, all the way up to the right hip. Your dear guest tries to hold everything in place shamefully with two hands, then pulls the belt now twice as tight. „Down the hallway, last door, left, correct…?“

„Yup.“

Off he goes with bouncing hair. You browse through the tattoo book while obliterating your sandwich, shifting your brain back into business mode. Shit, why’d he pick that short fucking gown instead of a regular damn towel.

In the assorted picture part of the later chapters, you find some beautiful ornaments that would literally, and you can tell right away, work so well as a frame for his back tat. Some almost naturalistic shapes, and either clouds or wind on top. Maybe even both, most deity figures in the book had several elements surrounding them. A playground for anyone who knows what they’re doing. The sketch was going to be fun to make, and interesting once it came to application.

You already put in an extra hour for Namjoon’s bonsai cover-up. Jungkook’s September appointment would be twice as intricate and dynamic. Because of the sheer overwhelming size, anyway, and Jungkook’s body shape presenting the challenge of tweaking the design’s perspective. Now that you’ve seen him stripped down all the way — maybe you do have a better understanding of him even more so.

You shiver at the thought of an unskilled tattoo artist ruining a beautiful physique like that, especially across such a large area. Thank God Taehyung sent him to you after realizing that ‚suave and fleeting‘ was clearly not what Jungkook was looking and suited for. JK’s first tattoo had been a simple refresh of some letterings on his sleeve, and the heart on his hand. A month later, he was ringing you up again.

„I think you’re the one. I have a shoulder bit that needs a touch-up. And maybe… you have an idea for the right underarm.“

What surprised you, Jungkook has never been the one choosing the tattoos. He quite liberally had you picking it all— and even without his request, you’ve now been coming up with motives to add on.

Laid-back as he is, „you do you, all access“ is all he thinks about that. Jungkook does an impromptu trust fall into your tattooing chair every time. To be honest, you could never. Boa was the only one you’d confide in like that because she knew what your taste was like and had the best technique you knew. When she told you that she’ll be moving to San Francisco and you were ready to open up your own parlor, that your 5-year education was complete, you cried, it was the best and worst day of your life. Maybe, she’ll be hosting at the next convention.

The road to San Francisco was a 6-hour drive, you do see her every other month at least. Hanging out at her own gigantic studio was one of the best things to do on the weekends. But it sometimes feels like she’s missing in presence and advice, still. Hell, you text Boa almost every day. You like all her Instagram posts, she sends you almost every larger tattoo or notable smaller ones she did on clients, so you could study the way she did it.

Just when you ended a session contouring Bam’s ears and eyes and paws, Jungkook once met your former mentor when she dropped by on a Friday evening at BLACKWORKS. Boa was depositing some ink and needles that she didn’t need, and she said well, maybe you could those try out if they work for you. However, she refused to give you any counsel. Boa insisted you had to figure out Jungkook for yourself and own up to that. Knowing her, Boa was always 90% right about the things she said.

So, all else aside, she would be the only person you’d allow making a surprise design on you. But anyone else? You’d tell your tattooist when and how and why to fucking move the needle one split inch to the left and to the right, even if they were tattooing your back and you couldn’t see a thing. In your deepest sleep, you could feel and hear and smell an idiot not filling out a corner properly.

You’d tell them exactly when to switch colors, disinfect their tools on your own, and not allow a single deviation from the stencil. Or else you’d instigate a general lawsuit to shut down their studio, good riddance. And Jungkook was the precise opposite of that.

Switching colors? He didn’t even care about those things. It was all about lying down and letting it happen instead. Taehyung once remarked to you over a very strong coffee: „He’d still think you’re cool if you ruined him entirely“.

The vast majority of your clients would rather give you their idea and you execute it for them. Point blank. Modify it at best. Maybe correct it a lot or give a second choice of the same aesthetic. Say, you’ve had this lady Hyuna come over, she wanted a cute teddy bear, but the area on the leg was better suited for an elongated cotton candy motif, so you both went with that and put the teddy bear on her shoulder blade and her husband got the same one later.

But you never got someone begging for you to decide it all to the last millimeter. Not even the canvases that flirted with seasoned contestants at the show were ready to surrender their skin this way. If someone wanted to kiss their tattooists’ ass? They’d rather spill out the most dramatic speech of praise on their work. At this point, you’re sure Jungkook likes you in a way you don’t yet understand, or never experienced.

Even the most trusting veteran clients of yours wouldn’t act like he would, and even canvasses of absolute genius tattooists would come to the revered maestros with their own suggestions and some big no-gos. Jungkook’s `do what you want, and only you can touch my body´ attitude has almost made even Taehyung’s eyes fall out. And Taehyung’s seen a lot of unhinged clients over the span of his career.

It was quite obvious to you that he’d be your award show canvas for more than just one gig. He had the kind of enthusiasm and an empty space on his legs and back. His dance background had also given him the gift of even subconsciously presenting himself well in front of crowds because of his posture and way of walking.

In a way, you were almost too happy that Jungkook came back for more now, and he was trusting. You’d reward him with poker straight edges and extra time for creativity. For some reason, you were biased, and that already happened way before you slept together. Jungkook would spend the birthday of his lifetime getting his back tattoo.

While you ponder, there’s some noise from the other side of the house, and he’s returning.

„Did he mean those?“ a little question poses from the entrance of the hallway, and it’s Jungkook standing in the frame all dressed up.

„Sporty!“

„Yeah—“

„Can you still feel your circulation or not?“

„I needed to try several socks until it felt comfortable,“ he giggles, in typical manner, and does a little spin for fun.

Even though you’ve seen Jungkook’s naked back a thousand times in your studio, in fact you know every hair of peach fuzz on it, you’re carefully surveying it now more than ever, painting a tattoo across the bones and muscles with your eyes. Maybe his ass was next in line after the thighs, by the way. You’d run out of conventional space anyway.

„And I always thought Yoongi’s feet were pretty large. Turns out yours are bigger than his?“

„I can’t really explain it either, maybe the socks ended up in the dryer somehow?“

Yoongi really is quite a bit smaller than Jungkook. Formerly just a normal fitting piece, the polo top is pretty much a muscle shirt now. Preppy fashion runway? No, he can make your house look like a gym outfitter. The light-colored pants — it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath. That silly riffled waistband is holding on to dear life. He couldn’t even tie a ribbon with the strings.

„Turn this place into a laundrette, I don’t mind. I’ll leave you in charge of the washing machine next time. Yoongi bought enough fabric softener last Wednesday.“

„I saw! Cotton candy flavor.“

He might as well be a tailor, too. Most of the clothing construction threatens to fall apart at the widest point of his thighs, at least the slender calves fit in these pants. But: It stretches, and he’s got something on.

You drop your empty juice glass into the sink, alongside your plate and sandwich knife. Your wink is far from unsettling to him.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wait until Yoongi returns to take care of the dishes. He also hand-washes his clothing from yesterday in the sink. It’s funny seeing it hang and sway dry outside, but the approaching sunshine heat promises that he’ll be good to go soon enough: With proper underwear.

For the time being, you pour some water into the fridge’s icemaker and give Jungkook a house tour. There’s finally someone you can play table football with. On the first floor, where you arranged your luxury woman cave five thousand. Yoongi could only play the defense with one arm, so you had to rely on random color tattoo clients being down to square up against your national team after a consultation. It was more fun to play with a friend.

Powered by his now-tied ponytail, Jungkook is actually too good to play against, which you notice being five-nil behind. Regardless, you `magically´ recover at seven-nine, right after he whines how a stray lash keeps poking in his eye.

There is no stray lash to be found when you check up close, but you still enjoy looking in his eyes. Jungkook was definitely blessed with some of the most reassuring bambi-like eyes. That deep reflective hazel tone looks better than any pricey brown ink of yours ever could.

Nature, after all, is the best tattooist.

read it on ao3

[dom!reader MASTERLIST]

note. thank you for reading to the end <3 i hope i got you dreaming of back/chest tattoos for jk now 😂 i love this topic, it was really intricate to write and i hope you enjoyed!

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #bangtan #sub!jungkook #dom!reader #kpop smut #+ yoongi makes a cameo as a chef #kpop fanfic #sub!bts #sub!kpop

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throneofsapphics · 2 months

Text

poly!ruhnlidia headcannons (sort of?)

warnings: mild violence, drinking, light sexual content, oral (f!receiving), minors dni!

a/n: I tried to keep this spoiler free for hofas, but read at your own risk! I have so many more ideas, please let me know if you'd like to see a part two!

going on a date

They’d never been on a picnic before, and you decided it was an absolute travesty, a crime, really.

Picking the park closest to your apartment, you filled a wooden basket with everything you could think of.

Ruhn, of course, was delegated to carrying the snacks. Lidia’s fingers intertwined with your own, her hand warm and steady. You’d chosen to leave before dawn, although they protested getting out of bed, you wanted to avoid as many crowds as possible.

Finding the area you'd scoped out earlier in the week, half hidden by a few trees, you spread the blanket, placing the basket in the center.

You held a grape between two fingers, glancing at Ruhn sitting opposite you.

"Catch," you grinned, giving him a few moments to process before tossing it in the air, slightly off to the left. His hand darted out, palm closing around - somehow not crushing it. "With your mouth," you clarified.

Lidia observed for a few moments, watching the two of you throw them further and further away from each other, diving across the blanket, knocking over random things. Eventually, she decided to join it. Turns out, she was very good at it - better than the two of you, and held it over your heads.

“Do you want a trophy?” his tone had a bitter edge, but his mouth curved into a smirk. His fae senses weren’t quick enough to keep the next grape from hitting his temple, courtesy of Lidia.

As the sun crossed the horizon, Lidia leant back against Ruhn’s chest, your head propped on her lap, her fingers running through your hair, nails putting the perfect amount of pressure into your scalp.

moving in together

The three of you took things slow, the decision to move in together taking several months. But, once you did, they encouraged you to customize the space, to add your own touch to it.

You looked at the wall adjacent to the window, still bare - no art or decorations.

“What are you thinking?” Lidia’s arms wrapped around your waist, her chin propped on your shoulder. You covered her hands with your own.,

“We could add a painting up there,” you murmured, hesitantly, judging her reaction.

She gave you a light squeeze, “I love that idea.”

The next day, Lidia came home with an assortment of paints and brushes. You glanced between them and her, eyes wide. “Worst case,” she shrugged, “we cover it up.”

ruhn taking you to get your first tattoo

“You’re certain about this?” He asked, for the thousandth time.

“Yes,” you groaned, squeezing his hand. Somehow, he thought he was a bad influence. It made no sense to you - you’d wanted a tattoo for ages.

‘Calm down,’ you cast out to him. The artist looked a bit on edge, given Ruhn was bristling next to you with each dig of the needle, each slight wince of pain on your face. You watched him force his shoulders to relax.

“Why don’t you get some food for us?” You said, aloud this time. It wasn’t really a suggestion. His brows flicked up, but he left, with a warning look at the artist. Your eyes rolled.

‘I saw that,’ his voice flooded your mind.

‘Good.’

A low chuckle came through, hinting at a promise of something else later that night.

later that night

Arms wrapped around your legs, warm hands spreading them open.

“Tell me what you want,” he kissed the inside of your thigh.

You squirmed, ignoring his teasing laugh. “You know,” you breathed.

“Tell me,” his eyes met yours, a hint of that damn Fae dominance that always sent shivers down your spine.

“You," your hands tightened around the sheets. "Gods, Ruhn. I want you.”

“And how do you want me?”

“Put her out of her misery,” Lidia drawled, “or I'll do it.”

Ruhn took the challenge, his tongue running slow, painfully slow, strokes, driving you to the point of madness - nearly to the point of begging. You felt the pressure, then two fingers inside of you, curling up to hit that spot, just as his lip ring ran over your clit.

Fingers threading through his hair, you screamed loud enough the neighbors could probably hear.

an hour later

“Official Aux business,” Flynn grinned, eyes darting between the three of you. Lidia leaned against the counter, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

However, your face turned red - already having an idea of what it was.

“What is it?” Ruhn grunted.

“We got a call,” Flynn sounded too pleased by this, “sounded like a female screaming. They called for a welfare check.”

Ruhn's hands pushed against his chest, shoving him out the door and slamming it in his face. Footsteps and laughter trailed down the hall. He picked up his phone, dialing a familiar number.

A too-cheery female voice answered, “yes?”

“Next time, I’m calling the 33rd on you,” he snarled. A beep and he disconnected.

getting into a fight

You were pissed. Beyond belief.

This male wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, and you knew your temper would start getting the best of you soon. A journalist, probably, given he couldn't stop badgering you with questions about Ruhn and Lidia.

They weren’t exactly overprotective or domineering assholes, they’d taught you how to defend yourself (more than you already knew) and respected that you could handle most situations on your own.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” you snarled, shoving the male's chest. He, rather dramatically, flew back a few steps. Maybe you’d put a bit more force than necessary into it.

“She hit me,” he yelled, attracting a few glances from people nearby. The bartender looked at him, then you, and rolled his eyes. You shot a tight smile back. His mouth parted, a look of alarm on his face, but the alcohol dulled your senses enough you didn’t see the punch coming in time.

The situation was taken care of rather quickly, the male thrown out of the White Raven none too gently, and you were led upstairs by another one of the bouncers, your friends trailing behind. You shot them an apologetic look when the rope snapped in place, keeping them downstairs.

‘I’m fine,’ you mouthed.

You slumped into a seat, a different bartender, someone you knew from school, sliding two fingers of whiskey in front of you.

“I give it five minutes,” he joked.

“Four,” the female working the other end called.

You grasped the cold glass, tilting your chin to let the cool liquid burn down your throat, leaving a comfortable warmth in your chest.

“I’d say three,” you finally added, glancing at the clock.

Sure enough, about three minutes and seven seconds later, thundering footsteps came up the stairs, preceding both Ruhn and Lidia.

Riso had probably called both of them before the conflict even occurred, he always had a sixth sense for trouble.

Lidia’s hands gripped your cheeks gently, turning you to face her. You felt the purple bruise blooming on your temple. “Let’s go,” she murmured, her hand gripping your arm gently, tugging you to your feet. You swayed slightly, gripping the counter for balance.

“Lidia please,” you pleaded, but her arm wrapped gripped behind your thighs, effortlessly throwing you over her shoulder.

At least you took the back exit out, Ruhn’s shadows obscuring your group, saving you from some public embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” She asked, after you'd made the few blocks trip home, sitting you down on the couch. Ruhn already had an ice pack wrapped in a towel, holding it up to the side of your face.

“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“What happened?” She pushed gently, one hand resting on your thigh. Ruhn moved with you as you threw yourself back, flinging your arms over the back of the couch, and snorted. He responded to Lidia’s glare, indicating she did not find this funny at all, with a shrug. Her lips pressed in a tightline, but she turned her attention back to you. "Tell me," her voice was soft, sweet. A tone she usually only used with you or Ruhn, and one that worked on you every time.

“He wouldn’t stop asking questions about both of you. A journalist probably.”

On instinct, you switched your gaze to Ruhn, spotting the brief flash of guilt.

“Don’t start,” you pushed one finger into his chest. He wrapped his own finger around it, tugging your hand to rest in his. “I knew this would happen," you insisted. It was true, as soon as your relationship went public, everyone had questions, and too many people felt entitled to answers.

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles instead, his other hand still holding the ice pack steady.

“I won’t. Who was it?”

“It’s been taken care of,” you said quickly. Sure, he’d annoyed you, but you didn’t want him to bare the results of two overprotective vanir. “He looks worse,” you added.

“Oh I’m sure,” Lidia caught your attention, a look of approval on her beautiful face.

#crescent city headcannons #ruhn danaan x reader #lidia cervos x reader #ruhn danaan x you #ruhn danaan x y/n #crescent city imagine #lidia cervos x y/n #crescent city x reader #ruhn danaan x reader x lidia cervos #ruhn daanan x y/n x lidia cervos #ruhnlidia x reader #ruhnlidia x y/n #poly!ruhnlidia #poly!ruhnlidia x reader #poly!ruhnlidia x y/n

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missyandthemisfits · 1 month

Text

Tokyo Rev X Apathetic!GNReader

Part II And I Already Know What To DOOO-

Souya Kawata

He more than anyone understands that looks can be very much be deceiving, but he absolutely doesn’t judge a book by its cover, he’s not that type of guy. You guys are desk mates and greet each other everyday - or everyday he can get away from his brother long enough to attend class. You don’t speak to one another much but you guys enjoy the quiet company the other provides. No one at school dares bother either of you honestly, one of the perks of having a near constant unapproachable look. Takes a few weeks after the semester starts for you guys to have an actual conversation, though it did come about only after you managed to trip and fall face first in gym class.

“Are you okay?!” He looks to be scowling but you know better. Unsurprisingly, most of the other students keep their distance, some snickering. But surprisingly, Souya is at your side in a matter of seconds. Sitting up slowly, you blink.

“I think so.” By the time you respond he’s already pulled out band aids, cute ones no less, placing them tentatively over your scrapped knees. It’s hard not to blush at the thoughtfulness. Suddenly, you feel a warm liquid dripping from your nose. He looks up and immediately starts freaking out.

“Your nose!”

“Huh?”

Apparently there was quite a bit of blood, so much so that the next thing you knew, you’re waking up in the nurse’s office, dazed and pretty confused. You blink twice, peering over to see Souya twiddling with his fingers anxiously. He looks over, relieved to see you awake. You try to sit up and he motions for you to take it easy.

“How long was I out?” You finally ask after a few moments of silence.

“About 30 minutes..,” he verifies with a glance at his watch, brows knitting together, “How are you feeling?”

“Well that depends; did we miss gym?” He raises a brow.

“Um… yes?”

“Then I feel fantastic.” He snorts and shakes his head. There’s another few moments of silence before he speaks again, nervous somehow.

“I um…I could take you home on my bike, if you’d like. O-or actually it might be better to take the train in your condition-“ You shoot up so fast you make yourself dizzy again, startling him.

“Your bike? As in…your motorcycle?” You’ve got stars in your eyes at the thought, leaning in close and warranting a blush.

“Yea. Is that okay?” It’s your turn to snort.

“Okay? It’s more than okay - clearly I need to break my nose more often-,”

“What?”

You guys are very fast friends after that day, though it doesn’t take long for certain other feelings to start developing. It was awkward, it was sweet, it was first love hidden under the familiar guise of friendship. But, it would be a while longer before either of you would confess.

Nahoya Kawata

It was strange how well you meshed together.

You with your deadpan expression and monotone voice, him with his wicked and untamed grin, neither of you ever as serious as you needed to be, with anything. It’s was like life was a game to you guys, all of it meant as entertainment at best.

“Hey (Name), look it! Doesn’t this dude’s face look fuckin’ hilarious?” He gestured to 1 of 3 plebs who attempted to jump him not 5 minutes ago, said perpetrator’s face bruised and bloodied mercilessly. He might’ve gone just slightly more easy on these losers had one of them not grabbed your arm roughly with a disgusting smirk. That really set him off, big time. You crouched next to him, blinking briefly before nodding.

“Yea, you really beat the breaks off him. You angry about something?” His smile wavered slightly, though seemingly unnoticed. Your face would never tell, nonchalant as ever, but it was like but you were an expert at reading people - even more so once you were close to them. He smiled 90% of the time but after being acquainted for a few weeks, you knew exactly what he was feeling - the straining of his smile translating anywhere from awkwardness to anger, the smaller grins anywhere inbetween. It was pure insanity, he thought. It ticked him off too, at first. Still it was nice to have someone, besides his brother of course, just… understand him without having to spell it out. He wasn’t one for words. Fists were another story.

“Eh, m’alright.” He moved to stand upright, subtly glancing down at your wrist to make sure it hadn’t bruised before placing his hands in his pockets. “Hey, you wanna hit the arcade before we head to your place?”

You were relieved to see his true smile back in its place, granting him a small one of your own with a light shrug.

“Fine with me, but don’t you have homework?” It was his turn to shrug.

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, (Name)!”

He totally did.

What we’re you gonna do with him?

…

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #souya kawata #souya x reader #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata #souya headcanons #souya kawata x reader #tokyo revengers souya #nahoya headcanons #tokyo revengers nahoya #kawata twins #tokyo revengers hcs #🫶🏽#souya is an angel #nahoya is a bittersweet devil

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blues824 · 8 months

Note

Please forgive me English not mother language

Dormitory leaders with F!s/o that comes from conservative? (Hope I am using that right) house hold! But what I mean is. F!S/o parents still lives in the times were women had no rights nor did they speak their mind or voiced out their opinions! So in that F!s/o was raised to cook, clean home, bear children and take care of her soon future husband and children. She is a bit of a dunce? You could say she was home schooled and did not learn about the outside world and of its changes over the years... yes she does were clothes that over her ankles!

I love whenever someone says English is not their first language but then they have the most comprehensible English to exist.

Riddle Rosehearts

His mom used to be a stay-at-home mom, but she was a doctor prior to and preceding Riddle’s birth and raising. However, when you are struggling in class, he elects to help you, just to find out about your upbringing. It was no wonder that you were struggling; you weren’t taught to go to school past a certain grade level, and here you are being thrown into a really tough curriculum in a really tough college.

Not only that, but he’s seen you with the Heartslabyul first years as well as Grim. They push you around (Deuce, less so, but he is enabling), to say the least. So, he steps in and interferes whenever he can, refusing them for you. You looked at him with shock as he told you that you needed to speak up and defend yourself, which led you to quietly explaining to him that women weren’t allowed to speak up back in your world and only really had the purpose of learning how to serve their future husbands.

The whole idea shocked him, since there was no level of inequality like this within Twisted Wonderland. After all, four of the Great Seven were women. Shouldn’t those men back in your world know how to take care of themselves on every front? Bro is just absolutely flabbergasted, as it was an unusual notion. However, he does agree with the whole modesty thing, as he prefers to remain modest as well. But, your modesty goes beyond his, as you cover your ankles and are shocked by how many people in the town below the mountain NRC is built on wear shorts to deal with the hot weather.

Leona Kingscholar

This was something to get used to, as back in his homeland the women were the strongest. The day you stepped on his tail was a strange day because he forgave you so easily (he’s scared of women, remember?), but you were trembling and almost in tears. Leona’s moral code would not let him rest until he consoled you, as much as it annoyed him. However, this isolated incident led to a rather strange relationship between the two of you.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were alright. You pretty much started acting like his wife, and he kind of evolved into the role of your husband. He was your protector, and you made really good food. This was the first time where you finally found comfort, some sort of normalcy, within Twisted Wonderland. However, Leona wanted you to know that he was serving you instead of it being the other way around. He didn’t want to seem like a lazy, deadbeat guy to you. For you, he actually put in effort.

His only goal was for you to find your own freedom, hobbies, etc., and he was not afraid to snap at your ‘friends’ for walking all over you. He’s also not afraid to spoil you, even though he acts like he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t eat anyone else’s food besides yours… not even Ruggie’s. He may not be able to help you with your schoolwork as he always skips classes, but he will make sure you get to each class safely, which gets him to attend his classes by extension.

Azul Ashengrotto

Your clothing is in history textbooks that he read to try and learn about human history, yet you are wearing it? He’s not judging tall, but it is rather unusual. But, you are rather unusual. You seem to be struggling in class, and when the professor assigned him to tutor you (free of charge), he learned about your unfair upbringing. You hadn’t gone to school past the 5th grade. You were very quiet, and when he asked why you weren’t able to, you stated that women were supposed to stay at home and learn to be wives and mothers. The notion was weird to Azul, as the people of the sea had no such system.

He decided that he would take over in teaching you so that you could succeed in NRC’s curriculum, as long as you worked in the Mostro Lounge. Not only would it grant you exposure to the modern world, but only bit by bit as you cook and serve the food and work alongside men as their equal. It was a lot of work, but you seemed to be up to the challenge because you were waiting for an opportunity like this, even back in your own world.

When you actually get romantically involved, he lets you know that you have his full support in anything you wanted to do. He still continued to tutor you, but you became a strong, independent woman. Not even Grim had control over you anymore, and you have even made a threat to Crowley, saying that if he didn’t improve your living conditions free of charge, you would run to the press with the pictures you have taken of Ramshackle and bring down the reputation of Night Raven College.

Kalim Al-Asim

His mom was a stay-at-home mother, but she had the choice to work because she was greatly educated. However, with the many children she had, she opted to raise them as she wanted to have a close relationship with all of her children. You are a different case. He once was paired up with you in a project for a shared class between you two, and you both were completely lost. However, you seemed more distressed about it and he got you to talk about your experience (or lack thereof) in education back in your world. He was shocked that women typically didn’t go past the 5th grade, and the traditions were definitely very strange.

Unfortunately, he is a bit of a dunce himself, so he can’t help you much. However, surely Jamil will help! You didn’t like the imbalance in favors, so you opted to help the Vice Housewarden in any way you could. For example, you would help him in the kitchen, as you were very skilled in the culinary arts due to your time spent in the kitchen. It was better that Jamil watched over you in the kitchen anyway, as he could make sure that Kalim’s meal wasn’t poisoned.

As you are growing into your own independent person, you have Kalim’s support every single step of the way, both financially and emotionally. He is the type of man you would read in romance novels back at home, where he genuinely loves you and wants to provide for you and spoil you. You are working hard and are dedicated to making something of yourself, and your boyfriend here sees that and admires you for it.

Vil Schoenheit

He has never seen anyone wear clothing like yours out of habit, mostly just when they film movies. So, he wants to make you clothes that are a bit more up-to-date. If you want to maintain the same level of modesty, he will respect that and keep it in mind while he’s sewing. If you want to experience and raise the hemline of your skirts or pants, he will gladly do so. Also, if you are struggling with Potionology, he will volunteer to help you. However, you feel bad that he’s doing all of these things for you, so you rise early every single morning just to bring him a healthy breakfast that went along with his current diet to make sure that he had energy for the day.

Because of your mutual agreement, he acts as a protector of sorts. Your first year friends won’t try and walk all over you because you have the Housewarden of Pomefiore backing you up. Grim, Ace, and Deuce were all idiots that would hinder your learning, and he’s actually not wrong. However, you didn’t appreciate how he spoke about your friends, so you told him. It felt liberating to finally speak to someone so openly about how you felt, after your entire life being spent learning to conceal your emotions, thoughts, and feelings.

Whatever you decide your goal to be, Vil will be there to support you. But, he’s the type to not let you quit when things get hard. He knows that you can do it; he knows your capacity. Also, he’s not above threatening Crowley if he decides he wants to push any of his responsibilities on you, as he should be acting like the Headmage rather than a corrupt business CEO that pushes everything on his employees. You were a student, not an employee, and you deserved to be treated the same as your peers.

Idia Shroud

He thought your clothes only currently existed in anime that portrayed the ‘olden days’ and in museums, but from what he could see in his iPad camera in class, you wore it liberally. However, what really got his attention was when you had started treating Ortho like your own child. You were very gentle and motherly towards his younger brother, and it made Idia so flustered because you were very pretty and you come close to his room every single time you walk Ortho back to Ignihyde.

Your relationship started with him teaching you how to use various machines and technology, and you were very embarrassed at your lack of knowledge about these types of things. In turn, you once went over and knocked on his door, carrying various different sweets that you made. Idia was on the brink of fainting when he opened the door to see you… his crush… extending a tray of homemade candies towards him and thanking him for everything he has done for you thus far. With shaking hands, he took the trey from you, just for you to lean forward and place a simple peck on his cheek before leaving. Ortho rushed to catch the tray as it flew in the air while Idia fell to the floor unconscious.

As much as he wishes he could support you in-person, he rarely goes outside due to his family’s curse. However, you didn’t mind sticking by him as it gave you an excuse to be away from Ace, Deuce, and Grim. That’s not to say that you are not growing into your own person and your own hobbies, but in your spare time you retreat to your lover’s room. There, you would do homework and prepare dinner for the two of you. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Malleus Draconia

In case you didn’t know, his grandmother is running the entire land of Briar Valley. His grandmother is a woman, so he never really viewed any gender as ‘superior’. However, when you both met each other, he learned about the patriarchal system back in your homeland (it’s giving Ken). That night was short, but it felt long for both of you as you both talked and learned about each other. That conversation was ingrained into your minds, and you both fell in love at first conversation.

He will gladly assist you whenever you need help with any of the course work. You explained, very embarrassed, that you never went to school past Grade 5. Malleus was very patient, and he explained everything in a polite tone. His retainers were also in the library, covering their faces with books as they spied on the Crowned Prince. Eventually, once you got your work done, you found a book on one of the shelves that outlined the time that you lived in. It was surprising, as there was no such system of oppression like the one in your world, but rather the style of clothing and the beliefs were similar. Malleus read the book from front to back, and by the time he returned the book, he got more insight into your life.

The dragon prince is not afraid to spend money on you so that you can grow independently and dive into your own interests. He holds a lot of monetary influence at NRC, so when Crowley is feeling lazy and wants to put all of his responsibilities on your shoulders, he will threaten to defund the college. Eventually, you start to make promises of your own (because they’re not threats if you use the word 'promise'), and Malleus could not be more proud of you.

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ccrites · 1 month

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i've been thinking of getting a tattoo for a long time, not only because i want to, but also to cover an old stick'n'poke i got when i was 15.

and so it got me thinking of the 141 tattoo artist!au. and oh boy.

Kyle would be an absolute sweetheart. not judging the stupid decisions a teenager made. more like "you wanted a tattoo and you went out of your way to get it, that's awesome. now how about we enhance it instead of covering it, whaddya think pretty girl?" and he'd draw around it, incorporate it into his art, go over the parts that are faded and uneven, then, when he's finished, wipe it gently and go "there, what should've been your first real tattoo" with his blinding smile and a promise to also be the one to do your next one

Johnny would be excited about finding creative ways to make parts of the stick'n'poke incorporate into other elements, make it so you'd never know it was there. but he's also a bit of a freak! making sort of mean comments about, "such a stupid decision, you were but a wee lass and ye didn't know what you wanted! thank god Johnny's here ta' fix ya'". It doesn't help that the tattoo you got was somewhere hidden, somewhere your parents wouldn't see on summer vacation (think where your underwear would cover it, or under your bra straps!) and he'd be such a creep! Sitting closer than absolutely necessary, looking at you too intensely. At the end, he'd suggest a truly hidden tattoo, "Only for me to see, bun, whaddya say?"

Ghost would be the type to frown behind the mask and look at you meanly, and you're afraid that he'd judge you for doing this kind of thing (you had your reasons, okay? some rough period in your life, you needed catharsis, and you were too young to get a real tattoo) and he'd be really condescending, all "there's a reasons youngins can't get them. Cuz' it's a stupid decision to make." and he'd huff and draw the most exquisite art you'd seen, all black, bold lines, and way, way bigger than necessary to cover the small tattoo. If the tattoo was on your hip, he'd extend it from your waist all the way down to your knee, make it flow with your curves, accentuate the stretch marks, and you can't say no because you absolutely adore the style. if the tattoo was on your ribs (bra straps, remember?" he'd extend it under your tits, bring it back over the clavicle, make it to be seen. and the pain. oh the pain. "you said you wanted catharsis, right?"

John would absolutely be on Ghost's side, with "there's a reason they don't let kids get tattoos" and you hear the underlying what a fucking mistake, and you see how he judges you... it makes you want to get it from him the most. Until you get to the consultation, and he tells you to get it lasered off first. But it's so faded, it should be easy to cover, no? you argue. he won't budge. So you get the expensive laser. it sorta hurts mentally, because you got it done with your best friend, and you always assumed you'd keep it there, underneath another layer of ink, where only you would remember it. It takes a few sessions, but then the skin is clean, a blank canvas for John to paint on. and paint he does. it's the most gorgeous piece you could ever imagine, you can see the inspiration Ghost draws from him, all bold shapes that flow into each other and compliment your body. Your skin is raw and pink when he's done, and you get up to admire the work... until you get a closer look in the mirror. you know exactly where the old tattoo would've been, and you'd expected to not be able to place it, under the new art. in its stead, two letters, black, bold, beautifully intertwined.... J.P. ... He'd put his lips next to your ear as you stand in shocked silence. "You're my canvas now."

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69dias · 11 months

Note

Hii, please can I have a lil enemies to lovers with Jude Bellingham, maybe him and the reade “hate” each other but reader gets hurt and he rushes to take care of her and confesses 😩😩💓

football players get injured — it’s a fact, one that you’ve known of for the years you’ve spent both on and off the pitch, making sure to take every precaution necessary so you don’t end up in recovery for months on end; which is logical and sensible for any player.

it’s unfortunate, though, that a certain jude bellingham makes all of your logic and sense fly out the window.

you don’t know how it starts, really; it started as just a silly argument about where to get dinner of all things that escalated into a fight so vicious that you find yourself chucking random belongings of yours into a spare duffel, vowing to never step foot in the same training facility as him, all while the ‘star-studded’ player follows you, hot on your heels.

his voice, smooth as ever, echoes throughout the empty locker room that you’re emptying out, both of your teammates left behind from the field you’d stormed out of after practice.

“so that’s it, then? you’re leaving?”

“yes, jude. I am, I can’t stand this anymore-“

“can’t stand a little teasing? god, it’s like talking to a child.”

you turn around at that, breathing uneven and eyes zeroed in on his chest so you don’t have to look at his infuriating face (for more reasons than one, but you wouldn’t admit it over your dead body).

“I’ll be out of your hair, then. if I’m such a child.”

he scoffs at that, starting to say your name, but you don’t let him continue, pushing past him with the duffel bag you only half-assedly filled, truly having no intention of actually quitting because of one guy. it couldn’t hurt to make him feel bad, though, which is how you justify the charade, choosing to focus on how you’re going to get home instead of the small pang of hurt that sends a palpable discomfort down your body at how he couldn’t care less about you you leaving because of him.

on that end, upset and on edge, you make your way to the stairs, completely oblivious to how his gaze follows you. you don’t bother to look down, judging your depth perception and the fact that you’ve been climbing up and down these stairs for long enough for there to be no reason to be extra cautious; a decision that catches up to you in record time.

you feel it before you truly gauge what’s happening, right hand instinctively flying out to grab the railing as a sharp, cold pain flies up the same ankle. your eyes lose focus for a beat, head spinning as the ache travels up all through your right side, tears burning in your eyes as you manage to sit down on the step right below the one you missed.

your ears ring, head fuzzy as an onslaught of thoughts fill you; how are you gonna get down the stairs? how will you get help? will you be able to walk? is it a serious injury? will you be able to play? how —

it’s a familiar voice that breaks you out of your spiral, one that you could pick out in a crowd, one that makes your stomach drop in a mix of annoyance and weird butterflies; your life feels like an absolute fucking cliche, too, because the voice belongs to none other than the same man who started the chain reaction to you ending up crouched in pain.

“___! hey, what the hell-“ jude finds his way to you, sitting to your right so he can put a hand over your own, the one that covers your throbbing ankle. “oh darling, does it hurt?”

you nod, his figure a faint blur through the tears that have apparently fallen down your face, but the use of the petname takes your mind off of the aforementioned pain. sure, you’ve heard it before, always making sure to send him a curt roll of your eyes when he finds you after chatting up whoever was on the receiving end of his charms, but the way it rolls of his tongue when he says it makes you uneasy. only, in a good way.

“you’ve gotta be careful,” his voice falls, mumbling something about you being clumsy under his breath as he pushes your hand away from your ankle to look at it. you lock eyes when he looks up, worried face contorting even more when he sees the tears running down your face. “don’t you cry. you’re strong, aren’t you?”

jude has never been this soft towards you, and you almost pull away shocked when his hands reach out to wipe at your tears, but you find yourself leaning into his touch. somehow, his words make you choke out a sob, before breathing in, trying to steady yourself.

“that’s it, just breath.”

“jude,” it’s all you can manage through the pain, teeth gritted as he maneuvers your ankle in a way that sends another jolt of searing pain up your leg. “please, it’s so bad I don’t think I’ll be able to play—“

he cuts you off with a warm hand pressed against your jaw, his other one stroking at the skin of your swollen ankle.

“don’t think about that. don’t you think about that now, yeah? I’m gonna get you someone to help you, and then we’ll think about the future and playing.”

he says it in one breath, no more sweet talking, which is something that hurts you more than you’d like to admit, but the consolation does it’s job. when he gets up to go, you don’t stop him even if you’d like him to stay for longer, putting your hurt ankle first.

“stay put, okay? don’t be stubborn and move.”

despite all your stubbornness, you listen to him.

jude ends up being great help, silently staying besides you as a medic lifts you over to the small hospice area at the training facility; surprisingly, you don’t find yourself itching to ask why he’s not leaving, and he doesn’t feel the need to go either, eyes trained on you the entire time you receive treatment.

the ankle injury isn’t that serious — it’s a minor sprain, something that’ll heal itself in a week or two, but you’re advised to not put too much pressure on it regardless, come in for regular physiotherapy, all formalities you don’t end up listening to in favor of staring right back at jude.

he doesn’t manage to match your gaze, eyes falling to where the ice pack lies on your ankle, only to reach forward and adjust it slightly so it actually reaches where you’ve sprained it.

it’s confusing, the changes in his behavior. from nearly driving you out of football to calling you sweet names and taking care of your injuries, it’s almost like he’s playing with your own feelings, and you wait until the doctor slips out to give you two a moment to call him on it, not willing to be a puppet for him to jostle around as he pleases:

“what’s all this for, hm?”

his head snaps up to look at you, eyes finally meeting yours. his are glazed over in something you haven’t really seen in him before, akin to concern.

“what d’you mean?” you have to bite back a laugh at that, his accent so sharp as he questions you right back, but the moment calls against it.

“just… all of this. the helping, the sweet names, all of it. you wouldn’t care if I left football forever just fifteen minutes ago but somehow one injury has you swooning?”

jude sighs at that, pursing his lips and looking away from you in a signature way you’ve seen him do to avoid confrontation.

“can’t friends help each other out?”

“are we even friends? you don’t even like me, jude.”

saying the last part out loud makes your heart ache just a bit, but you can’t exactly focus on it as his own face takes on a cadence of being hurt, for some reason.

“who told you that?”

“you did. you say it all the time, whenever we argue it’s something new about why you don’t like me.”

“you take those seriously?”

“you don’t?”

jude pulls back from where his hand rests on your ankle, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t. I really — I don’t.”

“you can leave-“

“I don’t want to. I really, really, genuinely like you, ___. And I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

“what, are words of vitriol your love language?” your remark gets a laugh out of you, but he doesn’t seem to catch on to the joke.

“what’s vitriol…”

you bark out another laugh at that, watching as his gaze zeroes in on your face properly. you think of him, how ridiculously attractive he is, you think of his voice calling you darling, and you think of him saying he likes you:

“so what, do you like me as a silly friend to joke around with?”

he doesn’t answer, so you continue.

“because if you like me in any other way I need you to tell me. please.”

desperation doesn’t sound good on you, but you let the plea slip from your mouth because if there’s one thing you hate more than injuries, it’s miscommunication.

“no it’s -“ he takes a deep breath, fiddling with his fingers. “it’s… a lot more than just me liking you as a friend.”

you look away, suddenly feeling hot.

“I guess it’s like… when kids pull the pigtails of the girls they like on the playground, y’know? only I guess I took it too far and made my girl think I hate her.”

the possessive article makes you exhale, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips until you have to bite your lip to stop from being too giddy.

“your girl, huh?”

he grins, more unabashed than you.

“yeah. why? don’t like it?”

“I like it. and for the record, I think I like you a lot more than I’m willing to admit.”

“good. because if you didn’t, I’d for real fling myself off the stairs.”

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axailslink · 1 year

Note

Hey! OMG you changed your layout thats so cool! I wanted to request a Shuri x Fem!reader where they go to a store to do something mundane but it’s so cute and fluff? I’ve seen so much toxic Shuri…I just want to see something where they have a healthy cute relationship.if it’s possible? I hope you have a nice day

My wife

Shuri x poc FEM reader

Summary: Just you and Shuri goofing off in the local Walmart with a kid.

A/n: thank you for your request love hopefully it's to your liking.

Shuri grabs her keys and waits for you "we're going to the store why do you need to get dressed?" You look her up and down "the real question is why are you not getting dressed? I'm not going to get eyed or judged by someone's auntie because I'm showing a little too much skin." Shuri laughs as you pull your dress over your legs and make sure it stops to a reasonable mid thigh. You look at her in her tank and she agrees going to grab a hoodie.

You both arrive at the store all you need are a few groceries but you both know the basket will be full before you leave. You're quick to grab a basket and Shuri raises her brow "we only need a few things" you nod "the baskets for me" you carefully climb in and Shuri just watches you her very grown wife climb into a Walmart basket in front of everyone Shuri carefully covers your behind as your dress raises ever so slightly. When you sit down you smile at her but she just shakes her head "you're a big fucking kid" you shrug your shoulders because it's true and you're not ashamed of it. "You knew this when you met me" you slouch down into the basket as Shuri pushes you around picking up the items you both need like toilet paper and feminine products. When you make it the feminine isle you see Shuri eyeing an opened douche confusedly you pick it up and she jumps "put that back we don't where that's been" "it hasn't been used they probably just looked at it" Shuri grabs a broom from the other isle and knockes it out of your hands causing you to look at her and roll your eyes. "Now pick it up" she looks at you and shakes her head "I'm not touching that I don't know where it's been" she tries to pick it up with the broom and you just watch her overly dramatic scream and jump when it almost touches her. You're tempted to leave the basket and help but it's kind of funny watching her struggle and freak. This is the same woman who wears the black panther suit?

You start recording using your kimoyo beads your snickering turns her attention to you though and she grabs your wrist "delete that" you shake your head and snatch your wrist "absolutely not I'm going to show mother how much of a germophobe she made." Shuri shakes her head as you end the recording "if you had to see how dirty things were constantly in a lab you'd be weary of what you touch too." "Nah you're just scared of a little douche juice." A child walks past and Shuri gets his attention he immediately smiles at Shuri "Queen Shuri" a smile runs quick to your face something about shuri with children has always made you smile she's good with them. Sometimes. "You want to do me a favor little man?" He nods "pick that up and put it right there" he does as told and Shuri smiles at him "where's your mama?" He smiles "over here." He tries to grab Shuri's arm but she grabs his wrist instead she seriously does not like unsanitary things. That includes children with grabby hands he leads her to the isle next to you both and she smiles at the woman. Shuri hooks her hand into the basket pulling you along. "Could I buy him something? He did me a favor." The woman is quick to respond "yes absolutely" Shuri smiles "I'll bring him back to you" Shuri all but tosses the kid onto your lap "you're queen Y/n" he smiles up at you and you can't help but smile "yes and you are?" "My name is Teshawn" as you talk to the little kid Shuri opens your purse and covers her hands in sanitizer and the childs.

Teshawn rides with you both as you shop for the day he does whatever Shuri does. It's is kind of cute he's like a little mini Shuri she grabs a box of cereal he grabs a box of cereal she grabs tissue he grabs tissue. Shuri of course can't tell him no. She lets the basket fill up when you both finally reach the last item you climb out of the basket with Shuri's help and plant a soft kiss on her lips forgetting Teshawn's existence for a moment. As Shuri pecks your lips a few times she gently pulls your dress down over your thighs. Teshawn covers his eyes as you both pull away "mama says you two are in love is that true?" You turn your attention to him "I don't know if that's the right word there are many like enchanted, captivate-" "devoted to?" You nod at his question "how do you know that word?" He shrugs "I don't know."

You run off for one last item and Shuri waits keeping the little man entertained which isn't hard. When you come back holding fake flowers Shuri sighs "baby what do we need that for?" You shrug "so we can stop buying real flowers perhaps?" You drop Teshawn a flower and give one to Shuri who can't help but s.ack your bare legs with the plastic you immediately smack her back with yours hitting her in the neck Teshawn jumps out of the basket and hits Shuri with his own fake plant fighting her legs "don't hit my queen" Shuri watches as he tries to bite her "your queen? This is my wife" he shakes his head "nope she's my wife" Shuri gasps "how dare you? You just gone take my woman little man?" He nods "yep she likes me more anyways." You laugh at their little back and forth bickering which happens the whole way to checkout.

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You of course return Teshawn to his mother and help her fill the car with the items he made Shuri buy which she wasn't so quick to take. "We don't need a handout" Shuri shakes her head "unless you're willing to refund everything for sure but I think you should have it." The woman thanks Shuri while you hug Teshawn he looks at Shuri and sticks his tongue out "my woman" Shuri can't help but laugh. "I'm so sorry" you both shake your heads "no problem at all" Shuri remarks.

As soon as you both get into the car Shuri looks at you "you do know that's why we're not having kids right? We went in for five things left with fifty and he thinks you're his woman." You laugh as Shuri shakes her head "what happened to no problem at all?" She laughs "I lied."

A/n: this was enjoyable to write hopefully it's as enjoyable to read.

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