#a silly……. and his kitty……………

[kitkat13001]

haiiii kitty gf kitita love of my life <<333 can i actually request kenz x kitty for ur event? /silly but not really 🤭😋😝

okay but on a /srs note can i request student!reader x model!touya in a romcom? the soundtrack is kiss me by sixpence non the richer and reader moves away and they fall back in love years later 😋

btw your event is the cutest and coolest thing i’ve ever seen ahhhhhh ilyyyy mwahhh and CONGRATS AGAIN!!!!!

★ ART DECO

🎞️ STARRING: touya todoroki ! nightly, beside the green, green grass you wear those shoes and i will wear that dress

“don’t look at me like that.”

you confess you didn’t really know touya until you were partnered for this class

you knew of him — that his father is famous and he came to this school just to piss him off, that he likes to argue with the pretentious professors, that he lands himself in the dean’s office more often than he should

cut to your photography professor assigning one camera to every two students — partnering you with touya

you think he’s going to be arrogant at first, what with everything you’ve heard. you’re not thrilled about the partner-up

but touya turns out to be quite the comedian. he’s funny, in that sarcastic and dry witty way that’s kind of mean but never to you? 

and he’s surprisingly easy to talk to. you spend your classes running around with your camera, talking about anything from absolute nonsense to ridiculously deep philosophical questions with no relevance

and trying to capture him in the most ridiculous poses and see how far you can push the assignment boundaries together 

he’s very prideful of his status as “your model.” calls himself your muse 

you can never tell if he’s flirting for real or joking 😵‍💫 — and it’s suddenly seeming like you might not get the chance to find out 

you’re in the middle of taking his picture for another assignment, staring through the lens at him looking out into the distance with a big graffitied wall behind him, the remnants of a crooked grin still on his face

you almost don’t want to tell him, especially not when he looks past the camera and smiles at you

“don’t look at me like that.” “like what?” “like you actually like me.” “who said i didn’t?” 

though it pains you (because you’ve become quite attached to touya this past semester), you tell him that this school wasn’t your first choice

you had just received news that a spot opened up at your dream university, and you’re starting there next fall

“i won’t…i won’t be back next year. i’m sorry.”

he…does not take it well

actually, it’s almost like he disappears. you’ll see him in class — occasionally — but outside of that? he’s “busy” near-constantly now. always avoiding you, letting this distance grow bigger. fine, who needs him?

<- that’s what you think, until a few months later when you’re settled in at your new college and find yourself sitting across from none other than touya todoroki himself

“how did you get here?!”

“pulled some strings.” he grins at you like nothing. “so! what’s on the agenda, partner? i gotta tell ya, i’m not too great at this subject, though, so i am gonna have to look at your notes.”

it turns out that the “busy” he kept referencing was actually him busting his ass and networking his father’s influences to get into your dream school too, just to be near you

looks like you won’t be getting rid of him anytime soon <3

© kitkat13001 ★ do not copy/translate/repost dividers; sxmmerberries — event info + masterlist

HEHE KENZIEEE this one was made special with love MWAH THANK UUU ILYYY so glad u had fun w/ this, i know i absolutely did!! <- esp w/ channeling rory and jess for this incredibly toukenz coded thing >:))))) 🩷🩷

[falsegodcore]

HELD CLOSE ALL THE TIME; 2.3k words of a pretentious attempt at tenderness.

The sun kisses the beautiful. An idiom you’ve heard in passing, that you have traced on books of foreign literature. Considering your personal epitome of ‘beautiful’ shies away from the sunlight with fingers flexed over his forehead and a wince or by slipping under your parasol with the excuse of sensitive skin, the phrase holds little meaning to you. Viktor looks the prettiest in the moonlight – maybe also because the moon brings the night with her, and the night is for lovers. The day hours are for everyone, and you aren’t very fond of sharing. Viktor isn’t, either.

Warmth tugs you to consciousness, followed by sharp brightness that you mistake for a glimpse of heaven as you let go of the last bits of sleep clinging to your mind. A beam tries to pierce your cornea when your lashes flutter open, only for a moment, before shutting close. You try angling your head to avoid being blinded again but gentle pressure on your chin has you trapped under blazing sunlight, insistent and unforgiving. One of your hands presses against the weight on your face and easily recognise it as Viktor’s own. His left one. Waking you from a nap in his lap by tilting your face into the sunset – that’s such a Viktor thing to do.

“Asshole,” You murmur groggily, frowning at the incessant light behind your eyelids and bringing your palms on your face in weak and poor protection. Viktor chuckles from above you, and you feel it in his stomach as you push his hand away and turn your head to hide in his body. There is nowhere you feel safer. “Why can’t you wake me up like a normal person?”

Viktor lets you snuggle against his cotton shirt, his left hand now wrapped around yours and the other cradling the back of your head. His tone is warm. “Oh? Would you have preferred being shaked into consciousness? I’ll keep it in mind.” Another chuckle and a caress to your hair. “Don’t fall back asleep, sweetness.”

You can only grumble weakly against his stomach and peek at him with curious eyes. “Have I slept long?”

The corner of his lips curl in a fond smile, one that is so full of love it almost overwhelms you, eats you whole. “Longer than I imagined you would,” Viktor says. His voice bends in a softer edge, just shy of a whisper, and he ducks his head a little before speaking. “Hello, my love.” Viktor almost says ‘Welcome back to me’, but catches the sappy words and gulps them down. He opts for bringing the hand behind your head to your forehead and brushing his fingers on your warm, sunkissed skin. 

“Hi,” You reply, somewhat shy under his caresses and smitten expression. Shy, but very smitten yourself. You sit up carefully despite Viktor’s soft protests – they quieten once you wrap him in a proper hug, your cheek against his chest. “I think I dreamt of you.”

“And I of you, even with my eyes open,” Viktor murmurs as he locks his hands around your waist, his heart skipping a beat under your ear. One of them, impatient, traces a trail up to your shoulder, then moves to graze your cheek. You hum and tilt your head to meet his palm halfway, pressing in his skin, nuzzling in his open fingers when he flexes them and tips his wrist back just to test something. The way you follow the promise of his touch like a sweet cat is enough for his heart to fall in love all over again. 

“Oh, kočičko,” Viktor cooes at you in an embarrassing octave as his thumb rubs against the plush of your cheek, an evidence of your smile. The quiet grin makes space for a breathy laugh at his murmured, affection-laced “Moje prcku.” 

A pair of fingers wraps around his wrist only to keep it in place. You gingerly push his hand to press firmly against your cheek so he can stop being a tease. “‘I am not a kitty, Vik’. Nor little,” You say, familiar with the sweet words he used to refuse translating; very happily, too, if it meant seeing you huff and pout and do silly things to try and convince him. Then roll out of bed and attempt to ignore him as payback – but Viktor would latch on you. You found out he adores backhugs through these little episodes.

Viktor simply watches you, leaning back on the couch’s headrest and a lovely look in his eyes: squinted a little as a result of smiling, glittering with both affection and gentle mischief. His thumb strokes your cheek again. “I hear no complaints about being mine. Not even a smart comeback.” Viktor laughs when you roll your eyes and pinch the back of his hand. “Ah, am I yours?”

“Yes. You are,” Viktor says, smile so soft you fear he might burst into tears for a moment. And so pleased you fight the urge to scoff. Both of his hands cup your cheeks as he brushes kisses over your forehead. “My love, moje miláčku. A little clingy, but mine.”

His right hand slips down your jaw and his lips down the length of your nose, then east; you giggle when his teeth brush against your cheek and again when they properly nip at your skin. Part of you hopes they might leave a mark, but Viktor is gentle. Too gentle, sometimes. 

“Mhm. I am.” You murmur, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The bit of playful defiance you showed a moment ago is gone, replaced by softness and sincerity and tenderness. Viktor hums and bites you again. His chest fills with something at your words, at how certain you sound – yet casual, as if it weighs like nothing and everything at the same time. Not because it doesn't matter, but as if being his is how things are supposed to be. How you are supposed to be. His beloved, pressed against a chest that hosts a heart maybe too small for the affection it holds. 

Eyes that still look sleepy search for his. “I missed you.” Viktor smiles against your cheek and guides your cheek to lay on his collarbones. 

“I wasn't far while you slept, dearest.” 

“I know, but I'm always missing you. Even in my dreams, and even if you are in them.”

Viktor believes you speak in love confessions that most fear, in honesty that he has seen people escape because no one likes the risk of getting hurt. But you love him as easily as breathing. He has wondered – still wonders – whether you are love itself; the same love that once shaped the world and humanity and everything that breathes. Love who moves the sun and other stars, from one of the books on your shelves, and he briefly thinks that the muscle in your chest is nothing short of another star. Could he cradle it in his hands? Viktor wonders, he wonders about a lot of things. Could he take it in his palms, would he be strong enough?

You don’t tell him if he could (you don’t know, either, and don’t want to guess) and even when he whispers the question in the safety of your embrace, all you offer is a shy, fond smile. It’s easier to focus on his words and not on their meanings when you are still new to letting someone love you so much. Your fingers brush his hair away and you call him sweet. I love you, Viktor. You rarely let him say it first. He lets you; and lets you pick the pace to welcome him in, even if he wants to crawl inside your ribcage and rest there forever. 

Viktor blinks; maybe you miss him even as you sleep because there is no set time in a mind palace. Perhaps your subconscious can feel the dream’s end before it comes, but can’t tell it’s just a dream, and mistakes it as the end of the whole world. And you get scared, and need to hide in his arms again. “You do not need to miss me,” He murmurs, lips puffing air on your forehead, on the bridge of your nose when you tilt your head up for another millimeter of closeness. “We have so much time to be together.”

It’s a tad ridiculous, coming from him: Viktor misses you all the time, too, never stops until you are nestled in his side, an arm over his waist. Your lips ghosting his throat, kissing it awake once morning comes. But you don’t call him a hypocrite, you never do. Breath against his skin: I love you, Viktor. He says he loves you more, and kisses your lips before you can speak against it and make it a race.

“You’ll make me sleepy with all of this affection,” You murmur once he lets you breathe, sighing softly and caressing his face. “Do you want to be trapped on the couch again?”

Viktor smiles and kisses your palm. “I’ll pass, miláčku. Didn’t you ask me to wake you to study?” A soft groan that earns another peck, this one encouraging. “Fell asleep while revising with me. You’re unique, really.”

“It’s your voice – it soothes me. You know that.”

“I do, yes. Is that why you like it when I ramble? Or mumble little things as you doze off?”

You hum again with a little nod and eyes that threaten to close. He should write his thesis on how easily you relax under his affection. “Dear. Don’t fall back asleep,” Viktor says as sternly as he can manage when you look so content. His lips press on the top of your head before you try to hide in the crook of his neck. He calls your name once. “Come on. Or you’ll be restless the whole night.”

He wouldn’t really mind that, because sleepless nights are just hours spent in the same bed talking about whatever and touching each other anywhere. But Viktor knows your brain will drift to the discarded notes he moved away while you napped; it will once the drowsiness (and neediness, if you allow him to call it such without taking it to heart) will wear off, and you won’t be able to enjoy the night at all. Viktor tugs your hair lightly.  

“Don’t be mean.”

“I am not mean. I’m very nice, actually,” Says your lover as he tugs again to coax you away from his throat – before you convince him to let you sleep again, and before your lips decide they want to bite. “Don’t you want to sleep with me, later?” Viktor murmurs. “Are you tired of sharing a bed?”

It gets you to snort. “I’m literally pressed against you. And you are implying I’m tired of you.”

“Perhaps it’s just a plan to leave me lonely at night,” Viktor sighs, tipping his head back with exaggerated dramatics. “A break-up would hurt less, miláčku. And you said you had missed me a moment ago. Wicked thing you are.”

You laugh, and the sound makes his chest tingle with so much adoration that he must hear it again. Needs to, as if it’s air. “To think my love was a deceiver.”

“Christ, stop it. I’m dating a scientist, not a poet.”

“You do call me a poor excuse of a poet, sometimes.”

“Yeah, sometimes. And, as you said, a poor excuse of one.”

Viktor pinches your thigh, and then your side when you don’t squeak. His fingers remain menacingly on your waist to strike again. It all gets you to laugh once more: his dramatic ass, slumped against the couch – and the pinches themself, because Viktor knows how to be annoying. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me,” You say, pressing a little kiss to his angled jaw. Viktor just hums, long and playfully unconvinced. “I beg for your forgiveness, my love. Want me to get on my knees?”

He knows you mean it both figuratively and literally. The hand on your side moves higher, under your shirt to press against your back. 

“Proposing such things already. Don’t you have any pride?”

“There is no need for pride when I’m with the man I love.”

Viktor’s breath hitches, and he wonders if you notice. You must, given how close you are to him. He hums again. “And you say I’m the poet.”

“I’m no poet. I think you’d dump me in a minute if I tried speaking in rhymes.”

“Ah, it depends on the kind of rhyme. The scheme.”

A pause. Viktor feels you smile against his skin. “A triplet?”

His fingers pinch you again, but you’re already giggling. Viktor tilts his chin back down and looks at you with a disappointed shake of his head, like a tired teacher chiding a pest. “Am I worth three simple lines?” You try to say something about how there is sincerity in brevity, but it’s mixed with laughter and comes out a mess of words. Viktor isn’t even trying – he smiles and presses his forehead against yours, not even poking you anymore. You just laugh, laugh because the two of you can be so dumb when together and because other than the I love you, letting him see you like this is a confession of trust itself. It’s a lot. So much – not ‘too much’, not yet. Viktor knows you are trusting him with it and his eyes glimmer with affection. 

“Study with me over dinner,” He murmurs, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. “A few hours of revising– we can order whatever you like. Or we can cook together,” You wonder if he realizes half of what he says, notices how smitten he sounds. Maybe he doesn’t. “Then be mine for the night. Be mine, miláčku, please, be mine tonight.”

“Silly man,” You mumble back, voice small and tight as if you’re exchanging secrets. And while loving him is no secret for you, letting him love you back might be. “So silly. I’m yours every night.”

The sun is still kissing you through the curtains, like a halo of sacred light all around your body. Enchanted and lovesick, Viktor presses his lips against yours, impatient for the moonlight. 

[clegfly]

WOAGH… little dtiys entry for @batsinbars….. yippeeee!!!! Hope this isn’t TOO far removed from the og HSJSJDJSJS

[crunchchute]

handful of dudes

[mischievous-thunder]

Logie Bear's nesting btw

[thecmaly]

omurice...

-

more windbreaker comics

[krysmcscience]

Look, Aym, I know you wanna annoy your big bro sometimes, but y'all really gotta stop putting the death god into silly mode. He is Very Dangerous, you see. ŎuŎ;

this idea wouldn't go away until i drew it so here it is lmfao

[cobaltfluff]

goro picks up a clingy nyakiren

[creepymutelilbugger]

[faeyuh]

redraw of my fav kokichi sprite!💜

i don't like him very much...

i'm back in the fucking building again!!!! i fully blame the game grumps for making me hyperfixate on danganronpa 😞

[elipri]

[silly-kittens-daily]

[tonguelousestuff]

Here people have a fast doodle (not so well but who cares) of the 2 sillies 3-)

I believe harry need get something together but what was it again?

[cookinary]

Ma there's a weird fucking stray cat outside

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

As an owner of an xxy calico Jin rusong as an xxy calico is both so fun to see but so fitting and so sad in context of your warrior cats au

May I offer you a small consolation in the form of a slightly older Jin Rusong kitty?

[yellowballoondogs]

Bigggg stretch