#but he can't. he cant! he loves him too much

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[weebsinstash]

I was seeing videos of these specific heart-shaped "slip chains" which are basically bdsm leashes that can be lowkey disguised as necklaces and I started having ideas about "oh what if yandere Valentino put one of these on you and you didn't even know he has you wearing a leash" AND IN THE FUCKING COMMENTS OF THE VIDEO--

So yeah, could you imagine him slipping the loose chain around you while you're serving him drinks or invited for a fun time with him and other people and he's essentially getting off on you being clueless and unknowingly wearing something so kinky (that he has all kinds of ideas and fantasies about using). At first you think it's just a necklace, a cute gift, you aren't even aware of what it means and are just feeling happy and thinking it's so cute, and then, at some point in the night, he gets mad or possessive and just, tugs the lead and you're suddenly painfully horribly aware he's got you on a lead 😳 like. In Public In Front Of Other People, too.

I feel like yandere Valentino would have a full custom kit of toys and tools he WANTS to use on you before he's so much as even FLIRTED WITH YOU. Imagine actually going to fuck this man and he already has things planned, fantasies to try out, and, it turns out he's been thinking about sleeping with you, uh, a lot more in depth and often than you're comfortable with

I'm just. Sitting here. Imagining being mid fuck and little comments just start slipping out of his mouth,

"Hang on, I wanted to try this position with you--" wait how long have you been thinking of us having sex?

"You're a lot quieter than I was hoping you would be, but this is hot too" bitch what do you MEAN 'hoping'???

You fuck him ONCE and the next time he's trying to get you to let him hit, he has a SUSPICIOUS amount of lingerie that is perfectly in your size and bondage gear that's perfectly sized for your wrists and ankles and maybe shit is even PERSONALLY MONOGRAMED, like forget bullshit like "Baby" or "Pet" or something vague, it'll be YOUR NAME or a nickname he uses ONLY for you, so, he obviously had it MADE to be used on you specifically

Idk I'm just. I promise I'm normal and am not constantly thinking about what kinds of accessories and toys this man would have personally custom made because he just loves spoiling himself and playing with his money with reckless abandon 👀 I promise I'm not like, imagining Valentino having entire closets and rooms dedicated to YOU specifically. Gosh. Just imagine the gun case he has in episode four, except when he opens THIS one, the doors are covered with humiliating, exposing photos of you and all his crops and toys are displayed and loaded into drawers 💀 honestly just the hypothetical scenario of, you have never even kissed this man and you're in his tower and, you snoop a little while he's making you wait, and you find this cabinet absolutely COATED with photos of you, and there are also collars and other things with your name on them

also finally just 👀 the overall design of this chain means if he has it pulled taut enough, you literally can't pull it off by yourself, cant give yourself enough slack to unwind it, so you're just forced to sit there with your face feeling like it's on fire while he's actively holding the other end of your lead, constantly reminding the both of you that you're his new favorite little plaything and using the public humiliation to get you to behave. Honestly I think being forced into a one-sided dom/sub kinda relationship with him specifically is a brand new kind of Hell in of itself, but that's a post for another time

[bahrtofane]

dialogue 7 trope 8 with tchouameni pls. so happy that ppl are finally writing for him 🥹❤️

- "ooohh you wanna kiss me sooo bad." - Bodyguard au

happy to write for him! he needs more love enjooyyyy

word count - 800+

watch it - flirty tch and weapon mentioned like once enjoyy

You know you're not a very stereotypical bodyguard. Shorter than most, no rippling muscles that tear shirts apart. It does give you the advantage of surprise. No one expects you. Even more so for the man you've been tasked to protect. 

You know they hired you specifically to blend in and so you do. Still keeping close but you look like you could be anything from a part of the crowd to a friend and whatever more. You've seen yourself on a few gossip pages and on news articles here and there. 

They have yet to put the pieces together and you want to keep it that way. You have a job to do and a man to protect. A man that for the life of you you can't understand. 

He's an enigma on a good day. Aurélien keeps a curious eye on you, eager to watch you. But yet so hesitant. 

He doesn't talk to you all that much, but when he does he manages to squeeze playful words in between each sentence. Always catching you off guard. He goes from being honed in and focused to letting his shoulders loose in a laugh. 

Today seems like no exception. You wait in the wings backstage of an event. It's just a rehearsal for the actual thing yet you're here. Its empty save for stage screws running about with wires and microphones tangled on the floor. 

You stand arms crossed a few feet away from where Aurélien is being fitted with different wires and what not. He speaks, arms waving lazily and nodding along to whatever his agent is saying. You haven't talked to him today yet. 

He spots you soon enough, giving you a wave while you respond with a curt nod. He gets shown to where you stand, told to “hang out” here for a second while they adjust the lighting. 

“Didn't know they dragged you here too?” he says, hands resting inside the pockets of his jacket. 

“I have a job to do.” you shrug. 

“Does it even get boring? Being around the same person all the time. I know I get tired.”

Your expression remains neutral, though a spark of amusement flickers in your eyes. "Perhaps," you hum, "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm here to protect you, whether you like it or not."

He grins, gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to watch the lights cycle through the different settings. "Well, in that case, I suppose I'll just have to make your job as interesting as possible," he says with a lazy shrug. 

You roll your eyes, but cant help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "I have no doubt you will," you reply dryly 

Aurélien gives you a playful smirk before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You know," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes, "sometimes I wonder if all this protection is just an excuse to be close to me."

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attempt at flirting. "Don't flatter yourself," you retort, though you can't stop the smile that seems between your words. He's bold today. 

Leave it to Aurélien to find a way to wiggle into your personal space and under your skin with his words so early in the day. And you have so many more hours left with him. How thrilling. 

He chuckles softly, leaning even closer until his breath brushes against your ear. "Oh, come on," he murmurs, "we both know deep down, you wanna kiss me sooo bad."

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his shameless antics. "You wish," you reply, giving him a playful shove before straightening up, feeling the waistband of your pants for your weapon. Old habits die hard you suppose. 

Aurélien grins, the playful glint returning to his eyes as he steps back, resuming his role in the rehearsal.

You don't know what game he really plays. If his words really hold any meaning. If you should listen. So you choose the safe route and brush them off and try to do your job. Even if he insists on making it near impossible. 

He sends you knowing looks from the other side of the backstage area. Ones you know would easily strike up talk. But you can't talk your eyes off him. Partly because of your job and partly due to him being so- what's the word- dazzling. 

You do want to kiss him, but he doesn't need to know that. Not now at least.

For now you watch him do his thing while you try to do your job and push away his voice from ringing in your ears over and over. 

we both know deep down

[hotdrinks]

thinkin bout martin calling jon a bastard in mag200,,,,he's such a in-love tragic homosexual and everything to me

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[cryptid--bunny]

Pony Park Boys; Friendship is Bullshit

sorry for posting so much in the past hour. I'm lonely </3

[xenomorphicdna]

Flames,, blanket boy, my beloved

I gotta draw more art like this of him, he's such an odd creature I love him so much

There's so much to his character that I never talk about aaa I'll make a lore post eventually

[teabutmakeitazure]

last ask and sorry for bothering you but, there is this stupid idea : chrollo having the hots for a brown darling. knowing how messed up pakistan/india's dating and marriage system is, he cant even be her boyfriend without her having massive issues lol. its not just that darling doesn't want to date him, its that her parents will kill her if they find out. its straight up kidnapping lol. i cant imagine him trying to act as a religious, pious and well meaning suitor that's too cringe.

dont get me started on "the only man you may reveal yourself to is your husband" asshole gonna use it to his advatage.

There is no way he is walking through the door and telling your parents that his second name is Lucilfer. But that's not even the problem. The problem is how in the name of all things holy did you come to know a man. A male specimen out of all the unholy things in this land and let him into your house to meet your parents.

If the excessive interrogating wasn't enough, the taunts that you're outside and being friends with men like it's no big deal are enough to warrant a month full of therapy to undo the damage to your psyche.

The arranged marriage culture would honestly baffle him. Chrollo doesn't understand why people would weigh such superficial and shallow traits so heavily when searching for a partner. It certainly doesn't sit right with him either when he's rejected by your parents for not being as cultural as them. He has money and he cares for you. Isn't that what's supposed to matter?

Chrollo doesn't see the point in keeping up such exhaustive appearances of being religious, pious and adhering to cultural values so he takes the easy route: making you disappear. Despite his initial dislike of what he called restrictive values, he has no problems with using them against you. It's true that you're only supposed to reveal yourself without hesitation to your husband, and he's the only man- er, human - left in your life. Isn't that a wonderful coincidence?

[frecklystars]

[sovonight]

;

[vodid]

yall ever experience a love for something so great that it literally hurts. like it feels like your brain is gonna explode. screaming crying throwing up except it feels like that's actually going to happen. bc you're experiencing so much emotion

because that's me with bay jazz. again. help. he has an autistic grip on me

[aeb-art]

thought of a perfectly reasonable thing for hills to be mad about

geo can go off script

earth bots belong to @8um8le as always

[cuterozhok]

I don't trust Google translate enough to tell me how to properly say something in Ukrainian but I hope this little doodle of Spring Man sporting some Ukraine colors and love brings you some joy

ZUKAAAAAAAA I'M LITERALLY GONNA CRY RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

HOW ARE YOU SO FAST??!!! I'M HUGGING YOU REALLY TIGHT RIGHT NOW MAN IT'S THE MOST ADORABLE ART OF HIM!!!! 😤😤😤😤💕💕💕💕💞💞💞💞 Thank you so so much LOOK AT THIS CUTIE EVERYONE!!!!😭😭😭😭😭

Zuka youre the best I'm literally out of words

[nspolaris]

read the sunshine court and have never been more impatient in needing a second book my god