#my hip has already been bothering me today bc there always has to be Something wrong with my body

[chippedaxe]

𝑨 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Title: 𝑨 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌

Warning(s): NSFW, not sure what other warnings ?? Pet names used, unedited (as always)

Pronouns : they/them, non specified genitalia (Or at least I tried to keep it vague)

Synopsis: What was a seemingly harmless prank turns out to cause a helluva lot of chaos.

Pairing: c!Sapnap X gn reader (Sub reader btw)

Word count: 2k

Note: simping for Sapnap hours <3 No one requested it but I suddenly got this idea and was like 'I have to write it, it's what the people would want' and I also wrote it bc Sapnap has no full fics in my masterlist yet <3

* lemme know if I've missed any warnings/tags or if you see a mistake in this fic that I can quickly change (I didn't rlly proof read, I just sorta scanned over it with my eyes)

ੈ✩‧₊˚

2nd POV

You walked to the bathroom after a long day. You were held back a few hours to work overtime without warning and you’re pretty sure that you won’t be getting paid extra, you weren’t in the mood and just needed to relax with a nice shower.

You entered your bathroom and closed the door, you assumed by default that Sapnap wouldn’t bother you since he’s normally such a good roommate and he hadn’t bothered you in the bathroom before! You stripped yourself of your clothes and hung up your outfit that you were planning to wear when you get out of the shower.

You placed the clothes on your sink counter and then approached the shower, your feet were placed on the bath mat as you stood there patiently. You took a deep breath before walking in, you turned both faucets and waited for the water to warm up to a good temperature. You got underneath the water and let the shower rinse off all of the dirt and negative emotions.

You could only hear the water hitting the shower floor since most of the water plugged up your ears, you tried to wash it out but failed so you better hope that no roommate of yours comes in here and plays games while you’re basically half deaf. You grabbed the soap and lathered it in your hands, your soapy hands running over your soft skin.

You came to a pause when you thought you heard something but decided to shrug it off “what would it be anyways? It’s not like Sapnap would come in here” you thought to yourself as you continued washing up. Your hand trailed down to your nether regions and you whined a bit as you cleaned down there, you were just cleaning but your body didn’t know that and so you became a bit aroused.

You ignored the arousal and just continued to have your shower, if you were still horny later on than you’d deal with it but not now. You rinsed the soap off your body and sighed, today was a rough and tiring day but you got through it.

You turned the shower off when you were finished getting clean, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your body. You got out onto the bathroom mat and started to dry yourself with the towel, you glanced over towards the bathroom sink and your eyes widened.

“Where the fuck did my clothes go?” You asked out loud, your eyes searching the floor just in case they may have fallen down. You groaned in annoyance and wrapped your towel around yourself securely so it wouldn’t fall and then you stomped out to your bedroom to look for the little thief.

You had a look through your drawers to quickly get dressed and confront the troublemaker but it seemed as all your clothes had mysteriously disappeared. You pulled out all the drawers and you searched all the shelves, even your closet was completely empty apart from some scattered shoes.

You whined angrily and then stomped downstairs, your feet dragging along the floor “Sapnap!” You called out to him and he came to your call “what’s up? Like the new look!” Sapnap looked up and down at your towel covered body “Oh hush up! Where’s my clothes? I know you had something to do with their disappearance!” You accused.

“What? Me? What makes you think that?!” Sapnap gasped “they couldn’t have just grown legs and ran away!” You put your hands on your hips “psh, you got me! It’s just a harmless prank..” Sapnap put his hands up in defeat “Good- great, now give them back please!” You held your hand out expectedly.

“Why? I’m liking this outfit you’ve got on right now..” Sapnap teased “oh please, do not start with the flirting again” you rolled your eyes “I can’t give your clothes back right now but feel free to borrow some of mine!” Sapnap smiled “Huh?? Why can’t you give them back?” You exclaimed “if I told you than it’d ruin the whole prank! Just borrow some of my clothes” Sapnap invited you to his wardrobe.

You pouted and entered his room, roaming his closet and just mindlessly picking some of his clothes. “What am I meant to do about my underwear? Can you at least give that back?” You asked “you don’t need underwear, if you do then just borrow some of mine” Sapnap shrugged it off. You wanted to argue with him but found that he had already turned his back to you and left.

You changed into his clothes, his baggy shirt and pants made your body look more boxed up. You tugged at the fabric and it started to cling to your body more “stupid electricity-“ you tried to get it to move away from your curves but it stayed stuck to you.

You walked out into the living room and crossed your arms “When am I supposed to be ‘getting pranked’?” You sighed “oh fuck, you’re looking hella good in my clothes, maybe I’m doin you a favor” Sapnap licked his lips quickly. You scoffed and flicked his forehead “I look good in my own clothes too, you know??” You huffed “I personally think you’d look way better without any clothes, you looked amazing in that towel earlier” Sapnap wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You’re disgusting!” You laughed at his little flirting attempts “you know you love it, baby!” Sapnap winked “oh I do” you decided to tease back which made the tip of his ears turn slightly red “oh you do? That really warms my heart, c’mere and show me some love!” Sapnap held his arms out to you but you only pushed him away.

“Your offer is very kind but I must decline, I don’t show love to people who steal my clothes!” You told him. Sapnap lowered his head and frowned “What’re you so upset for? I was gonna get you out of your clothes anyways” he jokes around “oh be quiet!” You slap his arm playfully.

He gasps and exclaims dramatically “OUCH! I can’t believe you’ve striked me! All I did was love you and this is how you repay me??” He falls to the ground slowly and fakes his own death “may I have one final request?” He whispered and You leaned down “maybe one..” you decided to play along “can a dying man please have one final kiss?” Sapnap closed his eyes.

You decided ‘fuck it’ and leaned in, your lips pressing against his. He caressed your cheek and deepened the kiss but you were quick to pull away “hey, I don’t go making out with thieves” you smirked “Oh? Maybe you can make this ol’ criminal a good guy again, what’dya think?” Sapnap wrapped an arm around your waist.

You looked up at him and smiled “oh of course, is this thief gonna return my clothes?” You asked “only if you return mine..” Sapnap whispered and started to slowly tug at your collar “hm.. I think we have a deal” you slipped your shirt off and stood there with a bare chest “you look good, baby” Sapnap blew a kiss at you.

You slipped the rest of your clothes off and kicked them away, you were completely naked now “Shit- I can’t believe you were hiding all this from me..” Sapnap came up to you and ran his hands down your sides “my eyes are up here, play boy” you grinned. Sapnap’s eyes snapped from your body up to meet your gaze.

You leaned in and kissed him again, your mouth parting to allow his tongue entrance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and panted slightly as you two were now having a heated make out session. You pulled away for air and gulped down your spit “Sapnap..” you breathed out “yes, Y/n?” He smirked.

“Take your clothes off, it’s unfair” you complained and started to pull at his clothes “calm down. I’ll take my clothes off whenever you ask, baby” Sapnap stripped himself hastily and then posed for you, your eyes narrowed as you stared at him “checking me out?” Sapnap laughed.

Your eyes couldn’t help but be attracted to the large thing hanging between his legs, his cock was huge and throbbing “oh fuck..” you muttered “what was that?” Sapnap got closer “your cock is humongous!” You shouted “haven’t I told you that before?” Sapnap kissed your neck gently as you two were speaking and taking in each other’s beautiful bodies.

His hands rubbed at your hips gently “I’ve been waiting so long for you, Y/n.. I’ve had this crazy attraction to you ever since we met, you were the only one that ever joked back with me..” Sapnap confessed “I always had a soft spot for your stupid jokes..” you whispered softly, “I KNEW IT!” Sapnap hugged you and started to pepper kisses all over your face excitedly.

“Does this mean we’re dating??” You questioned “no it means we’re mortal enemies, of course we’re dating!!” Sapnap joked around “oh wow..” you blushed softly before realizing that you two were in the middle of having sex “oh um..” your face was red.

“Do you need me to stretch you out, do a little foreplay?” Sapnap’s hands caressed your torso, his mouth leaving soft kisses on your neck which left tiny purple marks “ah.. No, I just need your cock now..” you were ready for him! Sapnap guided you to his bed and laid you down onto your back, he then crawled on top of you and smiled.

Sapnap positioned his huge throbbing cock with your tiny hole, you gasped and threw your head back when he started to slide into your slowly “does this hurt?” Sapnap asked when he saw your facial expressions “n-no! It feels so good..” you cooed.

Sapnap gripped onto your hips and started to thrust inside of you, his cock was overwhelmed by the feeling of your tight warm squishy insides. Your legs were quivering and your hands were covering your mouth, you felt embarrassed to have such loud lewd sounds spewing out of your mouth like this but it was hard to control.

Sapnap thrusted harder and faster which made you yelp, tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure that you were getting from his cock stretching your insides “Fuck! Gonna cum-“ you scratch his back, leaving light claw marks on his skin. Sapnap continued to fuck into you roughly “cum for me, baby..” he encouraged.

You went over the edge and came hard, your juices running down your thighs. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, your back arched and your legs were shaking uncontrollably from the stimulation “FUCK! I love you!-“ you then panted and whined as you tried to catch your breath after just having the best orgasm of your life.

Sapnap came shortly after, his cum leaking out of your hole and down your thighs “shit, sorry about the mess-“ you shut him up with a kiss “clean the mess. Return my clothes. Cuddle me.” You instructed as you tiredly laid down on the bed “will do! I love you too, Y/n” he gave your forehead a kiss before going to clean everything up.

#mcyt x reader smut #sapnap smut #dream smp smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #c!sapnap smut #smut

[1kook]

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ] 

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age. 

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him? 

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice. 

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later. 

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help. 

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you. 

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else. 

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die. 

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.” 

You clench your jaw. “I know.” 

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.” 

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team. 

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth. 

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning. 

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones. 

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?” 

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up. 

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?” 

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets. 

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years. 

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.” 

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jjk #mine

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 4

A/N: what's this? jimmy may be finally leaving denial station? and gray-aroace jimmy because i said so? hell yeah. also more seablings pog!! i do also have the next chapter written already bc it has one of the scenes that was basically the whole reason i wrote this fic, but i'm gonna wait until tomorrow to post it (mostly bc i wanna make sure i have the chapter after that one written bc of... reasons >:) the next chapter is a tad cliffhanger-y and i just don't want y'all to have to wait too long)

Warnings: teasing/banter, flirting, realization of feelings

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The invitation for the House Blossom Ball arrived, with a separate handwritten note along with it from Katherine that very pointedly reminded Jimmy to dress up and maybe lose the cod head. Something about how it wasn’t “fancy enough” or whatever. Jimmy felt the cod head was acceptable for any occasion, not to mention he felt weird with his whole head being in view- but maybe he could compromise for Katherine. He’d have to figure out some sort of other headpiece… but the ball wasn’t for a few days anyway. Jimmy had plenty of time to figure out an outfit. In the meantime, he had some work to do on his slime farm. And of course, who else should be there but Scott when Jimmy came up from his farm. He was sitting on the roof of the slime farm entrance, legs swinging idly.

“What are you doing here,” Jimmy asked with a tired sigh, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with another fight with Scott. Scott hopped down from the roof, gliding a bit before landing in front of Jimmy.

“Oh same as always, I was bored and you’re fun to bother,” Scott said with a shrug and a playful grin. Jimmy glowered at him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh no, not today! I’m not letting you get under my skin anymore!” Jimmy said, determination in his tone. Scott raised an eyebrow as his grin morphed into a smirk, and there was that squirming, fluttery feeling from their fight again.

“Are you sure about that?” Scott crooned, a clear challenge in his voice. Jimmy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, walking past Scott towards his base. Scott seemed surprised for a moment, before getting his bearings and following after Jimmy.

"Not even over this?" Scott asked, walking beside Jimmy and tossing something green up in the air before catching it again. Jimmy stopped walking, brows furrowed in confusion. Scott stopped too, looking him in the eyes as he tossed the object again- a slimeball.

"How- where- when did you- where did you get that from?!" Jimmy demanded. The only way people got slime was from his empire.

“Got it from one of your chests- thought you wouldn’t mind,” Scott replied with a shrug, that smirk still irritatingly present on his face.

“I very much do mind! Give that back!” Jimmy demanded, lunging forward to try and grab the slimeball from his hand. Scott darted back, flapping his wings and sending a gush of wind to push Jimmy back.

“You’re gonna have to catch me, fish boy,” Scott teased, before taking off into the sky. Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m the Codfather!” he protested, equipping his elytra and taking off after Scott. Scott laughed, dipping and twirling in the sky while Jimmy struggled to keep up. Going after someone who had actual wings while Jimmy only had an elytra was a definite disadvantage, but Jimmy was a little too stubborn to care. Scott climbed higher into the sky with ease, Jimmy following close after- and then the sun hit Scott’s wings and Jimmy just about fell out of the sky. The sun’s rays caught the gold tips of his wings, making them shimmer. But it wasn’t just the sunshine reflecting off his wings- it was the way Scott’s whole face seemed to shine like the sun with his smile and how the wind ruffled his usually neat hair. It was how his laugh sounded as if the shimmering of gold made a sound. It was how those icy blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he held the slimeball victoriously above his head. It was how Scott’s expression suddenly melted from that of a mischievous trickster to something almost fond. All of those things caused that pleasant flip-flopping feeling in his stomach to return, and Jimmy suddenly pitched down because of it. He quickly righted himself, flushing in embarrassment and glaring at Scott’s resulting smirk.

“Guess you aren’t one of those flying fish, huh,” he teased.

“Just give me the slimeball back!” Jimmy demanded. Scott laughed, and it felt like flowers blooming in Jimmy’s chest.

“You get so fussed over the littlest of things,” he said, still laughing. Jimmy got the feeling that he should have been angry at Scott’s teasing, he was making fun of him, after all! But instead, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back. To Jimmy’s surprise, Scott seemed startled by that, eyes going wide and a half gasp, half laugh escaping his lips.

“Sometimes you gotta appreciate the little things in life! You miss those things when you fly above everything and live up and away from the world in the mountains,” Jimmy pointed out with a laugh. Scott pondered this, slowly floating back to the ground as he did so. Jimmy tilted his head to the side in confusion, coming to a landing beside him. Scott was staring at the slimeball in his hands with a mix of wonder and bafflement. Shaking his head, Scott reached out for Jimmy’s hand and pressed the slimeball into it, both hands clasping over Jimmy’s hand for a moment. Jimmy’s hand felt fever-warm at Scott’s touch, and his heart hammered in his chest.

“You can have this back. Sorry,” Scott said, quickly withdrawing his hands. Jimmy felt horrible instantly, he clearly struck a nerve with what he said. Before Scott got a chance to leave, Jimmy quickly grabbed his hands, giving the slimeball back.

“Keep it, I’ve got plenty. You- you should enjoy the little things in life too,” Jimmy said softly. Scott’s face tinged pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I- whatever,” Scott scoffed, trying to bring it back to their teasing back and forth from before, but failing miserably. Before Jimmy had a chance to reply, Scott drew his hands back, holding the slimeball close to his chest and taking off into the sky. This time around, Jimmy didn’t bother chasing after him. He was a little too busy wondering what on earth had just happened. One moment Jimmy was irritated by Scott’s presence, and the next his heart felt all fluttery and he willingly gave him a commodity from his empire. What was happening to him?! Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion… but he had to talk to Lizzie or Joel first. He just had to be sure.

-

Jimmy flew to Lizzie’s empire, spotting her and Joel sitting together on one of her giant lilypads. They both looked at him with concern when he landed in front of them, out of breath. Lizzie was the first to jump to her feet, hands reaching out towards him and searching for any injuries. Joel followed after her and hovered at her side, looking unsure of what to do.

“What happened?! Are you hurt, were you attacked?!” Lizzie demanded, and Joel’s eyes shot to the skies as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m fine! See, look! I’m all good. Just had to see you,” Jimmy said, holding his arms out to show that he was, in fact, uninjured. Lizzie and Joel breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. Usually when you fly to one of us in a panic, you’re hurt or being chased, or something’s seriously wrong,” Joel said, the tension draining from his shoulders and hand dropping from the hilt of his sword. Jimmy’s smile turned sheepish.

“Well… something… might be wrong. But there’s something I’ve gotta ask you guys first,” Jimmy replied nervously. Lizzie and Joel exchanged confused glances. Lizzie stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Of course, you can ask us anything,” she said softly. Jimmy took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it.

“How did you know you were in love?” he asked timidly. Lizzie blinked in surprise, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Is this about Scott?” Joel asked. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Please just answer the question,” he muttered. Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and neither did Lizzie.

“For me it was her smile. Gave me butterflies the first time I saw it,” Joel said, unabashedly gazing at Lizzie. She giggled, and Joel’s fond expression increased tenfold.

“Butterflies?” Jimmy asked, a bit confused by the turn of phrase.

“You know, when your stomach gets all squirmy, but not in a bad way? Like a bunch of butterfly wings flapping inside you,” Joel explained, and Jimmy was hit with a sudden burst of clarity. Something in his expression must have shown it, because Lizzie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re telling me that’s what love feels like? It’s that just… all the time?” Jimmy asked, his voice a little hollow with disbelief. At himself mostly, for not realizing it sooner. To be fair, he didn’t feel those sorts of feelings often. In fact, he felt it almost exclusively with Scott. So to realize this whole time what he had really been feeling wasn’t just hatred or irritation… he felt a little silly.

“Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes being around someone you love just makes you feel warm and cozy,” Lizzie added.

“Well… but I feel warm and cozy all the time with you guys!” Jimmy protested, still trying to deny that feeling just a little bit longer. Lizzie smiled, patient and understanding.

“Yes, but with this… hypothetical someone, it’s different, isn’t it,” she gently prodded. Jimmy finally gave in. It was different with Scott, and that honestly terrified him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, ever.

“Oh my god, I like him,” Jimmy breathed.

“About time you figured it out,” Joel muttered. Lizzie moved her hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to swat Joel’s arm. Jimmy was too busy having a bit of an existential crisis to really care.

“Oh my god I really like him. This whole time- but Scott hates me, what on earth am I supposed to- but he seemed kind of nice today…” Jimmy trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth. Lizzie gasped in excitement, rushing over to stand in front of Jimmy and grabbing his shoulders.

“You saw him today?! Tell. Me. Everything!” she demanded. Jimmy let out a sheepish laugh.

“Nothing really happened! He stole a slimeball from me, I chased him a bit in the sky- and oh god he was gorgeous in the sunlight- and then I said something to make him sad and let him keep the slimeball anyway. I- wow I really didn’t like seeing him sad,” Jimmy rambled, a disbelieving smile growing across his face. Joel made a mock-disgusted face.

“I think I liked it better when Jimmy was in denial, he’s getting all mushy now,” he teased. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, being mushy is a good look on you,” she insisted, getting a laugh out of Jimmy.

“I’m glad you think so, but maybe Joel is right. Cause now all I can think about is how Scott definitely doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimmy said with a sigh. A determined look came across Lizzie’s face, and distantly Jimmy was a little terrified.

“Oh no, you’ve activated her plotting look,” Joel said with the same distant terror that Jimmy was feeling.

“The ball is the perfect time to change Scott’s mind and show him that you are a catch, you’ve said so yourself,” Lizzie explained with a grin.

“Oh no, that is not happening, I just want the ball to be something fun, I don’t wanna make a scene,” Jimmy protested, but it came out a little weak.

“Us? Make a scene? Never. I was just thinking that we make sure to get you a snazzy outfit!” Lizzie said, and while Jimmy didn’t trust her for a second, he could concede that Lizzie had a better sense of style than he did.

“Oh, alright. As long as it’s just that,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Of course!” Lizzie said, far too innocently. Jimmy just chuckled and shook his head.

“And we should probably do something fancier than the cod head,” Joel added. Jimmy sighed, putting a hand over the cod head.

“Yeah, yeah, Katherine mentioned that too,” Jimmy said with a pout.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands!” Lizzie chirped, releasing Jimmy’s shoulders to instead grab his arm and pull him to where she and Joel had been sitting, rambling about outfit ideas all the while. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile and be a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe wearing something nice would catch Scott’s eye… but then what? Happily ever after? Was that how love even worked? Whatever the case, he was sure Lizzie would have a plan for that too. And maybe the ball could be the start of something beautiful.

-

Taglists below! Ask me to be added/removed!

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#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

[tommybaholland]

may I have some hcs for how noya, suga, suna, and maybe??? tsuki (I didn't see him in your list of characters you currently write for, so I wasn't sure if you would write for him if I requested him, so I understand if you don't) react to their s/o who's in a sports team (in high school if possible unless you prefer to age them up I understand!) too (I'm not specifying/choosing so other readers can feel included!) injuring their knee during practice, but not taking it seriously and they just limp around everywhere instead of going to the doctor or trying to do something to feel better. I went too hard on badminton practice yesterday and I literally cannot bend, or put weight on my knee right now so I'm just limping around cause I'm too scared to ask my mom if she can take me to the hospital sjjjdjshs. Don't be like me pls🧍‍♀️as someone who's injured several muscles over 2 times I am begging to take this seriously if you ever get injured, I hope you're taking care of yourself!! :))

when their s/o tries to hide an injury

featuring: nishinoya, sugawara, and suna

yes, unfortunately, i don’t write for tsukki right now, but here are the other three :) i’ll let the writing do the talking, but take it easy and i hope you feel better soon! 

nishinoya

he’s probably the least observant and that doesn’t mean he can’t take a hint when something’s wrong with you

but he usually doesn’t find out about it until after something happens 

you two have quite the playful relationship and are no strangers to playing fighting or jumping onto each other

one day at school, he snuck up behind you to hop onto your back as he often did 

and normally you wouldn’t mind and can handle it because he’s as light as a feather 

but today your back didn’t take it so well as you let out a strained gasped at feeling his weight put pressure onto it 

“hey, my beautiful, sweet, gorgeous-- hey, are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you knew you were going to have to have this conversation with him eventually but of course, you were too late

you wince as you try to stand up straight again, explaining that your back was already hurting from practice

“oh, well, then you should probably go see the nurse. can’t have you hurting, gorgeous.”

you promise him that it’s okay and you probably just need to stretch it out later

he hesitantly accepts your answer, but worries about you all-day long

it makes him usually quiet 

so he decides that he can’t let you tolerate your pain

on your way to the gym after school for practice, you find him waiting outside 

“you can’t practice today, babe.”

you actually get a little annoyed at him for trying to tell you what you can and can’t do

“oh, you’re fine? okay, then-- oops, i dropped my pen. can you pick it up for me? it’s closer to you.”

you knew where this was going 

but your back said otherwise and you barely hinged forward before it felt like someone was literally stabbing you in the back

“see? you can barely bend over. i’m taking you to the nurse or a doctor or something so you can get better.”

he grabs your hand and starts leading you away when you stop and ask him about your practice and volleyball

“i talked to the coach before you got here and they agree with me. i can miss one day of practice. the rest of them would probably do the same for their s/o and besides most of them still suck at receiving so they can practice that and serving at the same time!”

you still don’t look convinced so he brings you closer to him by tugging lightly on the bottom of your school uniform

“don’t worry, beautiful. i got it all sorted out, okay?” 

you finally nod and he seals his promise with a small kiss 

“listen, you’re my strong, beautiful, gorgeous, smart s/o and i love you! i’ll try to pay more attention to you but i need you to let me know when you’re hurting..”

he couldn’t let you get away with a small scolding bc his oblivious ass loves you too much 

sugawara

he observes but tries not to make a big deal out of it or bring it up in a confrontational way 

you had a slight limp on the way to school and on the way home with him after both of your practices finished

he invited you over to hang out for a bit before your curfew and he notices that you struggled a little to sit down next to him on his bed like you were in pain

“sugar, are you alright?” he asked, his hand rubbing across your back

you tell him you’re fine

“okay...are you sure? i’m pretty sure you’ve been limping this entire day and just now it looked like it hurt to sit down.”

you admit that your hip has been bothering you ever since practice the day before and you thought it would just get better over time 

“well, how bad is the pain?”

it’s not too bad, you think

he has you lay down and he tries to examine you a bit himself

“does it hurt when i lift your leg like this?”

he slowly tries to lift it to a ninety-degree angle but a sharp pain shoots right into your hip 

you wince and tense up at the pain 

he frowns as he immediately puts your leg down, “it’s only your hip, right? your knee doesn’t hurt or anything?”

you shake your head, still tense from the pain that it’s causing you 

he lays down next to you, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you arm, “aww, i’m sorry it hurts so much, sweetness, but-- wait, you didn’t go to practice like this did you?  

well, the karma was certainly hitting

he sighs, “babe, why would you-- never mind, i think you need to go see the doctor.”

that’s when the tears start to fall

he pulls you into his arms upon seeing your tears, “i know you don’t wanna go, sweetheart, but you need to get this checked out. i just hate seeing you in so much pain and they can help you feel better.” 

you hate the doctor

it just makes you just feel like more of a helpless burden 

“you’re not a burden, sugar. this looks serious and you shouldn’t be in so much pain. i don’t think we should let it go any longer so let’s get you bundled up in some of my sweatpants and that one sweater you like. i’ll take you and be there for you the entire time, okay?” 

gives you a few reassuring kisses and lets you lay there with him for a bit longer before you get ready to go

he would never let his sweet s/o suffer and always stays true to his word 

and you bet that he’ll be there when you’re confined to bed rest, making sure you’re not overexerting yourself so he can see your beautiful smile again

suna

he’s the most observant out of these three and won’t hesitate to ask about it

he didn’t see you much during the day at school but he walked you home almost every day after practice and usually ended up staying for dinner

so he always had that to look forward to

he was surprised when he got a glance of you outside the gym earlier than normal 

and he really got curious when he saw how off-balanced and wobbly you seemed

you waited outside for him, not wanting to interrupt practice 

you had skipped your own practice that day, seeing that nobody knew you had hurt your knee 

but you knew suna would find out eventually so you were just trying to figure out what to tell him 

“hey, so when were you going to tell me that you’re hurt?”

he was so quiet and stealthy that you didn’t even notice him standing there with all his stuff, ready to leave for the day

he was never less than confrontational

“and don’t try to hide it from me, babe. i can see the limp in your step.”

your knee has been hurting since practice the other day and it wasn’t getting any better

“i see. have you tried icing it or anything?”

the habitual blank expression in his face had turned downward as you shook your head

“baby, how many times do i have to tell you? you can’t just let things like this go. it’s not good for you.” 

you tell him not to tell your parents or make you go to the doctor because it doesn’t hurt that bad

“of course. i can’t make you do anything, but let’s at least try putting some ice on it and elevating it first, okay?” 

you agree and then he tries to pick you up, insisting on carrying you all the way home 

“babe, i can do it. i’ve got a strong core, remember?”

you’re still refusing him like, ‘pls chill, i’m not dying’

“okay, but hold onto me when you need. and here, do you want to wear this? it’s a bit cold out.”

he gives you his team jacket to wear 

you begin walking and you realize you’re more unsteady than you thought

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, and has you wrap an arm around his shoulders so he can steady you a little more

once you get to his house, he gets you all set up in his bed with ice and your leg propped up on a few pillows 

then he makes sure you’re all cozy with plenty of blankets and him snuggled up beside you

he doesn’t look like it but he loves to dote on you even when you’re being stubborn <3

hold on haikyuu night!! there’s more if you want to request..

#haikyuu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya headcanon #sugawara x reader #sugawara fluff #sugawara headcanon #suna x reader #suna fluff #suna headcanon #tommybaholland

[pascalpanic]

Could you write something about submissive Frankie? I feel like he would probably be into Bondage and praise, and he definitely likes getting bossed around and told what to do because he always has to be the one in charge of the boys. He'd definitely be into someone forcing him to stop worrying and trying to be there for everyone.

Let Go (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Frankie needs someone to take care of him too sometimes.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: holy shit what isn’t in here. talk of bad mental health. talk of Frankie’s cocaine addiction, which is in the past. talk of death, specifically of Tom. Smut, 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), bondage, lots of dirty talk, “good boy” is used frequently, oral (m and f receiving), spit as lube, titty-fucking, cum eating, dom/sub elements, bottom/subby Frankie, face sitting, p in v sex, uh that should be everything.

A/N: okay I don’t write this kind of stuff that often (bc I’m a mega bottom) but I hope this was okay, anon!!

The boys love to call Frankie mom. Frankie is the one who coordinates the plans, who sets the time and the place, who is always the designated driver because lord knows the other men like to get shitfaced.

Frankie is and always has been a caring man. He doesn’t call the shots, or take the lead. He hangs back and makes sure the other men are okay first. He knows Benny is soft-hearted, more than any of the others. He checks that he’s handling things. He asks Pope if he can head any other smaller tasks. He makes sure they all eat something and stay out of too much trouble.

He’s often the voice of reason too. The men love to cause chaos, and particularly love to make rash decisions. Pope’s leadership makes the other men blindly follow on occasion, and Frankie is always the one to stop and question. Most of the time, Pope finds that he’s right. Frankie has the strongest moral compass of the group.

Out of all the men, Frankie refuses to be cared for. He bundles his emotions away somewhere deep inside and focuses on the task at hand, leaving him to unravel the knot he created of his feelings later. That’s what led him into addiction- it was the support of the other men that helped him once they uncovered the truth.

That’s what happened in South America, in the disastrous events that killed Redfly and left him with a small sum of money for a lifetime of trauma. He came home to find that his wife left him, and it took everything he had not to relapse again.

The men knew better this time, and Frankie was finally so broken that he gave in. He cried into Benny’s arms while Pope flushed his stash down the toilet, while Will enrolled him in a quiet and discreet outpatient rehab.

That was a long time ago now. Frankie returned to his normal place in the team, the voice of reason. They even respect him more now that they know the depth of his wisdom. Then Frankie met you.

You were everything Frankie needed. You brought sunshine and warmth and happiness into the man’s dull and dreary life. He was no longer living from fight night to fight night, but from the time he got to see you until the next. When you finally moved in together, the men all rejoiced too. Frankie’s energy and happiness and mood all lifted, and he was a happier man with you in his life.

For the first time of his life, Frankie allowed someone to take care of him. He allowed you to cook him meals and took naps on weekends, knowing you’d wake him if something happened. You’d shower him with kisses and affection, rubbing his aching back and working out his sore muscles. He works a hard, manual-labor job, and you treat him wonderfully when he comes home.

He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anything. He loves coming home at the end of the day to find you there, loves the way you wrap your arms around him and kiss him. It’s been months of living together and neither of you have ever tired of each other, never lost that excitement of hearing your partner walking through the door after a long day.

Frankie has softened under the warmth of your love, melted like butter from the affection and love you offer. When he’d normally come home and channel his frustrations through his hips and into his hand, he talks to you and tells you what’s wrong. He listens to his friends more carefully but allows their problems to leave his mind when he gets to see you again.

Today has been hard. Frankie had a hard day at work, his supervisors hurrying him around and giving him a seemingly endless pile of tasks. When he finally finished work, he met up with the you and the guys for a beer. All of the men had their own problems to vent about, and Frankie naturally put aside his own frustrations to listen to the struggles of his friends.

Benny’s been on a mean losing streak. Will has been having endless nightmares of their time in South America, which only brought the four men at the table down even further when he told them all of the terrible memories. Santiago was in a mean mood, shooting snappy remarks at the other men and sinking lower into his annoyance. You tried to lighten the mood, but it seemed that no one was in a good mood tonight. The alcohol didn’t change much, only made Benny weeper and Santi more annoyed. You and Frankie left after about an hour, and he sighed as you drove his truck home, removing his cap and running a hand through his curls.

“How was your day, baby, hm?” You asked gently, your hand reaching over to rest on his thigh.

“Bad, but better now,” he smiles softly. Your touch always reassures him, and the both of you know what the image of you driving his truck does to him. “Lots of shit at work. I was hoping the guys would be a mood-booster, but…” he trails off. You obviously know.

“Hey, let it out,” you ask of him, rubbing his thigh and squeezing it gently. “Tell me about it.”

So he does. Frankie tells you a play-by-play recap of his godawful day, leaving out no detail. You frown as you listen, his frustration and tiredness evident in his voice. “So. I left work pissed off.”

“I can tell,” you chuckle, bringing your hand to his and lacing your fingers together. “But it’s over now.”

He nods with a little smile, looking over at you. “It is. I got my girl with me, I have tomorrow off, and we’re headed home, far away from those fucking idiots.”

You chuckle, loving the way he calls you his girl. Something about that nickname makes your heart flutter every time. “I know something that could make your night better,” you offer in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow at him and smiling.

He can read the context. He plays into it, grinning. “Oh yeah? How do you plan on doing that, pretty girl?” He asks, dropping your hand and rubbing your thigh as you drive.

You’re at a stoplight, so you lean across the console with a smile. “Let me take care of you tonight, baby. We need to break in those new ties we got, don’t we?” You ask, bringing your face close to his.

Frankie’s pupils widen with lust as he hears the word. “Oh, yeah, we do,” he breathes out, his pants already starting to feel tighter and tighter. “You sure, baby?”

You nod and smile, kissing him quickly. “You deserve it. I’ll be real good to you tonight, I promise,” you murmur as you press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Frankie smiles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Frankie baby.”

-

“Is that okay?” You ask him softly.

Frankie’s wrists and ankles tug against their constraints. He can’t move any of his limbs more than an inch before the soft rope holds him back. “It’s perfect,” he nods as he tries each of the restraints and finds that he can’t move. “I fucking love you,” he says as he looks up at you.

He’s the picture of vulnerability, fully naked in front of you and bound to the bed by each limb. His unsurprisingly thick and long dick is standing at attention, fully ready for you. His eyes hold all of his love, and you grin down at him.

You’ve never been the dominant one- not in your social life, at work, especially not in bed. But something about Frankie, about this kind and warm man, makes you desperately want to take care of him. It’s not that you get off on the ties holding him down, necessarily, though the way he struggles against them is a sight to behold. No, it’s the fact that for this moment, Frankie gets to relinquish all of the control and you get to take care of the man who takes care of you so often.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you coo, putting on your best bedroom eyes. It’s easy to slip into this persona for him, in the way he sometimes needs to be the one dominating you. “You gonna be a good boy for me, baby? You gonna let go?”

“Gonna be so good,” he nods, watching your face as you lick your lips and hungrily eye his dick. “Please, baby,” he begs of you.

You nod. “Always such a good boy,” you purr and climb over the end of the bed, settling between his legs and taking his dick in one hand. He’s so thick, you can barely encircle it with your fingers. You give it a slow tug, not bothering to spit into the hand to make it smoother. Frankie loves the friction, loves the way your warm hands move against the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” he shudders at the feeling, and you can feel his toes curling against your side. “Please, baby girl,” he whimpers as he looks down, sees your lips hovering just above the tip.

“Okay,” you nod with a little smirk. “Only because you asked so nicely.” Your lips take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and he moans harder at the sensation.

Bobbing your head up and down, you moan around him softly. “You feel so good around me,” he shudders, forcing himself to keep his hips glued to the mattress. “Love your tongue baby. Wish I could grab at your tits right now.”

You pull away and continue to stroke him, chuckling a little as you look up at his flushed face. “I know you love them, baby,” you tease, pushing your breasts up for him to see. “How far can you move your hips? Can you show me?” You ask, a hand rubbing at his thigh.

Frankie nods and thrusts them, showing that he has a small range of motion. He can thrust them just enough up and down.

“You wanna fuck ‘em?” You ask Frankie, swirling your thumb around the tip. “You want me to fuck you with my tits? How does that sound?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide in shock, in surprise and hunger as he looks down at you. “Yes, please baby,” he nods. “Wanna feel it, wanna feel those pretty tits around me.”

You climb up over his body, straddling his strong abdomen and pushing your tits up, holding them in front of his face. “Spit on them,” you command him, and Frankie complies. “Lick them. Make them nice and wet, baby.” He does it, lavishing the soft and delicate skin of your breasts with his tongue, dampening the skin.

You smile devilishly and crawl back down, pushing your breasts together and positioning Frankie’s tip at the bottom. “Go ahead, baby. Come on.”

He slowly thrusts up into it. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, Frankie’s hardened length sandwiched between your tits, but you definitely decide you like it as you look up at the expression on his face. His mouth hangs open in awe as he studies the image in front of him. “Fuck,” he shivers. Frankie has always been a tits man, and this is all too much.

“Yeah?” You ask, licking the tip as it comes up through the soft skin, pressing a kiss to the head. “Go on, baby. You can do it.” You play with your nipples as you hold your breasts there, sighing as you tug at the soft peaks.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he basically whimpers as he thrusts in and out of them, the soft skin driving him crazy. He looks blissed out, absolutely in heaven.

“Good boy, Frankie,” you shiver as you feel his cock twitch against your chest. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard you’re sure he can feel it against the sensitive tip. “You gonna cum like this baby? Here?” You ask him, moving your chest against him. “I’ll let you if you ask nicely.”

His brow furrows as the tip pokes in and out of your cleavage, your wet lips pressing sloppy kisses and licks to it when you can.  “Please, baby, wanna cum in your tits. Wanna see it.”

You nod. “Such a good boy, Frankie. Go ahead, cum all over me.”

He nods and a few thrusts later, he spurts his hot and white cum from the tip, crying out your name. You move your breasts against him, milking him of every last drop. You moan at the sensation, his hot cum against your flushed chest.

When he’s done, you sit back on your heels and Frankie’s eyes are shut. You chuckle a little, rubbing his thigh. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at the mess you made,” you practically purr, leaning forward for him.

It’s too much. The sticky white liquid drips off your tits, splattered all over. You look so fucking hot that Frankie feels himself starting to get hard again. “Fuck,” he shudders, his spent dick twitching and daring to get a little stiffer.

You smirk as you feel it, can practically sense his arousal seeping back in. You’ve always known Frankie has a short refractory period, allowing the two of you to go a few times in a night, but this is something else, something extremely quick and evident of just how much he’s into the moment. “Oh, baby,” you coo and stroke him softly. “Hard again already? You like it that much?”

You can feel him stiffen in your hand. The blood that rushed away with his orgasm is coming back just as quickly. “So fucking pretty. Just want you to fuck me.”

The words go straight between your legs, where the hot arousal has been pooling the whole time you’ve been treating him. “Oh, yeah?”

“Will you sit on my face?” He asks, voice broken. “Wanna taste you.”

Gulping, you want to say no. You want it to be all about him, but you can’t deny how fucking fantastic he is with his tongue, how desperately aching your clit is. “Fine. But not enough to finish. Gotta do that around your dick, pretty boy,” you coo and give his dick one last pump.

You climb over his body until your tits hang in front of his face. “Clean them off,” you order him, and he does exactly that. His skilled tongue swipes off all of the cum, swallowing it as he gathers it. After a few moments, you’re clean. “Good job, baby,” you mumble and scoot until your clit hovers above Frankie’s mouth.

He wants to grab you, wants to pull you down to him. He can’t. He shivers and waits until you finally sink down low enough for him to get to work.

He works at your clit with all of his attention, his tongue lapping against it and sucking on it. “Fuck,” you shudder, leaning against the headboard and propping yourself up with your hands. “Good boy. Doing so fucking good, ah,” you cry out and your head falls forward onto your arm.

He gets harder, you can tell, making soft noises into your dripping folds. He’s so fucking good at it, desperately eating you out.

Before long, you can feel your orgasm approaching. You push up to your knees, Frankie’s face remaining below you. “Oh, fuck,” you shiver. “So good for me.”

“You gonna fuck me now?” He asks, big brown eyes shining.

“Yes, Frankie,” you smile softly and scoot back down his body.

Before you sink onto him, you press your body flat to his and kiss him, softly and slowly. “I love you,” you murmur into his mouth.

“Love you too, pretty girl,” he shudders at the feeling, at the way your tits press to his. “So good to me.”

You have to admit, you sometimes worry you’re not doing it right. You’ve been worried this whole time that you’re not doing what he wants, that you’re being too mean or, god forbid, too gentle. His reassurance makes you feel better.

Sitting up again, you line yourself up over his dick. Sliding down onto him, you bite your lip at the feeling of his thick length splitting you open. “Frankie, baby,” you cry out, your eyes fluttering shut.

You take a moment at the bottom to sit with him inside you, to adjust. It’s all too much, and all you want now is him. “Do you want me to untie you?” You offer, though your voice is absolutely broken.

“Please, baby, wanna feel you.”

You nod and get completely off of him, getting off the bed too. You untie his ankles first and then his hands, which gravitate to your sides. Once he’s free, he pulls you on top of him again. “C’mere baby. You can ride me, but I wanna make you feel good too,” he murmurs, lining you up and thrusting up into you.

You cry out at the feeling again, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Frankie,” you whimper, both at the feeling and how quickly he returned to the one in power.

His hand lowers and circles your clit. “There,” he nods, kissing your neck. “Now ride me, please.”

You nod, beginning to bounce up and down on him. His freedom gives him more of an ability to grind against you, to thrust the opposite direction of you and make it even more powerful when he pushes deep inside of you.

His fingers work perfectly in time against you, and you can feel the little extra wetness as his precum leaks deep inside of you. His strong hips move in time against yours, lots of quiet and pleasured noises trailing from his lips. “Fuck, baby,” he shudders and presses his lips to yours, kissing you desperately.

You squeal against his lips as his dick finds the g-spot deep inside of you, pressing against it time and time again. “Don’t stop,” you beg and press your forehead to his, your sweat mixing with his own.

“Don’t think I could if I fucking tried,” he breathes, thrusting harder. “Come on, baby. Cum on me, let me cum in you.”

You nod, trying your best to hold out just a little longer. Finally, the cord holding you back snaps and the orgasm rushes through you, making you cry out Frankie’s name as your forehead remains pressed to his.

It’s never happened like this, never with your faces so close and intimate. He watches your expression contort, the pleasure on your face and it absolutely wrecks him. “G-gonna cum baby,” he grunts, holding back.

“Please, Frankie,” you tell him, kissing him for a moment before pulling back. “Fill me, please.”

He bites his lip as he shoots deep inside of you, the pure bliss rushing through his veins as your walls flutter and clench hard on him. He slowly comes down from it and his head falls back into the pillows, swallowing hard.

“Good boy,” you sigh and remove him from inside you before collapsing onto his chest, spent and flushed. “Fuck, baby,” you laugh softly, nudging his chest with your nose.

“I’ve never done that,” he admits, breathlessly, his oxygen just coming back.

“Did you like it?” You ask, your ear pressed to his heartbeat, hearing the loud thumping slow its rhythm.

He chuckles and it makes his chest vibrate. “What do you fucking think?” He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “You’re too good to me, babe. I fucking adore you.”

You smile softly. “I just… get nervous. You know that’s not my thing, being the one to tie you up and take control.”

“I know it isn’t,” he nods. “But I love you even more for being willing to do it. For taking care of me.” He pulls your chin up with a finger to kiss you slowly, lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sigh as you break away.

-

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#frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh Part 3

a/n: yall i love seijoh so much like theyre my favorite school and my favorite boys and i know their names by heart and im just so SOFT for them !!!!!

also: yall will find out what other fandom ill be writing for in the future in this one

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

combined two anon requests:

- Could we get the boys reacting to finding out the seijoh manager is quite popular to both genders?? Maybe they over hear a confession?

- Why do I feel like half of the team would be all pouty when word comes around that a guy confessed to manager, the others would probably be annoyed/irritated. Oikawa being all bratty cause no matter what he tried,she never showed ant interest when he flirts. But now this boy comes alone ... (but like you said manager is too focused in school and the team)

MY HEART WAS RIPPED OUT OF MY CHEST AND THROWN INTO A BLENDER WHEN I SAW THIS PART OR JUST WHEN SEIJOH LOST IN GENERAL BC MY BABIES WORKED SO HARD AAAAAAA

oof girl the world is ending

so basically,,,,,

the entire just magically knew about what happened earlier and yahaba’s theory of team telepathy really does work bc not even a minute after it happened, they all spammed you messages and next thing you knew, oikawa was naruto-ing down from the 3rd floor to your class in the first floor

tbh, they shouldve seen this coming yanno?

you were ridiculously pretty and you carried yourself w such elegance and grace that it just seemed to hypnotize everyone into stopping what they were doing and watched you in awe doing the most mundane things like walking or sitting

lmao couldnt be me

your confessions usually happened over letters bc either tol boys kunimi or kindaichi are usually around you at all times so theyre too scared to do anything

hence why your locker was always filled with envelopes yet no upfront public confessions

it ranged from upperclassmen and upperclasswomen who expressed their interest in you and wanted to date you and get to know you better

but tf you dont even know them and you werent about to date a whole stranger

this made the boys a little peeved because you were popular with both the boys and the gals so they were constantly on edge on who was talking to you

it was like having an oikawa 2.0 but not indulging them and pretending theyre not even there

like when you walk to class and sit down, they would flock over and offer you drinks and snacks but you either turned them down or just flat-out ignored them

maybe this was what fueled others on more

your reserved attitude and your refusals made it look like you were playing hard to get and it was almost like a game on who could win the heart of the princess of seijoh

this was proven really difficult because not only do they have your dismissals, you also had guard dogs at every corner and would bite their head off at the slight indication of an interaction

however,,,,

today,,,

this morning,,,,

at 7:53 AM,,,,

they saw you walking down the hallway with a purple-haired boy holding your bag and you giggling at what he was saying

um EXCUSE ME MAAM WHAT

EVERYONE HAS BEEN TRYING TO GAIN YOUR AFFECTIONS FOR MONTHS YET YOU ARE HERE INTERACTING WITH A MALE WHO NO ONE EVEN KNOWS

ESPECIALLY SINCE HE WAS A MALE WHO WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE RIGHT NEXT TO YOU AND HE WASNT A MEMBER OF THE TEAM

!!!!!

and ofc, the boys would immediately know even though theyre spread all over the school

it was kyoken who saw you as he was leaning against your locker and his eyes narrowed before he secretly took a picture and sent it to yahaba, asking if there was a new guy who entered the team while he was away

when he replied with a panicked, ‘NO WHO IS THAT’

kyoken was already advancing to you

yahaba-san immediately sent the picture to the team group chat, that excluded you rood, and oikawa wasted no time and even pushed some fangirls so he could go to you

‘-and she destroyed my sheets’

you laughed at the story and hitoshi stared at you with awe in his eyes

how can someone laugh so beautifully?

like a snort should be considered ugly and gross but it was like cute little squeaks from you and he thought you were like a fairy

‘oh god, i wasnt-’

you were cut off with a hand that held your arm

you came face to face with the glaring face of one of your boys and you immediately turned to him in concern, immediately grasping an arm with the other hand on his cheek to look for any cuts

he rarely comes to you on a normal basis so you thought something was wrong

‘whats wrong, kyo-san? did you get into a fight? do you need me to patch you up?’

he didnt care what you were saying, instead heatedly glaring at this new guy, and grunted a response to agreeing with you going to the nurse

just anywhere to get you away from this,,,, stranger

‘toshi i have to-’

then you were cut off again

‘YYYYY/NNNNNNN-CHHHHHAAAANNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

‘OI SHITTYKAWA!’

‘OIKAWA-SAN!’

‘OIKAWA!’

‘CAPTAIN!’

from behind you, 5 tol looming figures were running towards you and next thing you knew, you were in the arms of your captain

‘oikawa-san! what are you doing?!’

oikawa held you tightly against his chest and had his arms tightly around your form to prevent you from being taken away

most of the volleyball team were now circling you and pointedly glaring at the poor boy who was so confused that he wasnt bothered by the death glares

‘oh, its you’

kunimi grumbled

‘kunimi, whats happening?’

hitoshi questioned

you fought away from the hold of oikawa and pushed mattsukawa and hanamaki to stand in front of shinsou hitoshi

‘so sorry about this, toshi. i’ll help you with your room later and ill text you when practice is finished, okay?’

you sheepishly smiled and he nodded, his own smile reassuring you

‘yep. ill see you later then’

‘bye’

you softly said and he turned to walk away

but as soon as he was out of sight, you turned around with a grim looking expression and your hands on your hips, a hard look in your eyes

‘boys, what was that?’

you gritted out

‘y/n-chan! don’t you see?! he was going to take you away! he was an intrude-OW!’

he yelped when you reached up and grabbed his ear before grabbing the other closest who was iwaizumi

they both whined and complained about the ear and slapped your hand but you didnt let up

‘he is a friend, oikawa-san. you have no right on who i can be friends and who i can hang out with because i still have a life outside the team!’

you scolded and the others hung their heads low like puppies

‘sorry, y/n-chan’

oikawa mumbled and iwaizumi also mumbled his apology so you let go of them, dusting off your hands

‘and the rest of you, hold back your captain and dont intimidate him like that!’

‘sorry’

you sighed but ruffled their hair before turning to go to class

‘now, be good boys and dont bother others like this again’

‘yes’

they chorused and you nodded, satisfied

‘ill hold you to it!’

you shouted as you walked down the hallway

when you turned a corner, oikawa grabbed kunimi by the arms

‘you know him, dont you? who is he? what class? address? mother’s name? father’s name? age-’

‘oi stop it, shittykawa’

but despite that, iwaizumi looked at the younger, expecting answers as well

kunimi sighed

‘thats shinsou hitoshi from class 1-3. we have gym together’

and ‘we’ was kunimi and you since you were both in the same class so you constantly saw this shinsou boy?

nuh uh, dont think so, francisco

from the looks of it, you were still single and there was a pining from shinso’s part, maybe yours they dont know

and they were going to do everything in their power to keep you away from him

this was excused to them as protecting their manager from someone else and they werent going to let you be taken by someone else

during practice, they grilled you over your relationship with him

‘i honestly dont know why this is your business but if you must know, his adoptive father, aizawa-san, is my mother’s co-worker and i usually catsit for them. dont worry, we’re not dating. just friends, that’s all’

but they know it wasnt just a friendship type of situation

so when the 4 third years saw you being confessed to by this ‘friend’ outside, they almost toppled out the window as they tried to listen to what was being said

‘shittykawa get off my back!’

‘nuh uh! i want to see clearly!’

‘everyone needs to know that code red is happening!’

yall what

mattsun took a picture and sent it to the gc about their princess being confessed to 

no one replied, possibly too upset or too busy sulking

kyoken actually had to be excused outside bc he was glaring at everyone and everything and the teacher and students were so scared that they had to take him out of class

they were even more peeved when you just walked in like nothing happened

you didnt mention the confession to anyone else the whole day and when you entered the gym, it was very tense

the coaches even looked confused

‘did you guys fight?’

you questioned but no one answered

kunimi and kindaichi were playing with a ball and glaring at it as it hit the floor

the 2nd years yes including kyobabie were pouting to the side

the 3rd years looked annoyed and pissed off 

overall just not seijoh babie vibes

i am uncomfortable with the energy we have created in the gym today🧚✨

‘hey’

you gently said and walked to the captain to figure out what was going on

‘oikawa-san, what happened?’

‘are you dating him now, y/n?’

the seriousness in his voice shocked you and you took a step back in surprise

your expression made him think that you did accept the confession and he scoffed before walking away and doing a jump serve that sounded like a canon blasting

but you were actually confused and surprised that they even knew bc you were sure it was a secluded area where no one could see you

‘dating,,,? dating who?’

you asked to them and the 3rd years just knitted their eyebrows

‘dont play coy, y/n-chan’

oikawa hissed

‘no matter how many times i flirted or asked you on dates, you never said yes. never agreed or even showed a little bit of interest. on me!! your captain!!! but now!!! this little grape boy comes along and you suddenly start dating just because he has cats! what kinda bias is this?!’

he started ranting and whining and being a brat that you pinched his nose shut

‘oi, oikawa-san, are you jumping to conclusions again? first the hickey accident and now this?’

he made a whining noise for you to let go and rubbed his nose when you finally let go

you turned around to face the others and you sighed, massaging your temples

‘everyone, who spread this misunderstanding?’

no one pointed to anyone but their gazes settled on the thick eyebrow boy that you were sure wouldnt have ratted you out

a noise of surprise and betrayal escaped from you as mattsun quickly scrambled to get everyone to stop staring at him

‘MATTSUN-SAN! YOU-!’

you pointed at him and mattsun rushed forward to grab your hands before holding them close to his chest

‘y/n-chan, we just saw you when we were passing! it was makki who wanted to tell the others!’

the betrayal made iwa laugh but makki ran up to kick mattsun to the side

‘youre the one who committed the deed! i was merely suggesting it! it was iwaizumi who wanted to watch them first!’

‘IWA-SAN!’

you gasped at the normally chill third year and you didnt expect him to be the one who started it first

iwa panicked and held his hands out cautiously

‘y/n-chan, understand that i was just worried and i didnt want you to be outside by yourself after what happened, okay? i didnt know he was confessing to you’

you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose tightly

‘again! whoever and whatever happens in my love life is my business! mine! and only mine! you cannot control it and get angry at ME because i do want a boyfriend and i do want to experience dating bc i want to know how it feels to be loved like that! so i wont let a bunch of children stop me from having that!’

the third years shared a look before they they gave up and nodded in defeat

but oikawa was the most offended

‘Y/N-CHAN! I ASK YOU ON DATES ALL THE TIME AND I ALWAYS OFFER TO GIVE YOU THAT LOVE SO WHY CAN’T IT BE ME?! WHAT DOES THAT GRAPE HUMANOID HAVE THAT I DONT?!’

he whined and stomped his foot after crossing his arms and a pout on his face

you shook your head, not even bothering to answer that, and went to the others

‘dont be mad and be upset, okay? i refused him bc i have no time for a relationship when im too busy looking after my own boys. i really dont want to add another’

kindaichi and yahaba’s face scrunched as they rushed forward to hug you 

‘we thought you would leave us y/n-chan!’

‘stay as ours forever, okay?’

you were so relieved that they werent as aggressive as the oldests and gave each player their own favorite hugs

but you stopped in front of kyo, not really knowing how to hug him since youve never exactly showed any type of affection like that

so you were just awkwardly standing there with raised arms but he patted your head, you smiling and leaning more to his touch

‘hm, kyo-san, ya finally warming up to me?’

you teased but he scoffed, gently headbutting you with his forehead against yours

‘now, everyone! dont misunderstand and know that for as long as i will be a manager, i wont be in a relationship bc my time as a manager is too crucial since i would probably have to look after you so you dont get yourself to jail. a boyfriend is adding more boys in to that list and i dont want that. you will be my boys forever and i wont be taken from you so please trust on me and stop being so overprotective bc i wont give them the affection or wishes they want!’

oikawa teared up and was about to go trample you but he was held back

‘no! i want a hug! i want a family hug! cmon, iwa-chan!’

practice went by quickly but you demanded them to do 10 diving laps in punishment for all the misunderstandings theyve created 

but they gladly did it bc it meant that you wont be taken from them and you would be theirs forever and their cute manager is going to pay attention to them and them only

i got serious yandere vibes from this but its so heartwarming that theyre so overprotective and lowkey you got yourself a harem

after practice, they all wanted to walk home with you but you told them that shinsou’s house was the other direction

‘y/n-chan! you said you wouldn’t-’

you rolled your eyes

‘oikawa-san, just because i refused that confession doesnt mean i will stop earning money. i still have to catsit for his family and earn my money!’

they only agreed when kyo said that he was walking that way too but they were still weary and jealous bc he got to spend more time with you than them

as you were both walking, you looked up at him

‘kyo-san, what type of hug do you like?’

‘hah?’

he looked down at you bc we short with wide eyes and flushed cheeks

you smiled and looked forward, skipping slightly

‘everyone in the team has their own special hugs. i want everyone to have one bc you all are individually special to me so-’

but he stopped walking and pulled arm before he lifted you up, making you squeak and wrap your legs around his waist

thank god you were wearing your tracksuit and not your skirt

‘k-kyo-san?’

bruh is it obv that kyoken is one of my favorite seijoh boys like bls love on him

he didnt want you to see his flustered expression bc he still has a reputation to uphold, yanno?

so he tucked it in your neck and you softly smiled before playing with the baby hairs at the base of his neck

‘you like this kind then, kyo-san? kinda aggressive but perfectly suits you, yanno?’

he just grunted and you laughed

he wasnt about to tell you that he liked holding you on his arms bc you were so tiny and so you that holding you like this makes him feel like he was protecting you and feel good about himself bc he gets to be the one who shields you from the world

yuhhhhh get it kyo

‘so yahaba-san told me that you got kicked out of class bc you scared the teacher and kids?’

you questioned and he left his spot on your neck and pulled his face back so you could clearly see his face

it was red and possibly flustered but you just snickered

he still held you by his strong arms so you were able to move your small hands to his face where he flinched at first but relaxed when you touched his cheeks

your fingers gently pulled the sides of his lips and you tilted your head to the side

‘you,,, look really handsome when you smile, kyo-san’

you whispered and he was so surprised that his tough mask fell and was replaced by wide eyes and his eyebrows rose up, the intimidating look disappearing from his eyes

‘i-i do?’

you bit your lip bc this was so different from the aggressive kyo you knew and you didnt expect this type of innocence that he just showed you

maybe he wasnt so innocent from the fights and arguments he has started or been in 

but he was so innocent to soft touches and compliments bc he wasnt exposed to it, only used to the ones that were said due to the aura he exuded or his looks

‘yep, you do. so keep smiling for me, kay? dont have to be around the others or all the time, but i,,, want to see it sometimes’

he blinked at you but quickly went back to your neck to hide the big smile that was threatening to come out

you felt his lips move and you laughed

‘noooo! kyo-san!!! i want to see your smilee!!! dont hide it!!!’

but it was cut short when a familiar shout was heard from the other side of the street that was near the school

it seemed that oikawa was worried about you walking alone with kyoken so he followed you both with the other third years

‘kyoken-chan! y/n-chan!’

he shouted in betrayal

you were about to get away from kyo’s hold but he tightened his grip and leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, still staring straight at the captain

‘mine’

again, do you know what happened next?

oikawa screamed

this was actually pretty funny to write bc wowza oikawa is so oikawa and hes just so oikawa-like, yanno? and im still simping over kyoken and shinsou is my ult fave in bnha and i really love him like ugghhhh :’)

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #aoba johsai #aoba johsai x reader #aoba josai x reader #aoba josai #seijoh #aoba johsai imagines #aoba josai imagines #seijoh imagines #seijoh manager #haikyuu manager #haikyuu!! manager #aoba johsai manager #aoba josai manager #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai headcanons #aoba josai headcanons #seijoh headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #aoba johsai fluff #aoba josai fluff #oikawa tooru

[ddaenggtan]

say you want passion (i think you found it) | M

you’re a tease. he’s tired of it.

pairing | shownu x fem!reader

wc | 6.5k

genre/warning | Covid doesnt exist sorry, big dick shownu, sweetheart shownu, dom shownu, sub reader, shownu is called hyunwoo in this, he also likes to be called daddy dont judge, sloppy blowjobs, but still, blowjobs, Shownu eats pussy like a CHAMP, Strength Kink, praise, degradation, degrading praise, this is HIGHLY specialized, you've been warned, deepthroating, DEEP deepthroating at that, nsfw pictures, aka shownu likes to remember it when he does a good job so he takes a picture bc it lasts longer uwu, talking with your mouth full (ill let u guess), doggystyle, teasing, brief nipple play, hickeys, begging, dumbification, rough sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, coming inside, gspot shenanigans, this is genuinely so unrealistic please do not think sex is like this ever in real life, i mean literally ever if you ever fuck someone and it's like this then they aren't real they're a fae or a god or some shit okay, aftercare, shownu uses 3-in-1 because He Does, Barely Edited by the grace of @personawife​‘s beta that she fit in when she could ilu, 

a/n | first n last shownu smut specifically bc its leilas birthday (@honiboyyoon​). u better enjoy this. (side note for anyone who isn’t into shownu smut, but is curious: there’s a namjoon version on ao3 that i’ll link here), but this took entirely too much effort and i did my damndest to fit as many things that ur into in this one fic as i possibly could. i hope this makes up for u probably never getting the vampire maknae line foursome i kept promising you sdfkldjsfasdf

The front door opens as you step out of the car, and you grin as your boyfriend appears in the frame. He grins at you and your best friend and you search his expression for a sign of anything other than his usual sweetness, but find none. You resist the urge to pout - you won’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Good luck!” Your best friend teases. You roll your eyes at her - she knows precisely what you envisioned upon arriving back to the quaint little house you call home with Hyunwoo. It’s the reason you wore this outfit, and tried on the clothes you did whilst shopping, and sent him selfies in the poses you did. 

You’re on a mission, dammit. It’s been weeks - literal weeks, not even an exaggeration - since you were properly fucked, and you’re fairly tired of prancing around the house in your shortest shorts and deepest v-necks so that when you bend over just right to water your fern, he gets the perfect eyeful. It’s exhausting to try to send all these signals all day every day - but you know how flustered he gets when you ask him directly, so you tried a different tactic. You were being nice!

And it hasn’t worked. At all. He’s offered to help you water your plants, to let you borrow his flannel pajamas in case you’re cold, and even to buy you a sweater, at one point. 

In August. 

So suffice to say, you’re getting a little tired of him being oblivious. So you’d called up your best friend and invited her to go shopping with you, and yes, it was also very fun to hang out with her and get boba, but she’s also the master of hyping you up and making you feel sexy and desirable, so it was truly a win-win.

Plus, she color-coordinated her own houndstooth pantsuit with your pink houndstooth skirt/blazer combo, so really, you should send her a fruit basket or something. Maybe cookies. 

The point remains that your boyfriend hasn’t responded to any of your borderline pornographic selfies or the very pointed videos of you holding various sex toys and asking if it would fit. You’re at your wit’s end, and you were really hoping that it would truly get through to him this time that you want nothing more than to be railed against the mattress so hard that you cry. 

You’re a simple girl, after all. 

But no! He’s got that sweet smile on his face as you carry your shopping bags in one hand and your purse in the other, carefully sidestepping the cosmos he’d just planted the other day so you wouldn’t step all over his hard work. His smile widens when you reach the door, and he presses a sweet, gentle kiss against your forehead that has you on the verge of tears. 

He waves again to your best friend as she drives off, and as usual snags your shopping bags out of your hand so he can place them beside the door. You’ve already pulled your blazer off to hang in the entryway closet by the time he’s shut the door, and you gasp as you’re jerked back. His hands are on either side of your head, braced against the front door like it’s the only thing keeping him up, and you struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the way his muscles flex.

“Do you have any idea what today was like for me?” He growls. The sound of it brings heat between your thighs, and you resist the urge to cheer. 

“Sorry, should I not have sent you any selfies today?” You ask, keeping your voice as light and innocent as you can. He makes eye contact with you; there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen in what feels like forever. “Did you not like them?”

“You know damn well what I thought of them,” he mutters, one hand coming down to rest on your hip. “I’ve tried so hard lately, y’know? The tiny shorts with your ass hanging out, the shirts that show everything when you bend over. God, the bending.”

“Really?” You breathe. It’s always exhilarating to know that you’re desired, but this is nearly heady. He fixes his gaze on you, eyes burning, and your smile softens slightly. 

“I was trying,” he says, clearly holding himself back, “To be a good boyfriend. To make sure that you know that I want more from you than just sex, and that I value you as more than just someone attractive. I was trying so hard to prove that you– that we have more between us than that. That I respect you more than that.”

“So don’t respect me.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. You’ve been laying down signals galore the past few weeks, and clearly he did not get the memo. 

“I’m always going to respect you,” he says instead, sighing slightly as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to disrespect you, you’re worth more than that. But fuck, all I wanna do is fuck you stupid right now.”

“Please,” you whisper, biting your lip. It’s all you’ve wanted for weeks and now you might finally - finally - get it. “Disrespect me, daddy.”

The hand on your hip tightens, no doubt bruising the skin, and you gasp at the feeling. Hyunwoo makes eye contact - just long enough to make sure that you’re on board for whatever it is he’s about to do. 

He could probably suggest a number of things that you’ve never considered and you’d say yes, at this point - you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re desperate. 

The hand on your hips lowers - he traces all the way down your thigh and to the back of your knee before travelling back up, this time under your skirt. He kisses you as he does it - long, heated kisses that make your head spin so perfectly that you don’t know what he’s doing until he glides a finger across your clothed core. 

You gasp into the kiss, but it doesn’t deter him. He pulls down, kissing and biting down your jaw to your neck as his fingers trace over you once more. You can feel him smile against your skin. 

“You’re already soaked,” he tuts. “You’ve ruined this pair, princess. How naughty of you. Would you like daddy to take them off?”

“Yes!” You moan as his fingers ghost over your folds once more. 

“Yes what?” He asks, and you could cry with how much you want him. 

“Yes, daddy,” you tell him, and he smiles once more. It’s blinding, how bright he is when he smiles like that, and for a second you’re breathless. Then you feel them - his hands, burning a trail along your thigh to tug at the band of your underwear. It only takes him a few seconds to pull them down as he bends, and he kisses your thigh as he brings one of your legs up so he can slide them off completely. 

He was right - they are ruined, the evidence of your arousal immediately apparent by the large wet spot in the center. He doesn’t bother to slide them off your other leg, though - just lets them hang from your ankle, no doubt as a reminder of how strongly he affects you.

He presses kisses to every bit of skin he can as he stands fully upright once more, suckling a mark into your collarbone that you’ll absolutely cherish when you have to cover it up before work tomorrow. 

His hands don’t leave your thighs - warm and strong and utterly distracting, you can’t take your mind off them as he kisses you again, heady and intoxicating. You feel it as one hand travels back underneath your skirt again, gliding between your thighs. 

A moan sticks in your throat as his fingers slide in between your folds - the feeling of them teasing against your hole before they move to rub light circles into your clit is nearly too much to handle. 

“Hyunwoo, please–”

“Patience,” he interrupts. You can hear the smile in his voice as he slides over your hole once more, spreading your arousal across your lips before teasing your clit again. “Good girls have patience, right, princess?”

You whimper, hips arching off the door to try to guide his finger inside of you. It’s a futile attempt - he just returns to the slow, infuriating circles on your clit, and you would cry if it didn’t feel as good as it does. 

It could be hours or it could be seconds that he continues this pattern - slow, maddening circles on your clit, then the slightest bit of a tease at your hole, just enough to make you think that maybe he’ll fuck you with his fingers, before he returns to the circles. It’s enough to make a stronger woman cry, and you can’t help the whines that you let out when he once again deprives you of the fuck you so desperately want. 

“Please just fuck me,” you finally break, hands moving from where they’re wrapped around his neck to circle his waist and do your best to pull him in closer. You can feel him against your thigh, warm and thick and big, and you want him. 

He hisses when you grind against him, and the one hand that remains on your hip tightens ever so slightly. “You’re being very bad, princess,” he chastises, but you couldn’t care less. Your mind is focused on the memory of what he felt like inside you, and you’re ready to burst with need.

“I don’t care,” you tell him firmly, hands sliding up under his shirt to run your nails against his muscled torso. “I don’t care, I need you, please, I just want–”

“I know,” he cuts you off. His hands disappear from you entirely, but only for a moment - before you know it, two large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding yours out of his shirt. You can't stop whimpering, caught between the memory of the last time he was between your thighs and the reality of his lips against your skin.

Hyunwoo drops - he hits the wooden floor with a muffled thud, and before you can even react, his hands are underneath your skirt. He pushes it upwards, muttering something almost reverent about thighs as he does, and then he’s pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs. His hands don’t stop, though - they keep going, shoving your skirt up until it pools around your waist.

“H-Hyunwoo—”

“Ssh,” he whispers, giving your thigh a light bite. A heartbeat later and you can feel his warm breath against your folds. “You wanted to feel good, right?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe, hands instinctively tangling in his soft brown hair. 

“Then be a good slut for me, and stay still while I make you feel good." 

You stifle a whimper - he knows what his words do to you, and you jolt as his tongue gently nudges against your folds. There's no stopping the soft sigh that falls from your lips as he delves deeper, ghosting across your swollen clit to nudge against your hole. He's tentative, teasing with his movements - he likes to make you wait, tease you until you're grinding against his mouth.

You doubt this will be an exception.

A moan is thrust out of you as you feel your hole stretch slightly. Not much, not far - just enough to accommodate him as he fucks your hole with his tongue. It's just the right side of unsatisfying - you're aching, absolutely dripping for him, and this is just enough to whet your appetite and make you hungry for more.

You can feel his smile against you, and you already know what's coming - still, it's disappointing when he pulls his tongue out. You whine, unashamed of how you must sound or how loud you may be, and he chuckles.

"Patience, baby girl," he breathes. Warm air flows over you, and your hands move to tangle in his hair. His tongue shifts again, lapping at your clit for long enough that you think you may cum before he stops to draw mind-numbing circles around it instead.

Time bends around the two of you - it always does when he's between your thighs like this, when he's teasing and deliberate with every swipe of his tongue against you, every press of him against your hole. He edges you for so long; slow circles around your clit turn to quick thrusts inside of you that shift into laps against your hole that drag upward, just barely catching your clit before they stop.

You're sure there would be a puddle on the floor were it not for his dedication. The entire house is filled with the sounds of his mouth against you, only drowned out by the sound of your cries as he begins to suck on your clit.

Your knees quake on either side of his head, and he doesn't hesitate to bring his hands up behind your thighs. Without a second thought, he lifts - not even pausing in his mission, tongue still thrusting into you at an almost absurd rate - and then your thighs are resting atop his shoulders. You gasp, both in shock and in pleasure as he lets his teeth graze ever so lightly against that bundle of nerves.

This isn't the first time he's done this - put you on his shoulders and left you there while he eats you out within an inch of your life - but it's the first time in a long time, and it has you seeing stars as one of your hands stays tangled in his hair and the other is braced against the wall beside you.

"Hyunwoo, please–" You beg, but you can't catch your breath long enough between moans to say anything more. He sucks again, the flat of his tongue gliding over your clit as it's pulled into his mouth once more, and your vision goes white. Your knees quake, and you're sure that if you had been standing, you wouldn't be anymore.

"That's my girl," Hyunwoo praises after he's done cleaning up your cum. When you can see again, you realize he's set you down on the floor and is slowly massaging your thighs.

"Hyun, I....please....can you–"

"You want me to fuck you stupid, baby?" He asks. His tone is a little patronizing, but that's okay, because it only serves to turn you on more. "Does my sweet little whore need my cock in her?"

"Yes, please," you whimper, hips tilting upwards against nothing of their own accord.

Hyunwoo stands and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweats. A few moments later he's pulled them down just enough to free himself. Your mouth drops open slightly when you finally lay eyes on him - you know he's big. You know that he is big, you've had his entire length inside of you several times now and you've felt it for days after each time, but it still never fails to shock you.

Because he is big. Thick, so thick you can hardly wrap your entire fist around him, and long, with the perfect curve that hits that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. His dick is nearly as perfect as he is, and that is a very high bar.

It's also so hard that you can see it throbbing, jumping every so often as his muscles tense.

"You want me to make you come with my cock, right, baby?" He asks, once again using that patronizing tone that makes heat creep across your cheeks.

You nod.

"Then you're going to have to ask nicely, aren't you?" He prods.

"Please, daddy," you say without hesitation, "Please fuck me, I want you to make me cum so hard that I cry, I want to be a good slut for you."

"Very good, baby," he praises. "Now I want you to prove that you mean it. Can you be a good little whore and suck my cock?"

You lean forward, not even bothering to use your hands because your bones still feel like jelly. You run your tongue across the tip of him, giving small kitten licks to the slit just how he likes. A groan rumbles through him, and he lets out a soft gasp as you slip your tongue down to wet the shaft as well. 

"Fuck, princess," he moans, "I think you've gotten even better at this."

Encouraged, you let your mouth hang open– just barely wide enough to get your lips around the shaft– and let your tongue rest on your spit-slick lips. You glance up long enough to see that Hyunwoo's eyes are blown wide with his desire before you mouth sloppily down his dick. It's messy and would probably be disgusting if it were anyone but the two of you and Hyunwoo didn't have that look in his eyes that promises you'll remember tonight for several weeks. 

His hands move, one adjusting his grip on the doorframe as you suck the head of his cock between your lips while the other comes down to grip one of the two buns you put your hair in that morning. He tugs - not hard, not yet, but firmly enough that it stings slightly and makes you keen.

"If you're going to make a mess, don't you think you should clean it up?" He asks. You lift a brow and he grins. "Clearly you're not that tired if you still have an attitude."

"No," you whine, "I am tired, my bones are basically nonexistent right now thanks to you."

The hand in your hair loosens slightly, and Hyunwoo tuts. "I have to do all the work, huh? Then get on your knees for me, baby girl, so I can use you like a good toy." 

You rush to comply, and only wince a bit at the feeling of the cold floor against your knees. His hand stays where it is the entire time you're moving, but he waits until you're sitting still, legs folded under you and giving you that extra bit of height you'll need. 

"Let me know if it's too much," Hyunwoo commands, and you nod. His eyes darken, slightly, and he runs his thumb along your jaw. "What's the signal?"

"Two taps on your thigh," You tell him, not for the first time. He's always so careful beforehand, and while you appreciate just how much he cares about you, you also are sick of just staring at his cock, and your mouth is beginning to water. 

Hyunwoo coos slightly, and the hand in your hair shifts to guide rather than just anchor. "You're always so good for me," he mutters as he slides the tip past your lips. "Always such a good little slut." 

You don't stop the whimper that escapes your throat – he loves them, and you know it. Your mouth is lax, nothing more than a hole for him to fill as he sees fit, and there's the slightest twinge of complaint as your jaw begins to stretch. 

You ignore it, determined to get as much of him as possible this time. You've practiced for this, nearly every day, since the last time and you're not stopping until you beat your record. 

Hyunwoo sighs as he hits the back of your throat. "God, you're perfect," he mutters as he begins to slide back out. You let your jaw relax a bit as he does, and when just the tip rests on your tongue, you give it a small kiss, just because you can. 

Hyunwoo smiles, gaze softening for a split second. "Hands in position, baby girl," he reminds you, and you do as he says – one hand on back of each of his thighs, so you can tap out if you need to. 

Also so you can feel those incredible muscles flex as he starts shallow thrusts, rippling and tensing under your fingers. If your mouth weren't otherwise occupied, you'd bite them. 

Hyunwoo continues carefully, testing just how much of himself can fit before you start to gag on his length….and just how long you can choke before you really start to need air. 

He pulls back before you even need to tap out, always careful to keep an eye on you for any warning signs. He slides back in and waits until he hits the back of your throat again, pushing slightly further, and just as he's about to begin pulling back out, you look up at him with wide eyes.

You know you look like a mess; drool gathering on your lips because your mouth is too full to hold it, tears streaming down your cheeks from your attempts to stop gagging. Hyunwoo loves it when you look ruined like this, adores taking your perfectly crafted image and crumbling it to pieces in his hands. 

So it's no surprise when he lets out a low moan, or when he lets himself slip a little further down your throat. This is as far as he's ever gotten and you want him to know how good you are, how hard you've been practicing  with the toys underneath your bed. He slides out, precum dripping onto your tongue as he does, and you bat your lashes at him.

"Use me," you tell him. "Use me like the toy that I am for you, Daddy." Something darkens in his eyes and he doesn't hesitate to thrust  back in.

Your eyes water with the force of it and you don't stop the moan that escapes you as he slides deeper down your throat than he's ever been before. There's still a couple inches left before he'd be fully sheathed, but Hyunwoo doesn't even seem to notice as he pulls out just to thrust back in.

Neither of you are quiet — you can barely hear the wet squelch of your mouth. It's drowned out by the moans he draws from you, which in turn pull moans from him between the words he growls out.

"God, you're so perfect," he mutters as he fucks your throat with abandon. "The perfect angel slut, so good at getting throatfucked, just made for my cock no matter where it goes, huh? You're such a good whore, you're probably fucking soaked just from my dick in your mouth, aren't you?"

You whimper around him and he speeds up, relentless; he's not wrong either — you are soaked, can feel it between your thighs as your hips rock fruitlessly against empty air.

"Oh, look at you," Hyunwoo coos, "So desperate to be fucked while sucking me off. Maybe one day I'll get one of your buddies over here to fuck your throat while you ride my cock, since you're so desperate to get used like a good slut. But I don't even think that'll be enough, will it? Because they won't be me." He thrusts a little deeper, a little rougher, and you aren't sure if the noises you're making are as loud as they seem to you but either way, they only serve to egg him on. 

"No," Hyunwoo continues, "They won't be Daddy, will they? They won't be able to get this deep in your throat, won't be able to fuck you like this. And you know why? Because this is my hole." He punctuates the sentence with a sharp thrust and you squeeze the backs of his thighs to show your agreement. "You're my perfect slut. My good little whore. Isn't that right, baby girl?"

You squeeze the backs of his thighs again, but it isn't enough. He stills, still buried nearly to the hilt inside you, and cocks a brow.

"Well? Aren't you my perfect whore?" Your face flames, heat burning in your cheeks. Your jaw aches from being stretched for so long, there spit and precum dripping down your chin  and you can feel him throbbing in your throat. 

And Hyunwoo looks expectant. He wants to hear you agree with him, wants you to remind yourself of this fact.

You don't even blink when he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his sweats. You can't see what he does, but based on how he angles it and the shallow thrusts he gives without looking away from the screen, you can guess. 

"Aw, is my baby girl getting shy now?" He teases as you make eye contact with the lens and feel your face heat up. "Don't even worry about it, baby. I just wanna remember how fucking perfect you look right now forever. My perfect cocksucking slut."

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing and you're overcome with a sudden need to feel him inside you.

"Are you gonna be a good slut now?" Hyunwoo continues, still recording. "Are you daddy's good slut?" You nod and can't stop the reflexive swallow as he goes even deeper. Hyunwoo groans at the feeling and you can see his grip on his phone tighten for a moment.

"Say it," he commands when his eyes open once more. "I want to hear you say it."

" 'm 'a'y's 'er'ec' 'ore," you moan. It doesn't even sound like words, at this point, but when you look back up at him with wide eyes. Hyunwoo looks proud.

"You absolutely are," he whispers. He hits a button and then pockets his phone again. He slides carefully out of your mouth and casually strokes his cock with one hand as he wipes spit from your face with the other. "I think you've been a perfect angel, baby girl, so you've earned your reward. Where would you like it?"

"Bed, please, Daddy." Your voice is hoarse and scratchy, but you don't care, and Hyunwoo doesn't seem to either as he pulls his sweats up and then bends. The world spins for a moment and then steadies, and you realize he's got you in his arms. Hyunwoo carries you like a princess towards the room you share, and tosses you on the bed without hesitation.

Your eyes widen as he starts to strip out of his clothes, and you can't deny that you enjoy the show. The torso of muscles all rippling, the golden skin all shining, the desire in his eyes. Then the sweats — they hit the ground with a thud and you idly hope his phone is alright before you remember there are more important things right now.

He is, unsurprisingly, still hard — almost painfully so, a deep swollen pink at the head and jumping every so often. The vein running up the underside is throbbing, and you can actually feel yourself get wetter with anticipation.

One knee rests on the mattress, then the other, and Hyunwoo is crawling towards you on his hands and knees, and you can see every muscle as it shifts and fuck you love this man.

"I love you," you tell him, not for the first time. He breaks for a second, a bright smile taking over his face.

"I love you," he replies, pressing a kiss to your thigh. "Can we take those clothes off now, baby, because as great as you look, you're even better naked."

Breath catches in your throat and you nod. Hyunwoo is almost reverent as his hands glide up your thighs and is exceedingly gentle as he slides down the zipper and then the skirt itself. He smiles again, almost shy, and you can't help but marvel at the fact that this is the same man who bad you gagging on his dick not five minutes ago.

He leans in and gently nudges your nose with his, but when you lean forward to kiss him, he backs away with a playful grin. His warm hand rests on your waist and he leans in again only to dart back when you try to kiss him — not far, though. He's still close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath mix with yours, but it's still infuriating. 

You pout at him, and his smile just grows. "What is it?" He asks, teasing. "What do you want?" His lips ghost over yours as he speaks and it nearly breaks you.

"You," You whine. "I want you."

"You have me." He leans forward then, capturing your lips with an intensity you haven't seen in a long time. His mouth moves against yours and it's firm, commanding, and absolutely intoxicating as he pulls back just to lightly bite your lips. It's not rough, not really, but it's fiery and exciting and everything you've wanted. 

He presses closer, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse in what seems like an instant. Warm hands cross your spine and then your bra is gone, too. His skin seems to meld to yours, hands moving everywhere as he lays you back. 

Your breath hitches when you feel him against your entrance and he smiles into the bruise he's sucking into your throat. 

"You're so fucking wet, baby," he breathes as his tip teases against your entrance. "You're always so wet for me, so ready to be fucked. Just a perfect fucking whore, huh?" He slides in then, but only a bit. Just like before, it's just barely enough for you to feel him stretching you out. Just a tease of what's to come.

"Hyunwoo," you whine. You can see the amusement in his eyes as he chuckles.

"What is it? You want more?" He slides in further, but just a centimeter. You whine again, pushing your hips up against his to try to push him deeper. You can feel yourself throbbing, aching, for him, and you're tired of being teased. You want to be full. 

You tell him as much, watching his pupils dilate with every word until there's hardly any iris left to be seen. 

"Is that so?" He mutters, almost to himself. "Well, your wish is my command." He slides in, slowly, but this time he doesn't stop. He just keeps going and going and going, until you can feel him at your cervix. It stings – you're stretched so far, and he's so deep inside – but you relish it. 

"Beautiful," Hyunwoo mutters as he begins to slide back out, inch by agonizing inch. You whimper as the tip nearly slides out, too, and your hips lift of their own accord. Hyunwoo takes the hint and pushes back in; he creates a rhythm, one so slow, so maddening, that you're on the verge of tears as you whine and whimper underneath him. 

He notices your frustration, pulls himself away from lazily mouthing at your nipples, and hums. 

"What's wrong, baby? You aren't satisfied yet?" He gives you that Boy-Next-Door grin that you know hides a demon behind it. "Are you going to ask nicely again? Tell me no one fills you up like I do and beg me to fuck you the way you want? You look so pretty when you beg."

Any other time, you wouldn't. You would at least hesitate, make him work a little harder for your pleas. But you're desperate and frustrated and have no shame, so you don't hesitate. 

"Please, Daddy," you beg, letting your legs fall open and arching your back so his eyes drop lower and lower. "Please, Daddy, no one can fill this pussy like you do, no one can fuck my holes like you. Pl–please," you moan as he slides entirely inside once more, "Please fuck me right, make me come on your cock, I wan– wanna be fucked stupid, want you to– to fuck me stupid, please, wanna be Daddy's perfect slut, pl– Ah!"

You can't help your surprised gasp as Hyunwoo flips you onto your stomach with a low growl.

Warmth drapes along your back as you rise up, palms splayed across the sheets and elbows locked to keep you upright; his skin is sweat-slick and heated against your own, and a shiver runs down your spine when he pauses to runs his teeth along the lobe of your ear. 

"You are the best part of my life," he announces.

Butterflies explode in your belly a split second before he slides out of you.

"And I'm gonna make you cum so hard that you'll never forget that fact."

"Hyunwo— Oh!"

He thrusts into you with enough force to toss you into the headboard, had he not planted one hand firmly on your hip and had the other curled around your breast to tease your nipple. 

"You like that?" Hyunwoo asks with a smile in his voice. He repeats the movement and you clench around him as you gasp out a moan.  It's all you can do to nod and he flicks your nipple in response. "Good."

He lifts up, both hands now holding you steady by an iron grip on your hips, and readjusts his legs so yours are spread slightly wider. Your arms are trembling but you pay them no mind. 

Until Hyunwoo thrusts forward, pulling back just as quickly only to bury himself again, a heartbeat later. His pace is absolutely merciless; the sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, mixing beautifully with the wet slide as he shoves back in and the rough, throat moans that he pulls from you. Your vision swims, and you can't concentrate on anything else as he gives you the fucking that's been haunting your dreams every night. 

He adjusts his grip, one hand moving to sit firmly on the small of your back and press you down just a bit. The angle shifts – not much, but enough that the next time he pounds into you, he thrusts right up against that spot that makes your toes curl. 

You cry out, vision going white as he hits it again, and again, and again, absolutely ruthless in his mission. Your muscles go weak, biceps twitching as they give out, and then you're face down in the mattress. Hyunwoo doesn't hesitate, just ghosts his palm down to rest between your shoulders and keep you in place. 

He might be talking – you certainly think you hear the low tones of his voice as he speaks to you, but you can't make out words. It's too much work, too many syllables, too much effort to try to work past the haze that blankets your mind. You can still feel him, pumping in and out of your gushing pussy — the stretch barely stings anymore, and he throbs inside of you.  Each thrust is still perfectly angled to hit that mind-numbing place that keeps you from doing anything more than screeching his name. 

He slows, immediately switching from speed to power as he manages to put even more force behind his hips. The hand in your back moves, as does the one on your hip and then you're rising.

A warm palm across your throat – not choking,  just keeping you in place while the other traces along your spread thigh. 

There are words – something your brain is too fried to make out, and then a rumble that vibrates through you. A laugh. His thrusts get a little faster as he fucks up into you, and you're dimly aware of his fingers slipping between your folds. 

Someone screams — no, not someone. You. You scream, something so loud and provocative that it can't even be called a moan anymore, as he begins to rub circles around your clit. Orgasms rock through you,  every part of your body going boneless even as you shake from the force of it. It's impossible to tell when it stops, if it stops – the aftershocks are strong and he still hasn't stopped fucking you, though he's slower and gentler now, letting you ride it out on his cock. 

"……perfect for me, " you hear him whisper as you're senses come back. "Absolutely perfect, an amazing fucking— just divine, you are."

"Hyun," you manage, and it's no shock that you sound absolutely wrecked.  "D– Daddy."

"I'm here, baby girl," he mutters, "What do you need?"

"You," You respond instantly. "Want you, wanna fee– feel it, want you to fill me, please, in– ah, inside, want you dripping ou–" You're cut off once more as your body heaves with yet another aftershock, clenching around his hard length again. 

"Whatever you want, baby," he promises. "Can you come once more for me, baby girl? Just one more time so we can come together?"

"Mm…." You pause, taking the best inventory you can as your muscles jolt again. You consider lying to him, or just omitting this, because you know he'll never stop reminding you of it, but decide against it. Instead, you quietly admit,  "I don't think I ever stopped."

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. Within moments, you can feel his thrusts turn more erratic, more frenzied, and then you're impossibly fuller even as something warm drips down the inside of your thigh. 

He's gentle as he lays you down on the bedspread, exceedingly so as he pulls his softening cock out of you. His weight disappears from the bed for a few minutes that seem to stretch into hours, and then the mattress dips, and his soft smile appears once more. 

"Here sweetheart, drink this." He hands you a familiar cup and when you take a sip, the water is cool and refreshing. Wet warmth, surprising but pleasant, glides along your inner thigh and you look down to see him cleaning you up. 

"Mm, this is quite possibly the perfect view," you tease, wagging your brows as you make a show of checking out his muscular arms. It makes him laugh, the soft one that's just for when you're being ridiculous. 

"Drunk your water, you menace," he commands as he continues to wipe. "You're gonna need to replenish your fluids, after all that." He looks pointedly towards the bed and you follow his gaze, face heating when your eyes land on the rather sizable wet spot staining the sheets. 

"Whoops?" You offer. When you look back at him, he only looks fond. 

"Don't even start, it was hot. Besides, they needed to be put in the wash anyway.  I'll start them after you get into the bath." He gives over you, taking kisses along every piece of skin he can until he reaches your lips. You can't help the way your breath catches – even after all this time, he manages to make you breathless over the smallest things.

He peppers kisses along your cheeks, and nose, and everywhere else until you're giggling and trying to turn away from him. Unfortunately, with his arms on either side of you, you're fairly well trapped, so you settle for fucking your head into his neck instead. 

You pause. Sniff again. Back up. He looks sheepish, like he already knows what you're going to say. 

"We were out of the fancy stuff—" He tries, but you don't let him. 

"You used that 3-in-1 shit again?" You demand. "Actual body wash isn't even fancy, it's what normal people use! That's it, you're coming into the bath with me after you start the laundry so that I can make sure you didn't use it in your hair, too."

He smiles again, though you have a sneaking suspicion that he's just humoring you when he nods and says, "Whatever you want."

#shownu smut #shownu x reader #reader insert #dddaenggtan

[sweetlavenderwritings]

Little to No Space

summary: tendou has a little crush on a certain someone, their straight faced manager that never reacts to his weird shenanigans. his best friend advises that they should get closer. 

-or, you get stuck in a locker with the guess monster.

a/n: this was based off an asmr i listened to a couple nights ago (you were hiding in a locker with a teacher of yours) it was kinda funny bc the one who  voiced it was oikawa’s official va. anyways, take whatever this is lol.

pairing/s: tendou satori x reader

wc: 2 147 (whoops)

tags: crack, comedy(?), humor, ur literally just in a funny situation lol, nsfw implication if u squint

-ꦼ———▸  crossposted on ao3

⋅. ♪ .⋅  Loving Tendou Playlist

“You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.”  Ushijima’s deep voice broke him out of his trance, catching his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wakatoshi-kun.” He deflected. Okay, maybe he did tend to stare at you. But he swears he didn’t do it that much.

Ushijima rolled his eyes at that, “I may not be the brightest when it comes people-”

“You got that right.” He snickered while putting his gym clothes away.

“As I was saying, I at least know she isn’t the least bothered by you,” he shut his locker door with a firm bang, interrupting his musing for a moment, “we can all see how she isn’t fazed by whatever antics you flung at her.”

“But that’s just because she’s just like you!” His best friend raised his brows at him. “Not completely, but she’s uhh, I don’t know-stoic. Straight faced and doesn’t say anything much unless necessary.”

“I’m not stoic.” 

“Sure you aren’t.” Has he really not noticed?

“So you’re implying that you can be close to her?” He knew his best friend can be quite obtuse sometimes, but where did that come from?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, where did even get that idea?” He turned his attention to his duffel bag, already done with the conversation.

But it seems Ushijima wasn’t, “You said she was just like me, even if it was just a bit. And since we’re close, that means you could be with her as well.”

“You’re grasping at short straws here Ushiwaka,” he teased. “Why do you seem so persistent to get me to talk to her?”

“Because I think she might be one of the few people that would actually tolerate your weird personality, rather than shun you for it like most people would.” Oh, that was actually helpful. He knew Ushijima rarely spoke, but whenever he did, it was always something meaningful and helpful.

Ushijima scratched at his neck, looking around the locker room looking for something.

“Uhh, watcha looking for there buddy?”

“I’m missing my pair of socks.” Ushijima groaned. Suddenly, all his previous thoughts of him being meaningful was diminished within a second. 

“That’s the fourth time this week ‘Toshi.”

“I know, but for some reason they don’t end up where they’re supposed to be.” He was pouting, the redhead could tell. You wouldn’t actually see it until you looked closely.

He had to reassure their captain before he drones about ads he read in today’s newspaper. He was not interested in discounts held for sock stores. “We’ll ask the janitors tomorrow, okay? Don’t fret about it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Ushijima nodded. They both grabbed their bags then turned to leave, until they heard a knock at the door.

“Uhm, excuse me. Is Tendou-kun here by any chance?” Speak of the devil...

He stilled, clearly not expecting for you to look for him. He wondered how long you’ve been there, hoping you haven’t heard a single word from their conversation that just happened to be about you.

Ushijima looked at him, a faint smirk curved at the corners of his lips. He gave him a look as if to say, this is your chance.

Without consulting him if he even wanted to answer, he strode towards the door and opened it without warning, causing you to jump back in surprise. The basket of jerseys nearly fell from your hands in shock. 

He mentally slapped himself in the face. Way to go Wakatoshi, scare off our manager.

“Satori’s right here,” He waved to him, standing still like a deer in the headlights. “I must go.” He walked past you, leaving no space for you to even start a conversation with him.

“Oh, uhm alright. Thank you Ushijima-san.” You waved to Ushijima before to turning to him, looking at him with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, it seems I interrupted you on your way home. But I promise this will be quick.” You said with a flat tone. You reached down on the freshly laundered basket of jerseys, fumbling with the different colored fabrics as you looked for something. 

With a victorious ‘ah’, you held up a familiar pair of socks. 

“I kept seeing these somewhere in your locker rooms whenever I clean after practice. I usually just place them on the benches but this time it was on basket with the rest of the jerseys so I took the liberty to wash them.” He took them from your hands, fingers lightly brushing when he grab ahold of the very socks his best friend was pouting about. He jolted, feeling a sensation from the minimal contact.

Either you ignored him or didn’t notice, which was probably the latter, you moved on to place the basket on a corner. 

‘You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.’

“So, how are you managing so far manager-chan?” He hoped his voice didn’t reveal how nervous he was to be alone with you. 

In truth, he liked being with you at any chance he could get. It was fun flinging non-nonsensical shit at you, just to get a reaction. It was like a challenge for him really, wanting nothing more than to see you flustered or even better, laugh at his jokes just for once.

You never looked irked or disgusted by his whole demeanor, which was something he appreciated a lot. He hoped you never would, fearing that it might be the inevitable truth he wasn’t willing to accept.

That he was a monster no one could truly understand.

“I’m still afraid of getting hit by a ball every time Ushijima-san serves, but other than that I’m doing fine.” You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaustion evident on your face. “You’re not going home, Tendou-san? It’s already late, I suggest you hurry now so you can rest easy for tomorrow’s practice.”

He smirks, suddenly feeling a mood for a good teasing. “Dawww, is our dear little manager concerned for the resident Guess Monster?” He quirked a brow as he leered at you with a teasing grin. 

Unperturbed, you tilted your head, looking a bit puzzled. “Of course I am. I am your manager after all, isn’t it my job to look after the team?”

“Don’t be shy, you can just say you like me, manager-chaaan~” He thought really shouldn’t tease you like that but he really can’t help himself.

What happened next surprised him the most.

He figured you’d wave off his teasing like always, roll your eyes then move on with your day. But instead, he spots the blushing of your cheeks. Something he didn’t expect from you at all.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops at the sounds of footsteps nearing the locker room.

Shit. If the team saw you alone with him in the locker rooms at this hour it’ll be the death of him. You wouldn’t have cared, but he knows they’ll hold it over his head and tease him relentlessly, insinuating that there’s something going on between the two of you.

With a hushed ‘Quick!’ he grabs your arm then pulls you into a vacant locker. He shuts the door in haste, making a loud bang that makes him wince. 

“Tendou what’re you-” he shuts you up with a hand covering your mouth. He looks at you pleadingly as he zips up his lips, urging you to stay quiet. You nod with his hand still covering your lips. 

“Hurry up Semi! We’re gonna be late!” Reon’s voice booms loudly as they enter the room, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

“Wait a damn minute will you? I just forgot my wallet.” The sound of a locker opening fills in the sudden silence. He waits with a bated breath hoping they’ll leave soon.

But it seems that wasn’t the case. 

“Say... Isn’t that Tendou’s duffel bag?” You both hear Shirabu’s voice ask with uncertainty. Tendou freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a muffled noise of shuffling. “Yeah, it’s his alright. It’s his jacket draped over it.”

“Then why is it still here? Shouldn’t he have left by now?”

“Didn’t we pass by Ushijima just earlier?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

The locker you were both hiding in was getting hotter by the minute. He feels a sweat trickle down his neck as he tries not to breathe loudly as to not grab attention. 

When Ushijima told him to get closer to you, he surely didn’t mean this!

Your soft hands reach to take his off your mouth. He mouths a soft ‘sorry’ but you shake your head softly, not minding his mistake in the slightest. With the ongoing conversation about his whereabouts outside he distracts himself with little details he begins to notice.

Like how you smelled of baby powder and faint deodorant, or how there are strands of your hair sticking to your exposed neck from your ponytail. He tries hard not to think about how close you were. Your shoulders pressed against his chest, head just below his chin, and your hips just right where his-

“Tendou-kun,” he hears you whisper. He cranes his just a bit, trying to get a look at your face. “Your phone is bumping my hip, I know there’s not much space but can you please move it a bit?” 

Phone? What phone? He was pretty sure he left it in his bag━

“Sorry.” He apologizes meekly, wiggling his hips away from you as he desperately wills his sudden hard on to calm down. This locker was gonna be the death of him soon if he stays here any longer. 

He thanks whatever deity is at work above for your obliviousness. A blessing in disguise he’s really thankful at the moment.

“Eh, why’re we wasting time here? He probably just went to the bathroom.” Semi cuts off as he grabs his wallet. Tendou thanks the ashen blond silently, promising not to tease him just for a day.

He hears the door shut. He waits until the footsteps are completely gone, then sighs in relief when no one comes back.

“Phew, that was a close call. Who knows what might’ve happened if they found us here.” He lets out a laugh, “we can leave now, [y/n]-chan.”

Then he’s looking at you, head ducked so he couldn’t see much of your face. But he peers between the strands of your hair and finally notices how flustered you look.

He smirks. “[y/n]-chan?” 

For once in your life, you try to avoid his eyes.“O-oh! Tendou-kun, are they gone yet?” 

“If I knew better manager-chan~ Judging by your flustered face, I would assume you actually wanted to stay here with me.”

Your eyes widen like saucers. “No! It’s just that it’s cramped in here, it got hot so I am blushing for different reasons!” Your composure was breaking by the minute, hands flailing in exaggeration as you try to explain in defense. 

He barks out a laugh. “Manager-chan, I was just kidding! Calm down for me, hm?” You don’t reply.

“Alright, I’m sorry for teasing you.” He says as he reaches for the knob, “let’s just get out of here-”

You shoot your hand on his wrist, surprising the both of you. “Uh... about what you just said.”

He waits for you to continue. With a deep breath you try to finish your sentence. “I don’t mind, being here with Tendou-kun.... that’s all.”

The message clicks in his brain. I like you Tendou-kun.

“Oh.” He replied numbly. He was sure he must’ve looked stupid with the face he was making, still awestruck at what you just admitted.

You giggle, a sound he finds himself emitting to his memory.

“You’re weird as ever Tendou-kun,” the look of adoration you gave him nearly made him choke. “But that’s fine, I like that about you.” 

Two confessions all at once? Was this a dream? Boy, he surely was gonna panic about this to Ushijima later, not that he’d be any of help.

Waving away the butterflies in his stomach, he ruffles your hair. “You’re too full of surprises today [y/n]-chan. Someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack if you just suddenly give me these cute faces without warning.”

He feels himself smile wide at another bashful look you give him.

“Now let’s get out of here.” He twists the knob inside but it doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to twist it another way but it still doesn’t move. He struggles with it for a minute until he gives up. 

It wouldn’t open.

“Uhh... Tendou-kun, I think we might have to call the others.” He hears you say tentatively. 

“Sure, do you have your phone with you?”

You pat your pockets for a second. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my bag. How about we use your phone instead?” 

“...” 

#LSAHDLKAS #no editing again #imma pass out now lol #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou satori x you #haikyuu satori #satori fluff #tendou fluff #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu

[angeltrapz]

hey dude 💚 sorry yr having a shit night too— chainshipping ask tho! I’m always down to head more thoughts abt just. things they do to make th other person smile. but also favorite things to do together? not necessarily Big Activities but the lil domestic stuff (like cooking, maybe chores they do together, etc) that’s just better bc they’re Both doing it

Yeah it was a. rough one kdjks... ty <33

I'm always game to talk abt things they do to make the other smile!! One I think about all the time is the simple act of getting things for each other? Maybe sometimes before they even realize they want said thing, or that they need said thing. As you've mentioned b4 I do think Adam has one of those lavender-scented stuffed animals that you can put in the microwave (I have!! the celebration bear one, who naturally is named Lawrence bc he's blue... and uh... I associate teddy bears. w him) and sometimes, when Adam is doing poorly and has gone nonverbal, Lawrence will just be like "Oh! I know what might help!” so he’ll grab the husky from the bedroom (got Rlly attached to that idea when you mentioned it <33) and pop it in the microwave for a minute, rounding back to the couch to hand Adam one of his shirts to snuggle in and a kiss on the forehead. When he gets Adam’s husky from the microwave and hands it to him, Adam just kinda has a moment like oh... I didn’t even have to ask... and he smiles, for the first time that day, and honestly? It rlly does help, to have someone who knows what might comfort you/knows what types of things do, and who just. Does those things when you need them, sometimes without prompt. It’s an intimate kind of knowledge, and it makes Adam feel all warm on the inside.

Another good example of this is Adam making sure Lawrence has his cane while he's walking around the apartment, esp those first few months when he's just getting used to using it - because he's still learning + trying to get used to walking with his (properly fitted) prosthetic, he often left the cane in random places because Adam would often offer his arm if Lawrence needed it (which, again, took some time for him to be okay with, but Adam always tells him it's okay to need help sometimes), and it would frustrate him because he'd be sitting on the couch like "I. I don't know where I put it." but Adam will be like "It's okay, I know where it is!" and it's as simple as that! Lawrence can't help but smile when Adam hands it to him because Adam just. He gets how hard it is. It's so simple to Adam but to Lawrence it means a whole lot. <3

Something else is that Lawrence will remind him to eat. I've touched on this a little bit b4, but Adam has issues with food that extend past textures and tastes and such - his eating is very disordered, and has been since childhood. He doesn't eat three meals a day, sometimes he hardly eats anything at all (usually the bare minimum that will allow him to take his medications without getting sick), he tends to gravitate towards snacks/easy foods that aren't necessarily super healthy, and combined with him already being underweight + having spent the last seven or eight years since leaving his parents' place at 18 getting by on very little, it causes him frequent dizzy spells/fainting episodes. It also takes him a while to realize that hey, I don't have to spread my meals out anymore, I don't have to worry about getting food, and I don't have to feel guilty about eating when I'm hungry. I think Lawrence is a very observant person by nature, and while he might not understand it fully right away, I think he'd definitely realize that some of these issues are tied to the state of the apartment he'd seen only once + Adam's life from before.

So he doesn't force him to eat, obviously, because that doesn't work and helps no one, but he will definitely be like "Hey, I know you're not feeling great today, but why don't I grab you a granola bar or something? We have those oranges you like too. I just want to make sure you don't give yourself a headache or get sick." and admittedly Adam is. Not used to that kind of regard whatsoever. But it feels so much easier to at least eat something small when he knows Lawrence sees him, understands that it's hard and isn't forcing anything out of him. I do think that once they settle into a routine after moving in together, some of that becomes a little bit easier because hey, he's not living paycheck to paycheck, he doesn't have to survive off of ramen and monster energy, he's allowed to eat and not worry about what happens after. The stress of worrying about groceries is definitely nonexistent with Lawrence, and that takes so much weight off of Adam's shoulders; not to embtion the fact that Lawrence is also conscious about his same foods, and makes sure they've always got some in the kitchen. It's not easy, but having someone care about him so much, someone who wants to make sure he's eating right and caring about him like that always makes Adam smile a little bit.

For Lawrence, I think a big thing is just like... seeing Adam hanging out with Diana? There's nothing that will put a smile on his face faster than coming home from work to find the two of them in the living room, a Disney movie (or The Princess Bride!) playing in the background while Diana paints Adam's nails bright glittery blue and pink, because she wanted to practice patterns and she really likes the glitter. Her nails are already painted black with a glitter coat on top - "Adam's nails always look so pretty like that, and he said maybe I couldn't do full black, so he put glitter on them too!" - and he's sitting there, hand spread out on the coffee table while they both sit on the floor, talking about anything and everything that pops into Diana's head, and Lawrence just kind of stands there and watches for a little while. His two favourite people, relaxing together, enjoying each other's company. Adam turns around and Lawrence has always got this huge grin on his face, just like, "Oh, don't mind me. What was it you were talking about, Diana?" which of course prompts her to jump up to give him a huge hug, but after that she's right back to painting Adam's nails, and Lawrence is more than content to just sit in and listen. (He also absolutely adores finding Adam reading to her before bed, because he does voices and everything. He gets a little bit embarrassed about it at first, but once he sees Lawrence watching them with the most loving look he thinks he's ever seen, he just blushes, smiles back, and continues. Sometimes Lawrence joins in, but not always, because then it becomes a competition of voices and they'll never get Diana to bed if she's laughing too hard!!)

Another is that Adam is really good at pulling him out of his own head. He can usually tell when Lawrence is thinking way too hard about something, or when he's beating himself up for some perceived slight he feels he's somehow performed, or when something is bothering him and he's debating whether or not to bring it up for fear of bothering Adam. Often times he'll just sit beside him wherever he is, or lead him somewhere to sit down if they're standing, and he'll just guide Lawrence's head to rest on his chest and he'll just talk softly, making sure Lawrence isn't sitting in silence, knowing that Lawrence doesn't typically feel up to talking himself right away. He'll run his fingers through his hair and tell him about his day, or something he saw while scrolling through his phone/on TV, sometimes he'll read to him, basically just letting him know that hey, I'm right here, I know you're not doing great right now, and that's okay. I'm here for you. Lawrence cries sometimes when Adam does this, the relief of being held + feeling safe enough to express his emotions making it easier, but he smiles by the end of it because he knows how much Adam loves him + wants to make sure he's okay, and he knows that Adam isn't going to judge him. It's the safety of it all. <3

Favourite things to do together!!! Like you mentioned I like to think they do chores together! It’s just more fun that way. Again as you’ve mentioned b4, I think Adam has some difficulty with the dishes despite liking the repetitiveness of the task, both because of textures and because of his shaky hands - so what they do is Lawrence will wash the plates themselves and then hand them off to Adam, who will dry them and put them away/the strainer! They both find it helps a lot to just be around each other like this, listening to the radio above the stove and bumping hips, tapping their feet, sometimes humming along if they know the song well enough. It’s just a nice little routine. (Sometimes they dance in the kitchen after, and sometimes to the goofiest pop songs Adam has ever heard, but if you heard that, no you didn't.)

They like folding laundry together, too! That one is just because it's fun. Lawrence will toss him one or two of his shirts while they're warm because he knows Adam likes the feeling + stealing Lawrence's clothes, and every now and then Adam will throw a washcloth at him just 'cause he thinks it's funny (it is, especially bc Lawrence's gut response is to throw it back?? so they look like two dorks bc they're just throwing it back and forth???), and it's just a nice way to share space. Sometimes they get a bit too caught up in whatever is on TV (its on bc they both need background noise) and end up just sitting against the couch, two baskets of laundry on either side of them, and then eventually Adam will be like "Okay babe I think we should probably finish folding clothes now," and Lawrence will just groan like "I forgot that's what we were doing. Damn it." and they take a moment to laugh before they finish up. (Adam Loves hearing Lawrence swear bc he doesn't do it often, so even smth as simple as "damn it" cracks him up for a good minute lmao!!)

I do think they also enjoy cooking together!! Adam will hand him ingredients/assist in cutting vegetables/what have you; I think, for the most part, that Lawrence does the majority of the cooking, but Adam does help where he can! Sometimes he'll just hop up onto the counter and hand Lawrence things as he needs them, and Lawrence thanks him with either a squeeze to his hand or a kiss on the cheek, and Adam will joke about how he's basically just sitting there looking pretty, but he learns very quickly that Lawrence will just be like "Well, you DO look very pretty, so I think that's fine," and it ends with Adam red in the face but smiling into his hands anyway. The payoff is always a nice meal that they can sit down to together, and it's just such a peaceful, enjoyable thing for them to do together!!

Other than those three they'll take turns doing chores for each other - sweeping, dusting, tidying up the bathroom, things like that just to help each other out <3

#saw #adam #lawrence #asks #thank you so so much <33 #mood kind of bled into today too so this was nice to sit down n reply to!! #once again giving adam a lot of my food issues... im healthier now but it was bad for a while #I think abt them so much!!! many thoughts head full!! #hey the washcloth thing? I do that #its fun when yr w your friends hdjdmdkd #aaaa I loved answering this!! #long post #diana #FORGOT TO TAG MY GIRL im sorry diana

[tomoonine]

impression | oneus soulmate au

[son dongju] — dongju doesn’t know what frustrates him more; the fact that his soulmate met dongmyeong first, or that they met keonhee first.

soulmate au wherein the first sentence your soulmate will ever tell you is tattooed on your wrist.

Pairing: xion / reader (gender-neutral)  Genre: soulmate au, non-idol AU, fluff, humor Word Count: 2139 words

☽. check out the other members’ versions below! ravn | seoho | leedo | keonhee | hwanwoong | xion

to be honest, dongmyeong looks more like keonhee’s twin rather than yours

That sentence has been written permanently on Dongju’s skin since he and Dongmyeong turned 10

He’s thankful that his sentence isn’t super generic

Bc you know, generic sentences are going to make it hard for him to distinguish who his soulmate is

Although initially as a kid, Dongju only had one question in his head when his soulmate mark manifested on his skin

Who the heck is Keonhee???

It bothered little Dongju so much that he had to ask everyone within his vicinity if they knew who this guy was

Not a single relative of his was named Keonhee

Not even a family friend

Even Dongmyeong didn’t know who this “Keonhee” was

And asking Dongmyeong’s friends if they knew anyone proved fruitless too

Dongju wasn’t too focused on finding his soulmate at this point

Rather

He was too busy trying to find out who Keonhee was

And why he looks like his twin Dongmyeong

.....who else would even look like Dongmyeong more than himself???

But back to Dongju’s dilemma

Since his link’s manifestation, Dongju has been especially sensitive with regards to names

When he looks at his assigned section for school, he looks through the class list for anyone named “Keonhee”

Dongmyeong has even taken initiative to report any Keonhee’s he might have a chance of meeting

But at this rate

It has come to a point where Dongju sometimes forgets that

His soulmate isn’t named Keonhee,,,,

For real, it’s the only thing that goes in his head sometimes when someone reminds him of his soulmate

And it has been that way for so long

Until the magical day !

That he met !

Not you lmao

But Keonhee !

On that fateful day

It was Dongmyeong and Dongju’s first day in a local music school

They were both going to start taking vocal lessons :]

The twins were older by this time

And Dongmyeong at this point was thinking about starting a band with his friends in the neighborhood

Dongmyeong was already learning the piano that time, and he wants to explore and expand his skillset

Dongju meanwhile was just pretty chill

So their parents let him get lessons, and decided that Dongju should take some lessons too 

Bc y’know, you have to maximize that stuff, and the Son Parents were thinking like s t o n k s

And surprise surprise, Dongmyeong and Dongju get to meet so many cool people at the music school!!

The other students so friendly and welcoming

Even while they’re waiting for their turn in front of their designated room, they’re still chatting with some people

One student kept them company the entire time even after most of the community left to practice on their own

The guy Yonghoon enjoyed their company!! He was even happy to hear that Dongmyeong was forming a lil band with his friends

It was basically just a fun conversation between the three of them about music

Until the person occupying the twins’ room opened the door

Dongju and Dongmyeong look up to see a tall guy smiling at them

“Hi! The teacher said that it’s your first lesson, come in!” The stranger tells them, and it prompts the twins to go in

Bidding their new friend goodbye, they shyly enter the room

Dongju and Dongmyeong greet him, and they both introduce themselves to the stranger

“I’m Lee Keonhee!! I’m technically your senior, but I hope we can be good friends!!” Keonhee introduces himself with a happy smile, and Dongju’s face hardens

“Keonhee?” Dongmyeong questions, and his head whips fast to look at Dongju

“You!!!” Dongju yells, pointing at him.

Keonhee is confused

Keonhee is scared

“Me?” Keonhee asks, a bit terrified from the sudden outburst

Dongju hurryingly shows Keonhee his soulmate mark and points at it

“You have something to do with my soulmate!!!” Dongju explains, and Keonhee is now s u p e r  c o n f u s e d

The taller boy is just scratching his head

“Er... I’m sorry to break it to you, Dongju was it?” Keonhee sheepishly replies. “I’m not your soulmate, unless you’re the one who sent me that shopping list and homework reminder earlier morning then you have explaining to do too.”

What

No???

Dongmyeong can’t help but laugh because bro no,,, that’s not what he meant,,,,

Dongju has to clarify that 

No Keonhee, you are not my soulmate,,, 

“What I meant to say,” Dongju says “Was that I’ve been trying to find out who you were and why you looked like Dongmyeong,,,”

Keonhee stares at him, and looks at Dongmyeong. 

“You know, I can see the semblance.” Keonhee tells the two, making his point clearer by actually standing beside Dongmyeong.

“But there’s a problem...” He adds, catching the twins’ attention. “I’ve only met you guys now :0 Sorry man, I don’t think I know who your soulmate is.”

Ah right

Dongju forgot

He has to look for his soulmate

Right...

So okay, he’s finally met Keonhee, but it still brought Dongju to a bigger dilemma,,,,,,, 

Keonhee just met them both, so today wasn’t the legendary day where Dongju could finally meet his soulmate

It takes even longer for him to meet you, and it disappoints him immensely

He can’t help but feel a little bothered that destiny will constantly test his patience

And he’s a bit tired :(( He’s waited and searched for so long :(( Dongju just wants to meet you so bad :((

And he still can’t believe that you’ll meet Dongmyeong and Keonhee first

Like,,, universe why like that,,,,,,, 

On the brighter side of things though, the entire period prior to meeting you was a fruitful time for Dongju to meet the best friends of his life !

Yonghoon, upon the request of Dongmyeong and his other bandmates, joined their band “Onewe”

Keonhee, being friends with Hwanwoong and co., brought Dongju in their little friend group

And it was honestly a great time for Dongju because he finally has a group of friends from different schools and backgrounds :>

It’s so wholesome; Dongju’s friend group always make it a point to watch Onewe perform when they have gigs, and Onewe visit the open mic sessions at the cafe Youngjo’s part-timing in to either perform or watch

They’ve given Dongju great company, and it made him feel less disappointed in his failed efforts to find you

We love the power of friendship ♥

But just because he’s less disappointed about his unsuccessful attempts of finding you, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t stopped searching :(

He already knows that Dongmyeong and Keonhee are nearby, so he can say definitively that you’re also just around

Everyone in his circle of friends are actively helping him out too!! 

When they meet anyone new, they all make it a point to introduce Dongju to them

Despite the effort

It doesn’t really seem to work . 

Because no one ever replies to Dongju using those words

Until the fateful day came

The day Dongju finally meets you happens approximately a decade after his soulmate mark manifested on him as a kid

Most of the people in the group are still in college, save for Youngjo, Seoho, and Yonghoon who were either pursuing higher studies or are working

Dongju and Dongmyeong are taking courses from different departments, and they don’t take the same general subjects

Which is advantageous in a way because at least they get to meet a more diverse set of people

And thanks to that, you managed to become classmates with both Keonhee and Dongmyeong for a general education subject !

You don’t know a lot of people in this subject because you got separated from your friends who were supposed to take the same subject :( 

So you were dreading groupworks because it looked like almost everyone knew each other and would group together :(

Besides, you can’t escape groupworks no matter where you go

So when the dreaded moment arrives, you’re having trouble finding anyone to group into three with

You’re busy looking for a group that would be willing to take you in :,)

Meanwhile Dongmyeong and Keonhee are joint by the hip, looking for someone who would join their little group

It felt like d e s t i n y when you and the pair made eye contact

It was like the sun shone on both of you

And the universe timed it just right for you to meet at this very moment

So you go to them, write your names in a paper to submit to the professor, and start planning

Based on your little meeting, it appears that you guys only have the weekends available to meet without interruptions and uncertainties, so you guys adjust accordingly

Online meetings during the weekdays, and physical meet-ups during the weekend if necessary; so you spent a lot of your time doing your parts individually while consulting each other online

But the thing is

Your online consultations also ended up being a time for you guys to get to know each other and become friends !!

During that class you share with Dongmyeong and Keonhee, you guys have started sitting beside each other !!

It usually ends up w one of you making a joke and trying hard not to laugh

Or hiding your snacks from the professor and eating like ur in a buffet in class

You even started hanging out with them sometimes outside classes, you drink boba together uwu 

AND because you are a new friend of Keonhee and Dongmyeong, by tradition, you have to be introduced to Dongju and co. !!!!

PLUS ! How coincidental ! Dongju is free this weekend ! So not only can you guys be productive with your project, but you can finally meet their other friends !

Keonhee and Dongmyeong tell you to meet them at the cafe where Youngjo works at this Saturday

For a grand introduction :>

Timeskip to Saturday, you see that Dongmyeong is waiting for you outside the cafe ! He leads you the way to the table they’re working, and upon entering, you can see Keonhee at the end of the cafe waving at you

But there’s someone else sitting beside him who’s on his phone

Dongmyeong points towards the table, particularly at the new person sitting beside Keonhee. “The rest of our friends will pass by later, but I hope you don’t mind if my twin brother joins us in the mean time. He’ll be working on his own thing so he won’t bother us.”

“Twin, huh...” You trail off a little bit. “It’s fine, I just hope he won’t be distracted by our wack behavior,,,”

“Nah it’s okay, he’s used to it lol”

You arrive at the table, and Keonhee greets you. Upon sensing a new presence, Dongju looks up to you from his phone and greets you with a little bow.

Now that you got a better view of what Dongju looks like

Damn

He’s cute

You can’t believe he’s Dongmyeongs twin bc for some reason he doesn’t look exactly like him

THIS ISN’T YOU SAYING THAT DONGMYEONG ISN’T CUTE THO

But looking at the guy....

It was like he was handcrafted by a higher being who took their time molding his face to what it was now

Ethereal

Beautiful

Wow

“(Y/N), this is my twin brother Dongju. He’s from the same university as us, but he’s from a different department.“ Dongmyeong says, with a pat on your shoulder.

Your eyes dart towards Dongju, Keonhee, and Dongmyeong.

Huh.

Twins, you say?

“To be honest,” You turn to face Dongmyeong, and you turn your head again to look at Dongju’s face, and back at Dongmyeong.

“Dongmyeong looks more like Keonhee’s twin,” Your hand is pointing towards Dongmyeong, and your heel spins to shift your body to face Dongju. “rather than yours.”

Dongju drops his phone on the table, and a blissful smile blossoms on his face

“It definitely means I’m the better looking twin, right?” He smiles, and when your hand goes up to cover your mouth in shock, he can see his words etched around your wrist like a bracelet.

Dongmyeong and Keonhee have their mouths ajar at the scene unfolding

And you can’t help but laugh at how this scenario was playing out

Dongju cracks a bit and laughs along

How unbelievable

He’s no longer frustrated at the fact that you met his brother and another friend first

He’s starting to think that the universe foresaw that this blossoming feeling in his heart was worth all the wait

Seeing you this happy, with a goregous smile handcrafted by a higher being

Standing and shining in front of him, as if the universe planned this out perfectly

It surely left a good impression on him

#oneus #oneus xion #son dongju #oneus scenarios #oneus imagines #oneus reactions #oneus au #oneus soulmate au #ravn #seoho #leedo #keonhee #hwanwoong #oneus x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop memes #kpop x reader #tomoonine writing

[pixcldust]

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ;

pairing | iwaizumi hajime x gn! reader

wordcount | 1.5k

warnings | mild mention of death, slight angst i think, small letters on purpose

tags | ambiguous ending, friendship to something more, no beta bc im shy

a/n | i don't write gender neutral often (i barely write in 2nd pov tbh) so if i messed something up, pls let me know!! it’s 1am but i couldn’t sleep lmaoo i’ll try to sleep again after posting this.

the beginnings of a love story in three parts. 

i.

it starts in the summer, with you lounging on a deck chair, eating candy that turns your tongue blue. you’re wearing shorts and a tanktop, in one of your friends’ big backyard, watching them scream and laugh in the pool. the sun feels like hell on your bare skin but the laughter is infectious and you’re laughing with them. never mind that it’s your last year of senior high school and that after this, you may never see half of these kids again. there is only the here, the now, and it’s brighter than you’ve ever felt for most of your life.

he comes over, a wide smile on his tan face and pool water dripping off his hair. his fingers move deftly to flick water at you, laughing as he dries his hands and picks up his phone. despite flipping him off, you note his good mood - it’s a rare sight to see him play around so childishly like this. you find that you quite like it.

“done with swimming?” you ask. he nods, eyes on his phone. the first few beats of some hip hop song that you don’t recognise starts playing from its speakers.

“my fingers look like prunes,” he groans as he puts down his phone and splays out his fingers at you childishly. you scrunch your face up at him in return.  “plus they want to go eat pizza after this, and hanamaki is gonna take years to shower so i wanted to get a headstart.”

“we’re eating pizza after?” you roll your eyes. “damn these kids and their big appetites.”

“you’re not hungry, because you’ve been eating so much candy,” he wrinkles his nose at the packet of pop rocks in your hand. “that’s not good for you, y’know?”

there’s a pause, him staring at you and you staring at him - time in a frozen state - before you sigh and motion for his hand. “if you wanted some, you could’ve just asked.”

iwaizumi grins as you pour some on his hand. his smile gleams bright against his skin. “thank you.”

he throws them into his mouth as he runs off to take a shower, and you feel a smile curve your lips. it’s odd. your boyfriend isn’t here - he’s opted to train today, even though it’s probably the last time all of you will ever be close together like this - but you can feel your heart skipping the way it does when you’re with him.

ii. 

you and oikawa started dating at the beginning of your third year. 

it was bound to happen eventually; at least, that’s what most of your friends told you so. you have always been friends with tooru and iwa and, when you reached high school, makki and mattsun. tooru was always the popular one, iwa was the reliable one and you were the calm one. a package deal - girls, students in general, who were interested in oikawa and were too intimidated to approach iwa would come to you. frankly, you didn’t mind. everyone had had a crush on oikawa at least once, and it wasn’t like you were any different when you were younger.

what you didn’t expect was for him to confess to you in your second year. it’s burned in the back of your memory: under the shade of one of the staircases near the gym, in the middle of your lunch break, tooru’s face reddening in embarrassment. you said yes, because you’ve always found him funny and cute and attractive in all the ways more than physical and wasn’t that enough to make a good relationship? 

apparently not, since it’s been several months since you last had a proper conversation with him.

he’s in the gym again today, still training by himself, even though he’s already graduated. he’s going to go overseas, to continue his volleyball training in another team. you know this because that was what he told you the last time you two had a proper conversation. good luck, you said to him because you know that volleyball meant that much to him. never mind that he always, always, always put the sport before you, because even though he was your boyfriend, he was also one of your best friends and that meant supporting his dreams. you’re going to be amazing.

you can hear the squeak of volleyball shoes on hard floor, the thwack of ball against flesh, as you approach the gym doors. he’s there - alone, because school’s out for the end-of-term holidays - and he doesn’t immediately notice you standing there. his eyes are too focused on the ball as he sets to himself. he’s always too focused on the ball.

when he does see you there, he lets the ball drop and give you a smile. “hey y/n. what are you doing here?”

seeing his happy face chips at some of your initial confidence and your words falter at your lips, unwilling to come out. a deep breath because if not now, then when? would you really be okay with letting this relationship drag on and on? if there’s one thing you’re certain of, it’s this: you have fallen out of love with oikawa tooru. and he knows it.

“tooru, I think we should break up.”

it hurts a little, if you’re being honest, as you watch the smile slide off his face, giving way to a soft frown. you know he’s had to do this before, watch a person leave him because he was a little too selfish to give up volleyball for anything else, and you hated knowing that he was going through it again. your fault this time. but you know he’s seen this coming. even matsukawa has asked if you were doing okay in a rare bout of seriousness before. at the time, you didn’t know how to answer the question.

oikawa tooru is a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. he should have seen this coming from miles away, a freight train hurtling at him with its headlights bright and glaring. it’s deliberate ignorance; oikawa saw the train. he just didn’t feel like stepping off the tracks.

“is this because of volleyball?” he asks, tilting his head. he doesn’t have an argument against you, and you know it’s because he’s felt the romantic love for you die off back to a platonic one. like you felt it. “if so, i’m sorry y/n, i didn’t mean to make you feel lonely-”

“it’s okay, tooru. i’m really proud of you, y’know? and... i hope we can stay friends.”

the last sentence sounds more like a question but he’ll understand. his frown disappears at your words, and while it’s not a smile, it’s something like acceptance and that’s good enough for you at the moment. picking up the ball, he nods. “me too.”

iii.

you’re in a tank top and shorts once again, under blistering heat, only this time they’re new clothes, and it’s just you and hajime. all your friends have grown up and out, dotted all across the country. you hum to yourself, stretching your fingers. hajime passes a packet of pop rocks to you.

“hey haji. have you ever thought about death?”

he eyes you suspiciously like you’re about to trick him with nothing but words, and it makes you want to laugh. “sometimes, yeah.”

makki and mattsun moved out of miyagi after high school opting to attend fancy universities in tokyo. tooru left japan completely - said he was going to train twice as hard overseas after the opportunity presented itself. that just left you and iwaizumi, attending the same college in miyagi. you didn’t mind and, despite iwa’s occasional huffs, he never seems to mind either.

and maybe it’s because the both of you are older now, because you’ve found someone who doesn’t mind the way you prefer to skip over small talk, but recently it feels like hajime has been becoming your source of energy more and more. after classes end, he’s quick to send you a text and you’re even quicker to respond - at this point, you’ve visited almost every cafe in miyagi. even the shitty ones, to hajime’s dismay and your amusement.

“we’re so old now, it feels like i’m on the brink of death,” you groan, pouring pop rocks straight into your mouth. they fizzle like miniature fireworks on your tongue. 

a magazine smacks you on the head but you can’t be bothered to turn and glare at him. you opt to glare straight ahead of you instead, to the pool and the few people in it. sunlight bounces off of the glittery water and your glare turns to a squint. “you’re 21, you’re not 71.”

“maybe it’s the heat getting to me.

“yeah, it’s seriously hot today,” iwaizumi knits his brows, sitting up in his seat. you steal a glance at his exposed biceps - bless his tank top - and feel a strange pound in your chest. opting to ignore it, your lips unfurl into a grin.

“sorry about that.”

the magazine thwacks you on the head again, but not before you see his lips curl into a amused smile to match yours. “shut up.”

all your friends have grown up and out, but your happiness is only beginning.

#iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi oneshot #haikyuu #hq!! #haikyuu!! #hq!! fic #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu oneshot #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x yn #pixcldustwrites #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #iwaizumi fluff #is this a oneshot idrk the terms #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

[yoon-kooks]

Pick Me Up

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, LIGHT smut, fwb!AU

Summary: Jimin has a cute habit of visiting his favorite songwriter late at night.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: five seconds of smut if you squint

A/N: reposting this drabble from 2018 bc tumblr is acting up again. also! im posting a new prequel to this later on today! 

-

Knock, knock. You glance away from your computer screen and into your mirror that reflects a shadowy figure standing outside your studio door. Normally, you wouldn’t respond to a potential zombie lurking around the BigHit building so late at night. But you know who it is.

“Did someone order a large coconut cold brew?” Jimin says in his best delivery boy voice. Of course, you hadn’t actually ordered anything, but you certainly are in dire need of a pick-me-up after working endless hours on a new song.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” you shake your head as he places the cold drink into your hands. With the first sip, you give him a smirk. “But thanks, Jimothy.”

“How’s the song coming along?” He looks over your shoulder at your computer and then back at your dark circles.

“It's… coming,” you sigh. As much of a knack you have for songwriting, there’s something that has you stumped. “At the very least, I’ve nearly finished the melody composition.”

“Ooh, can I hear what you have so far?” Jimin’s eyes light up. You love how genuinely interested he is in the songwriting process. He’s always dropping by your studio after completing his own schedule, often bringing you snacks or coffee from your favorite café. Although you know it’s sometimes just for a quickie, you really do appreciate his company.

“Jimin, the last time I gave you a sneak peek, you deadass leaked it onto Twitter,” you cross your arms. “Bang PD will lose his shit if it happens again without his consent.”

“In my defense, I just wanted to show off how talented our songwriter is~” Jimin says with a hmph.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes to conceal a smile, pulling the boy into your studio and shutting the door behind him. “Just don’t record anything or tell the other members about this!”

“It’ll be our secret.” His hushed ASMR voice is only a tiny bit seductive, slyly entwining his chubby pinky with yours. “Promise.”

“Hmm, on second thought, I don’t trust you~” You break off the pinky swear and skip back to your computer, sliding your headphones back over your ears. Teasing him is your favorite pastime.

“You’re so stubborn…” The boy rolls a chair over and takes a seat next to you. He just sits there quietly. Whether he’s paying more attention to you or to what you’re editing, you aren’t sure. All you know is that he’s never a bother to have around, especially when you’re stressed over deadlines and low on inspiration.

After rearranging a bit of the composition, you slip your headphones off and put them over the boy’s ears for him to hear. You stare into his focused eyes, watching his every reaction to your work in progress. He looks right back at you, trying his hardest not to give you any kind of feedback, just to spite you.

When the track ends, Jimin simply removes the headphones and deadass says it was “aite”.

“Go home!” You shove his shoulder and send him flying off on his rolling chair.

By the time he rolls his way back to you, you’ve already resumed working on the track. “I like it so far,” he watches and waits for you to turn towards him before giving you hearty eyesmile.

“Really?” You ruffle his soft hair before slipping your hand down to his neck. Your fingers massage him gently.

He nods. You use the tips of your fingers to tilt his chin, giving you full access to his plump lips. You can’t remember the last time the two of you had studio sex, but you’re certainly craving his touch, his affection, and his love.

“Do you have time?” Your voice is already breathy and needy, praying he says yes so you can soothe the growing ache between your legs.

“Only about five minutes,” Jimin glances up at your kitty clock as he lifts you up from your chair and onto your desk. “But we can make it work.”

You watch as he rids you of your leggings and lace before running a pair of fingers up your thigh and along your soaked center. The intense sensitivity makes your entire body shutter with lust and anticipation as he brings himself closer to your erect little bud. But at the same time, you realize you would be the only one on the receiving end.

“Jimin… Let’s wait for a time when we both have more than five minutes,” you say softly as you close your legs, though you appreciate the boy’s thoughtfulness to satisfy your dire needs.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he chuckles at your considerate gesture. “Besides, how’re you supposed to focus on work when you’re this wet?” He holds up his glazed finger tips to show proof of your sexual need before sucking them off. “Didn’t you say you work best after our little studio sessions?”

“Yeah, but…” you blush and pout, despite there being some truth in his words. There’s been plenty of times where you think you’ve lost all inspiration for a song until Jimin comes along to take your mind off work for just a little bit—sort of like a cleanse. Some of your greatest tracks have come after late nights spent with Jimin. But many of those nights didn’t even involve sex.

You hop your naked ass off the desk and push Jimin back into a chair with you on top of him. Your lips clash with his as you feel his grip tighten at your hips. “A makeout session will do for tonight,” you lick your lips, smiling at the boy. “I’d rather save the sex for a time when we have all night.”

“Quickies aren’t cutting it for you anymore?” Jimin asks between liplocks. You feel him getting hard through his sweatpants against your crotch.

“It’s not that,” you suck gently against his neck, just enough to get him to moan but not leave a mark. “I just don’t want to feel so rushed when I’m with you.”

“Oh? Is this a confession?” Jimin pulls away and smirks at you. “You enjoy spending time with me that much?”

“You can’t talk. You’re the one who always uses coffee as an excuse to visit my studio like twenty times a week.” Despite the defensive jab, your next peck is a soft one against the boy’s cheek. “But sometimes I just think about spending quality time with you outside of here…”

“Like dating.” Jimin’s smirk fades.

“I mean, I know we can’t, but-” You’re cut off by a long and tender kiss. It feels like forever before either of you pull away. And when you finally do, Jimin just stares into your eyes in silence.

“Anyway, I need to finish this song…” you say when you realize he can’t give you the reply you want. “… And you need to get home before the guys worry about you.”

You slip off of the boy’s lap to reclothe your lower half. He takes your hand as you walk him towards the door but stops you before you can turn the knob.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at your fingers interlaced with his. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the relationship you want…”

“It’s not your fault, Jimin. I don’t think you realize how much it means to me every time you drop by the studio. Even if it’s one time or twenty times a week.” You wish he wouldn’t always blame himself. If anything, you’re grateful that he takes time out of his busy day to spend with you. He dotes on you because he adores you. “We don’t need to date for me to know your feelings.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles with less worry. “But if you ever want to spend time outside of the studio, let’s hang out at the dorms, yeah? It could be like a mini date?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to keep this a secret even from the guys?” you ask, even though you’d be delighted to have some Netflix and cuddle sessions with Jimin.

“If it’s just them, they’ll understand. You know how much they all love their cute songwriter,” he pinches your cheek. “Plus, they’ve been pestering me to ask you out for the past few months. You already have their approval.”

“I am cute, thank you.” You gloat in his compliment.

“You are.”

“But yeah, I’d love to visit you at the dorms, since you always visit me here~”

“…Should we start tonight?”

“Wow, someone’s eager,” you snicker. “I knew that bulge wasn’t just my imagination…”

“Y/N!” he whines at your teasing.

“I do still have a lot of work to do on this track, though.” You bite your lip, trying to come up with the best solution. “Will hanging out with you tonight spark any inspiration for my songwriting?”

“Possibly~” Jimin raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes. He knows that’s the expression that never fails to make you laugh. “And if not, I’ll spend the weekend being your coffee fairy until you finish that song.”

“Alright, alright,” you giggle at his funny face. “I’m counting on you, Mr. Coffee Fairy.”

#bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #bts imagines #jimin fanfic #bts fluff #jimin #bts #bangtan #pick me up

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsguild #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts crack #bts fluff #kim namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagines #namjoon fluff #namjoon crack #bangtan #bts fanfic #UGHHGJDHGJ im so slow at writing... its the depretion #hopefully this is good.... maybe who knows #IM GONNA EAT A GRILLED CHEESE NOW

[aqvarius]

HLITF: This is not the story of your first night: Soma - otona love - chapter 5 summary/translation

two chapters in one day? who is this queen of productivity?! it’s me, adhd tea, hyperfocussing on my newest obsession. if you missed it, you can find the previous chapter translated here or check my new translations page to read from the beginning. my translations masterpost is not rebloggable or mobile-friendly yet but i will update when i make one! otherwise, you can always just search the tag “summary” or “translation” on my blog or follow the links in my previous chapter posts to find the previous posts.

anyway, reading and translating this chapter today too was so worth it, because i can say for sure that this is probably the smuttiest and most explicit chapter of hlitf i’ve ever read in my entire life. it’s also a loooong one. 

here we are, in my favourite bathroom in the world. 

“mm, it smells good,” you say. you were successfully led to take a bath together and you feel so healed...

soma explains that these bath salts are supposed to be a blend of herbs that relieves fatigue. you comment that the aroma seems to be very effective. soma says that the moisturising ingredients are perfect, so your skin will be smooth. 

“my arm is caressed in the hot water, and my heart pounds a little.”

“but his hands slowly rise up and he tenderly loosens my shoulders.” 

you think “oh what, it was just a massage...” you feel relieved, but somehow also disappointed. (lmao what a thirsty girl. hlitf mc has the highest libido of any voltage mc out there.)

“but it feels good...”

soma comments that you’re pretty stiff. you reply that it feels so good you’re dizzy, so soma says “then shall we get up and wash our bodies?” as he said it, you were lifted up and your voice came out a little louder. 

“it’s embarrassing to be princess carried while naked...”

you get placed onto a bath chair. soma, crouching behind you, gets the soap and lathers it. “is he going to wash me?” you think

“um, i can wash myself,” you say, but he tells you to let him do it. he turns your body back [that had turned to him when you talked to him] and he strokes some foam down your shoulder. 

“the way he’s using his hands is a little... suspicious”

your eyes meet soma’s, who is lathering up your whole body from behind, in the mirror.

soma: “it seems that washing with bare hands is the best way to protect your skin”

slkdjf;alskjdfal ahaskjdslkjsda!!!

you agree, but say that it’s a little ticklish. he says that your blood circulation is improved when it’s like this and you’re like "ahh i wonder if that’s true...?” as you tilt your head, soma smiles.  

soma: “raise your arms a little”

“when i do as i was told, soma’s hand that was gliding wraps around my breast.”

“with a cushion of foam, he gently strokes the sensitive tip”

“my heartbeat is pounding loudly, but soma-san’s supple hands leave my chest and slide down to my stomach.”

“he washes my whole body like this, stroking me, and then finally rinses me off carefully.”

“next is shampoo,” he says and you’re like “i can wash my hair by myself!” but he says there’s no need to be reserved. so you’re like “then onegaishimasu”. he smiles at you and you decide to be honest. you think he’s being really kind today. he’s always kind, but he’s thoroughly smart. even in the bathtub, he didn’t come onto you teasingly/meanly like you thought he would. 

“what’s wrong?” soma asks. you say it’s nothing... 

lathering plenty of shampoo, soma laughs a little for some reason and you wonder what he’s smiling about.

i have to just interject here because let’s be honest, we all know soma is setting a trap. of course he’s kind and caring and loves pampering his gf but we all know our favourite high libido mc is going to crack at some point if he doesn’t make a move, and we all know that’s what he wants to happen!! i’m sure he just wants her to admit that she loves when he’s mean. 

anyway, soma, who took care of you even after bathing, rushes you into bed. he even held the dryer for you and dressed you in pyjamas... 

you’re so scared that you become exhausted? (i don’t really know what this line is supposed to mean: “怖いくらいに至れり尽くせりだったなぁ” someone help me pls)

he brushes your freshly washed hair and kisses you on the neck. 

soma: “you smell good”

“is it the same scent as soma-san?”

soma: “your scent is special”

(😍😍😍)

“[his] kiss that descended from the nape of my neck traces my collarbone and goes further down.”

he unbuttons your pyjamas, and the underwear that had just been put on is stripped off. 

soma: “you shouldn’t have put it on if it was just going to be removed immediately” 

with a soft smile, soma gently kisses the top of your chest. you moan and he presses a kiss to your lips as if to catch a small sigh that leaked from you. 

“while our hot tongues entangle with each other’s, his fingertip stimulates the tip of my chest again.”

soma gently narrows his eyes at you when you press your lips together. 

soma: “[you’re] cute”

“that’s it...?”

“he’s not saying “it’s getting hard” ... or “[you’re already] like this” ...”

 you get kind of embarrassed hearing only complimentary words. but his kisses rain down on your whole body as usual, and your body floods with heat. 

soma: “moist and smooth... is this the aroma[therapy] effect” 

he strokes your whole body with his palm and your body heats up. eventually, his hand passes over your hipbone and stops at your inner thigh. 

soma: “slowly”

“exactly as he said, his slow and supple fingers inserted into my hottest place.”

“the part that was already wet welcomed his finger without difficulty.”

(🔥🔥🔥)

while making love to you with his fingers, soma places his lips just below your navel. after feeling a tickle/tingle, a slight ache comes. you let out a small cry at the sweet ache that you’ve tasted time and time again. 

“soma-san always leaves a love mark somewhere”

“that makes me happy...”

ugaksfjlsd she’s so in love~

“as my body and mind were being filled, soma-san’s hardened part touched my lower abdomen.”

“before i knew it, he put on a condom [contraceptives] and was about to enter my ~honey jar~.”

“quickly, come on...”

okay i’m not kidding but seeing that smile after all that sexual buildup was like a shot to my heart. i need to take a quick break because ;laksjf;lskjdsl fasd

as if he heard the whisper in your heart, soma smiles quietly and sinks his hips down [into you]. 

“eh...? usually...”

“he’d ask “do you want it?”“

even though you think it seems strange, your thoughts fade away at the feeling of his hard, proud, hot mass entering you. quietly, slowly, gently moving inwards, the heat inside your core also increases. you moan his name. 

“soma-san’s passion became so hot that my inner walls clenched tightly.”

you wholeheartedly do not want to let go of your beloved person.

you apologise, saying that you just got really into [enthusiastic about] it. 

soma: “i’m happy. every time you accept me, i feel blessed.”*

*by accept, i think he means you accepting/receiving him [into your body]. the word used for blessed is shiawase, which can also mean happy/fortunate/lucky.

lskfj he’s normally so teasing but my heart races when he’s sweet too... ;~~;

you moan his name. hanging on his unusually kind words, you are swayed by his waves~ 

“it feels good but... why... why does something feel different,” you wonder.

being made love to gently, your body is burning, but something is missing. 

“is it frustrating when he’s too gentle...”

when you think about it, it was the same with dinner and the bath. 

“even in situations when he usually makes fun of me, he’s always smart...”**

**by smart, i think this means like emotionally/socially smart. btw this is reminding me exactly of one thing huedhaut once said in one of his povs (cupid lovestruck valentine, where he worries because he always tries not to take it too far when he jokes with you)

you suddenly remember when he said he would “refrain in the future”. is he keeping true to that declaration? if so... will it always be like this...? what would that be like...

“if it’s like this, it will end with incomplete combustion.”***

***i think by “incomplete combustion” she’s saying that she can’t orgasm lol?? someone let me know if this actually means something else and my mind is just in the gutter

you think that’s sad, for soma too. 

you still haven’t seen his face that smiles so happily when bothering you today. 

“that’s why... for soma-san’s sake too...”

“maybe i have to honestly say “it’s not enough/i’m not satisfied”.”

but... to say that yourself...

soma: “you’re so cute”****

****he says your name here but mine is still set to anata/you lol

as if you’re being swayed in the calm and slow waves of the sea, your heart sways too. 

“i don’t dislike gentle waves but...”

“i want to feel soma-san more...”

“i want to drown in the formidable waves that only soma-san can make...”

“more than anything, i want to see soma-san’s satisfied gaze on me as i drown.”

“because soma-san’s pleasure is also my pleasure...”

even though you’re feeling good, you bite the bullet. 

soma: “what’s wrong?”

“you’re not the usual mean/teasing soma-san...”

even the ~gentle waves~ stop completely, and he looks at you directly. you panic bc he pulls out. 

--

and that’s the end of chapter 5. omg the suspense is UNREAL!! was that not the most steamy chapter of hlitf you’ve ever read?! and you know it’s only going to get better in the last chapter, when soma finally unleashes his true ijiwaru self. this chapter had my heart racing at so many points. i definitely enjoy being spoilt by soma, but more than anything i enjoy being teased by him and i think our dear mc feels the same way! something that i love is how she also prioritises his pleasure/gratification? even if it means being super embarrassed because of how mean he is, she just wants to see his absolute satisfaction. something that i realised while reading this story in japanese is that he definitely comes across as a lot meaner/more sarcastic in japanese (except for this chapter where he’s being extra gentle), even more like my eternal star-crossed lover huedhaut. 

anyway, let me know if you prefer gentle soma or mean soma! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the final chapter coming tomorrow (probably)! 

i’ve also set up a ko-fi page here and would be incredibly grateful if you would like to support me for translations and being able to purchase more routes to recap in english!

click here for the next chapter

#shusuke soma #voltage smut #her love in the force #hlitf #voltage #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome game #otome blog #otome romance #love 365 #love 365 find your story #summary #translation #どうもこれは初夜どころの話じゃない #恋人は公安刑事 #颯馬周介 #otona love #otkoi

[purecamp]

Hi, I have a question about your mamma mia au! Is Pat dead on Here I Go Again? Because I was thinking that if she passed away before higa, Sharon and Willam would attend the funeral right? Wouldn't Sharon bring Trixie too? Wouldn't Willam go talk to her and get suspicious about Trixie? Is this me subtly asking you to write an oneshot about it just because I'm not ready to let go of this universe and also wanting you to write more Shillam? 😂

ahaha anon this tickled me tbh. first of all thanks for the love (!!!), so i’ll try to answer in parts

-unfortunately she has passed before higa because she would be 113, which is possible but... unlikely ahaha -ive been debating this since waaaay before u asked me bc its something i thought about a lot, like would sharon bring trixie or not? would she even go? lots 2 think about, decisions decisions -i would write oneshots for you in a second. plz feel free to request them at any time omg

anyway, i guess i’m gonna give it a go here! 

She was a good age, Sharon knew that. Spritely in nature right up until her last moments, Patricia Belli passed away in her retirement home at the age of ninety six.

Her letter had arrived in the post; a short and not-so-sweet note letting Sharon know that if she received this letter, then she had died, and the nursing home staff had actually honoured her request of them to send it to her. Somewhat of a doting grandma - owing to the fact that Sharon had no idea what Pat would be to Trixie if she even was related - she had attached some plastic-wrapped sweets and lollipops.

God, this was going to be difficult. On top of having to close the hotel, at least for a day whilst she attended the funeral, Sharon was going to have to explain the concept of dying to her three-year-old girl, who thought the world was nothing but sparkles and sunshine.

And that was without slotting in time for her own grief. In four years, Pat had transformed Sharon’s life, and she owed her everything.

Times like these were when Sharon wished she had a little bit of help. She needed to cry and sniff and weep into somebody, to wallow in the horrible feeling of finally being alone in the world with herself as the only adult to rely on. She needed to continue working in order to stay alive, and keep her home paid for and her daughter fed. She needed to sit down and explain to Trixie than Nana Pat was gone, and she wouldn’t be coming back. She needed someone else to bundle her up for once and tell her it was all going to be okay.

“You alright?” Maria broke her out of her thoughts, tapping her as she went past behind the bar to fetch a few more bottles of ale.

Sharon grabbed a rag and continued drying up the glasses - Maria had offered to extend the hotel into her bar, meaning Sharon now managed a hotel and taverna in one. “Yeah, just... Can’t believe she’s gone, you know? I always felt like Pat was gonna live forever.”

Maria nodded. “It will be strange, we miss her around here. She was regular for many years at this taverna. Party held here after the service, in her honour.”

“She’d like that. Everyone getting drunk for her.” She sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to have to tell Trix. She’s only young, after all.”

Shrugging, Maria offered a kindly smile. “Brave and strong, like her mother. Even if teeny tiny.”

Despite her heavy heart, Sharon laughed.

---

“Mama! You’re here!”

The same cheerful greeting that Sharon was met with every afternoon came at her once again, lifting her low mood a little. A flurry of pink shot towards her, Sharon noting a smudge of blue paint on her face and some scuffs on her shoes from a day of playing before she was tackled in a huge hug.

“I’m here, little pumpkin. Did you have a good day?”

“The best!” Trixie trilled. “We did painting, and running, and I played dolls with Kimmy and Pearl showed me how to draw hearts!”

Ever-suffering, her preschool teacher was stood by the door to the classroom, her gaze tired but still warm as her last student clung to her mom. It wasn’t too often that Sharon was last to pick up her little girl, but it happened enough that she knew to just sit Trixie down with some colouring and leave her to it. Today, the grief had slowed Sharon down, and she was behind on most of her maintenance.

“Sounds fun! Now, are we walking out of here or is mama carrying you all the way home?”

Trixie took a moment to think about it, before smushing her face into Sharon’s neck. “Mama carries me home.”

Sharon sighed, figuring that she needed to keep Trixie happy if she was going to deliver such bad news. “Okay, just this once. Say bye bye, now!”

“Bye bye, Miss Coulée!”

Just Sharon’s luck, the walk was roughly long enough for them to discuss the subject. She was careful not to let her own emotions influence Trixie’s too much, knowing that a sobbing little girl would be much harder to console when she herself wanted nothing more than to break down in someone’s arms. Curious and a little confused, she asked a few questions which Sharon tried her best to answer, all while avoiding the term “Heaven”. It felt like she’d done an okay job, all things considered, but the fact that she had to do it alone meant she was more than nervous. This wasn’t going to traumatise her into therapy as an adult... she hoped.

“Will she miss me?”

Fuck, this kid was tugging at every single one of Sharon’s heartstrings. It didn’t seem possible that she had been the one to give life to something so goddamn cute.

“Nana Pat? I’m sure she will miss you, baby. And we’ll miss her, too.” Sharon took a deep breath. “But she’s still with us, isn’t she? Because we remember her, and we always have our memories.”

Trixie nodded thoughtfully. She had begged and begged to sit on Sharon’s shoulders, so now she idly played with loose strands of her hair, the messy bun practically ruined from the day’s work anyway.

“But she won’t come back because she’s too old.”

The child-like ability to make the most innocent and heartbreaking of things funny was one that Sharon hoped Trixie held onto forever. Even with her own heavy sadness, she giggled slightly.

“That’s right, bubba.”

A pause. “Are you sad, mama?”

Sharon nodded infinitesimally, trying not to trigger her tears. “Lots of people will be sad. When we go to the funeral on Saturday, there will be lots of sad people wearing black who all love Nana Pat very much. Will you promise me to be a really good girl and just sit quietly with me? We don’t want to disturb anyone.”

Trixie leaned forwards, pressing her lips to the top of Sharon’s head in an awkward, well-meaning kiss. “I’ll be good.”

---

She was golden. Sharon had done all her crying in the morning, before Trixie scrambled into her bed, and she was relieved at how easily her toddler had gone along with everything. Getting herself dressed had been a breeze; she even tried brushing her own hair, which was unsuccessful but nevertheless touching. Trixie then scampered off to play whilst Sharon got ready, giving her a few more moments alone.

Smoothing down her skirt, she examined herself in the mirror. An uncomfortable possibility had dawned on her that night, as she tried to sleep, and it made her unbelievably nervous. After all, he was her great-nephew...

She didn’t look that different than the day they met, surely? But yet, staring at herself, Sharon started realizing how little she resembled that girl already. Only four years had passed, near enough, and at twenty one and a mom, there was almost nothing to anchor this version of herself to the similarly-burdened yet unrealistically carefree seventeen-year-old that Willam had known.

Her hips were wider now, one of the few permanent modifications that Trixie had given her, and for all her low income meant a reduced diet, there was still the remains of a post-baby pouch that stubbornly remained. Black dresses were slimming, Sharon reminded herself, not that the rest of her needed it, but she hoped it was enough that if Willam did see her, he wouldn’t notice anything different.

That being said, he was a man. The little things didn’t matter. The living, squirming three-year-old, however...

Sharon sighed and relaxed, not bothering to try and suck in her stomach like she had before. Willam definitely wouldn’t notice it, he’d be too busy staring at Trixie. The human that he might’ve helped her create. That she had opted not to tell him about. Even though she had an easy way to do so via his now deceased great-aunt.

Fuck.

They made their way up to the little old chapel on the island in good time. Pat knew and loved her home more than anything, so relatives had been flocking from around the world to a tiny chapel on a tiny island out in Greece. It was a difficult walk, and with every step Sharon had to face that she really was in this alone now.

Not wanting to intrude in spite of her invite, Sharon slipped into a pew at the back and bowed her head, clutching Trixie in her lap as more of a comfort than anything else. Thankfully, as more and more people filed in, Trixie seemed to sense that her mama was upset, and quietly played with her flamingo teddy.

He was one of the last to walk in, of course - he would have to make an entrance. Swaggering in, his expression mostly calm, and his sheer confidence was highly inappropriate for a funeral and god if Sharon didn’t sound like her fucking mother. He was young and hot and the swagger seemed to be a Belli thing, because no one paid him any attention. Somewhere, whether in heaven or in her coffin, Sharon knew Pat was cackling with laughter.

And, of course, he just had to speak too. Sharon lifted her head a tiny bit to watch him, trying to ensure his gaze didn’t flicker onto her.

“So many kind things have been said about my dear great aunt today, and whilst it has warmed my heart I’m here to undo it all.” Willam started, filling the room with soft laughter. “Rest in peace, Granny Pat. You were old as fuck, but we’ll miss your rottenness. She had an ego bigger than mine and a liver bigger than Dad’s, and she was the life of the party. We love you, Pat.”

Everything about him was so familiar. Sharon tried not to think about it, but her mind was flooded with him. He didn’t look different at all, but she supposed LA had treated him well. Tanned and charming as ever, he seemed to woo his family as easily as he had seduced her into bed with him... or at least, that was how Sharon chose to remember it.

This was going to be a long day.

---

In all honesty, Sharon didn’t go out much anymore. It came with the territory of being a full-time parent and hotel owner-manager-chef-bartender-maid, but she was tired almost all the time. When Raja and Jinkx came over she made exceptions, but on a day-to-day basis, once Trixie was in bed, Sharon was exhausted from exerting herself to make sure she could even be finished and home in time for Trixie’s bedtime story. So, being out in the taverna in the late evening?

Unbearable.

As soon as everyone came in, Maria offered to take Trixie and keep her entertained behind the bar - which probably wasn’t the most responsible choice Sharon had made as a mom, but she knew Maria would take good care of her as she always did, and insisted she needed to mingle.

Mingling was the last thing on her mind, but she reluctantly grabbed a drink and tried to remain casual in a room full of strangers. After all, none of them knew who she was. None of them knew what Pat meant to her, and everything the daft old woman had done for her. None of them knew that without Pat, it was likely that her beloved daughter would’ve been given up for adoption and Sharon would’ve had to return home to her mother with her tail between her legs. Pat had made it possible for her to live, and as rough as it was, it was nice to be self-sufficient at twenty one.

“Hey! I thought it was you! Hi blondie!”

Sharon clutched her glass a little tighter and turned around slowly. “Forgot my name already?”

There he was, right next to her, having made his way across the room with bright eyes and a shiny grin. LA really had treated him well.

“You’re unforgettable, Sharon, don’t play me like that.” Willam teased. “Good to see you again. I knew goodbye wouldn’t last forever.”

Sharon scowled, but it didn’t last. “Hence why I said we wouldn’t have one.”

“Good point.” He gestured to her glass. “Vodka?”

She shook her head. “Just coke.”

“Pffft. Boring. Pat would want you to have some vodka. Or gin. Or both.”

Rolling her eyes, Sharon took a sip from her decidedly non-alcoholic drink. “I have responsibilities to take care of, I can’t just get drunk.”

As she spoke, her gaze went searching through the throng of people, praying Trixie wasn’t about to run over and squeeze her legs in a damning cuddle. To her relief, she was that she was balanced on Maria’s hip, happily giggling away with her out of Willam’s eyeline.

“We’re twenty one, Shar, and you haven’t seen me forever. Live a little!” Willam encouraged. “Seriously though, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know if you would still be here or if you still saw Pat around. It’s nice to see a face that I know she’d be happy to see, too. She hated most of the people here.”

God, the past tense. Sharon tried not to well up.

“You’re the only face here I know.” She admitted, her voice thick. “I feel a bit lost, honestly. If I didn’t have work, I’d be doing shots to loosen up.”

Willam laughed at that. “Right! I’m glad you know my face, at least. Familiar face, familiar arms, familiar chest, familiar d-”

“Stop!” Sharon shrieked, giggling in spite of herself. “Your great aunt has just died and you’re talking about our teenage sex? You’re disgusting.”

He shrugged. “I’m a Belli, it runs in the family. All this nonsense about her living to a ripe old age... please. She wasn’t ripe, she was rotten. It’s why we love her so.”

Sharon chuckled appreciatively. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“Me too. She’d be glad to see us brought back together, though.”

“Yeah. Although I’m not gonna sleep with you again.”

Willam’s laugh was a little too loud, attracting some disgruntled murmurs from surrounding family members. “Welp, there goes my weekend plans.”

It was surprisingly nice, talking to Willam. As much as Sharon had been terrified that the first topic of conversation would be them, and it would inevitably lead to a confession, they fell into a fleeting friendship as easily as they had four years ago. Determined to keep things light, Sharon steered away from her work or home life as they talked, but it was still nice to catch up.

That being said, she also kinda never wanted to see him again. Nothing personal, just... for Trixie’s sake, she had closed that chapter of her life and under no circumstances would she be reopening it. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever.

“I assume you’re breaking into stardom in Hollywood, right? I’ll be seeing you on movie posters?” 

He laughed. “A star is born, baby. Keep your eyes open. And you, are you taking to the stage now you’re away from your bitch of a mom?”

Sharon shook her head. “Nah. I don’t... I don’t have time anymore. And with the girls gone, too...”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t need them. And we should sing together again sometime, too.”

At that, Sharon sighed. “There’s nothing keeping you here, Willam, not now she’s gone. We had fun, but... there’s no point holding onto that. I got over my exes, I have to keep living and so do you.”

Willam nodded. “A goodbye without a goodbye. I get it. It’s difficult, but we have to let go.”

Yeah, Sharon told herself. In more ways than one.

“It’s not a personal thing, you know I care about you as a friend-”

“I know.” Willam told her. “I care about you too. But I get it.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Needles, take care of yourself. You’re skinny, take advantage of the free food. Fall in love. Make music. Do things to make you happy. You deserve that.”

Speechless, Sharon could only nod as he held her. “I can tell you’re ready to leave, so I’ll say goodbye now. You’re a one of a kind, okay? Keep going, angel thighs.”

Pfft. The old parody nickname - trust Willam to remember that.

“Thank you, Willam.”

---

Trixie was fast asleep in Sharon’s arms. Her warm weight had settled comfortably into her as she walked home, and Sharon relished in the way her sweet daughter could fill her aching heart so perfectly. Her blonde curls were messy, just like her own were as a child, and she was completely tuckered out.

Her adorable girl had little outfits, a bedroom of her own and a roof over her head all thanks to the love and kindness of one foul-mouthed, gin-loving lady. As the sun started setting, Sharon realized she owed another Belli a lifetime of gratitude.

“Thank you, Pat.”

#uh maybe this got too long oops #higa #asks #shillam #this shouldve had a read more but they dont work #i tried

[hermannsthumb]

Because I am in a mood for horrible things, what do you think of Hermann getting to close to uncovering the truth so Precursor possessed Newt seduces him into bed as a distraction? Bonus if the Precursors taunt Hermann about it later.

i know this ask is from like. august. but i literally filled this ages ago and FOR SOME REASON....NEVER POSTED IT UP. looking over it now it’s definitely because right after i wrote it i was like :( no bonus unfortunately thatd probably kill me to write

so im editing it a little bit but....here is one of the only uprising compliant fics ive ever written LOL (also the “play with your test tubes” line is ripped literally directly from the novelization. which i never bothered to read bc i hated the film but i have some Choice bits saved via a friend. like the test tubes line) rated E/18+ below cut

There’s something off about Newton.

Newton’s always been vain. He always did his hair up with too much product and wore jeans a bit too tight and stressed and fretted over even the smallest wrinkle, but he never wore suits like this before, never kept himself so perfectly shaven, never kept his waist so trim. He’s lost his soft edges, the glasses that used to frame his face so nicely. He’s colder, too—colder to strangers, colder to Hermann. They fought in the past, of course, argued incessantly, took petty jabs at each other’s disciplines, but Newton never outright refused to discuss research with Hermann before.

Hermann’s research won’t matter, Newton says, his drones will make this obsolete, Hermann’s wasting his time, Hermann shouldn’t bother.

It’s been a decade, Hermann knows, people change in a decade, Hermann himself has changed in a decade (Hermann’s a little lonelier, a little sadder, a little more spontaneous, a little messier), but there’s something off. Something wrong. Hermann can’t quite place it. Hermann—

“You should come ‘round for dinner,” Newton says. His demeanor has changed, so subtly—all business before, but now, he’s standing close, eyelids half-mast, lips curled into a lazy smile. “We could catch up. Talk about that experiment of yours. Play with your—” Newton casts a little glance at the door, then takes a step forward, drags a finger down Hermann’s chest, “—test tubes.”

“Oh,” Hermann says, mouth hanging open, and something is very wrong, but it’s been so long since he’s made love to Newton, so long since he’s been the subject of Newton’s raw desire, some ten long, long years spent without Newton’s kisses and Newton’s touch. “Ah. I.”

Newton drags his finger lower, skimming over the fastening Hermann’s trousers, and Hermann’s knees threaten to buckle. “Mm?”

“Dinner,” Hermann stammers. “Dinner would be lovely, Newton.”

“Tomorrow night,” Newton says, snapping his hand away, and he’s as brisk and businesslike as he was before. “I’ll have my people pick you up when you’re done with—” He waves his hand at the mess of Hermann’s lab and wrinkles his nose. “This. Yeah?”

“Alright, Newton,” Hermann says, heart pounding. “Thank you.” He nearly cringes at the words before they leave his mouth—how weak, how pathetic Newton must see him, grovelling like a desperate ex-lover for the slightest bit of attention. (Is he an ex-lover?)

“And, uh, wear something nice,” Newton says, looking Hermann up and down skeptically. Hermann’s hands go to his collar immediately, smoothing over it, self-conscious; he quite likes this shirt. He thought Newton would’ve liked it, which is why he wore it today in the first place. Newton doesn’t notice, just slips his sunglasses back on. He’s gone with a little wave and without a second glance.

Newton’s people pick Hermann up exactly as Newton promised the following night. He sends a big, fancy car, far more extravagant than anything either of them have owned in their entire lives, with a minibar in the back. The driver tells Hermann Dr. Geiszler insists Hermann make himself comfortable, have as many drinks as he’d like. “Why couldn’t Dr. Geiszler be here, then?” Hermann says, politely refusing the man’s attempts to take his suit coat for him.

The driver doesn’t answer.

He gets shown to the front of Newton’s condo complex, gets instructed to the right room, and then he’s riding the elevator up and standing in front of Newton’s door. He almost can’t bring himself to knock. “It’s unlocked,” Newton calls from inside as Hermann raises his hand, almost like he can sense Hermann. Perhaps some strings of their neural link remain, frayed and weakened by time though they may be. “Come on in.”

Hermann pushes open the door. Newton’s condo is far too extravagant, far too elegant for Hermann’s and Newton’s tastes, marble countertops and windows the size of walls, but that’s not what makes Hermann nearly stumble, grip his cane hard, makes him say “Newton?” in surprise.

There’s candles lit on what’s presumably the dining table, the counters, the coffee table, and Newton’s leaning against the table with a glass of wine and in a very sheer robe. It’s more like lingerie than anything. There’s absolutely nothing beneath it. Hermann snaps his eyes up, and Newton sets his glass down. “Hermann,” he says, and swoops in, throws his arms over Hermann’s shoulders. He’s so warm, so close, and it’s so much after nothing for so long, and Hermann very nearly gasps when Newton presses their lips together in a kiss.

“Newton,” Hermann repeats, feeling vaguely foolish, because he’d been hoping the night would go like this but didn’t by any means expect it, “what are you—that is—?”

Newton flutters his eyelashes prettily. “I wanted to dress up for you,” he says, and wraps his fingers around Hermann’s neat tie.

“I wanted to talk about my research,” Hermann says weakly. “We—”

Newton rubs his hips against Hermann’s, bare skin on fabric. Newton’s already hard, the head of his prick flushed red. (This isn’t right, Hermann thinks, something isn’t right with Newton, but oh, Newton is so handsome, so lovely, only more so with age, with the grey at his temples and the little lines at the corners of his eyes that Hermann wants nothing more than to kiss over and over. Hermann should’ve been there to watch him grow old.) “Research?” Newton says. He gives an exaggerated pout. Purposefully silly. It’s more like the Newton Hermann remembers. “That’s boring, man, come on.”

“I suppose—ah.” Newton leans back in and runs his tongue along Hermann’s lower lip, rubs his prick at the front of Hermann’s trousers again, and Hermann’s brain feels fuzzy.

“Come sit,” Newton says in his ear, and he threads the fingers of his right hand with Hermann’s left and tugs him forward. Hermann lets Newton pull him to the sofa and sit him down, lets him set his cane aside delicately, and then Newton settles himself down atop Hermann’s lap. “Hermann,” he sighs, nosing at Hermann’s neck, “I missed you so much, honey. I’ve been so lonely without you.” He picks up one of Hermann’s hands and slides it across his chest, just over one of his nipples, and rubs his prick against the front of Hermann’s nice dress shirt. He lowers his voice. “Do you still remember how I like to be touched?”

Of course Hermann remembers. He remembers how to draw sighs from Newton, gasps of pleasure, how to take him apart until he’s trembling in Hermann’s arms and breathing out pledges of love. He wonders if Newton remembers how to do the same for him. Hermann brushes his thumb over the nipple presented so readily in front of him and feels Newton shiver. “Newt,” he croaks (he came to talk about business, about his research), “I really could use your input on my work. Ah.” Newton worries Hermann’s earlobe between his teeth. “You see. Newton. Ah. It’s not quite finished, you see—”

“Mm-hmm?” Newton hums, working open Hermann’s top few buttons. Hermann can’t help but rub his thumb over the same nipple once more and elicit another little shiver of pleasure.

“The equation,” Hermann says, as Newton kisses his throat and Hermann strains in his trousers, “I’m missing—” Newton takes his other hand, pushes it under the fabric of the little sheer robe and down his lower back, down to the curve of his ass, and Hermann lets out a deep groan. “Oh, Newton…”

“C’mon,” Newton says, and bites at his earlobe again. “We can talk after.” He’s grinning. Hermann’s too entranced by him to do anything but nod.

Newton takes him to bed, then, to his ridiculous, absurd, oversized bed, pushes Hermann down and rides him fast, doesn’t even bother to take Hermann’s shirt off fully and leaves Hermann’s trousers bunched around his knees, cries and begs and tells Hermann how much he missed him, how much he’s wanted him for so long.

(“Why didn’t you call,” Hermann snarls, gripping Newton’s thighs hard enough to leave red half-moons against his inked skin, “why didn’t you email, or text, or—”)

(It’s the best orgasm Hermann’s had in ten years.)

“Stay the night,” Newton says later, propped up on his elbow and idly tracing across Hermann’s jaw with his finger. “I’ll make everything up to you, starting tomorrow.”

There’s a curtain covering something in the corner of Newton’s bedroom, something big, something Hermann hadn’t noticed in his previous haze of lust, and Hermann can’t stop staring. He doesn’t like it. “Newton, love,” Hermann begins.

“I’ll actually make dinner,” Newton continues, not noticing Hermann’s discomfort. Perhaps ignoring it. He nips at Hermann’s throat. “Whatever you want. Or we could go out somewhere fancy. There’s a place—”

“What is that?” Hermann points at the curtain.

Newton steals a little kiss. “Forget about that rocket fuel,” he says, lips brushing against Hermann’s. “I don’t want you hurting yourself. Or worse. I mean, what would I do without you, Hermann?”

Hermann tears his eyes away from the curtain, his chest clenching painfully. Ten years of radio silence from Newton. “You seem to be faring pretty well without me,” he spits out, bitter.

Newton straddles Hermann’s waist again, pressing kisses to his neck once more. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve just been so busy, Hermann, and stressed, it wasn’t on purpose, I’d never blow you off like that on purpose.” He rubs their noses together. “I love you.”

Hermann wraps his arms around Newton, holding him in place. Newton has been busy, he supposes, and stressed, which would explain why he’s been so odd, so distant. He still makes love the same—vocal, enthusiastic, eager to please Hermann and be pleased in return—still kisses the same, still touches Hermann the same. He’s still the man Hermann loves. “I know,” Hermann sighs. He kisses the top of Newton’s head. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite be able to forgive Newton for all those years, but he’s certainly willing to start something new.

“Forget about the fuel?” Newton says.

Hermann really could hurt himself with ill-advised experiments with kaiju blood. (Besides: Newton’s concern is proof Newton still cares about his well-being.) “Alright, Newton,” Hermann says, unable to help his smile, and Newton steals another little kiss.

“Stay the night,” Newton insists once more. “I’ll cook breakfast.”

Newton’s bed is comfortable. Newton is even more comfortable. Hermann nods.

It’s good to have Newton back.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #this is SIGNIFICANTLY angstier than my usual fills i need to like. cleanse myself #not sfw ////////// #Anonymous