#really looked at this and went 'this baby can fit so many textures in it'

[cozylittleartblog]

somewhere with shining lights (print available on my etsy)

#deltarune #noelle holiday #deltarune chapter 2 #art #fanart #anthro #i have a spot where i keep drawing ideas and this one was scrawled down well over a year ago now #and i was revisiting those ideas looking for something to work with and i went Huh Yeah I Can Do That #and i did. #i feel like i should have detailed the antlers more for this style but no im dedicated to her funny little club antlers #really looked at this and went 'this baby can fit so many textures in it' #i like textures. it makes my art look less boring 💖 #merch available

[yoomiwritingstuff]

FINALLY HOME yuuta okkotsu x f!reader

warning: semi nsfw, there's smut but isn't heavily described, i just had to write him ;-; (unedited)

you were awoken up from your sleep on the couch when you felt yourself being carried by familiar strong arms.

instantly wrapping your own ones around his neck, you leaned comfortably on his chest while inhaling your lover's natural scent.

god, how you've missed him so much.

you feel rather than see him give out a tired chuckle as he continues the journey towards his room while carrying you.

as soon as he saw the bed, yuta okkotsu let out the loudest groan you've ever heard from him in awhile.

with all his energy spent and imagining the soft pillows and blankets he could cover both of yourself in, his knees buckled and his bottom half finally lost its will to move.

letting out a yelp, you prepared yourself for the small impact of falling on the bed, gripping him tighter than you intended — it was fortunate that you changed the sheets just yesterday night, its fluffy texture cushioning the two of you from the fall.

“sorry....”

yuta mumbles near your ear. he brushes off the strands of hair that covered your face when you looked up to stare at him at last.

both of your hands immediately went to caress the dark circles under his eyes. poor baby looks so exhausted, you suddenly felt bad for him bringing you here in bed instead of just waking you up.

“i missed you.”

you say in a whisper, your voice slightly hoarse due to sleep. his eyes crinkle in happiness at your confession. he can't believe he'd allowed himself to be so far away from you, enduring the pain of not feeling you for so many days.

when yuta okkotsu was gone, no one was there to admire and worship you and that didn't sit right with him.

this gave him newfound energy and strength to hover above you and welcome your plush lips with his.

“i missed you too. i missed you so so much. 'miss seeing my pretty girl.”

he was sure that all came out as a breathy whine, but he doesn't really care. yuta proceeds to bury his face on the crook of your neck, peppering it with kisses while he commits to his memory once again the way your body perfectly fits with his own.

it was your turn to laugh when you feel him take deep intakes of air, inhaling your scent like how you did with him earlier.

“that tickles, yu.”

he playfully bites your earlobe, his fingers working delicately to touch your skin under the shirt his shirt that you're wearing. your hands travel from his broad back towards his disheveled hair. massaging his scalp earned you another melodious groan from yuta.

you couldn't control the sigh that left your lips when yuta wraps your legs around his waist and begins slowly grinding on you. you can feel the bulge that's quickly forming on his pants.

“yu, aren't you tired right now?”

he only hums at your worried question, not bothering to answer it truthfully. how nice of his sweet pretty girl to be concerned for his health despite the current situation that they're in.

sure he's tired as hell from the strenuous missions he had to partake in, but that won't stop the yuta okkotsu, special grade sorcerer from giving you the love and attention you clearly deserve to have that he couldn't give to you when he was away.

“need you right now, sweetheart. please.”

that begging tone of his. that did it for you.

for the next several hours, you let yuta do whatever he deemed was necessary to show you just how much he missed you.

the love he felt for you was so extreme sometimes that it manifested in the way he wouldn't stop thrusting inside you even when he's hurting from the overstimulation. it showed with how he becomes deliriously intoxicated with you, kissing you and touching you wherever he possibly can. how he encourages you to cum, that you can do it one more time even when you've weakly complained that you can't anymore. it's how he moans pleasantly in your ears that you feel good and that he could never get enough of you that lets you know he's got it bad.

yuta okkotsu was undeniably inlove. and he's over the moon every damn time you return that feeling with the same vigor as him.

he knows sooner or later he'd have to disappear from your life again because of his duties as a sorcerer. he doesn't know how long it would take before he's able to come back. it might take days or weeks or more.

for now, yuta okkotsu's just irrevocably glad he's got the chance to finally be home.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu scenarios #jjk x reader #jjk 0 #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut

[moonliched]

I have many questions but I’ll try to narrow them down and not bug you too much. Also wanna save some of the mystery for the new chapters 💕

I’m sure you’ve figured out from my comments that I’m now obsessed with AI BonBon. What made you choose BonBon for the AI? Also (If it’s not spoilers), how long has he been hiding his personality development, and how come he chose to reveal it to Y/N?

I’m still laughing over poor Moon trying to figure out braids. If ever Y/N’s hair came loose in the water and did that whole… fanning out thing, how would the mers react? Would they consider it like a threat display, or be confused?

everyone is cordially invited to bug me!!! thank u sm for the questions☺️✨

i'm terrified to write BON-BON bc i don't want him to lose his pizzaz😭 i wanted a snarky figure to bounce off Y/N. the Glamrocks are appearing later so they're out, and i didn't fancy anyone like Mangle or Foxy since i couldn't see their personalities fitting the role. i initially picked Helpy bc he already has a similar kind of role in the games i think, but then i came across a subnautica fic that wrote him in a similar way, and they did it better! (will recc in the notes if i can find it.) so no Helpy. after that i toyed with Dread Unit but he doesn't really have a personality, so then i picked Bon-Bon. he looks like he'd be annoying to listen to, he's hideous, i hc him having a nasal and squawky voice. and him being a bunny fits into a future plan i have, but that's spoilers.

BON-BON began developing awareness years ago, before Y/N even came to the facility. it was a slow process and he spent it learning and flexing the limited reach of his influence in the building. he likes to feign ignorance to mess with people, and he found it funny that Y/N would remain polite while clearly being angry. a few factors influenced him revealing himself, although it was more a slow ramping up than a conscious decision. he has been gradually increasing 'sentient' behaviour to see how they react, and their behaviour isn't threatening in response, which is reassuring. Y/N is asocial and kind of secretive with no strong friendship bonds, so they're unlikely to blab. this is the first time Y/N has been left completely alone in the building, meaning that BON-BON had a semi-captive audience to experiment revealing himself to. Y/N is attentive and kind to the robots by their society's standards without babying them, which is also reassuring. plus BON-BON's becoming so bored and stir-crazy that he's willing to start taking risks to make something happen.

if Y/N's hair was loose in the water, the mermaids would rear back in confusion and caution, but pretty quickly catch on to the fact that there's no need to worry. currently Moon figures that their braids are some kind of tentacles or feelers based on appearance alone, so if they were to unravel he would be put in mind of fuzzy algae or perhaps seaweed. both Moon and Sun would be fascinated by the texture and try to grab and pull it lol😭

i think i went overboard but this was fun😋

#ask #There Are Many Benefits #AAAAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU

[katscatnip]

Listening to one song on repeat

My experience with listening to a certain sound or song on repeat for long periods of time.

Shown below all this text is my most recent streams on Spotify. as you can see,, there is just one song listed, and that's because It's all I've listened to for the past 2 days or so.

I have done this kinda thing sing as long as I recall having personal access and control over what I listen to. my earliest memories of it being the time my mom let me chose the song we play on the sound system (the song in question was Rock the Nation by Michael Franti) and i would constantly ask her to "play it again!" until she couldn't handle it anymore. Next it was when we bought the Curious George movie on CD and in the bonus features, there was a music video for the song played earlier in the movie Upsidedown by Jack Johnson (again was eventually asked to stop playing it over and over lmao.

Next was when i was old enough to stay for the "after school program" it essentially let the kids get into fun toys and boardgames and such and what I would do every single time is find one of the three sony CD walkmen in the electronics box, put in the Shrek soundtrack cd and set SmashMouth's allstar to loop, then proceed to walk up and down the gym's left wall gliding my fingers against the textured grout for the next hour and a half to three hours depending if it was an extended day.

Next was another walkman, my older sibling's bf at the time would bring one over with him when he visited along with his latest playlist burned to a cd and would let me borrow it. this is when I heard the oh-so-familiar and desired FireFlies by Owlcity (my current fav song at the time that I could only hear on the car radio when going into town) where I would proceed to lie on my upper bunk bed in complete darkness and imagine I was in space.

Another time was when a different friend would bring over their iPod and I would loop a couple greenday and Metallica songs over and over (I don't remember the song names now lmao)

Fast forward to my teen years im actively annoying my siblings after playing a song 7 times too many. yada yada ya-

I am aware of that now,,

my friends have been pointing out traits that were worth looking into for a while and I finally did and ya. when I went in they said it was not hard to notice and identify it from the moment I walked in the door.

Anyway, this post isnt about that its actually about how self-aware and insecure I've become from having others perceive this part of me. I've never really had any bad experiences aside from the occasional family member shout at me to "stop playing the same song" which is whatever.

The real issue for me is things like Spotify Wrapped and the idea that what I listen to as an auditory stim is perceived as my "taste" in music and such. i guess its rooted in maintaining a kind of character in the social aspect, and feeling like I have to make what I listen to look palatable to peers and that means having a high listen count and knowledge of artists whose music has meaning and depth while also not being caught listening to the opposite (breakcore, hyperpop, noise, goofy nonsensical hip-hopy stuff, etc)(?)

Which I'm finding to be stackingly exhausting and I think I've trying this year and lastyear to give myself the grace of being me and not conforming to the shape I feel pressured to fit into.

I hear and read a lot of peer's takes or reviews on music and such (which I think is important to have ofc) but it kinda feels to cliquey for me to feel fully comfortable being in those circle's conversations.

sometimes i just like the noises and vibration pattern coming from a specific artist's stuff and don't take in or care about the meaning or depth of a song's lyrics,, anyways yeah. here's some of the semi-recent past loops: (noise warning on some!🔊) 757, Hollywood baby, Improved mashcore, kickback, 3 o'clock things, Being so normal, Uncanny long arms, Leg room, Stuck Inside

below is my current song backslide by 21 Pilots. the tapeworm synth and silly bass drops itch the itch good :+)

#uhhhh ummm #Lore #ig?? #post post #lore post #ksdjsjkd #idk what to call this #autism #text post #cool awesome #anyways #music #??? #stim #audible stim #tumblr post #?? #skdlskdlskd #cool #awesome #ok #bye #those walkmen were rad as shit #im buying a cassette player soon #so i can play my silly cassettes #ok bye

[littleoddwriter]

Hello dear! Can i request a Roman Sionis X Male!Reader where the reader is a metahuman with the ability of manipulating blood (aka a vampire) and tries to hide it from his lover until Roman finds out when Reader saves him from a mobster? Fluff please + Roman as proud as hell of his lover? Thanks in advance!

Life's Good | Roman Sionis x VampireMale!Reader

I am so sorry it took me so long to finally write this! I'm slowly catching up with the last few requests I've received before my break. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I've done with it (I admit, it got a little away from me because I was super invested in the scenario I came up with, so it is probably less fluffy than you may have wanted, sorry)!

summary; see above.

notes; CW // Blood-Drinking (mild Dub-Con for that at first); Gun Violence; Being Threatened; Murder (not graphic). Vampires; Kind of angsty?; Fluff; Aftercare (non-sexual, but you know, after feeding from someone).

Unlike most people would think you’ve actually been born this way. Your parents were vampires, conceiving you naturally, which of course meant you’d been born a metahuman. You’ve lived quite a normal life, despite the fact that instead of eating, drinking and sleeping like other humans would, you only slept rarely, only ate people food when you had to fit in, and otherwise you fed from humans, drinking their blood. You’d never killed anyone with it, though. Enough people who wanted you to feed from them existed, establishments were you could find them were all around the world. It was a pretty good life.

Still, you usually opted to keep it secret, unsure as to how people might react. While the general opinion of vampires has changed in all these centuries, standing in front of one was still a wholly different thing for most. You understood and respected that.

So when you met Roman – his scent so enticing, you had trouble keeping your fangs in – you stood in front of the question once again. Should you tell him?

Eventually, you decided to go with the flow and see where it’d take you. You didn’t immediately want to ruin your chances with him before you’ve actually gotten to know him at all.

At first it was a casual relationship anyway, no need to tell him your big secret then. But as time went on, your relationship became more serious. You stayed over at his loft more frequently, forced to eat his food and drink his beverages, so as not to let him suspect anything. It didn’t hurt you or anything, it was just unnecessary and you’d never get really used to, well, actual food and such. All the different textures and tastes and what you could do with what to change it. It was fascinating, but not exactly your favourite thing.

Of course, one fateful day it had all come to a head.

You had just admitted to yourself that you loved Roman a couple of weeks ago, not daring to say anything to him, as you didn’t fancy ruining what you two had with those three simple, yet powerful words.

Now though, you regretted that decision more than ever, terrified that maybe you would never be able to tell him how you felt.

It all happened so fast, too. One moment, you and Roman were out on the streets, way into the evening, having just had dinner at an expensive restaurant he’d invited you to; and you were laughing, talking about something – you couldn’t remember what – when you turned into an alleyway. In the next moment, a rival mob boss shot at the two of you. Warning shots, missing you both on purpose.

“What the fuck?!” Roman exclaimed, livid, but you could smell the underlying anxiety change his usual scent from when he was enraged. You hated it.

The gang leader – whatwashisface, you could never keep up – stood now in front of you two, having Roman at gunpoint. His men had surrounded you two, pointing their guns at both of you.

“What do you want?” Sionis spat at the other mob boss, glaring at him with a piercing, wild look in his eyes.

You stayed silent, your hands raised out of instinct. The bullets wouldn’t be able to kill you, unless they were specifically made for it, but that was so unlikely, you weren’t overly worried. You were concerned about Roman, though, anxious that this might have been it.

“Set an example, that’s what. You can’t scare us into submission. You can’t control us. You really think getting a hold of the East End would give you enough power to do that? Fuck you, I say!” the leader yelled.

“Well, fucking go on then if you’re really so tough! Or are you only bark and no bite? Cowardly ambushing me in private like that, I’m inclined to believe you are nothing but a talker. You can’t scare me either, you fuck.” You really wished Roman would shut up for once, lest he’d really get himself killed this time.

Your mind was racing with all possible outcomes this situation could bring. Only one was sure to get Roman out alive; and boy were you glad you’ve fed from someone yesterday.

Even though you had never killed anyone and didn’t desire to do so, you were ready to do anything for Roman, no matter what. You didn’t care that he’d know then, know that you were a freak of nature, as some hateful people liked to call people like you. You didn’t care that you’d take lives. They weren’t innocent, dared to threaten your love and you just couldn’t see past that.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, focusing your abilities into play and onto every single man of this rival gang. It was rare for you to use any of your powers that didn’t exist and activate naturally, like your strength. Your parents had taught you to only use them for self defence and this situation was practically screaming for it.

Snapping your eyes back open, now glowing red, all of the men around you gasped and crumbled, letting their weapons clatter to the ground, grasping at their throats, or chest, trying so hard to save themselves. Moments later, they were all just lifeless bodies, lying around Roman and you, as if you were some victorious kings. And in a way, you were exactly that, weren’t you? Roman was soon to be the King of Gotham after all.

All too suddenly, all the strength left your body, your legs giving out. Roman, despite his apparent shock, caught you, steadied you. Gently, he lowered you to the ground, keeping his arms tightly wound around you.

It had taken a lot more out of you than you had anticipated. You desperately needed to feed.

“Y/N? Baby, hey, look at me,” Roman spoke softly, something only reserved for you, you had come to realise.

With half-lidded eyes, you looked up at him, a strained sound passing your lips. “You okay?” you asked, still unsure if everything had truly worked out the way you thought it would.

He scoffed, “Yes, quit worrying about me. Are you okay? What the fuck was that anyway?”

“Just gotta eat,” you murmured, slurring your words heavily, “Sorry about the- that. I’ll explain later.”

“What do you mean you have to eat? Baby, I can’t follow you. I hope you realise that I’m missing some of the fucking context here,” he chuckled, which bordered on sounding hysterical.

“Blood. Vampire. Now, Roman, or else- fuck. Won’t make it.” Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your voice just barely above a whisper anymore. Fuck, you hoped he understood. Even more so, you hoped he was okay with it and that maybe he liked you enough to save your life. You didn’t exactly fancy feeding from him, when he was basically pressured into it. But he had a choice, you told yourself.

When you were slowly lifted up a bit and felt skin against your lips, you forced all your last strength to open your mouth – your fangs had automatically unsheathed when you unleashed your powers – and bite down.

The first taste of Roman was as intoxicating and overwhelming as you had always fantasised it would be. A shaky moan came out of him when you started sucking in earnest. Pretty quickly, you regained more and more strength, feeling increasingly less dead. You cupped the other side of Roman’s neck with your hand and pulled him further in. Shit, you couldn’t possibly get enough.

After a few, long moments, you felt Roman push against you, as well as pulling at your clothes, calling your name. Reluctantly, and almost as if you were just waking up from a trance, you let up and licked up the excess blood on his neck, simultaneously licking his wounds closed.

Roman was breathing heavily, and you were still feeling out of it, as you two just kneeled in this alley, holding each other, amidst the dead bodies of Sionis’ former rivals. It was bizarre.

“I think we should go home,” Roman said eventually, his voice sounded so soft, as if he was barely present in the real world.

You nodded and got up, helping Roman to do the same. He was swaying a little and this time you were the one who steadied him. Drinking someone’s blood always took a toll on both parties and you knew you had taken more from him than you usually dared to do with anyone. It made you feel guilty. You had to make it up to him later – if he still wanted you then – that was for sure.

When you had arrived at Roman’s loft, you helped him lie down on his chaise longue, legs propped up on one of his many pillows, to help his blood flow to where it was most needed. Then you went over to the kitchen to get him a glass of orange juice and an energy bar.

Roman nodded in thanks when you pressed either item in his hands, standing above him. You felt so uncomfortable, didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or if you were even supposed to still be here. He’s been so unusually quiet the entire time, albeit it was most likely due to shock and blood loss.

“So, you’re a vampire.” Roman stated, looking at you, and you hated that you couldn’t place his expression into any kind of category. You just nodded in answer. “Right. And why exactly didn’t I know?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, looking for the right words. “I was afraid of losing you over it,” you settled on telling the truth eventually.

Again, Roman only nodded; his expression was still so indecipherable, but then a certain shine caught in his eyes. You’ve only witnessed it a couple of times thus far.

“You killed for me,” he practically gasped. “Have you killed before? Being a vampire and all, I’d presume you have.”

You shook your head, “No, that was the first time, actually.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, in an instant, his expression morphed into something prideful, a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes brighter than any stars you’ve seen in the sky above – it was breathtaking. “You killed for me,” he repeated, sitting upright, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise longue, planting his feet on the ground.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you replied, a weak chuckle leaving you. You still couldn’t quite believe that you’ve done it, especially when you spared a thought on how it made you feel – powerful, so far above others, good.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Fuck, you’re a dream come true, my little prince! You’re so special. A vampire! And you killed for me, because-“ He couldn’t finish it, realisation dawning on him, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his smile slowly vanished.

“Because I love you, yes. I couldn’t lose you over some stupid mob boss who thought he could ambush you like that.”

Roman licked his lips and nodded, placed the empty glass and half eaten energy bar on the table in front of him, and got up.

“I’m proud of you,” he then said, taking you by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“For not letting your fears get in your way. You were afraid of losing me for being a vampire, but you were probably even more terrified of losing me to my mortality. And you pushed through it. Almost fucking killed yourself, only to save me. I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m grateful, too, naturally.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Roman,” you snickered.

Instead of continuing the conversation, Roman pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him back, hoping to show him just how grateful you were with that single kiss.

Then you remembered your guilt from before and broke it. Roman glared at you for a moment. “What?”

“You never gave your consent, I- I fed from you and you never-“

“I did. By offering myself to you. I had a choice, you know? So quit it. You’re not guilty of anything, my boy. And just so you know, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever feed from anyone else again, ‘kay?” He was smirking, but his eyes had an edge to them, which let you know that he was serious about his threat.

Giving a short laugh, you nodded and kissed him again. Life really was good.

#murder tw #vampire #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #reader fic #reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis fanfiction #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #mlm fanfic #mlm fiction

[tenskittens]

Not Enough - Part III.

Part 3

Warnings: Smut, threesome, john x ten x y/n, ass play, john x ten sex, fingering, dominance, cum (everywhere, ew), angst.

Words: 2.8k.

Read part 1 & part 2 first!

It’s been a week since you contemplated changing things in your relationship. As of now, nothing has changed. In fact, things have been sort of chaotic in the NCIT house this past week - you’ve been mostly hanging out with Jaehyun working on a coding assignment you were set over the summer. Ten went away for a couple of days - he said he just wanted to spend more time with his other close friends in the WayV house, who you were all pretty close with, but you suspect he also needed a bit of time away from you and Johnny. And Johnny - well, he’d been pretty distant too, and that hurt the most. You usually spend your rare moments of free time hanging out with him, snuggling on the sofa snacking on popcorn and crisps, having a low-key smoke and binging FRIENDS or comedy movies. This week, though, he hasn’t been here as much for you - in fact, you’ve probably spent more time with Jae, even Doyoung and possibly even Jaemin and the other freshers, than you have with Johnny or Ten.

“Ah, shit, watch it! Fucking arsehole” you yell as you walk directly into your boyfriend and drop your freshly-popped corn all over the floor. “The fuck, y/n, it was an accident. Chill.”

Johnny looks at you with genuine hurt, and you’re sort of embarrassed by the way you snapped. You didn’t want him to know that you weren’t feeling great about the whole ‘being abandoned for the whole week to stress about your work with Jae whilst your boyfriend and best friend fuck of and have fun’ situation.

You are pissed off. But you remember what you’re wearing - the little pair of shorts that perfectly hug your arse, and your hair tied back just how Johnny loves it. So you bend down to scramble and pick up the popcorn from the floor, ignoring Johnny but moving yourself in such a way that you’d gain his attention. Johnny watches you from his distance, and your plan begins to work - he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you bent over on the kitchen floor. Your silence was only turning him on more - he had no idea what to say, and felt at your mercy in that very moment - an unusual feeling for someone who was the dominant one in most scenarios. You stand back up after scraping together most of the popcorn. You stand slowly, looking Johnny up and down as you do, pausing to focus on how the veins in his arms have started to show - a tell-tale sign that he must be horny for you, despite not talking to you all week.

“So?” you ask him, a stubborn and demanding tone in your voice. You’re still pissed off - he literally hasn’t spoken to you about anything, leaving you in the dark about what the plan was and forcing you to seek comfort in Jae because he wasn’t there to hang out while you’d been stressed. Anyway, fuck all of that, you think to yourself. You firmly place the popcorn tub onto the countertop next to you and cock your head slightly, looking at Johnny’s face this time, but avoiding eye contact.

“So, are you going to like… tell me what’s going on?” you ask, frustrated now, trying to hide your emotional vulnerability by holding yourself in a powerful stance, sitting into your hip and casually leaning back into the countertop. You know you look fit, and Johnny knows it, too.

He sighs, now too turned on to even play his little game of piss y/n enough to get her to start the conversation first. He practically launches himself on you, keeping you pressed against the counter top and using his knee to hold your torso firmly in place. He locks his hand into yours and holds it firmly, too. You’re suddenly well and truly held down by John Suh, at his complete mercy and most-definitely not able to escape from his grasp.

“Y/n, Ten’s in my room literally right now. We’ve been waiting for you to break the silence because we thought you were the one mad with us. We thought you didn’t want to talk to us, so, we just sort of left you some space... for a bit...”. His voice is low, frustrated and tense.

Why was he being like this? He sounds genuinely annoyed, yet he’s acting like he wants to fuck me right here? And why’s he being so touchy?

“John, I’m literally pissed that you’ve been ignoring me. How are we never on the same page?”

Johnny doesn’t even reply, and you don’t really care. Stood over you, he’s one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid eyes on - you never fail to forget this. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, textured and dark, complimenting the deep brown colour of his irises. His muscle tee reveals his broad shoulders, dressed in a bold, dark tattoo on one side. Nothing about Johnny Suh screams “innocence”. He is dark, intense, experienced, and always ready to show you a good time.

“What I mean, y/n, is that Ten’s waiting for me in my room”.

Oh.

“No problem, Johnny, I’ll be alright down here” you tell him, your voice tight, wondering whether this was an invitation to follow him, or a request for him to leave.

“No, y/n. Come on”. Johnny’s eyes are dark and serious, as they so often are when he’s turned on. You’re suddenly hyper aware that you’re in

a communal space - Jae could easily be slumped in the corner of the room, listening to the tension between you two as he so-often was - but you still don’t want to make nice with Johnny, so you shake him off you and somewhat stomp your way to his room, the man following you closely and quickly.

You barge open his door, pushing your weight onto it, and sitting in a leather armchair, leaning out of the window, is Ten. Shirtless. Oh shit, he’s hot.

“Oh, y/n, sorry fuck- hi” Ten sputters, reaching for something to cover himself up and eventually just wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Baby, you still up for trying this?” Johnny asks. Both you and Ten respond quietly and quickly with a tentative “yes”. .

“Hah, I was talking to Ten, but sure y/n I know you’re okay with it”, responds Johnny sassily, walking past you towards Ten. “Hot”, he assesses, looking at Ten just as he’d looked at you earlier.

Knowing that Johnny was checking him out like that turned Ten on, his cock growing harder under his lazy cargo pants. He hadn’t long been at the gym with Jae and Haechan, and the post work-out effect had left him slightly tired but, visually, incredibly attractive. His abs were tight and defined, even as he was leant over the window frame.

“Heard Ten was really good at fingering when he was dating that girl in first year. Not to make this weird or anything”.

Neither you nor Ten replies to this. So like, does Ten actually want this? I don’t get it, you think to yourself. And, honestly, you don’t know that Ten is only really doing this for Johnny. In the moment, he seems pretty damn into you. He stands tall, despite being the same height as you, shirtless with his hair slightly wet from just having showered, carrying the scent of sandalwood and sweet floral undertones. He moves towards you, and your heart pounds, your hands trembling slightly as you become hot and wet for him... Confidently, the man sits on the edge of the bed, a slightly playful and teasing smile spreading across his lips, and he pulls you by your arm so you end up falling next to him. You’re surprised by the sudden action, causing your heart to race faster.

“Mm, he’s right, you know, I’m pretty fucking good in bed” Ten teases you. You and Ten locked eyes as he placed his hand around your waist and pulled you close to him. He wasn’t sure about this, but he felt a compelling urge to kiss you. Ten feels Johnny place his hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and it gives him the confidence he needs to lean in, chasing for your sweet, tender lips.

As Ten’s lips meet yours, you feel your heart murmuring, beating like it never has before. You take his kiss deep - although it feels sexual and intense, as opposed to passionate and loving. His tongue is greedy, chasing for yours and playing with your lips with gentle nips every so often. Johnny stands behind Ten, softly playing with his long hair, almost reassuring him. You feel Ten move his hands from your waist down to your thigh.

“Well, aren’t you two both such needy and horny, little things” Johnny teases, his voice dark and dominant. “Ten, honey, you know you don’t have to fuck her tonight, but she seems to want more than just a sweet kiss from you”.

Disappointing. Of course you didn’t expect that Ten would actually go all the way with you - although he has been with many girls in the past, you guess he just doesn’t actually enjoy that. But you can feel his fingers dancing up your thigh, altering their pressure as they skip across your crotch, brushing with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers and making their way to your opposite thigh. He is so careful and coordinated with his touch, different to Johnny - more thought-out, almost. Johnny bends down closer to Ten and kisses the back of his neck, whispering to him with a firm tone; “Ten, you need to be rough with her, she’s a dirty slut. You need to rip her panties off and fill her with your fingers and -”. You stop listening to Johnny’s instructions, becoming distracted by your growing wetness, pulsating as you feel the blood rush through your body. All you can feel is how Ten pushes you down onto your back, moving on top of you so he has full access to your delicate, glistening folds. As he does so, Johnny follows, teasing Ten’s upper thighs but not yet removing his cargo pants. “Ten, pleaasee” you beg, slightly moaning when you feel his slightly cold hands work at the button of your trousers, pulling them down awkwardly. You arch your back at the cold, slightly ticklish sensation. The arching is enough to grab Johnny’s attention - “damn, babygirl you’re sensitive tonight, does our slut need more attention?”. You whine in frustration, arching your back again to allow ten to remove your trousers all the way. As Ten does so, Johnny leans over him from behind and grabs his pants and pulls them down - he’s commando, so Johnny immediately grabs his hard, throbbing cock, releasing a moan from the man who is largely preoccupied with you, teasing your clit at a constant, steady pace. Johnny slowly pumps up and down Ten’s cock. “Listen, sweet baby, I want you to make y/n come all over us. I’m going to do to you what I want you to do to her - follow my lead, and you’ll make her come”. You heard that part - fuck, i just want to come, you think to yourself.

Johnny cocks his head. “Sound okay, babies?” he asks you both, receiving two half-confident moans in response. He’s definitely in charge of you both.

Johnny tightens his grip on Ten, prompting him to slip two fingers immediately inside of you, taking you deep without a second thought. It was intense, but so necessary. You respond with a sharp intake of breath, once again arching your back. When Johnny speeds up his movements around Ten’s pulsating member, Ten quickens his pace with you. He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a rushed pace, desperate to bring you to orgasm. Ten was genuinely horny, enjoying playing with you and chasing your upcoming orgasm, and although he had some limits, this wasn’t beyond his boundaries. He was so incredibly attracted to you. Your little, desperate breaths quicken, becoming deeper and longer as Johnny tightens his grip further, slowing down on Ten’s cock, and Ten responds in the same manner. He begins to slowly, but deeply, insert his fingers inside of you, pushing deep and steadily against your G spot.

“She’s actually so beautiful” Ten mutters quietly and breathlessly. Johnny responds, once again quickening his pace on Ten’s cock, planting kisses along his shoulders. This encourages Ten to quicken his pace, using the “come here” motion to hit your g-spot successfully with every repetition he makes. “And she’s such a slut” Ten adds, as you now whine quietly, high-pitched moans leaving you every time he hits your g-spot. He places his lips on yours, swallowing your moans with his deep, warm kiss. His lips are sweet and slightly swollen, making them gentle and exciting enough to continue kissing him, despite how close you were to your oblivion, and how distracting Ten’s fingers were. Johnny finally releases Ten after edging him for way too long - but doesn’t let Ten come just yet. Ten takes this as his cue to focus purely on you, tipping you over the edge. You’re moaning deliriously as Ten slips in a third finger and, with his other hand, wraps around your ass, playing with your sensitive skin around the entrance. Ten’s very good at this - he presses a thumb against your ass, gently but with enough pressure to change the sensation deep inside of you. You feel your pussy tightening, grabbing onto Ten’s slender fingers as he continues desperately chasing your orgasm, waiting patiently for his own. But Johnny is becoming fed up of waiting, so he drops his own pants and presents his cock in front of your mouth. “Work for your orgasm. Be my cumslut” Johnny demands strictly. You take his cock as deep as you can, feeling your pussy tighten as Ten drives you closer to orgasm. You suck Johnny deep and hard, using your tongue how you know he likes it. The sight of Johnny’s cock, dripping and filling your mouth, drives Ten insane. He isn’t even being pleasured, but he, too, feels so close to his orgasm, dripping presum from his tip. You’re still panting and moaning into Johnny’s cock when you finally reach your orgasm. Ten reaches one hand from your ass to Johnny’s, again pressing his finger into Johnny enough to send him over the edge. He explodes into your mouth, causing you to gag and splutter as you immediately come over Ten’s fingers. Your eyes stream with tears as the intensity of your orgasm sweeps through your body, weakening you head-to-toe.

“Y/n, you’re not finished, baby” says Johnny, standing. “Y/n, suck Ten’s cock while I fuck him good”, he tells you. And you do exactly what he says. Johnny is so gentle with Ten - so tender and loving. You can see now, despite your mouth being stuffed with Ten’s dripping, pulsating cock, that the love between these two is different. It’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s inherently sexual but yet so nurturing and tender. What you have with Johnny is fun - but you know you were friends first, friends now, and will always be friends. But you also know that this might be the last time you fuck John Suh as your boyfriend, and you didn’t even actually end up fucking him. The thought saddens you, but it passes quickly as you continue to pleasure Ten whilst sat on your knees. It doesn’t take long before you release him, and he lets his come spill out over your swollen breasts. Just a few moments later, Johnny follows, adding his cum to the sticky mess dripping on you. Johnny leans over you to kiss Ten - and in this kiss, there is so much love. You realise that he has chosen Ten in his moment of vulnerability, not you. But lying there, barely awake and covered in their come, you don’t mind. Ten flashes you a sexy smile as he kisses your belly, covered in Johnny’s come. Johnny pleasures your nipples, cleaning them up with his swollen lips before leaning down to kiss you, and moving back to kiss Ten, forcing him to taste his own mess. “Okok”, you say quickly. “I’m going to wash up in the bathroom”.

Your back is aching, you’re covered in come, and your whole body is weak and trembling from the intensity of working so hard for these two men. And Johnny was right - Ten was very good in bed. But you expected nothing less of the man who is good at everything.

Within 15 minutes, the three of you were asleep in the bed together. And within a few hours, you woke up, noticed how Ten wrapped his leg over Johnny’s, and how Johnny held his arm out for you to lean into. Feeling disgusting and tired, your heart sort of aching, you decided to slip back into your own room. You know you have to leave.

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I didn’t go into full angst detail about the end of the *situation*. There will be a short follow-up sequel, mostly just angst, that will deal with the end of the relationship, just so this story doesn’t end up with no proper resolution. I hope you enjoyed how the situation unfolded, but more importantly - I hope you enjoyed the smut. I’ll be releasing follow-ups set in the NCIT frat house in the future, so please follow and interact!

~tenskittens~

#nct 127 #nct smut #wayv smut #johnny smut #ten smut #johnten #nct reader insert #nct frat #x reader #nct 127 angst #nct

[br-disaster]

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

 Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast,  the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

 It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers  are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories  and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

 This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer,  they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

 Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely. 

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow.  It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago. 

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie.  And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints.  A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did?  also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he  probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would. 

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer.  He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader. 

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion: 

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

 Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

#this ended up more like meta than I intended #but Huaisang deserves all the praise #also it's super long #but he has many outfits ok #nie huaisang #nie brothers #cql #mdzs #i spent an unhealthy amount of time doing this #why? huaisang deserved a post too #same thing I said about the other post stands please tell me if I said something disrespectful

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!! #also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

[remmushound]

If you are still taking requests, I would love to see something about the 2012 boys finding out about Donnie's soft shell. Like why he wears a battle shell. Why his brothers are a little more protective of him. Maybe Donnie is a little self conscious about it. Just an idea that I would love to see explored! I really enjoy your writing and just want to see more of it!

“Hey other Donnie?” Mikey asked suddenly through his mouthful of pizza, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Donatello answered calmly.

“Oh. Then can I ask another question?”

Donatello raised a brow.

“Oh! Dang! Can I…”

Donatello raised both brows, as if daring Mikey to do it again.

“...ask you two questions?” Mikey piped finally.

“You got one left.” Donatello waved with a smile, “Make it count.”

“Why do you wear your outside stuff inside?”

Donatello was silent a moment before waving a hand. “Elaborate, my dear Michael.”

Mikey finished off his crust before answering. “You know. That stuff on your back. The armor—”

“Mikey.” Leo tried to correct, “that’s impolite.”

“It is fine, Nardo—“

“Nardo?”

“— I shall indulge the curiosity so it may flourish into the blossoms of knowledge!”

“What?” Leo tilted his head.

“I’m gonna answer his question so he doesn’t ask again.”

“Ah.”

Donatello stood up, placing his pizza safely in one of his metal claws while holding a hand out to Mikey. Donatello pulled Mikey to his feet and wrapped an arm around him to guide the smaller turtle away into his lab.

“To answer your question, dear Michael, we first must address the Wall of Babies!”

“Wall of what?” Mikey echoed, looking Donatello up and down.

“It’s not nearly as weird as it sounds, trust me.” Donatello ressured, clapping his hands to turn on the lights and reveal the beauty of his wall to the box turtle. “BEHOLD!”

Lined along the wall in perfect symmetry were small storage pods with see-through containers, the lowest row filled with several duplicates of Donatello’s goggles. The top row was filled with extensions and additions to his bo staff— a drill, a shovel, among many other tools— as well as extra arm screens like the one one Donatello usually wore on his right forearm. In the middle were featured five pods, one of them empty and the other four showing off various, similarly-shaped armors all different in their own right. One was soft and cushioned while another was bulky and thick and another looking almost furry. The last one seemed by far the most advanced, the one Mikey usually saw Donatello wearing— the one he was wearing currently was more simplistic, but of equal grandeur.

“WOAH!” Mikey’s eyes shimmered like stars. “You have loads of them!”

“Want to try one on?” Donatello offered.

Mikey gasped and turned to the softshell. “Really? Aren’t you scared I’ll break it..?”

Donatello shrugged. “If you do, I’ll just make a new one.”

“Can I try on that one?!” Mikey pressed his face to the glass as he pointed at the furry one, “It looks soft!”

“Great eyes, Michael. If you’ll please step away from the glass?” Donatello gave a patient bow and motioned Mikey away so he could open the pod by punching in a key code. The case opened with a hiss and Donatello pulled the battle shell gently off of its hooks, turning to Mikey and immediately starting to fit it over the boxturtle’s shell. “Might fit a bit weird, considering anatomical differences, but shouldn’t be too bad.”

He loosened the straps so they could fit on Mikey’s bulky frame and adjusted the armor itself accordingly. Mikey excitedly stroked the outside texture and practically churred with the lovely, furry feeling.

“You like that huh?” Donatello smirked. “Then you’ll like this even more~”

Donatello adjusted some settings by a control panel on the shoulder latch. For a moment nothing happened, but when it did the pleasure hit Mikey immediately as a warmth centered in his carapace and spread quickly through to the rest of his body.

“Ohhh…” The turtle melted, his shoulders drooping in the induced relaxation. “That’s nice…”

Donatello smiled proudly. “I wear that one whenever the temperature gets too low—I’m a summer turtle at heart you know, and I like to keep warm. That, mixed with my normal winter wear, keeps me all toasty while my idiot brothers freeze.”

“Mm… my Donnie would never let me wear any of his things. Or touch any of his things…”

“What’s the point of being smarter than everyone if you can’t sHOW OFF YOUR GENIUS TO THOSE BELOW YOU IN EVERY REGARD!” Donatello’s voice went deep and menacing like a supervillain, leading into a devilish and dramatic laugh. He cleared his throat and recovered smoothly while Mikey was still in shock. “You can admire my genius any time, but uh. Don’t touch anything unless you ask me first. Some of the stuff in my lab is highly dangerous. And flammable.”

“Really?”

“But of course! Remember: curiosity killed the cat, but Donatello brought him back because he can do anything he puts his mind to.”

“I… don’t know how that applies, but… okay!”

“Now, onto your question Michael!”

Donatello turned so his back was away from Mikey as he unlatched his battle shell with skill acquired from doing it every day for the past several years. He carefully replaced it in the proper pod without turning around so he wouldn’t ruin the reveal, typing in another passcode to seal it.

“Riddle me this, Hamato Michalangelo Di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni! What species… am I?” He motioned to himself.

“Uh. Turtle?”

“Don’t sell yourself short— give me details!”

“Um… softshell?”

“Apalone Spinifera, to be precise!” Donatello replied, “Good answer, though. Mostly a water dwelling creature, we are flexible, fast, and highly endangered due to overhunting. The main weakness of a spiny softshell is…?” Donatello encouraged Mikey to speak with a wave of his hand. “Come onnnn~ it’s in the name~”

“Your… soft shell?”

“Correct!” Donatello swiveled to reveal his vulnerability to the other mutant. Donatello’s shell was almost completely flat, similar to a human’s back if not for the width, and the only protruding parts were several, rubbery spines going down along the middle of his carapace. The shell was several shades darker than the rest of Donatello and speckled with light tan freckles. Mikey raised a hesitant hand forward to touch it, both he and Donatello flinching at the first contact before both settled into the other’s touch.

“Duuuuude. I feel like I’m petting like, a dolphin or something!”

“Well, I tend to lotion.” Donatello joked to help with his own anxiety at the touch.

Mikey started to trace his fingers along some scarring that criss-crossed the carapace, but Donatello winced once more and spun around quickly to grab Mikey by the wrist.

“DON’T DO THAT!”

Mikey recoiled and naturally flinched away waiting for a hit, but he opened his eyes with a slight confusion when Donatello let go of him and took a few deep breaths instead.

“Sorry— ah.” Donatello rubbed his hand along his back as if the gentle touch of Mikey had brought him pain, “Just sensitive there.”

He quickly took the cushioned battle shell from its pod and put it on himself, and once it was on securely he seemed to regain much of his confidence.

“Now then!” He walked forward and spun Mikey around, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him deeper into the lab, “Allow me to brag about even more of my brillance!”

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt donnie #2012 Mikey

[echo-of-sounds]

such a baby

-Present Mic x f!reader-

smut drabble (with a much more dominant reader than I originally intended)

This is the first time I’m actively asking for feedback. I’ve never written a dominant reader or a rimming/pegging scenario. Any feedback is welcomed: what/if you liked it, is the tone/mood/pace okay, would you like to see more of this? Hearing from you guys helps my confidence and drive to write. Don’t like/Don’t read: rimming, anal fingering, pegging

Whimpers and whines wept from his mouth. The lustful lyrics lured you wet. But this wasn’t about you. This was meant for Hizashi, to provoke, to indulge the gluttony that’s amassed over the past weeks. He was finally home, and he was finally naked and open and perfectly presented to you.

Your lips and tongue pet over him, freely, wetly smacking with every peck. Heated skin pursed, thanking you for your tongue’s touch. Taught, trained muscles subtly loosened, anticipating something bigger, thicker.

Yearning to see his state, you straightened. The silk ribbon hid his eyes. Drool doused the sheets around his mouth. Blond hair flared across the blanket. Lotioned skin glowed. His spine bowed gracefully. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the sweat and swelter and stimulation. He was utterly stunning. 

His head turned towards you, begging in a hungry, horny plea, “C’mon…”

You used your middle finger to circle him. Saliva beaded and dribbled, approaching his hanging balls, drizzling around the pinker, sensitive skin. You flicked them and he jerked. He humped backward, trying to goad you in for more. His balls swung, spilling spit to the bed, mixing with the ridiculous amount of precum globules already there.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” You kissed his sacrum.

“Keep going…”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you hummed, kissing his cheek. They were nice mounds, even though he wasn’t a fitness fanatic. He just got lucky in the ass department.

He murmured your name.

Not holding back, you nipped his skin and pulled. A cute cherry splotched the area. You repeated the action, increasing the bite force and tugging. The sweet color bloomed across his stress-ridden cheek. You made out with the skin, mumbling, “You taste amazing.”

Hizashi jerked again, fussing for more again. “Please-”

He gasped when you gripped his helpless, dangling erection. They turned to moans as you began pumping, slicking spit and precum along him. His thighs spread more for you. “Lick me-”

You interrupted him another time, brushing your tongue over him, pressing hard, but not into, him. The soft tissue puckered and clinched. Altho he begged you refused to push in. You did lap downward, past his perineum, to his balls. They clenched from your tweaking teeth and sucking, seeking lips.

“No,” he protested, squirming his hips. “Your tongue. I want your tongue. Put your tongue in me.”

He really knew how to be a pillow princess when he wanted.

Obliging his desire, your tongue returned to where he asked. His thanks came out a la guttural moan. First, you fondled lightly, admiring his heat. Second, you washed broadly, adoring his limber, rimple texture. Then you kissed and sucked, cherishing his dulcet whines and little wriggles.

As you continued with your mouth, you wrapped your pointer finger and thumb around the lip of his head, bobbing them on and off it, earning a loud response. You wormed your tongue inside. Excitement clamped him tight: it raised his groans and satisfied him to his first orgasm.

Fingers snagged your hair. Hips ground backward, riding your face as he swelled, singing his siren song until cum rushed out and he slumped to the bed.

While Hizashi calmed, you slipped the strapon harness on and situated his favorite purple dildo in place. The eight inches were just a tad too much for you. The thickness didn’t help. But he sure as hell enjoyed it.

He laid flat. His tender cock squished under his body, between his legs, soaking in a puddle of saliva and semen. You added lube to the mix by delicately smoothing two fingers from top to bottom. Whines sounded when you circled him. They rose when a finger inched in. They peaked once both were inside, pushing down, fluently thrusting into the well-known warmth.

His groan of your name pulled you in for a kiss. A spit-coated tongue rushed into your mouth, laving, billowing, tasting needfully. “Put in me.”

“I need to stretch you.”

“No, just- fuck!” Hizashi cut off at your spreading fingers. “Just fuck me already, please.”

Regardless of the fact that his eyes were hidden, you knew exactly what they looked like: gorgeous greens and trimmed eyebrows praying to be fucked.

“You turn into such a baby sometimes.”

“Then you better treat me right.”

“Fair enough.” Using your pointer finger to guide, you slowly and gently slid inside. The pop around the dildo’s head went well, but halfway Hizashi gripped the bedsheet, moaning more distressingly than pleasurably. 

Rubbing his back, you asked, “Are you alright?”

Nails scratched your thigh. “It’s bigger… God, it’s so much bigger than I remember.”

“Do you need a break?”

“Fuck, no.”

You kissed his shoulder blade. Ignited skin warmed your lips and palms. He was quiet, still clawing. “Breathe. Breathe through it.”

He sucked in and immersed himself in your care, simply experiencing your kisses and caresses while he acclimated to the stretch. You applied a little more lube onto the dildo and lathered it, massaging his thighs and lovely bum. His breaths gradually evened. Fingers released. Muscles relaxed, allowing you to slip a bit deeper.

You planted a kiss on his neck, getting a pleasure-filled moan. You licked next with the same result. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just start slow for me.”

“Of course.” You kneeled, spread him with your thumbs, and watched the dildo sink. His snug rim formed over the shaft’s ridged texture. Each bump widened skin so hypnotically. “You’re doing perfect, baby. Just like you always do.”

Hizashi swore into a pillow once the purple was swallowed. It slithered out, drawing out his puckered skin with it, and snaked back in, seeping lube. You swayed your hips steadily. The sight of him harboring the eight inches satisfied everything you’ve lacked for the past few weeks.

“Faster.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You really sure?”

“Fuck, yes, fuck.” His mewl convinced you.

Bearing your hands and weight on his back, you lifted and dropped harder, satiating your desires. Skin slapped loudly. It stuck sweat and shuddered his body. You found yourself moaning at the sight, speeding your lunging, “Keep singing for me.”

Hizashi raised his hips to a better angle. The first thrust produced purrs. The second: swears. The third: his quirk vibrated his curved torso, rich, hollow, and heavy, a rhythmic bassline for his groans to follow. Fingers yanked at the sheets. He propped his ass further up for more.

But you slowed, giving his breath time to catch, and leisurely humped. You palmed his thighs and sides. He clenched with your tongue-and-lip kisses. An occasional coo tempted your ears, like a sweet invite for more.

You asked, “How’re you doing?”

His response mingled into groans.

“Hmm. You act like such a baby whenever you’re fucked. I wonder how many have seen you like this.” You completely lifted then lodged fully, provoking a resonating, echoing moan. You gyrated to grind the dildo around. Hands flung to your thighs. Ignoring the plea, you pitilessly bit his shoulder blade, reveling in the woeful warbling. “But you’re my baby now, and I love you. Do you want to ride me?”

“God, yes!”

The instant you slipped out, Hizashi eagerly scrambled on top, threw himself back onto the dildo, and flung his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck as he began rolling. 

He went to grab himself, but you swatted his hand away. The flush and drool signaled how close he was. He’d probably only last two or three minutes- four if he was feeling Herculean. You chided, “I think you can cum without that.”

Despite a grumble, he listened. His cock sprung up and down with his first bounces. You petted his thighs and sides, pinching to hear his climbing-to-tenor moans that were mounting towards the teasing crest.

Every bounce jolted his voice. “Please, fuck- touch- me, fuck-”

To answer, you flicked a nipple.

More and more precum leaked. Strings formed from his wobbling cock, sticking to his stomach, stretching to yours, driveling ropes and beads between. Lube and other liquids slobbered, absolutely drenching the dildo. Filthy sloshes poured from him. His sounds and noises plagued the room, “Please! Please!”

You relented and gripped his swollen, hot, throbbing cock. Purple disappeared, sheltering inside. Nails drove into your thighs. Hips jerked vigorously. Wonton moans and his heavy, hearty chorus bewitched your mind, making you not bother quieting them as much as your neighbors would hate you for it, letting him perform his finale as he crooned and cried and released onto your stomach.

At the closing, Hizashi’s deadweight flopped forward, smearing the melting-pot of liquids. He snuggled close and suckled on your breasts, using them like a soother while the heat drowsily died. It left you wanting to just roll over and fall asleep with him cradled in your arms.

But you couldn’t do that. Both of you needed a cleaning, and he no doubt wanted a snack after two orgasms. You sighed, “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

You untied the silk ribbon to reveal his delightfully satisfied, dozy eyes. Wet lips remained attached to your nipple. You stroked his spine, watching him loll and nurse, and kissed his tangled hair. “You really do turn into a baby, you know?”

“But you love me.”

“I do.”

#present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #present mic smut #present mic imagine #bnha smut #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha

[feliix]

Crush Culture ✦ KTH (18+)

✦ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

✦ Rating: M ✦ Word Count: 14k (screams)

✦ Genre: fluff, angst, smut, fake dating!au

✦ Summary:  Once summer hits and you return to work at the local ice cream shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of relationships and love, but it’s Taehyung’s mission to make you reconsider by the end of the summer.

✦ Warnings: childhood friends 2 lovers, idiots 2 lovers unprotected sex, fingering, pining, soft sex, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships, Tae is kinda a player but he turns out alright

✦ A/N: a big big thank you to the lovely @hobiance​​ for helping me plan yet another fic and @jinned​ for giving me the much needed support and hyping me up until I finished my first long boi ilysm ♡ also thank you to my lovely beta @jinterlude​ who I would be completely illiterate without! the most beautiful banner you’ve ever seen is made by none other than my baby @koophoriia​ ily bunbunbun

Written for the BHQ Bangtan Boardwalk Collaboration

Taglist: @krystle1990​ @imluckybitches​

“Gross”

Another couple. Probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this evening alone. The shop is packed full of them on warm nights like this.

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t far from the truth. Relationships suck. Been there, done that.

You always keep the same theory; relationships either end in heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage can still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being dramatic,” Taehyung laughs after catching your snide remark from around the corner. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy, to say the least. The sun is setting, and it’s the perfect time for families and couples alike to come in and get a cold and tasty treat, especially on a day as hot as this one. It’s over 100º, and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Taehyung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath.

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss is kind of an asshole, leaving 2 ‘kids’ in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. Probably at the bar across the street, since his car is still parked in the back, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than having him loom over your shoulder and critique your scooping texture the whole shift.

“Whatever you say,” Taehyung shakes his head.

Unlike yourself, Taehyung is a hopeless romantic, always looking for love in the wrong places. It always seems that his relationships never work out though, which has always confused you – Taehyung is a great guy.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left.

“Just under an hour, we should start the closing checklist so we can get outta here,” Tae responds as he reaches for the rag and sanitation bucket.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave at 8 o’clock on the dot. You’ll be damned if a customer comes in at 7:58, but there's always one Karen that comes as you’re about to lock the doors. You hate those Karens.

Lucky for you, closing tonight went as smoothly as it can go. You and Taehyung are ready to go at 8 on the dot, clocking out and locking up behind you.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Taehyung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was gonna go home and sleep…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. You know his eyes are much too convincing to look into, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Booooo you’re boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, turning around to meet his suggestive smirk. He knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to argue back with him. So you tilt your head, waiting for him to explain what he has in mind.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

And with that, you’re starting the ignition to your car and racing home, carefully, of course.

Taehyung is always spontaneous like this.

After making it home and rushing to get ready, Taehyung was there to pick you up, a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course. When you end up at your favorite boba spot, you know Taehyung wants to talk about something. He never wants to sit down at a place like this just for small talk, you’ve picked up on his signs and can read him like a book.

But when you finally get your drink and sit at your favorite table in the back corner, he doesn’t say much. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up. His eyes staring down at his drink instead of sipping it, hands rested in his lap with his lip caught between his teeth. It’s puzzling, slightly, you thought he wanted to hang out tonight and do something adventurous…

The awkward silence and lack of gestures from Taehyung is starting to make you uncomfortable, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“How are things going with that girl,” you ask before bringing the straw of your tea to your lips, sipping nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “it didn’t really work out.”

When it comes to Taehyung, relationships never really seem to work out. To say it lightly, he is extremely picky. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh,  and then the one before that bit her nails.

Eventually, his pickiness has become a trend to the point that Taehyung will entertain a girl for a month or so. Then, he'll find something so minuscule within the said girl and turn it into a dealbreaker. The nit-picking things are way too much to move past for Taehyung. It’s clear that he is in search of the ‘perfect woman,’ like that even exists.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, is it really worth it to put all your effort into something like that? There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken back by your statement, his eyebrows furrowing in response as he waits for your answer.

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway?”

His question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Taehyung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and answer his question.

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your boba once again.

“Not all guys are dead-beats, you know.”

His words come out harsh, almost as if he finds your words offensive. Like you are meaning to group him in with all the guys you’ve dated in the past. Which is strange, Taehyung knows that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You can’t talk to guys, or most people like you talk to Taehyung. He’s the one you rant about the dead-beats to, along with everything else under the sun. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence Taehyung’s expression changes, his eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you see often, and you couldn’t say that you would ever be used to it.

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Taehyung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words leave his lips, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle leaves his lips. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’re crazy,” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do?”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Taehyung. And Taehyung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your tea from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“So you’re like dating dating?” Lainey’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on her face as you spill about your night with Taehyung.

Lainey is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Taehyung of course. Not that she shares the hatred herself, she just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know how you felt.

Along with Taehyung, Lainey is your best friend. And she’s the only person in this world that you can bear to work a double with on a Saturday.

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the scoops behind you. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday afternoon, not many customers have come in since you opened up at 11.

That’s the thing about working at an ice cream shop – it sucks when it's slow, and it sucks when it's busy. Though it isn't a miserable job, you at least have Tae and Lainey to keep you company.

The smirk on Lainey’s face hasn’t disappeared since you told her about Taehyung’s deal. She’s shocked that you actually agreed to something like this, especially since it’s with Taehyung. The same Taehyung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled like peaches.’ It’s only a matter of time until Taehyung finds your own deal-breaking trait.

“For the record,” you turn to look at Lainey, a grin still evident on her face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind.”

“Y/N,” Lainey whines as she draws out the last syllable of your name, plopping herself down in a chair to pout. “Stop being so…so…”

“So?”

Her face crinkles as she racks her brain for the word, rubbing her temples in hopes that it will come to her. Your eyebrow crooks in response, a slight chuckle leaving your lips as you wait.

“Pessimistic!” Lainey’s face lights up as it finally comes to her. She does have a point. It’s been a while since you actually let anyone in

“You know Taehyung, you never know, maybe something could happen,” her eyebrows lift at the end of her sentence, too suggestively for your own comfort.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. I know Taehyung, he’ll be over it in 2 weeks.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of her voice is raised teasingly. She doesn’t believe this will be a two-week thing.

Lainey has been friends with you and Taehyung for 4 summers now. Once she started working at the ice cream shop with you two it was an automatic connection. Letting her into your little clique with no hesitation, you quickly became 3 peas in a pod.

But Lainey sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You had grown up with Taehyung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Lainey, on the other hand, has a different point of view.

She sees the way Taehyung looks at you and how he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth. How he longs to make you laugh, watching you with a growing grin each time a chuckle passes through your lips. She notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is she to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in her mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the glass cover of the freezer beneath you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Taehyung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this.

“He’s picking me up after work”

“Oooh he’s picking you up?”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll at her teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy it’s making you. It’s just Taehyung, and you are just hanging out like you do every other night.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Lainey. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Taehyung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Taehyung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8pm.  What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Taehyung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Taehyung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Taehyung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a manageable sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his own to light up and beam across the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the coffee ice cream stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth.

He dressed a lot nicer than usual attire; a dress shirt with a loose pair of slacks dressing his slim figure. His hair is light too, much different than the dark brown curls that frame his face. He’s really going all out for this – and you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and an ice cream stained t-shirt.

Lainey is just as stunned as you are, frozen in her spot with her jaw practically on the floor. She looks at you with wide eyes, her eyebrows raising as a smug expression crosses her face. You look in her direction, about to ask if she’s alright to finish closing on her own, but before you’re able to say anything she’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, he hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“As do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

An interesting yet on-brand response from Taehyung. He’s a big fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination seems long. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between the agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time All you know is that you’ve been driving through backroads for at least 15 minutes, and the destination doesn’t seem anywhere near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing such a great job illuminating things. Your eyebrow crooks unintentionally – this was it?

Your eyes wander outward as Taehyung parks the car, unable to see anything further than a 10-foot radius.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Taehyung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Taehyung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that  leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Taehyung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Taehyung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Taehyung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Taehyung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

Woah woah woah. It’s just Taehyung. Taehyung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Tae and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Taehyung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Taehyung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Taehyung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the ice cream shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Lainey teases, her chin falling into her palm as she leans on the freezer before her, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Taehyung chuckles at her nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told her all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Taehyung felt like the odd man out around you both.

“It was good.”

Taehyung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to her imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell or to not kiss and tell either. Things are better that way.

“Just good?” Lainey challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. Her eyes narrow as she waits for his response. You haven’t told her anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end.

Taehyung glances back at her, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans.It would be nice to have someone else to confide in since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this is the one secret that you can't know.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Lainey. Not that Taehyung is looking to pry, he just has no indication to how you feel about last night, or about him.

Before Taehyung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Lainey’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – she knows something.

“You like her,” she muses, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now, and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but clear as day to Lainey – and that is more than enough to make Taehyung worry.

“I don’t,” He denies her claim, his willpower too strong to give into her.

“Oh yeah? Why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

Her words catch Taehyung off guard, his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny her claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Lainey is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Taehyung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know?”

Was he really that obvious? Did it show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Taehyung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Lainey is just joking around. That she doesn’t actually know the one thing he’s been holding onto for so long.

She doesn’t have to respond for him to know the answer. The quirk of her eyebrow and knowing expression on her face says enough.

“Well you can’t tell her,” he sighs, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered floors. Lainey turns to look at him staring down in distress, a sympathetic glance directed at him. He’s worried you’ll find out.

You can’t find out. If you do, then all bets will be off. Once you know Taehyung’s feelings for you there is no way that you’ll let your little arrangement continue. He knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, or at least as far as you know.

Lainey bears her weight on the cooler behind her, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “I want her to be done with this ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” her fingers mock air quotes as she continues, “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat as the words leave her mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers what she just said. He’s confused as to what she means. You agreed to fake-date him, but you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Lainey watching him as his lips roll between his teeth as he’s deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in his mind like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, for the right reasons; so that you won’t be so miserable. But behind those selfless reasons come with smaller selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too.

“Like you think…” he gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Lainey gives is ominous, but the raise of her eyebrows and toothy grin forming on her face needs no words to tell. If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Taehyung.

That night Taehyung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you can recall it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Taehyung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped 2 cones on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave them there without cleaning anything up. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Taehyung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Taehyung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got. 

It’s been 12 days since you became Taehyung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night two when ice cream cones landed on the shop floor face down, sprinkles and all. Spending time with Taehyung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Taehyung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Taehyung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Taehyung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Taehyung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Taehyung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N” Lainey says waving a hand in your face. You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Tae?”

“What,” she catches you off guard, straightening your posture and brushing yourself off before responding to her, “no…just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from her lips, turning away from you as she wipes off a table in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Lainey out of the loop during this whole fake-boyfriend Taehyung thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Lainey the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. What if you are just in the honeymoon-phase? If these feelings for Taehyung are only because he’s trying his best to woo you, and then they’ll just fade away as things return back to normal.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Lainey for her to know. Every time Tae picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide she’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Lainey’s eyes. She knows you too well to look over things like this, she just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Lainey has decided to take matters into her own hands, asking you about it herself.

“Lainey,” you start, waiting for her attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for her to follow suit. She does, a questioning but knowing look evident on her face as she joins you. “You know how this thing between Taehyung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

She nods in response, her hand quickly falling into her palm as she listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

Her question is more for clarification, she wants to hear you say it herself. She knows that you’re gonna tell her you caught feelings. She sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the ice cream cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at her. You can feel the grin on her face. You know she's smirking at you right now, doing her best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you got over your ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face her.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Lainey hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on her face can't grow any larger, but it does. She jumps up from her chair in victory, doing a funny dance with her arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Lainey smiles, her happy dance subsiding as she sits back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.”

Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring outlining each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the girl sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Lainey’s your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Taehyung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be.

Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face, falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles. 

A sympathetic sigh leaves Lainey’s lips as she tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face her – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank God it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like  

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Taehyung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something. 

It’s not until Lainey is rising from her seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Taehyung,” she starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-What’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Lainey is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. She doesn’t want to speak for you; but she’s scared of saying something that can make this situation worse.

Her mouth gapes as she searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing and she hums to find the right words. They don’t come.

The umbrella hanging from Taehyung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Lainey as she jumps at the sudden sound. But before she is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Taehyung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Taehyung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Lainey. She’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an ice cream shop. 

After Taehyung left she came back and let you know; she almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let her in. She told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Taehyung; to think about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Taehyung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Taehyung. He’s your personal diary, the one who knows all the shit that nobody else knows and listens to all the shit that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Taehyung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Taehyung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Taehyung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Taehyung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Taehyung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Lainey standing there with an umbrella in her hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

She pushes past you and to your living room, plopping down on your couch and making herself comfortable as she waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to her, plopping down beside her.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as she hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Taehyung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves her lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was she giving it to you, why was she here, and why did she have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” She says sternly, her eyes locked on you as she waits for you to look back at her. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Taehyung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Taehyung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves her mouth gently, a sigh following it before she reached for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Lainey,” you let out an annoyed sigh, “you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to him. If you could, you would, but you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” she sighs, this time more forceful, she’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.”

Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” she mumbles, her eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped.

Eyes wide with confusion, they’re begging her to go on, but if she does then Taehyung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. You can’t know what she knows.

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” she stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Lainey is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Taehyung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces. 

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Taehyung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are  no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Taehyung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind. 

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Taehyung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times. 

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Taehyung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way. 

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story. 

Taehyung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Taehyung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never pries.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him. 

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen. 

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate. 

“Taehyung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say. 

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape. 

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Taehyung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop. 

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price. 

“Y/N, I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Taehyung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Taehyung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips. 

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration. 

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Taehyung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Taehyung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten. 

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this. 

Slowly, Taehyung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts. 

In a leisurely motion, Taehyung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Taehyung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his. 

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Taehyung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body.  Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him. 

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologize,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen each other naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Taehyung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.” 

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?” 

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Taehyung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Taehyung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Luckily, Taehyung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down. 

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Taehyung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more. 

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. 

In one swift motion, Taehyung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction. 

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else. 

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Taehyung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Taehyung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it. 

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips. 

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched. 

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Taehyung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out. 

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Taehyung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Taehyung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Taehyung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Taehyung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full. 

You’ve always felt close to Taehyung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Taehyung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still confident. His tone doesn’t falter.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Taehyung.”

Crush culture once made you want to spill your guts. Every guy sucked, relationships were stupid and love was a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Taehyung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right in front of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

‘Crush Culture’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

#bb2020 #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #cypherwritersnet #winterbearnet #kpopuniversenet #taehyung x reader #kth smut #kth fluff #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfiction

[secondhand-trash]

Heart Knot

A/N: this is in honor of the whole 30 minutes in which I knew how to knit because I was bored at a school function and forced my friend who brought an unfinished scarf with her to teach me lmao

Description: You did not have much happy memories regarding both knitting and your past crushes, but the boy that had your heart now just so happened to be a great knitter. 

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x reader

Word count: 7827

Playlist:

Permanence//Bears In Trees

The Way You Look Tonight//Frank Sinatra

Hiding Tonight//Alex Turner

-

Kita Shinsuke’s first exposure to the art of knitting was through his grandmother, who taught her grandson the ways you could weave anything into something from doing each repetitive action properly and with care.

Something beautiful, something soft, something that could bring warmth to someone else on a harsh winter morning.

Winter in Hyogo could be rough, with inches and inches of snow blocking the road from down the mountains and into the towns. Kita Shinsuke spent his winter days away from school still waking up at the first ray of sunshine beaming through the paper window, his body glued down on the sweet comfort of his futon but still, he never overslept even as other kids his age would protest just for a few extra seconds in the warmth. 

By the time he was done with the daily chores, it would already be way into the afternoon and his tiny hands, soaked in water to wet the towels, would be shaking under the cold. Grandma Yumie always brought out the kotatsu in times like this. “It is a luxury,” she said with a chuckle as her grandson watched in awe at how the tiny round table in the living room had now been transformed into a warm cave, shielding the winter cold out with the blanket draping down the sides, “a reward for those who worked hard in the cold.”

The days he spent with his grandmother was some of his fondest memories, to the point where years later, even as he was old enough to have his own house with paper windows and a round table perfect for being turned into a kotatsu, he still insisted that there weren’t any feeling better than laying under the warm blankets after a hard day at work with the tv playing and a cup of warm tea in his hand.

When he was small, very small, with his fingers still a bit clumsy and not quite able to aim at the little loops held together by the yarn, Kita would sit there and watched as grandma Yumie brought out the baskets and baskets of colourful yarn, all sorts of sizes and patterns, and let him pick which one she should use that day. The afternoon news was playing in the background, and baby Kita had his palms holding on the warm mug of tea that was far more diluted and with way more honey drizzled into it than the one sitting in front of the older woman. His golden eyes all round and focused on the needles going in and out of the woolen piece that grew longer and longer with each flick of her wrist.

He could not figure out what had happened in the quiet hours where he just stared, not yet worked out the way each loop and thread came together in holding everything together, but all he knew was that the scarfs grandma gave him were always the softest and warmest, and comes in all the colours that lighted up the roads of Hyogo that were covered in white.

Kita learnt how to knit when he was old enough to remember the sequence at which the needle thread through the yarn. One hook under the open loop, the other holding it still, before pulling it out and putting the neat knot in place. He started with the thickest needle and the yarn that showed every knot and pattern clearly, before slowly moving to thinner threads and fancier ways of knitting. Now, winter afternoon at the Kita household consisted of grandmother and grandson sitting side by side around the kotatsu, the afternoon programs playing softly at the background as the sounds of yarns brushing against each thread filled the air.

There had never been a single cast out of place in whatever he made, whether it be a scarf or a pair of socks or a little hat for the puppy next doors. Because knitting was about patience, the knowing that you just had to keep repeating and repeating to make sure everything holds together, until you eventually had something good in your hands. It was feeling the tiny bumps under your finger once you had the finished product laid out in front of you, knowing that you put time and care into every single one of them.

Grandma Yumie complimented her grandson on everything he had ever made, smiling until her eyes were just two thin curves as she watched the boy who wasn’t so tiny anymore with his golden eyes fixed on the needle going in and out of each loop, the knitted fabric growing longer with each flick of his wrist.

-

You could not knit to save a life.

But you had tried, you really did. 

Once, when you were 12 and sitting in art class, your eyes beaming at the many balls of yarn your teacher had brought in.

“Today, we’re going to learn how to knit!” The teacher, with pins all over her apron and a book of stickers for the kids who did well poking out of its pocket, said as she placed the plastic box on the table, “By the end of class, you can all bring home something you made to give to your parents!”

You liked art class. It was fun being able to play around with crafts supplies under the disguise of early creativity development, and the things you brought home were always somewhere around the house.

You liked the way you could walk past something you had made and know that it was good enough to be put up, and liked the feeling of showing people the things you were proud of.

You picked out your colours carefully, imaging the way your father would have fitted a dark brown scarf into his work clothes or how mom could have used something in that lovely cream coloured yarn that was ignored by the other kids who went straight for the blues and yellows. You ended up with balls of grey in your arms as you made way back to your seat, thinking that it would go well with, well, everything.

You did not quite remember how you felt about the knitting process itself, all you knew was the excitement budding up in your chest as you just kept repeating and repeating, until the grey bundle of yarn got smaller and smaller.

You knew you could make something they would like, you just knew it.

The outcome of the hour and a half where you did nothing but fidget with yarn and needle was a subtly misformed scarf, a bit crooked at the edges because you forgot how to tie up the piece by the time it was long enough to be thrown around your shoulders and back. It wasn’t exactly the most intricate piece of knitwear, with small ends of the thick thread clumsily tugged back within the grids and some places missing a loop or two. 

But still, it held together nicely with the softest texture, and you were proud of yourself.

Your parents took the gift graciously when you presented it to them like you were handing them something of the uttermost value, complimenting you on your hard work and thought as they felt the piece in their hand. You made your father promised to wear it out the next day and he complied with a grin as he threw the scarf around his neck.

Now that you looked back on it, it was definitely not something a proper adult would prefer to be seen in in the public since it was rather... wonky, to put it lightly.

But you were small, and you did not have any idea that even though you tried what you thought was your best, sometimes your best was just not enough.

Oh, the way you froze when your father handed the pile of loose yarn to you that was all bundled up with a worried stare, your throat tight while you used all the might in you to suppress the urge to let the tears just fall.

You soon learned that loose ends and hasty stitches meant that even the slightest tug would make the whole thing crumble, and hours of your dedication was not a match to even the most accidental pull at the widened hole where you tried to hide all the mistakes you made.

You told yourself you were never knitting ever again at age 11, with your face buried in your pillow at the late nights when you didn’t have to fear letting anyone know that you were crying over a few balls of yarn.

At age 15, you had your first real, serious crush, the kind that made the pitch of your voice go higher unconsciously and the corner of your lips tug up just at a passing thought. Your crush was popular, the type of boys that spoke each word loud and clear like they had endless energy. You thought he was dazzlingly good-looking, even though he still had a bit of the awkwardness of being mid-puberty left in the soft arc of his brows and loop-sided grin. He was the captain of the football team, always the first to dash out the classroom with a dusty ball in his arms during break. You spent a good amount of your recesses just looking out of the window with your elbows propping you up against the frame, pretending to listen to whatever your friends were saying when you were looking at him instead.

Occasionally, he would look up from the field as he jogged backwards, and your heart always skipped a bit at the possibility that maybe his gaze had stopped at you for even just a second.

Holiday season rolled around the corner as you looked out one morning to see dots of white landing on the glass, each speckle of the snowflake clearly visible as it plastered on the window, the one you always pretend to not be looking too longingly out of while doing exactly just that. The nearer your last day of school before winter break was, the more you felt the knot twisting and turning in your stomach at the thought of whether you should try and disguise all that feeling into what could be as simple as a normal holiday greeting, between normal classmates.

It was at a passing that you overheard your crush telling the group of people who were crowding around his table during one lunch break that he thought it was attractive when people hand out handmade gifts, earning a round of high-pitched responses from those who were smiling a bit too widely for it to be natural around him, each one of them claiming that then they would try to make something for him.

You shifted in your seat, pretending that you were just napping on your desk casually instead of pitifully eavesdropping on a conversation you both wished you were part of and was absolutely detested by.

You had long decided that you could not even pretend that you were crafty by any means, but sadly, you were also young and very much so head-over-heels in love with a boy who just announced to everyone who was, like you, trying hard to impress him that he basically preferred people who make their own presents.

So that was how you found your way back to the knitting needle that you had not touched since 4 years ago, after how every single trashy article in every single teen magazine that you, at age 15, read an unhealthy amount of, told you that there was no better present to give that would portray the amount of thought and care you were willing to put into something like a garment that was hand knitted with only the receiver in thought.

It should be quite clear that the editors of those articles were just too lazy to come up with something new and picked the safest, most conventional option to put in there, but you were too desperate to find something you too could do that you didn’t care.

You left school each day in complete darkness now that the sun was long gone in the middle of the day as the end of the year approached, and spent the little free time you had to yourself at home struggling to knit. Your hands were a lot more in control compared to the last time you knitted, but the lack of guidance in every step of the way as you relearnt how to knit all from the very beginning.

It was cold, and your fingers were already hurting from the chill, but it did not stop you from staying up each night trying to get the piece done before it was finally the holidays.

You had spent hours looking for tutorials only, always battling between the knowledge that your skill was not enough to replicate a good half of the videos you had bookmarked and thinking that the easy ones were too basic for you to gift to someone. You settled on a neck warmer, something you could imagine the boy you so pined after wearing while running on the court. And as you held the finished piece up under the light, you were proud of yourself for actually carrying through.

There were no messy threads in the scarf this time, and you were sure this was something that could at least be of use to whoever got it.

The day when you were supposed to gather the courage to hand out the present came sooner than you were ready for. You came back to school early that day, knowing that your crush was usually having morning practice at the hour and no one else would be around. 

To your surprise, there was already another neatly wrapped box inside of his desk drawer by the time you got back. Its tag was hanging out of the tray rather deliberately, like a sly wink and a wave. Your chest tightened that someone was already one step ahead of you, but quickly fed yourself the narrative that it was actually better this way. This way, your gift would not stand out and seemed like it did not belong there. 

It was just a scarf, but the little paper bag that you spent an embarrassingly long amount of time decorating the night before felt so heavy in your hands as you stared blankly at it, the nerves settling in your stomach as your throat tightened at the last minute conflict.

The loud footsteps that neared broke you out of your trance, and you threw the gift bag into your drawer before pretending like you were doing something else. You cursed inwardly when you saw that it was the last person you wished to see at this moment, a rare sentiment given how your eyes usually search for him in a crowd.

The group of boys didn’t seem to pay you much mind as they huffed, laughing at something you did not catch on to as they threw their bags down. You masked the pounding of your chest with a violent stroke of your highlighter against the notebook that opened up hastily in front of you when you heard them going near the table you had been eyeing all morning.

“Huh? What is this?” 

You buried your nose in your book, but glanced at the few boys gathering around the desk from the corner of your eyes. 

Your heart wrenched when you heard one of the boys snorted, before shoving the box into your crush’s chest. “It’s for you.”

The sharp tear made your scalp tingle, but you fought back the urge to sit up straighter in reflex.

Couldn’t let them know you were listening, couldn’t let them know you cared.

“Ah... it’s a scarf,” even in your most delusional mind, there was no way you could ignore the slight hint of annoyance at his voice. 

“Hm, they said they made it themselves.”

The density of the air around you was a stark comparison to the boys’ howling and laughing that followed. The recipient of the gift only shoved the garment into the box roughly before plopping the lid back on.

“So?” one of his friends asked, snickering, “what are you going to do about it?”

The click of his tongue that followed twisted around your throat until all the blood rushed up to your face, burning and suffocating you. “Do you want it?”

“Hell no, why would I want a re-gift?” The other boy yelled with a holler, “why don’t you just keep it yourself  

“Well, I can’t wear it, can I? It’s gonna give them the wrong idea.” The nonchalant way he so easily brushed off the undoubted hours and hours of effort whoever made the gift must have dedicated to the present that was now pushed to the very back of his drawer felt foreign to you. A pang of bitterness welled up in your mouth, running your tongue dry as your mind go blank. 

“Besides, don’t you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is a bit too suffocating?”

The gift bag in your drawer remained to stay right where it was when other people started rushing into the room, when the class bell rang, when the same boy who you now realised wasn’t as nice as you thought he might be rushed out with the same smile he had on when he came in that morning. 

You shoved it into your bag first thing when you were getting ready to leave, hoping that no one would catch on.

You were surprisingly serene when you tore into hours and hours of effort until it was just a bundle of yarn on the floor.

You were age 15, swearing that you were never doing crushes ever again and finally decided with determination that knitting was just not for you

-

But life has its ways of making you think twice about every promise you had made to yourself.

First in the form of a snowfall you had not expected, and then with a boy who was always prepared for the cold.

Waking up early in the mornings just to tread yourself through the chilly streets sucked, but having to rush out because the initial “5 minutes more” you told yourself as you pulled the futon over your head once more turned into you having to rush out the door with your coat barely even worn properly in the matter of a flutter of your eyes. 

Your mouth was dry and your stomach empty from skipping past the breakfast that had already gone cold on the table by the time you passed it by. It wasn’t until you felt the pain tearing at your skin from the few bits of your body exposed to the specks of snow flowing down onto the back of your hand, so cold that it felt almost like a burn when the feeling settled, that you remembered the mittens you had also left at the side of your dresser. 

Great, just wonderful.

Winter in Hyogo was forgiving on some days, brutal and mocking on the others. The grey clouds were thick and gloomy as you dashed down the road, pulling the collar of your jacket up desperately to shield your face from the wind that you were up against face first, slicing down like blades before you finally made the last turn into the comforting walls of your school building. Your face felt numb of any senses even as you brought your palm up to try and give it some warmth, only to hiss into your hand when the frosted tips of your fingers brushed against your skin.

The bell rang almost right on cue as you stepped into the classroom, letting out a sigh and salvaging in the temporary supply of warmth from your own breath. Your lips were so dry and so chapped from the cold, even just darting your tongue out to swipe over the rough edges had it almost tearing at the thin skin. You winced at the pain, which did not serve you anything other than making the ache worse.

You sighed as you sunk down on your chair, finally able to let your limbs go slack at your sides after being so tense all the way through your walk. The sudden release of the tension you had been holding on you resulted in a broken inhale as you tried to calm the beating dee under the many layers you were wearing, feeling as if you were suffocated in your core with the heat trapped in and only within the center of your body.

“Are you alright?”

Turning to your side was a struggle as you shrugged off the stiff coat you were wearing. You were sure you looked nothing short of ridiculous as the puffer jacket hung loosely around your arms, your arms extended awkwardly to hold it from sliding off the ground. Your state of being was a stark contrast to the boy who was sitting next to you, his back all straight and proper. 

You did not really think much about Kita Shinsuke, even though he had been sitting next to you for almost half a year now. There was something distant about him, like he was in a whole world of his own while everyone else just circulated around. He was always polite, never slipped up, getting back earlier than most and arrived at each function punctually. Your image of him was that he was always paying attention in class while everyone else was drooling off, his voice loud but calm when he was suddenly called to read out whatever passage you were supposed to have read at home but obviously didn’t.

It was strange, you were almost distancing yourself from him despite physically being next to him at all times.

He just didn’t seem so real, didn’t feel very human to you.

“Are you alright?” Kita asked again, this time tilting his head a little seeing that you were looking ahead blankly instead of responding.

You snapped out of your trance, quickly yanking off your jacket to place it on your lap in what you hoped was a swift motion to save the embarrassment of acting like a socially numb idiot.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, shoving your hands under your coat to try and warm up the fingers you still couldn’t feel under the fleece, “thank you for asking.” You added, almost like a second thought as you grew more and more uneased by his seemingly doubtful gaze.

Kita’s eyes went to your hair that was still not yet tidied up from being tangled up by the wind, the dots of water on your coat that was no doubt left from the snow, and your hands that were now rubbing together again and again under the coat according to his guess.

His brows furrowed at the way you were folding yourself smaller and smaller, pulling the heavy jacket that was about to slip off your lap up against your body desperately.

There was a rush of shiver to your spine at the way he pursed his lips together, and you gulped as subtly as you could while trying to maintain the smile on your face. 

There was a speckle, a tiny bud of warmth setting off in your stomach when he turned around and slipped his hands into his jacket, hung neatly at the back of his chair unlike yours, and took out a small packet. It was a white fabric pocket but you could see the black powder inside from the thin fabric. 

You did not react when he held his hand out, slender fingers holding on the hand warmer mid-air as he waited for you to take it from him. You blinked at the boy who you had never really looked at properly until now, and felt a strange twist in your stomach at the notice that there was a slight flush on his face from the cold, dusting over his cheeks and leading your gaze to his eyes that were looking at you patiently.

He must have thought that you were so strange, you grimaced to yourself when the pang of guilt rushed to your face and burning to the tip of your ears at the remembrance that you had assumed him to be the strange one when you were being so disrespectful right now.

You held out both hands in front of him, looking like a child when he dropped the little bag in your hand. Nothing could stop the sigh from slipping out of your lips when you felt the heat it was emitting, landing on your fingertips like coal in the snow and seeping into your skin.

The warmth travelled from your skin down to your veins, running slowly and slowly until it settled down as a fuzzy tingle in your chest at the thought that it was so warm because he had been the one keeping it in his pocket, likely trapping the heat within his palms when he was holding the warmer himself.

“Thank you Kita kun...” you said appreciatively, swallowing the whine that was threatening to come out with the last note of your voice when you felt your senses slowly returning to you.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and your heart skipped a beat when he leaned his chin on his palm and gave you a tiny smile, “you should keep it, my hands don’t get cold that easily and I brought mittens.”

You did not speak to him again that day as class started and he, like the good student you never were, put his attention back to things that were more worthwhile. But you could not help but listen carefully for the first time ever when he was once again called to read out the lengthy piece of literature you didn’t study, and feeling a burst of exciting, nerve-wracking warmth budding in your chest.

-

At age 15, you promised yourself you were not doing crushes over dumb teenage boys again. At age 17, you realised that the pang in your chest when Kita Shinsuke replied to your greeting each morning (one that you tried hard to make it sound as casual as one could get, if you may add) with a smile was the same as that when you imagined your old crushed looking up from the ball court to lock gazes with you. 

But Kita was not a dumb teenage boy, he was nice and well-mannered and asked you if you were alright on a winter day. So you told yourself you did not exactly break your promise, even though there was a lingering fear at the knowing that there too was a time when you thought the boy who sneered at the carefully wrapped box on his desk was nice and beaming like the sun.

(You had, however, screamed into your pillow in frustration the day he told you they made him the captain of the volleyball team for the next year when you carefully suggested that he seemed happier than usual. “Captains,” you groaned into your make-shift punching bag, “why are they always captains?”)

Winter passed, and then it was spring. Spring was the time for a new start, but you were not excited about changes. You had been content with a simple “good morning” every day made possible by the convenience of your adjacent tables, but how were you supposed to conceal your yearning for a smile and a nonchalant word of care as nothing out of place if you had to go out your way just to even catch a glimpse at him?　

You had to force yourself, clamp your lips tight together to stop the pitiful squeal that was close to bursting out from the back of your throat when you saw the familiar kanji, the same one as the direction always pointing people forward and the brightest star hanging on the sky, at the “ki” column of the class list. 

Your third and last year and still in the same class, this was a sign, this had got to be a sign.

The anticipation was hard to conceal as you paced down the hallway until stopping at the sign of “3-7″ above the door. The embarrassment immediately followed the initial rush of glee at the boy who was, as expected already there. He was sitting at the first seat at the row leaning by the wall and even though your heart died a little at the conflict that you could not slack in class with the whoever it was standing in front of the blackboard so close to you, you still walked closer to the table right behind his with carefully controlled steps.

“Good morning Kita kun,” you said, still fumbling to find a balanced tone between letting him know you were happy to see him but not too much, glad that you were in the same class but not in a creepy way, hoping that he also searched for your name the way you looked for his but not holding out too much for it.

your throat tightened when he smiled back at you, “Good morning, (y/l/n) san.”

“You are early,” you blurted out, praying that it wasn’t too sudden.

“Yes, I had to stop by the club room to prepare for the upcoming tryouts before coming back.” He had turned around to face you completely, and you searched for everything your brain could come up with to keep the conversation going.

“Oh right, you are the captain now,” you cursed yourself for stating something so obvious in your brain, absolutely loathing air-headed your own voice sounded in your head. You breathed in, mastering your courage to appear confident and charming, “I hope it’s alright if I sit here behind you?”

You were smiling, but your knuckles were hurting from how hard you had to grip at the handle of your bag just to hold yourself back from fidgeting. The chair was already half pulled-out, and you crouched down just slightly as you waited for a response.

You knew you were the one who asked, but what if he said no?

But he didn’t, and not even the fear of appearing like a fool in front of the boy you so wanted to impress could stop you from grinning ear to ear when he laughed. You didn’t think you had heard Kita laugh before. It was an addicting sound, crisp like bells and like the pink petals that were falling off the trees all around campus. 

You knew at that moment you didn’t care if this crush was just as dumb as the last one, or that you might end up looking like a fool for going against what you had so sternly told yourself when you were 15.

Screw 15 year old you, they knew nothing.

“Of course.”

-

Then winter rolled by the corner, as an angry current sweeping the dried leaves off the road and the temperature dropping and dropping until you were taking out your heavy coat from the back of your closet again.

It was with great regret and exasperation that you found out, one year after starting to learn more about Kita Shinsuke, that he was brilliant and absolutely so passionate about knitting.

The way you had a whole storm brewing in your head over something as simple as getting back to your classroom after lunch break to see a very calm, serene Kita at his table, with a ball of yarn on his lap and two needles threading with each other in his hand, was an absolute joke. You had tried to form an interest in volleyball just to have more chances to talk to him, going as far as to sit through the hour long practices matches that Inarizaki always had with other schools at the far back corner of the gym just to have something to bring up in a passing the next day. But of all the things, of all the things this person who seemed to be good at everything liked, it has got to be the one thing that you associated with nothing but bad memories.

“What are you making?” you asked, holding back the screaming thoughts in your head as you slid down into your own seat and leaned forward.

The little glimmer of joy in his eyes was hard to miss, and you were not sure if you want to feel triumphant for finding a new excuse to talk to him or cry because you had not looked at a knitting needle in years.

“I’m knitting socks,” he said and held up the tunnel of knitted fabric dangling off his needles, “it’s almost Christmas, and I wanted to make something practical for my teammates.” 

“Hm?” You nodded, urging him to go on as if your own scalp was not frying from the recoil of what happened the last few times you wanted to make something practical for someone.

“This is for Akagi from class 6,” he immediately added, thinking about how you might not know who Akagi from class 6 was, “he had been complaining about having cold feet at morning practices lately.”

(You did, in fact, know who Akagi from class 6 was, but decided to let him give you the information instead of exposing how much attention you paid to the Inarizaki Volleyball Club.)

Man, you had never wished you knew how to knit as much you do now.

“Can you teach me how to knit?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

You froze at the words that went straight through your brain to your mouth and vocalised in the quiet classroom. 

“There’s something I want to make,” you gulped, stumbling to force a smile onto your face, “for someone.”

Someone as in, well, him.

You had already braced yourself to chuckle it off when he said that he was busy, or just some sort of well-intended reasoning that would all point to the immediate  conclusion in your head that you were just overstepping boundaries as no one but another classmate who just happened to sit near him for the past year.

But the screaming in your head stopped, leaving your world in absolute silence when he placed the ball of yarn onto his table and pulled another ball out from his bag.

“Sure.”

-

You did not notice, which was strange because you were usually the first to overthink on each of his miniatures, that Kita Shinsuke nearly dropped the needles in his hand when you quickly, in the middle of your inner panicking, suggested that there was someone you wanted to knit for.

He wavered for a brief moment, wondering if he really wanted to teach you how to knit for someone else, before feeling a sour guilt that he was being a bad friend by hesitating to help you when you asked.

He wondered who it was that you wanted to make something for, he thought to himself as he handed you the spare pair of needles he had.

Must be someone important to you.

-

So every day until you eventually go on break for Christmas and the new years, you would go back to your classroom early during lunch period to learn how to knit from Kita Shinsuke, who was coincidentally who the eventually finished piece that you hope you would finish was meant for.

You went into this with no thought other than to suck up on your own impulsiveness and just milked what had become of it as much as you could, trying to fish the opportunity of spending extra time with him. You were not even sure if you would actually give him the finished piece if there would be any, you were not sure if you were prepared to go down the progress of determination turned hesitation turned eventual heartbreak that last time you had to muster up any courage just to gift something to another person.

Even though this was all an excuse for you to talk to Kita, there was no denying that the 3 years in which you avoided knitting only made your hands even clumsier than before. He was always patient, always stopping his hands with whatever sock or hat or glove he was making to take a look at what would hopefully become an intact piece of knitwork dangling off of your needles.

“Let me see.”

The soft hum from his nasal every time you called for his assistant was enough to have you weak, and you were so glad that he put all his focus on helping you because then he wouldn’t notice you staring at him rather shamelessly.

On days when the weather was good, it was as if his eyes were the winter sun, the same one that was spilling in through the windows and casting a soft halo around him, all while his brows contorted in concentration over your work.

It turned out that Kita Shinsuke was great at teaching, and while much slower than him, you eventually managed to sit in comfort silent with him in the tender winter afternoons of Hyogo and let the sounds of thread pulling filled the air. You were trying but he was a natural, even though he claimed that it was just a direct result from years, a decade of practicing.

In the time you had struggled to focus on one piece, you had seen Kita worked on a multitude of things you were sure you should not even attempt to make. There was a nice thick pair of gloves for Ojiro, the trusty spiker who was feeling bothered by his dry hands from cold water. Another pair of gloves but this time fingerless because, to quote Kita, Suna Rintarou probably wouldn’t wear anything that kept him away from his lovely touch screen. You saw woollen hats twice but in different colours, and he had explained that he thought of making something different for the ruckus twin boys but figured they would just get into yet another fight over who gets what.

Crush aside, you wished you had a slither of his skills.

“I think anyone can be good at knitting,” he said, handing you back the row of maroon casts you had asked him to check up on with an approving nod. His fingertips just barely brushed against yours as he let go of the needles, sending shivers up your forearm that you were so glad was covered by your cardigan.

You laughed, brushing your finger at the few spots that you struggled to get right on the pattern, “I doubt.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he said, pointing towards the casts that got neater and neater as you progressed visibly, “you are already getting better.”

You pursed your lips, toying with the unfinished hem.

You had learnt a long time ago that sometimes you tried your best, but the best was not always enough. Sometimes, the best would get you a huff and a complaint that your heart and soul was too heavy, too suffocating. Sometimes the more and more you put into something meant that you did not know where to put it anymore once you tore it apart after no longer having someone to give it too, but it was too much to shove back into the hole in your heart.

You wondered if your best or your “better” was enough this time.

“Kita kun.”

“Hm?” he hummed, like how he always did when you look up at him from your hands. But you did not look at him this time, twirling the loose end of the yarn in your index finger instead.

“Do you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is suffocating?”

Kita frowned at the sad smile that was on your lips. You were looking at what he assumed would be a scarf from the casting and the patterns, rubbing at the slightly crooked cable. Were you thinking of the person you want to give it to? Were you worried that they wouldn’t like it? He had made himself stop speculating who it was that made you get back early each day and struggle so clearly with something you didn’t seem to exactly enjoy just to make something thoughtful for them, but he couldn’t stop the bitterness from welling up that it was someone who made you worry over them finding you suffocating.

He wanted to tell you that anyone who thought so was not someone who deserved your time, but swallowed it down anyways.

“No,” he said, and you finally looked up at him, “I think it is rude to think that of someone who put effort into doing anything with me in mind.”

And there it was again, the same warmth that tingled until it was all you could feel. Like a hand warmer, like a simple hello in the mornings, like the winter sun that was shining on you.

Right.

You smiled, a genuine one this time.

Because Kita Shinsuke was not just some dumb crush, because he wasn’t like the boy who never really did look up to see you, because you were ok with breaking every single promise you had made to shield yourself off just for a chance with him.

He seemed confused at your sudden change of mood, but you only shook your head and picked up the knitting needles again.

“You’re right.”

-

To say that everyone was hyped for winter break was an understatement.

But you, you were just really nervous.

You greeted Kita when you came back in the morning as usual, feeling the nerve bundling up in your stomach already just from knowing that if this went badly, you could not bear it to pretend to still be his friend from then on. Classes did not pique your interest in the slightest, and the only time you even diverted your gaze upwards from the book you were staring at blankly was when Kita’s voice rang in the classroom, blocking the blackboard from your view as he stood up to answer some question you did not know the answer to.

He looked warm, you remarked to yourself as your eyes scanned through the grey vest he was wearing.

Did he make it himself? Maybe you should ask him for a tutorial later.

And then you remembered that it was the last day before break, and your knitting sessions with him was already over. Your scarf was finished, he even complimented you on it. (“I’m sure whoever got this will be very pleased,” he had said, and you were just praying to whatever entity you could think of that he would still think so when you give it to him) It wouldn’t make sense for you to go to him anymore, and it would be awkward for both of you if he knew that you were only learning how to knit to be around him.

Your hands were so cold, nearly in pain as you grip on the box that you had been hiding in your bag all day long. You backed out of giving it to him during lunch when no one else was around, deciding that you would rather not stare at his back for another few hours after basically exposing yourself. But the day was about to come to an end. The winter sun was always gone early, and the sky was lit up in shades of orange and red as students rushed home for the start of their break.

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him packing up his things after the end-of-class bell rang.

“Kita kun?”

“Yes?”

All you could hear was the beating in your ears and the hilt of what was a steady rhythm when he turned to look at you. His voice still made you melt, and heat spread on your face like the fiery cloud hanging on the sky from the setting sun.

Warm, bright, beautiful.

“This is for you,” you tried to stop your voice from shaking as you looked into his eyes, the same ones that widened when he saw the box on your extended hands, “thank you for helping me all through last year.”

You had to remind yourself to breath as Kita took the wrapped present. “Can I open it?” he asked, his hand hovering above the ribbon.

You tried to maintain the smile on your face.

“Of course.”

Kita knew the scarf that was sitting inside the box, he could point out which cast was his doing and which ones you had asked him for help even with his eyes closed. He had wondered about what you had done with it, whether the person who got it was worth your heart and soul.

He had wished, with sincerity, that it would go well for you but there was also a selfish part of him that pondered, contemplated how it might go if he told you he would love to have that scarf.

You grimaced when he didn’t say a word, before slowly closing up the box. You had prepared yourself for this outcome, but part of you still felt a familiar sting in your chest.

Until you saw him digging into his own bag and pulling out a tiny bag. You were still dazed as he handed it to you, his fingers holding onto the handle and a smile on his face as he waited for you to take it. You reached out with both palms, before the weight of it settled in your hand.

It was a pair of gloves, soft and sturdy in your hands without a single stitch out of place. Your finger brushed against the intricate patterns at the center before stopping at the elastic hem. You could not help but slid it on, gasping in awe at how it fit perfectly.

Kita was smiling at you, and he was throwing the end of the scarf to his back when you looked up at him. The one he had worn that morning when he made way back to school under the cold was shoved into his bag and replaced by the less well-made one you had given him.

But he didn’t care, he loved it.

“Should we go?” He asked, holding his own gloved-hand out, “They are closing the school soon.”

You finally got to be mesmerised by him without having to shy away, and the way his eyes were full of you could only be matched to the sun that was setting outside, rays of what would be the last of its shine until tomorrow reflecting off the snow.

Beautiful, soft, and had your heart all warm and gooey.

“Let’s go.” You replied, grinning ear to ear, before taking his hand.

And it was so, so warm.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #kita x reader #kita imagine #kita imagines

[mostlycompetentwriter]

The Dreamz

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Seo Changbin

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Language, Smut

Genre: Established Relationship

Summary: It’s your first Christmas with your boyfriend, Changbin. You want to make it memorable and surprise him, but maybe it’s Changbin who’s determined to make it unforgettable for you.

A/N: This was written for @clandestine-lixie​‘s Smutmas Collab!!!

You were a sentimental person at heart, and the people closest to you had always entertained your tendencies to take things to the extreme, especially when they involved your firsts.

For example, when you were barely seven-years-old, you were over-the-moon excited for your first dance recital, and you planned well in-advance for the event. You put on a pre-show for your family members exclusively in the living room of your childhood home, and you demanded that everyone dress-up for the occasion (even though it wasn’t required); and after the show, you forced your mother to take you out for dinner where you ate far too many cookies while indulging a very sugary milkshake.

And this tendency for the extreme persisted well into your older age, illuminating some of the finer memories you had of your most special moments. Like moving in with your boyfriend for the first time when you threw an impromptu party that very same evening despite Changbin wanting nothing more than to collapse on the new king-sized mattress in your bedroom. 

 But at this point, the two of you had been living together for close to six months, and since this was your first Christmas together with Changbin in the brand new apartment you had leased together, you were determined to make it memorable.

Too bad Changbin was making things far more difficult than they needed to be, and you would think the man would know the finer details of Christmas tree decorating.

“No, Bin,” you sighed. “You can’t just put all the ornaments in the same area! They have to be spread out.”

Changbin chuckled when you snatched away the adorable BB8 ornament he had been attempting to perch next to the other droid. 

“Maybe you should do it instead,” Changbin suggested, and he was clearly amused at your frazzled attempts to decorate the Christmas tree.

“We should do it together,” you insisted, taking a step back to scrutinize the work you had completed thus far. “It’s important to make our first Christmas memorable.”

“Oh, I can make it memorable,” Changbin said with a cheeky wink, and he sat down behind you on one of the loveseats surrounding the fireplace. “We should start a new tradition,” Changbin continued, and he waited until you had adjusted a few more ornaments in place before giving him your undivided attention.

“What kind of tradition?”

“Let’s open one present tonight, babe,” Changbin said, and he was next to you in a second, reaching for one of the packages from the back. “Unwrap this.”

“Oh?” you huffed, accepting the present from him. “It sounds like you were already planning for this to happen.”

“Well?” Changbin shrugged. “We used to do this when I was a kid, so I thought you might like it...”

You sighed, feeling an insurmountable weakness for Changbin’s pout. “Fine,” you agreed, and you surveyed the pile of presents you had purchased for Changbin conglomerated together. “Open this one,” you said, locating a familiar package.

“You first,” Changbin said, and he pulled you down onto his lap with his present discarded next to him; clearly, this was meant for him to enjoy just as much as you.

“Eager tonight?” you teased him.

“This gives me reason to be,” Changbin said with eyes that were literally sparkling with mischief, and you were careful with the wrapping paper while finding yourself thoroughly amused by Changbin’s excitement.

“What is it, anyway?” you questioned aloud, reaching the small black box that had previously been hidden by the bright red paper. 

“You should find out,” Changbin suggested, even though he was already a step ahead of you in removing the tape holding the edges in place.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” you asked, feigning annoyance as you sorted through the tissue paper, feeling yourself start to frown when your fingertips touched what felt like the most delicate satin that you had ever encountered.

But the texture of the gift wasn’t enough to keep you from over-reacting to the scandalous revelation of what had been waiting inside the gift wrap. “Changbin!” you screeched, tossing aside the lingerie like it had physically burned you.

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “That was expensive!”

“You bought me lingerie!” you hissed, flinching away when he dangled the very tiny pair of black panties in front of your eyes. 

“You’ll look sexy in this,” Changbin purred, and he encouraged you to take it from him. “Will you try it on for me?”

“Try it on?” you repeated, hesitantly accepting the thin piece of fabric that might as well have been nonexistent.

“It’s a matching set,” Changbin said, and he reached over for the strapless bra that happened to be lined with a very delicate lace pattern. “I had a store associate help me find it.”

“You went shopping around a lingerie store with an associate?” you questioned, feeling a spike of unjustified jealousy. “She didn’t model it for you, did she?”

Changbin snorted. “No, my model is right here,” he said, taking your hand to fold the other barely-there piece of intimate fabric into your hand. “Please, baby?”

Had you already pointed out your weakness for his pout?

“Alright,” you agreed, whining at Changbin’s outlandish enthusiasm to see you practically naked in your living room. 

Ten minutes later, you found yourself fidgeting nervously in front of the floor-length mirror in your bedroom, tugging at the straps of Changbin’s gracious gift for you.

“Is it supposed to be this small?” you wondered because the panties barely covered your ass and the lacy top did little to protect your cleavage from practically spilling over the top.

“Y/N!” Changbin sing-songed from the living room. “Are you ready?”

“Give me a second,” you called out, huffing under your breath at the absurdity of the circumstances. “This ‘gift’ of yours isn’t very practical,” you continued once you left the bedroom and made the short walk to the living room where Changbin was waiting.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Changbin said, and his eyes were already glossed over as they remained glued to your form.

“Hey! It doesn’t even fit right,” you complained, but you could tell the comment wasn’t even registering in Changbin’s lust--addled brain as he looked you over with a dark, studious gaze.

“You’re gorgeous,” Changbin eventually remarked, pulling you closer in spite of your protests.

You found yourself standing in between his thighs, trying not to shiver at the touch of his hands on your waist even though the fire was burning right behind you. “It doesn’t cover much,” you said, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around your torso.

“Exactly,” Changbin exhaled, and you rolled your eyes at the little things that impressed him. “Your tits look amazing.”

“Changbin!” you whined again, but this time he laughed and encouraged you to straddle his lap. “Is this really a gift for me?”

“Of course!” Changbin insisted, even as he maintained the appearance of someone who had just won the lottery, running his hands across your ass and up your waist to cup your breasts. “Come here,” he whispered, urging you to connect your lips with his in a heated kiss that betrayed the extent of the damage that your little show had done to Changbin’s arousal. 

“You’re hard,” you said against the taste of him, rolling your hips against his own just to feel the friction of his clothed erection against your clit.

“Can’t help it,” Changbin said, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair with a growl, pulling you lower so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Bend over the couch for me.”

You whimpered at the request, but you forced your legs to work in an effort to lift yourself from Changbin’s lap. It was hard to focus, feeling more and more wetness gather between your legs at his intense stare following you while you positioned yourself for him. “Like this?” you asked in a hushed tone, resting your hips against the arm of the couch and spreading your legs even further apart.

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed, and you could feel yourself growing excited when you heard his footsteps nearing you, hands rough as they gripped your hips in a vice-like hold. “Such a good girl for me.”

You nodded your head - it was the only thing you could do when Changbin was in this kind of mood. Because his desire for you promised all sorts of erotic temptations, and you could barely contain yourself when he started to roll your panties down your legs, fingertips following a sensual trail that left goosebumps in their wake. His actions were sultry and smooth, but there was a degree of hurried anticipation that had you swallowing hard when two of his fingers found their way inside of your already dripping cunt. 

“Fuck,” Changbin cursed, and you could only agree while cherishing the glide of his fingers against the walls of your pussy, stretching you out for him in just the way you liked. Because it made you feel full and desperate, and you were rolling your hips back against his shallow penetrations, allowing you to do most of the work while he no doubt watched from above with the same dark eyes that had reduced you to a moaning mess. 

“Changbin,” you managed around a groan. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Changbin asked, but you knew the question was meant to tease you - a test to see just how fast you could thrust back on his fingers, crying out when he curled them just right to brush against your sweet spot. “Are you ready for my cock?” 

“Yes!” you sobbed, and Changbin was generous enough to have mercy on you in this pathetic state, pushing down his sweatpants just enough to free his erection, rubbing the tip against your entrance.

“I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” Changbin promised with a rough growl that was followed by the sudden slam of his cock deep inside, and he didn’t bother to wait for you to adjust to his generous girth, pulling back out before settling into a powerful and non-relenting pace that had you already seeing stars.

It was sudden, but generous, and you couldn’t help but think that his cock was made for you, stretching your tender pussy so well, accommodating his length and girth as your walls hugged his erection in a desperate attempt to keep him inside forever. Because it was where he belonged, and you were certain that there was no better situation than the one you found yourself in - splitting in half around Changbin’s cock as he pummeled his hips against your own, bruising your delicate waist and ass with his overzealous touches.

“We’re definitely keeping this set,” Changbin said, ignoring your whimper of pain when he snapped the band of your panties into place, toying with the lace around the edges. 

“Changbin,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby,” Changbin said, but it was hard to tell since he hadn’t let up once in his brutal thrusts - like he was determined to reach as far as possible, touching places that he had never felt before, stuffing your pussy full of his cock while grunting with the effort of his movements. 

It was all a masterful trap to reduce you to nothing but tears, and you soon found yourself teetering on the precipice, sensing your orgasm just out of reach, until Changbin maneuvered his hand down between the couch where you both remained connected, flicking his thumb across your clit in a series of measured strokes that lit the flame of arousal threatening to burn you alive from the inside.

You cried out when your orgasm hit, reaching out to support yourself against the cushions while Changbin continued to chase his own high, stimulating you just right while you rode out the waves of pleasure before crashing against the shore - feeling utterly exhausted while he started to move you on his own, and there was a renewed strength as he moved you up and down his cock, faster and faster until you thought you might cum again from the effort.

But then Changbin’s hips stuttered against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his release as it warmed your insides. “Y/N,” Changbin gasped, and you took some personal triumph in the fact that he sounded out of breath, even after visiting the gym that morning. 

“Binnie,” you said with a mischievous smirk, collecting your breath and thoughts while he recovered from behind you. “Are there anymore lingerie sets under our tree?”

You knew it was a dangerous question, capable of setting him off once more, but Changbin merely collected you against his chest with a strong arm around your waist, lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Baby, I can promise you that you won’t be able to walk if I have one more go at this pussy.”

You moaned when his hand reached down to cup your heat over the very thin fabric of your new panties, sending you a very obvious message because Changbin never broke his promises. “Should we call it an early night?” you asked, turning around his arms to connect your lips. “The faster we go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be Christmas.”

“Shower and bed?” Changbin asked, holding you close while brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“Just your average Christmas Eve,” you said, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as he kissed you with the remnants of the passion from your earlier coupling, solidifying the fact that your first Christmas with Changbin was, indeed, nothing short of memorable.

#changbin fanfic #changbin smut #skz changbin smut #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin imagines #changbin oneshot #changbin scenarios #skz changbin imagines #mostlycompetent

[mcbenson25]

Dear Mr. B Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Rafael took in a deep breath before letting out a long sigh.

"I'm trying my best here Liv."

"I know you are. I just want to catch this bastard and slam his ass in jail."

Rafael gave Olivia a small smile.

"We'll get him."

Olivia squeezed his arm gently as he turned to leave.

"You should take a break," she said gently.

Rafael turned back towards her and let out a small hum.

"I will," he replied but he know that no matter where he was, work would always be with him.

Olivia gave him a look as she turned to walk back to her office.

"I'm serious."

"I know," he muttered softly but she had already left leaving him to wonder how his life had come to this.

Working.

All the time.

He would be lying if he didn't feel a hint of jealousy towards the rest of the squad.

Olivia had Noah. Amanda had her dogs and kids and arguable Carisi even if they denied being together. Even Fin had his son and grand child.

They all had a reason to go home.

A purpose.

He could put on a smirk and sass everyone all he wanted but deep down he wished his life was more than just scotch and mountains of paperwork each night.

He hit the elevator button frustratingly.

Would he ever truly be happy?

-----------------------

As he walked to get his daily dose of expresso he couldn't help but view everyone passing by with a bit of resentment.

The woman smiling at her dog, the man getting balloons for his children, the mother soothing her crying baby.

The couple on the corner whispering and smiling at each other as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

He scowled before the scent of coffee beans filled his nose and he stood at the entrance of the scenic alleyway.

A sight for sore eyes.

"Ah Mister, what was that word you taught me?" Came a bright voice, "Abogado."

He turned to face Alice and gave her a small smile.

"I'm glad you still remember."

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well you've been coming here since for so long so it's hard to forget."

Rafael drew in a dramatic breath as he clutched his chest.

"Are you calling me old?"

Alice burst into a fit of laughter as he went to sit down.

"I'll go get you your coffee," she said and Rafael could still her laugh as she walked into the shop.

That's when he remembered. The note. Luckily he had sat at the table that he had been at yesterday.

He wondered if it was still there.

And he wondered even more if it had been answered.

He reached towards the brick carefully moving the vines around it. He paused as his fingers brushed the rough texture of the crumbling brick.

He chuckled to himself. He felt like a child passing notes in school. Maybe that's what piqued his interest.

Because it was pure much like a child.

There was no expectation to be met.

Just wonder and curiosity.

He chuckled again smiling to himself lightly as he loosened the old brick and saw a slightly crumbled napkin laying there.

He knew it wasn't his. Which meant..

Someone must have put in a new one.

He let out breath as he opened it.

"It's silly really.

How just a couple of words

Can change everything

Just as the trees can with the seasons

One heart can change

With just a little bit of hope."

Rafael reread the words on the napkin with disbelief.

Someone had actually answered and more curiously was grateful for his words.

He could feel the smile on his lips as he scrambled around his suitcase for a pen.

He wanted to know more.

He needed to know more.

Anything that would finally bring purpose to his dull days.

"Dear mysterious writer,

"I hope you are well. As I read your note I can't help but be intrigued by your words. In the many words I have ever written, I have never been thanked for them. You leave me wanting to know more like a new book I can't put down. I hope I don't seem too forward."

As he reread it he couldn't help but slightly cringe.

Yes, he had written plenty of things but never something that was not meant to sound smart, scholarly, or persuasive. Reading his supposed "note" made him feel as if he was a different person.

Someone else rather than the suave attorney.

It made him feel normal.

No worries.

No stress.

Just

Him.

He placed the napkin-note back into the nook, his fingers lingering on it before he sealed it. He felt something inside him. A warmth beyond the coffee he consumed everyday. It made him feel a part of a different reality.

A sharp ring of his phone made the real world come crashing back on him.

"Hello?"

"Barba something came up and we need a warrant, now," came Olivia's stern voice, a deep contrast to the warm drink Alice came and placed in front of him.

"Alright I'm on it," he said as he picked up his cup and gulped down the dark brown substance.

As he hung up he placed a ten dollar bill on table to which Alice shook her head.

"They should give you a break, you know," she said as she took the bill.

He gave a light laugh, "You're not the first one to tell me that today," he gathered his things, "Keep the change."

Alice looked at him unsure, "Are you sure? You do this too often. My mom's gonna start thinking I'm overcharging you."

He laughed as he said, "Tell her that I'm contributing to her lovely business."

Alice smiled before looking at her watch.

"Alright abogado get out of here you're keeping me from clocking out," she said jokingly.

"Ah yes. Go see your boyfriend then," he said jokingly.

Alice rolled her eyes, "I don't have one."

Rafael raised his eyebrows, "Really? 25 years old with no boyfriend?"

"Yes really," she said slightly annoyed, "I'm supposed to meet a friend.

He lightly hit her arm, "Alright I'll get out of your hair."

As he turned he didn't notice someone had come up behind him and ran directly into someone causing them to drop their phone.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time.

"It wasn't your fault," he said picking the phone up and handing it back and getting a good look at them. A young woman with H/C hair and E/C eyes which hid something behind them that he couldn't quite place.

"I ran into you," she said to him, thanking him as she took her phone.

"I think we both ran into each other equally," he said.

She laughed and he couldn't help but laugh along with her.

"Y/N!" he heard Alice say from behind him.

"I better go," she said.

"Right. She doesn't like being kept waiting," he said amusingly.

"Sorry again," she said as she gave him a small wave before walking away.

He sighed as he made his way back to his office but felt a small sense of joy as he thought about the note he had left.

Maybe this is the purpose he was looking for.

Taglist: @wittysunflower

#lawandordersvu #svu #rafaelbarba #l&o: svu #rafael barba #svu fanfiction #xreader #x reader #svu fandom #rafael barba x reader

[memzhay]

Sweater Weather

They were sitting on the couch in their office examining Link’s laptop. In front of them was a Visio flowchart of shots they would need for an upcoming episode. They had decided to bring back “The Backup Plan” and do a series of field trip episodes. It would still be a few months until any of it got shot, but it was a good time to start planning. They decided that once quarantine was officially over and enough of the crew was fully vaccinated, they should travel a bit and give the show a chance to breathe the open air again. They were currently trying to decide how many days they would need at an elephant sanctuary in Tennessee to get all the shots they wanted.

“These three right here would all be very contingent on lighting. Sun will be going down around 6:00 pm, so we will want to start filming this series of shots no later than 4,” Link said. He turned to Rhett to see if he agreed, but found him staring intently at his sleeve. “Do you think there’s time for all three? Rhett? Hey, is everything alright? I feel like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Rhett snapped out of his daze and lifted his eyes to Link’s. “Woah. Sorry. Got lost there for a minute. I think we could definitely do two sets of shots between 4 and 6, but I just don’t know about three. Did we decide we need a full costume change for the one in the middle, or just hats?”

“I think full costume would be better, but if time is that tight, hats would be fine,” Link said. He found Rhett was once again looking a bit far away. “Hey! Level with me now. What is going on in your brain?”

“New sweater?” asked Rhett.

“Yeah,” Link said with a grin. This wasn’t the direction he thought things would go, but alright. “Lilly got it for me. She has one that is the same brand and I liked it so much, she got me one. You like it?”

It was a dark blue cardigan, that Link was wearing over an ordinary white t-shirt, but dark blue didn’t cover it. The color of the sky at twilight, with little touches of silver that you don’t notice right away, Rhett thought. He had been staring at it and trying to figure out what the material was. It wasn’t velvet or velour, but it seemed to have a sheen to it. He couldn’t figure it out, and was fairly mesmerized by it.

“It looks so soft!” Rhett said dreamily. He held his hand up and gestured to Link’s sleeve. “May I?”

“Sure, if it helps us get some work done,” Link said in an amused tone. Rhett placed his hand on Link’s shoulder and gave it a pet. Ooo! It was soft. So soft! Like the sort of soft where it feels like it might fall apart if you aren’t careful. Link continued his thought from earlier. “Now, I think we call these shots say A, B, and C. If we really want to be done in one day, and there is only time for two of these, we have to decide which ones are most important.”

Rhett was paying more attention to the laptop now, so maybe the enchantment the sweater had briefly cast on him was broken. He continued to run his hand back and forth from Link’s shoulder to his bicep. Back and forth. Palm of the hand. Back of the hand. Back and forth. “Well, we know A is a must, so the choice, if we want to make a choice, is obviously between B and C, and MY GOD IT’S SO FRICKIN SOFT!!”

“I know, right?!” Link replied. He knew Rhett was a big texture guy, and he liked it when he got excited about things like this. All childlike and full of wonder.

“Is the inside this soft too?” Rhett asked with a face full of hope. “Softer,” Link replied simply. Rhett’s eyes went a little wide at that. “You want to try it on?” Link offered. “It’s a little big on me. It might fit you. The sleeves would probably be too short.”

“No, no,” Rhett replied. “That’s ok. I wouldn’t want to stretch it out or anything. It looks so delicate. But can I touch the inside?”

“Of course you can,” Link said affably. He undid the 3 large white buttons and opened it up. Rhett touched the lining and gasped a little.

“It’s fluffy!” Rhett exclaimed in surprise. “It doesn’t look fluffy, but it feels fluffy. How can that be?!?”

“Science,” Link countered. “Now do you want to be alone with my sweater, or do you want to help me calculate how much time it would take to move camera 2 from east facing to north facing?”

Rhett had not stopped touching the inside of the sweater. “I know this will sound a little weird,”

“So, now it’s weird?” Link said with a laugh.

“Yeah. A little weird, but can I rub my face on it?”

Link chuckled. “Oh, I don’t see why not.”

Rhett pulled his legs up on the couch and burrowed his face in the sweater, giggling with delight. “It’s like cotton candy and velvet and marshmallow fluff all had a baby that for some reason isn’t sticky! And it smells fantastic! Is that you, or does this sweater also have magical pheromone powers or something? Vanilla bean??”

“I ran out of my body wash and had to use Christy’s,” Link confessed.

“It smells like…Home!” Rhett was a goner now. Laying on his back with his head in Link’s lap. The sweater draped over his face rubbing his hands on the outside. He took a deep breath and settled a bit. “Now that I’m over the shock of how soft it is, I think it’s helping me think rather than hurting me. I feel like I know exactly what to do about those shots. I feel like we do need 2 full days to shoot, because A, B, and C are all important, and you should get a full costume change if you want a full costume change, and because Elephants!!”

“Well, ok then. I agree!” said Link, relieved. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“I feel like I can see the whole Universe right now,” Rhett said like a man in a trance. “Put your hand in the pocket and rub your face with it. It will change your life!”

When Stevie came in a few minutes later to tell them they were ready to discuss the shot schedule, she found them with Rhett still laying in Link’s lap, his face covered by the sweater humming happily to himself as Link meditatively stroked his cheek with a pocketed hand. If she was surprised, she gave no indication. “New sweater?” she asked.

“Lilly gave it to me. Its really soft,” Link explained.

“It’s so soft, Stevie!!” Rhett said from Link’s lap.

“Would five minutes be alright for meeting up with the camera crew?” Stevie asked.

Link thought a moment. “Better make it ten,” he suggested. “We can see the Universe right now.”

“Got it,” Stevie replied. As she went out the door, she could hear Link crooning “It’s Sweater Weather” in his best John Mayer.

#rhink #rhink fanfiction #rhink fic #platonic-ish #so soft #the most snuggly sweater ever devised by mankind

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

#text #another one in my bulleted review series with no rhyme or reason #sorry resident evil fans this could be a painful read pls turn away #i know almost nothing about it but i am gonna be super fake familiar and critical of this one hey ho