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bukojuiice · 3 years

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are you feline what i’m feline? — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: cat boy! ┃pro hero! todoroki shoto x fem pro hero! reader

ೃ tags: smut 18+ (the rest of the tags are below the cut!)

ೃ warnings: nsfw

ೃ wc: 3k words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.

ೃ dedicating this fic to the lovely and amazing @todosweetheart bc her cat boy! shoto art is the reason why this fic exists. thank u for the content u feed us val! 🥰💓

additional tags: use of natural aphrodisiac, cat boy! kink, overstimulation, fingering, kitten/cat play, rough but loving sex)

You had just recently moved in to a new neighborhood with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shoto.

Your blissful domestic life with him was just about to begin and life couldn’t get any better than this. and yet...

sometimes you wish you could do more for him.

The two of you met when you were hired to work at his father’s agency, stealing glances at him by the reception area whenever you came in for work, and coincidentally getting into the same elevator as him. Not knowing that he was woefully smitten with you too. It was only through the probing of your co-workers that you had drunkenly confessed to him at a company party and he had (soberly) confessed to you too.

That was where everything started.

That was how you and the No. #3 Pro-hero got together.

Sometimes, it made you think if you were even worthy of his love.

You were just a hero with a support quirk; with it being used for more science and field-related work as your powers made you manifest and create drinkable liquids that could change the physical appearance of a person (make them invisible, turn them into an animal, or even turn them back into a child or into an elderly person) for a limited time and depending on how strong or weak the solution. This means that through your quirk, you are able to tamper with a person’s DNA through these concoctions without any consequences. It was a powerful quirk, just like magic, yes, but can it be used for offense? Sadly not.

Shoto’s quirk was the exact opposite. Bearing the quirk of fire and ice, he was the definition of perfection. The perfect quirk, the perfect combination of two exact opposite elements, and how adept he is at using both of them. Often praised and hailed by the public for not only being extremely powerful, but also for how painstakingly handsome he is. You were just waiting for some controversial tabloid to talk about the No. 3 Pro Hero and his girlfriend who was way out of his league.

Shoto constantly reassures you not to worry about them, never failing to calm you down with his gentle I love you’s and forehead kisses whenever he sees you tensed up and nervous, and never failing to tell you that you are the light of his life and his strength to continue fighting. and yet, it still worries you sometimes.

Today marks your 2 year anniversary.

The two of you decide to go out on a simple date tonight at one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the neighborhood as the two of you were busy with throwing out the moving boxes and unwrapping your furniture, combined with the hero work that the two of you do during the day. Completely ruling out the possibility of being able to plan an elaborate anniversary date.

But, it was alright. As cheesy as Shoto makes it sound, no day can ever become the worst, as long as he’s spending it with you.

“Ah~ Those crepes were super yummy! Plus, the cafe was really cute!” You beam with a satisfying yawn, the two of you walking side by side, hand holding the other, and his arm wrapped around your shoulder for that extra warmth against the cold summer night.

“Yea. There was a classy vibe to it. That was my first time trying a galette, and I must say that was tasty.” He remarks, turning to you. Your radiant and lively energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “Leave it to Mina and Sato to know all the best restaurants, I suppose.”

You nod contentedly and the two of you continue to walk back home in silence. Shoto looks around, taking in the sight and wondering if he could point out any small details about your surroundings that could make you laugh or smile. He notices a small shadow perk up from beneath a bush and he casually points at it. “Hmm? (Y/N), look over there.”

You follow Shoto’s gaze and also notice the small shadowy figure. “Oh?”

The quiet sound of a purr could be heard from the bush. The two of you wait a little bit for the creature to reveal itself. A black cat pounces out of the plant, it’s beautiful green eyes staring back at you. “Meoooow.”

The cat walks up to you and you crouch down, putting your hand out, and wait patiently. Sure enough, the cat nuzzles against it.

“Ahhh she’s so cute.” You observe the cat a bit more and notice it’s femme feline features. Shoto crouches down next to you and pats it’s head. Clearly the kitty seems to enjoy all this attention as she’s purring up a storm. “She is.”

You glance at Shoto and notice how his eyes glimmered a different blue-grey light as he continued to play with the kitten. Pure bliss present in his face. His handsome and soft features make you blush, with the heat rising up to your cheeks, you quickly turn away before Shoto could notice you.

Bingo.

What if you turned into a Cat Girl and made Shoto… ya know…

It was a simple formula after all. You could whip up a concoction, sprinkle in a little bit of natural aphrodisiac and that’s it! The recipe to the sexiest and kinkiest night of your life! Maybe you could show your love to Shoto in a different way than most girlfriends do to their boyfriends no?

“AHAH!” You suddenly jump up from the ground, your boyfriend perks up a little bit in surprise too. You then bring out your phone and begin scrolling through your notes. “Sho-kun! Come on! Let’s get home!” You grab his hand and drag him away. He adjusts his running to your pace, smiling at your sudden burst of eagerness and excitement. “Alright alright, love. Be careful so we don’t trip.”

That night, you told Shoto to not wait for you as you had to brew up some potions for tomorrow as specially requested by a hero from your agency. Although reluctant at first to leave you, he intently watched you work your magic at the little science lab in your house. The smell of the strong chemicals waft around the living room, prompting him to retreat back to your bedroom, but not without a quick kiss (that was about to turn into a make out session) before bed.

“Happy anniversary, Love.” Shoto holds you by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you swaying slightly to the non-existent rhythm and this makes you almost want to go to bed with him. “Shall we continue this tomorrow?” He peppers kisses down your neck, you giggle in response.

“We shall.” You turn to him and deliver a kiss to his lips. You pull away before you could even begin to think of yearning for more. “I’m sorry if we had to cut our anniversary short. It’s your day off tomorrow right? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He nods first before giving you one last kiss, this time on the forehead. “Goodnight (Y/N). I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away. you watch him leave your lab first and make sure he’s out of sight before you get back to work.

After a few more hours of solving the formula and crafting the recipe for a potion that doesn’t necessarily turn you into a cat, but rather, give you only cat ears and a cat tail, yu bring out a thermos bottle from the cupboard and pour in the liquid solvent along with the natural aphrodisiac. You stir it a little bit before using your quirk to add the finishing touch and to make it a viable and an actually working potion.

“Can’t wait to drink this tomorrow.” You snicker to yourself, as you pour all of the liquid onto the thermos, storing it in the fridge and then proceed to go to your bedroom and finally hit the sack.

“AHH I’M LATE!” You rush out of the bedroom, messy bedhead hair, your hero suit not even fully zipped up, mismatched socks, and your bag tossing and turning, most of the contents falling out, your thermos being one of them. “I’M LATE FOR WORK! BYE! I LOVE YOU!” You greet Shoto who was eating his breakfast in the kitchen, planting him a farewell kiss on the cheek as you dash your way out of the house.

“I l-love you too.” He bids goodbye with a wave, but you weren’t even there to hear it anymore. Shoto’s eyes cast downward, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t even able to greet you properly this morning and how your anniversary date felt so short even though you promised each other you would spend more time together later today.

He then notices your water bottle on the ground. A sticky note that was labeled “Drink me!” was attached to it and of course as every other person would react once they see a note like that,

Shoto thought that was for him.

“SHO! I’M BACK!” You call out to him, closing the door behind you. “Sho~?” You sing-song, peering through the kitchen and the living room but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where are youuu?” You continue to traverse through your house, looking for him. You grind to a halt when you notice your thermos bottle on top of the dining table… All empty.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

“Shoto!” You call out, your voice cracking with nervousness. You rush to your bedroom, hoping and praying that he was there. Only… for the lights to be out.

“Sho?” Your hand reaches out for the light switch. But, you hesitate. What if a demon had kidnapped your boyfriend and you had to save him!? What can your quirk even do to save him!?

“(Y/N)...” He finally responds. Although his tone was soft and still a bit suspicious, you breathe a sigh of a relief and finally turn on the lights.

The lights illuminate the room to reveal your boyfriend in his usual turtleneck fit that you always ogle at. You look up and down, noticing that this is still the same man you know and love and nothing bad actually happened until…

You look up and behind him.

He’s still the same man you know and love.

Just this time however. he’s a cat boy.

“I drank the potion that you made.” He says ever so casually, nothing ever fazes him as usual. “It had a “drink me!” sticky note attached to it and I thought it was for me.” He continues to speak plainly. You thought you could get out of this situation scotch-free and you didn’t have to explain to your loving boyfriend what had happened to him. That was until he crossed his arms, his feet tapping the ground, and his cat tail waving behind him. “Please explain to me why I am now a cat boy.”

“Well…” You began twiddling with your fingers, trying your very best not to make eye contact with him or else you would end up squealing in delight because of how adorable he looked. “You see, I made this potion to turn me into a cat girl so that I can… ya know… please you and stuff. I saw how affectionate you were with the cat we saw last night so.. I guess you can consider this as my late anniversary gift to you?” You laugh sheepishly, still trying your best not to look at him as his gaze intensifies.

Shoto’s black and white cat ears twitch as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Fine. I forgive you. This will wear off eventually right?” You nod in response and Shoto’s shoulders slump down in relief. He was about to approach you and envelop you in a hug, until his legs wobbled midway and he practically fell down onto the floor.

You rush to him and help him stand up, propping himself on the bed. “Sho… are you alright love?”

He starts breathing heavily, cat ears twitching once again, fingers trembling, lips quivering, and his face as red as a tomato. “(Y/N)... what was even in that potion you made?”

You suddenly remember the aphrodisiac you added to the recipe.

Oh no no no no (2)

Shoto suddenly turns away from you before you could notice the bulge rising in his pants. He covers his face in embarrassment, refusing to look at you.

“I also added some aphrodisiac and some catnip into the potion ahahaha…” You scratch the back of your neck. Shoto turns to you again, his eyes glowing like that of a cat and giving off a smoldering feeling. He shifts your position, gently yet somehow arduously pinning you down on the bed. He steps closer, hands moving up your sides, going around your back, pulling you flush against him. Shoto nips at your earlobe, sending sparks through you.

You bite back a moan as he kisses your neck, his tongue hot, the gentle scrape of his teeth (slightly sharped like that of fangs) leaving you shivering.

The two of you stop for a bit. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Tension coils around him, barely contained energy. As if Shoto is preventing himself from showing you his animalistic and feline hunger wanting to ravage you.

“C-can I-”

Before Shoto could even utter another word, you grab his face and pull him back into a desperate kiss, capturing his gasp and the throaty moan that follows. You capture his mouth with yours, and he responds eagerly, his kiss fervent, all his restraint crumbling at your touch.

He kisses your chin, and you tip your head back as he trails his lips down your neck, murmuring praise.

He lays you down, hiking your shirt up, tossing it to the floor, then deftly unhooking your bra, and exposing your breasts. You giggle and reach for his pants, unzipping the fly and getting a little thrill when you see the huge bulge in his boxers.

You push up his turtleneck sweater to admire his abs and Shoto smiles back at you seductively.

“Like what you see?” He says teasingly, a little quip that he barely does when the two of you make love, his husky voice makes your stomach swoop.

“I can only tell you if you purr first.” You tease back, running your fingers over his cat ears. Shoto feels the tickling sensation build up inside of him, slowly about to give in to his raw animal instincts. While you continue to run your fingers through his cat features, he begins to suck and nibble on your breasts. You feel yourself get lost in his gentle caress, barely even notice him pulling off your panties and sliding them off between your legs. Shoto’s fingers slowly slide into your womanhood, as if testing out the waters. He works them in and out for a bit, then pulls them out, brings them to his mouth, and licks them.

Like a kitten licking its milk.

“Sho…”

You feel the last of Shoto’s restraint break as his cat ears twitch again, you can practically feel the energy crackling around him, and the hunger in his eyes more evident than a while ago. Shoto then braces his arms beside your head, as he slots his hips between your thighs. You rise up to meet him, a low moan spilling from your lips.

“(Y/N)... I’m going to put it in now…”

You bite your lip and nod in confirmation.

Shoto gently sets a slow pace, your head spins at the sensation and the arousal coursing through you, your hips rolling to meet the movements of his cock. As he enters, the thrilling sensation courses through you again and your mind feels like it just melted.

You gently rub his cat ears again, and his cock twitches inside of you, the enthralling reaction resulting in a shudder of pleasure shooting through your body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And that pleasure transmits to Shoto loud and clear from your pussy.

Meanwhile, his breathing was ragged, more wild and animalistic than normal. Which is to be expected due to the potion but… this hot and intense feeling radiating off of him was different.

And you love it.

“I-I feel like I’m losing control…”

As Shoto speaks, he slams his cock into you, making your legs shake and you moaning louder than you should. Everything seems more intense, from his thrusting to the look on his eye.

At this point, it’s getting harder and harder to form a coherent sentence.

“Is it alright if I go faster?” Shoto says softly, you hold his hand in reassurance, unable to respond properly as every intense emotion running inside of you makes you let out hitched and breathy moans instead.

Shoto pulls out halfway, then slams back inside of you, making a loud sticky sound.

The two of you were acting like animals in heat.

“A-ah! Shoto!” You mewl out, each of Shoto’s thrust hitting an undiscovered part of your insides. Spurred on by your voice, his pace further increases, until you’re both moving frantically. You gasp at his intensity, at the weight and heat of his body pinning you down.

“(Y/N)! I’m going to-”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, and his fluffy tail briefly brushes against you. Shoto’s body tenses up as he prepares to unload inside of you.

Shoto’s body spasms- including his tail. Waves of pleasure flood over you as his semen shoots full-force into your depths.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before he slowly lays himself next to you, his feline features slowly disappearing as you try to catch your breath.

“L-look they disappeared with one whoosh.” You say in between pants and giggles, Shoto covering the two of you with your bed duvet, chuckling along with you/

“Next time, please label things properly and tell me if you added any sort of ingredient that could increasingly highten my sex drive.” He says with an exasperated sigh, yet satisfaction plastered all over his face as he looks at you lovingly. “I love you (Y/N). Happy anniversary… nya~” He whispers the last few words, shooting you a wink.

Your eyes widen, your mouth forming into an O like that one Chris Pratt meme. “Y-you just said…”

“Let’s h-have a nap and just have some late dinner instead.” He shushes you by planting a kiss on your forehead.

You were about to protest, but as soon as Shoto shut his eyes, you didn’t bother doing so anymore.

You plant a kiss on his knuckles, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too Sho. Happy anniversary.”

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spencersawkward · 4 years

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

3K notes · View notes

ronsbadidea · 3 years

Note

🧩, Dad!harry headcannons because you know how much of a whore I am for Harry, something sweet and sad because I am in my feels today. And I know I've said this already but CONGRATS!! You totally deserve this and more! Your Harry fics/blurbs, omg *mwuah* chefs kiss. And all the other fics/blurbs you've written for others?- Oh my god, auoghaoeurhvaeproubhv. Anways thank you for sharing your wonderful stories. Love you Nicole - Lyn

this has gotten done so late and i feel so horrible i’m so sorry 😭 but it’s FINALLY here. tysm for your sweet words ilysm!!

dad!harry makes me happy :) very very happy :)

you guys decided back in school you both wanted kids

but obviously with a war impending all thoughts got pushed to the back burner

so after the war when you guys got married you felt like you could breathe again

harry was scared at first when you first said you were pregnant

he never knew his father so how is he supposed to know what to do

you had to remind him that remus, sirius, and arthur are just as much as father figures to him with or without blood

in this canon everyone is alive and well period

after the initial shock he owled remus and sirius and couldn’t stop talking about it

very much had everything ready way before it needed to be done

you guys have 3 kids

2 boys and 1 girl

when you had your first kid he was nervous as hell

scared about the whole process but you both managed perfectly fine

then when you guys had your second kid he wasn’t as nervous but was still scared shitless because

“y/n it’s another tiny human being brought into the world”

when your third child was born, harry had shit down pack

don’t get him wrong he was still cautious and nervous but he’s had plenty of practice and had faith in both of you

time jump let’s get it

your daughter is a daddy’s girl most definitely

but she also has him wrapped around her finger

“daddy open this please”

“kiss daddy”

“hold me daddy :(“

“play princesses with me”

and you bet your ass he played princesses with her

you came home one night when you had to work late and saw your family sitting in a circle in the living room having a tea party

harry had this tiny tiara on and a princess dress that was obviously charmed to be bigger than intended

“y/n you don’t understand the tiara matches the dress”

now with his sons

both are trouble makers in their own beautiful ways

your family refers to them as the twins bc even tho are different in age, both are practically identical

fred and george teach them silly kid pranks to play on their sister to piss her off

yeah you heard me fred ain’t dead bitches

harry teaches them quidditch at a young age

definitely bought them toy brooms and watches them zoom around the house as if they’re flying in the air

your daughter loves quidditch just as much too and definitely takes after you so he’s happy to have three mini quidditch stars in the house

what a powerful family

lazy days are a thing!!

he will literally spend the day with them in pajamas and watch cartoons all day and spend his day off doing exactly that

will team up with them and join them when you have mini wars in the house

“i’m switching sides i’ve been convinced to join the nation”

one day when he was at work you were home with the kids and they stumbled across your old school robes

they begged to see them and it led to them trying on the robes

your daughter claimed yours and harry had multiple robes so each boy had one

so when harry came home that night he was shook when they came running at him with the robes on trailing behind them

he literally started bawling his eyes out

“they’re growing up so fast love”

his heart jumped when they ran over to you to help take the robes off and he just sat and stared at you 4

bc you, the love of his life, gave him something he never thought he’d ever have

a family

#nicole’s talks #nicole’s sleepover #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagines

106 notes · View notes

astrozones · 4 years

Text

Gay Eyes - Prinxiety

@idkwhyimhere0o0 , @slitherynchiken bc yall wanted to see this uwu

Original Post here!

Summary: "Gay eyes" was a stupid concept. Virgil could hardly believe his ears when Roman suggested it earlier that day- when they were trying to pursue Nico. And of course, it didn't work. Because it was stupid. Idiotic. So why couldn't he stop thinking about it- or the boy who had suggested it?

Discord: Astro’s Zone

Ship: Prinxiety

Read on AO3

Spoiler warning for Flirting With Social Anxiety!!

Gay eyes, right?

That’s what he called them?

It was stupid. A stupid name, a stupid concept, a stupid- ugh, everything!

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it-!

Virgil groaned, turning himself around so he could shove his face onto the pillow. Ughhhhhhhh.

Maybe it was because Roman looked so damn pretty doing it and- nope! Not going down that train of thought. At least, not for the fifth time tonight.

‘Gay eyes’. Ugh. Something about that was familiar. Did someone do them to Thomas? No, no, he would’ve heard Roman prattling on about it in a lovestruck monologue if someone did. That much was certain.

Ah- maybe- well, Thomas had to have done it sometime, right? He seemed so familiar with the concept. That must be why he was understood it. It was the only logical reason, at least. Heh, maybe Logan would be proud of him for coming up with an understandable conclusion.

But- that wasn’t it, was it? Something in his nonexistent heart told him so. And while he made a point to not listen to his heart- it could get them in so many dangerous situations, after all- he spent a few more minutes thinking about it. Just in case.

He couldn’t think of anything else though. No matter how many paths he went through, nothing made sense, except for if another Side had done them while he was watching or something and-!

Oh.

God, he remembered it- about 3 weeks ago, Roman was acting weird. And not his normal type of fantastical-focused weirdness either. He hadn’t thought much of it- that was a lie, he spent too much time thinking about it- but Roman kept looking over at Virgil, both of them sitting at opposite ends of the couch.

When Virgil finally chanced looking over and meeting his eyes, Roman simply raised an eyebrow at him. A second later, he switched his expression to an innocent one, looking away, and back, where he lifted his eyebrow again with a smirk.

What the fuck, he had thought. Huh? Ugh- whatever. Ro’ was just messing around. Virgil let out a scoff, lightly pushing Roman with a small laugh as he stood up and walked to the kitchen- Patton was starting to look longingly at the stove again, and Virgil decided he would supervise. They didn’t want a repeat of last time.

Looking back on it, though… Was Roman… flirting with him? With Virgil? None of the others had been in the room, except for Patton, who was on the opposite side. So it must have been Virgil.

But- why?

Why Virgil? Was he pranking him? No, Roman wouldn’t do that, he was too serious about romance.

That meant… that he was serious. That he was trying to flirt… with Virgil.

The chances of Roman pranking him seemed far higher than the chances of Roman actually liking Virgil back, but- well, all the signs said he was genuine.

Wait.

Oh God.

If he was flirting with him, that means- that means that Virgil just brushed off his flirting without a second thought. That he- did he accidentally reject Roman? Shit, shit, shitshitshit- FUCK! He must hate Virgil now and his chances were ruined and he’d be single forever and-

Breathe. He- he had to breathe.

In, out.

Okay. Okay, he just had to think about it logically. Logically, Roman’s feelings for him wouldn’t go away just because Virgil rejected him (he rejected him! FUCK! FUCK!). Logically, he still had a chance.

But what if he didn’t- what if Roman already convinced himself out of it, or what if he realized he wasn’t that interested after all and now he’s grateful I didn’t understand, or what if he- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Okay- okay- he just… he had to make a plan to tell Roman. Easy. Yeah, that was a good idea.

This was a horrible idea. By far the worst of his ideas. Why was he doing this idea?!?

Well, he supposed, this is why I’m not Creativity.

He sat down on the couch, opposite of Roman. Step one, done.

Roman glanced up at him, flashing a radiant smile before turning back to his book- something fantasy related, most likely. Fuck I’m gay.

Could anyone blame him, though? Roman was just so pretty! Kind, too, he just wanted the best for everyone. He had a pretty straightforward set of right and wrong, but he was learning, and trying his best to make things right. Fuck, he was so passionate too. Virgil could sit there listening for hours as he ranted on about all his new ideas. He wanted to do that, he wanted to be there for Roman, to trust him enough to share thoughts he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Oh shit, he had been staring at him for too long. Roman was looking at him with concern and curiosity. Enact step two, enact step two!

Quickly, before he had a chance to feel scared about it- he let an eyebrow rise up, silently staring at Roman with a smile. He let the expression fall, looking away, then looking back, before switching back with a smirk.

Fuck, Roman just looked confused. What were the steps again? What did he miss?!? I knew this was a bad idea-

Roman softly gasped. Virgil’s gaze shot to him as a brilliantly bright blush adorned Roman’s face.

Good reaction?

“Was that- did you-?” Roman giggled, quickly covering his head with his hands.

This is good-? No! No, this is bad! A bad reaction! You fucked up Virgil, ABORT, ABORT-

“Roman, Virgil! It’s time to eat breakfast!” Patton called from the dining room. Shit. Now he couldn’t run away.

Roman kept trying to catch his gaze while they were eating. He saw it in the corner of his eye. But Virgil’s gaze stayed diligently on his food, eating quickly so he could run get away faster.

“I’m going to my room- BYE!” he rushed out, disposing of the dishes before sprinting back to his room. He didn’t want to see the pitying glance Roman sent him.

He face-planted straight onto his bed. He felt like crying, and he desperately fought back the tears that would tell everyone just what he was feeling.

Fuck, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut. Or, rather, repressed his feelings and lived with the fact that Roman would never like him back? Of course Roman wouldn’t feel the same- why would he? When Virgil was so much worse than him?

Fuck.

He froze as a knock sounded at the door.

Fucking shit- this was Roman coming to officially reject him, wasn’t it. Shit, not right now! Not when he was still processing it! He was gonna burst into tears!

Biting his lip, he slowly made his way over to the door, opening it ever so cautiously.

There stood Roman, bouncing on his heels with a grin. Virgil frowned, why is he so ecstatic about rejecting me? I thought he considered me a friend now…

Roman opened his mouth to speak. Deny it! Deny it!

“It was a joke.” Virgil blurted out. Roman’s stopped in place, staring at him.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it. Me doing the whole ‘gay eyes’ thing? It was a joke.” he murmured, fiddling with his sleeves. Roman made a strained noise.

“I- um- I see. That, uh, that makes sense. Thanks for clarifying, Virgil. If you’ll excuse me, I really must be going now. Ideas to explore, and all. Toodle-oo!”

And with that, Roman left.

“Of course it was too good to be true,” Roman moaned, falling back onto his thousands of pillows strewn over the floor. His body shook as he tried to hold back sobs.

He had been trying to show hints to Virgil for ages, y’know. Roman was brave, but not brave enough to say it outright. He’d hoped- well, he’d hoped that after he showed a few hints, maybe, just maybe, Virgil would show some signs back. Just enough that Roman could be sure that his feelings were returned.

And he thought… that this was it. That Virgil’s sudden understanding of ‘gay eyes’ was the sign that he was looking for!

He always knew his endless optimism would come to bite him some day.

“FUCK!” he shouted to no one. Thankfully he had soundproofed his room ages ago, after enough noise complaints from Logan about his singing. He wiped his tears away, scoffing as new ones just took their place.

He should have known Virgil was too perfect for him.

With his endearingly sarcastic attitude, his wonderfully precious giggles, and of course his smile- it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen for him sooner.

He silently cursed his past self. Why couldn’t he have just let it go and accepted him into the group? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place- maybe Virgil would be able to like him romantically.

God, what he would give to be able to cuddle with Virgil… to hug him, to hold hands, maybe even kiss him…

But he couldn’t.

Because Virgil had rejected him.

Dumbass, Virgil’s brain told him. He huffed. What, he asked, am I not suffering enough already?

His mind didn’t respond. Virgil groaned. This usually meant that he had to actually figure something out instead of just wallowing in his sorrow.

Rude.

He rubbed at his eyes, debating whether he should actually follow directions and think over things.

Nah, he decided, switching onto his side as he elected to just sleep and forget about today.

He likes you back!

Psh, yeah right. The only way Roman could like him back is if he had been coming over to confirm his feelings or some shit. That was impossible.

…

Wait, he thought, sitting up. Wait. Maybe I am a dumbass.

Because the more he thought about it, the more it became apparent that it actually wasn’t impossible. In fact, it might just be… plausible.

Holy shit.

He stood up, frantically searching for his hoodie. He had to tell Roman, he had to. Before it was too late.

Picking it up, he hurried over to the mirror. Fuck, he looked like a disaster. Hair askew, makeup nonexistent, eyes wide in panic. At least he hadn’t cried- crying, Virgil, he could be crying. Go, hurry!

Whipping open the door, he hurried down the hallway. Passing Patton in the kitchen, he gave him a nod as he ran.

“What are you doing up?” Patton asked, a cup of water in his hand. “You should be going to sleep.”

“Can’t-” Virgil huffed out, stopping for only a few seconds. “I have to go- gotta- clear something up.”

He left before Patton could come up with a response.

“Roman,” he whisper-shouted, frantically knocking on the door. “Roman!”

The door opened, revealing a tired Roman. Virgil noticed with a pain in his chest that his eyes were red from crying.

“What?”

“I meant it,” he rushed out. “I meant it- the whole ‘gay eyes’ thing. As stupid as it is, I meant it.” Roman’s eyes widened.

“I did- but I thought you were gonna reject me- so I said it was a joke and I know, I know, I’m so, so stupid, but say you like me back and I might just kiss you.”

For seconds that felt like eons, Roman stayed silent.

“Oh God, please do. I like you back, I have for a long time actua- mmf-!”

Before he was even done talking, Virgil had grabbed the collar of his pyjamas- a red t-shirt, with a crown placed in the center because this boy just cannot stop getting more adorable- and pulled him forward.

Their lips met, and Virgil’s heart melted. He moved his hands to caress Roman’s face. He felt warm- content, even, which couldn’t be true because he was Anxiety and Anxiety never felt content without a thousand other thoughts harassing him- but he was free from negative feelings, head empty as all he processed was Roman’s lips on his and that he was feeling loved.

He slowly separated from the boy, gasping for air and fighting the urge to dive back in and kiss him again- because holy fuck he had kissed Roman!

“I thought- I thought you didn’t like me back.” Roman whispered, voice cracking in the middle. Virgil shook his head vehemently.

“I- fuck no, Ro’, that’s impossible. I- fuck- you’re great, Ro’, I adore you.”

Roman broke out into a grin, leaning his forehead against Virgil’s.

“I adore you, too.”

253 notes · View notes

1oserjk · 4 years

Text

— full stop | 04

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a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

+ this isn’t a big update, it wasn’t even supposed to be a main part since i wrote this today n it’s literally 2k n i was going to put this in memories n moments but since this an event that had just happened a day later .. sry i’m putting it with the chronological list bc smthg happens at the end.

this is also the jk i talk about bc i cant get him out of my head, frankly

03 ⇋ 05

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

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full stop | 04: over the fence

Shutting the car door after helping Yeona out, you skeptically glance at her before asking, “Do you need any help?”

Her head stubbornly shakes in between the colored plastic wrap of the flowers and the wide poster she holds close to her chest and a determined pout set on her lips. “No Mommy! I’m okay,” she says, even when she stumbles slightly on the sidewalk’s pavement.

Your fingers ghost against her back just in case, observing her nervously before you both reach the entrance of the studio. “Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

The plastic and paper rustle and it simply tells you she’s nodding back.

You reach for the door and nudge her in the right direction, finally setting your eyes forward and at the front desk where Seol is sat at. “Hi, miss!” Yeona greets, voice muffled and fully unaware of who exactly the person was behind the desk. She’s seen her a few times when you both visited through the years, but not enough to be introduced as Jungkook’s new girlfriend — which has only happened recently.

And as if that was even a thing to her yet.

Seol’s eyes widen before timidly waving at your daughter.

You offer a curt smile and a short greeting before asking, “Is Jungkook busy?”

She doesn’t seem as surprised by your sudden visit, clearly aware of the date on the calendar set out and taped down in front of her as she offers a polite smile back. “I can check for you.”

Her pointer lands on a specific paper, dragging down towards the time slots until it reaches a point. She looks back up. “He’s free for the next thirty minutes before his lunch break.”

Gently patting your hands on Yeona’s shoulder, you begin walking forward, pushing at the small gate that separates the employees from the clients and out of Yeona’s way when she walks through it.

“Thank you, miss!” She throws out, rushing towards his office without even waiting for a reply back.

“Careful, baby,” you remind, wincing at some of the reflective glitter that falls onto the black flooring.

She simply ignores it, greedy hands reaching for the doorknob, unfortunately too short and weak to properly turn it. With her struggling like this, you’re a hundred percent sure Jungkook can hear the wiggling and disruptive noises from the opposite side of the door.

It only reminds you to work on her patience some more when you get back home.

Finally reaching her, you’re the one to open the door and allow her to rush in with the abundance of gifts she’s been too excited to get the past few weeks.

“Daddy!” Yeona squeals, finding him already standing up, most likely preparing to confront the ruckus that was happening behind the door a few moments ago.

With wide eyes behind the lenses he wears today, he immediately crouches down and accepts the ecstatic little girl that sprints towards him.

You stay close by the door after gently closing it.

“Yeonie,” he chuckles after the embrace, fingers supporting the back of her head as he envelopes her further into his chest.

Yeona gasps, wiggling away all of a sudden. “Your gifts — You’re crushing them!”

“Ah,” he sheepishly replies then apologises soon after. “You got me something?”

Yeona eagerly nods. “It’s Daddy’s Day, remember?”

He holds a blank expression and you’re already assuming he has forgotten all about today and that it was just another work day with his schedule full as it always was. “Oh,” he realizes. “It is, huh.”

At this point, it doesn’t even come as a surprise with how little Jungkook truly thought about himself. It reads well when you take a solid look around at the place, his corner lamp turned on and dozens of notebooks stacked up on the table beside his tiny sofa in the corner.

Thankfully, most of his clients don’t go through this way and only reserve the open space in the minimalistic studio, where the divided black curtains are the only thing that separates them from the rest of the shop. This was just a place to plan and clutter most of Jungkook’s things before the next person would show up again, maybe even squeeze in a nap when it was needed.

His eyes finally meet yours and his lips quirk up with a certain gratefulness that fills up his eyes, and you send him a small nod.

Though, your short interaction suddenly gets disrupted when flowers get shoved at his face.

It’s too difficult to hold back a small laugh when he flinches, an eye squeezed shut as the thin veil of plastic comes dangerously close. “We got you flowers!”

“O-Oh,” he coughs out when he drowns in the scent of them, “Thank you, sweetheart.” When he can finally make a grab at them, he takes a look at the kind and softens at the sight. “Tiger Lily’s.”

“Mommy said they’re your favorite,” Yeona enthusiastically explains before pausing to double-check, “They are, aren’t they?” Her doe eyes search for his, head coming closer to observe the flowers with him.

He nods and pecks her cheek to reassure. “They are and I love them. I think I’ll draw some of them later.” He directs his eyes at you when he says, “Thank you.”

You quickly turn away, eyeing the sketches to the left of you, exactly where his messy desk is.

“And this is my card for you!”

She holds it up and even more glitter falls to the floor, but he doesn’t even seem fazed by it, eyes brightening at his little girl’s artwork.

She impatiently hops and the writing seems to be hard to read when he squints through his glasses. You slowly walk over to the both of them and hold onto Yeona’s shoulders again to make her stay still. “Baby,” you warn. “He can’t even read it with you shaking like this.”

She sheepishly smiles and giggles, looking up at you. “Sorry Mommy. Too excited.”

You hum and find Jungkook silent through all of this, eyes glassy from her small fingertips that are seen all throughout the poster. Knees bending, you hold her close as you both watch over him silently. He’s touched, and it shows when he chokes up a little and hides it with a lame cough.

Yeona eyes him worriedly, whirling towards you unsurely before you shush her with a small nod, silently letting her know that it was all okay. “Happy tears,” you whisper to her, your own eyes glossing over slightly. “He’s okay.”

“Daddy,” she timidly calls, “Do you like it?”

He looks up and nods with a smile, arms stretching out so that she can fall back into them, “I do, baby. I love it — I always love the stuff you make for me.”

She giggles into his neck and grapples on tighter.

They exchange kisses and hugs for a few more minutes and you’ve luckily snapped a few photos to send to Jungkook’s mother when you would get home.

When your knees give in eventually, you stand up, mindlessly folding a few of the blankets that were messily sprawled out onto his daybed just to keep your hands busy.

Jungkook notices.

“Uncle Jimin and Tae have been saving up some candy for the next time you would come over,” he whispers and offers to Yeona, “Want to go visit them for a minute?”

She eagerly nods, already squirming out of his arms and rushing out of the room. You barely even have the opportunity to yell at her to knock before going into any of their offices and not to disrupt if they had a client over.

“_____.”

Your head tips at your name only to find Jungkook with a fond smile. He scratches at the back of his head before standing up and thanking you again.

You nod with an awkward smile of your own and explain further, “Yeona had been keen on visiting. Sorry if you had other plans.”

He shakes his head rapidly to decline. “N-No, I didn’t.” Holding up the poster, he glances at it again. “I really needed this..”

You nod thoughtfully. “I’m glad we came by at the right time then.”

He nods and it continues to stay silent for a while. “What are you doing after this?” He suddenly asks, “M-My lunch.. It’s—“

“I’m probably going back home to call up my dad,” you quickly turn down and excuse, fingers playing with themselves.

“Oh.”

“But you’re welcome to take Yeona out,” you offer. “It’s your day after all.” But you grow weary at the thought of Seol tagging along for it. It’s why your fingers suddenly stop and land by your sides to curl against the material of your jeans.

“I would,” he starts, “But I have one last client visiting right after and I’m not sure Yeona would be patient to stay here for it. It’ll take a few hours..”

“Oh.”

“But I can visit when I’m done here?” He rushes.

You rub your arms at the brisk air that suddenly travels downwards and you blame the air conditioning he always puts at too much of a low temperature. You’ve scolded him so many times for it, completely sure he’d get a cold one of these days for being so careless. If you were to call for it, the discourse would go on and on as if it was only a few years back and you were suddenly married again. He would reason he sweats too much and you would go on to say that it was from his heavy and bulky clothes he refuses to switch up every other season.

“That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you weakly smile, completely erasing the foreboding thought before it would turn into a reminiscent den full of memories just like it.

You would have turned him down. You should have, but it would hurt you even more if he would be left alone for the rest of the day, which is why you offer something Hyejin would smack you for the next playdate you planned for the kids, “I can cook dinner.”

His head shakes. “You don’t have to..”

“No, it’s okay. Just come by when you’re finished, okay? That way you can spend time with her properly.”

He doesn’t decline. “Thank you..”

You step away before turning back and grabbing your belongings. “Happy Father’s Day, Jungkook. You should call up your dad and tell him the same,” you can’t help but add, but when you lift your head towards him, he seems thankful for the reminder.

“I will,” he affirms, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo bottoms. You notice for a short while how good he looks like this. Hair washed without styling as if he just rolled around before waking up from a nap and the specks he wears every now and then like he had just thrown them on before getting up. And knowing Jungkook well — that’s probably the case. “I’ll see you later?”

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Yeah.”

The door opens and you bite at your tongue, though it fails when you can’t help but call for him again with a small laugh weighing at the tip of your tongue, eyes pinned down at his bottom half.

“Hm?”

“Your shirt.. There’s glitter all over it.”

Looking down, he immediately notices and curses, beginning to brush off the stubborn flakes that reflect all over his black short-sleeve.

You shut the door before he can really say anything, and you quickly search for your daughter and her chocolate-smeared mouth you can already predict.

Seol hums from her seat beside Jungkook and smiles at him. “Lunch was fun.”

Jungkook’s too focused on the sketch below him, a few of the lilies taken and laid out. He thinks he’ll be able to finish tonight and give it to Yeona after dinner. “It was,” he agrees.

Her hand snakes onto his shoulder and rubs comfortingly before asking, “What are you planning to do tonight?” She’s already getting too excited at the offer she has ready, sitting at the tip of her tongue and ready to unravel.

“Ah, I’m having dinner with Yeona.”

Faltering slightly, she turns back to the same grin a second later. She should have known. It was Father’s Day after all. He has a daughter. He has a family — more or less. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. And it’s wide and genuine, not at all directed towards her but at the paper he carefully shades at.

She nods carefully and slowly. “You seem excited.”

He finally looks up at her and he smiles again. “Yeah,” he hums thoughtfully before agreeing, “I guess I am.”

“_____ invited?” She pokes, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Kind’ve? I asked to visit after work and she said she would cook dinner.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He returns back to his sketching all too quickly.

Seol bites her lip, hand going up to support her jaw and head as she observes closely, the man she’s been dating for over two months and pining for way longer — the glint in his eye and all.

She only wonders if it was the aspect from spending time with his daughter, or having his ex-wife present in all of it too.

Either way, from the short time in dating him, she’s only seen this particular look on him once.

And that was only when he was married.

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#mine #bts #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #full stop

862 notes · View notes

radarcore · 3 years

Text

First Meet

Dr. Woodsworth, a biologist who works at a wildlife rehabilitation center for dragons in a more modern-day, ends up getting the strange task of researching an unknown dragon that is way past the biologist's comfort levels.

Contains: Fearplay, fluff, 'trapped' tiny, like, two mentions of basically vore, dragon giant bc hell yeah L:<, non-binary tiny / giant.

mspaint is a hell to draw with man i didn even bother wit that background anyways hi yes, Orpheus (the giant) is owned by my friend, Bard! This is based on an au we had,,,,yeah >:))) Dr. Woodsworth is my character that i made like, today. Sorry if the ending was cut a bit short, i was rEALLY tryna end it.

Story under cut!

There were three people riding the railways towards Enclosure 7-B. Two well-armored guards, eyes just barely seem behind the glinting visors of their helms, tranquilizer guns tightly clenched, close to their chest. They were standing up, somehow able to keep their balance in the shaky compartment riding the railways. And then there was the scientist, a half-elf, half-pixie sitting down on the seat of the compartment. He had crossed his legs, fiddling with a bike chain fidget as he subconsciously bit his lip. Dr. Woodsworth certainly was no stranger when it came to dragons, unknown species of the (usually) winged reptilian species was his branch of work in the rehabilitation center. But most of the dragons he dealt with within that branch were fae dragons, whom Woodsworth, due to his fae roots, could understand, or rather just smaller dragons overall. But he had been told about…whatever this was. Huge…horns that curled upwards, boney claws with could most *certainly* tear him apart in seconds. He was mentally pacing, desperately trying to think of a way he’d be able to deal with such a beast. …He had been told the dragon could talk, so that brought some relief to him. …And what if he were to have to go inside the enclosure…? Woodsworth didn’t have wings, not anymore, at least…he would be as good as dead if the dragon wanted anything to do with him. The movement suddenly stopped; the compartment let out a pressured hiss. The scientist hadn’t looked up at anything else besides his fidget, but he could hear the guards’ armor shift. Letting out a shaky sigh, Dr. Woodsworth pushed himself up from where he sat, sticking the fidget into his pocket. His legs quivered under the weight. “…Here we go.”

***

As the hallway’s walls turned into glass, Dr. Woodsworth quickly pulled out his circular sunglasses, trying to still adjust his eyes to the sudden light. He didn’t bother to gaze outside, just desperately trying to keep pushing onward and hope things go well. Certainly, when it came to the…least dangerous dragons, things weren’t this technologically advanced, not built to keep whatever monstrosities could lie inside. Gigantic…monstrosities. But suddenly, the guards had stopped. “We’ll stand out here, go inside, there’s a distress button if you’re in need of us.” One of them had lightly tapped Dr. Woodsworth with their supposed tranquilizer gun. “…fuck…” Dr. Woodsworth gulped, and carried on, opening the door… It was a small square room, with four simple buttons and a lever. The middle part of the room was nothing but glass to show the *proper* enclosure inside. It was huge, coated with a thick snow with a somewhat rigid terrain. In the corner was…the dragon. A hulking beast of mostly fur, the claws were even sharper than Woodsworth imagined, the horns even larger, their neck winded like a snake’s. …A skull-like mask to cover the upper head. Dr. Woodsworth sheepishly leaned in towards the microphone that was close to the lever, trying to repeat the same words repeatedly before he pressed on the (supposed) microphone button. “…H-h-h-hello…h-h-hello…good-good-good morning? A-a-afternoon? Fuck…fuck…fuck it.” He slammed down onto the microphone button, choking out, “Good afternoon!” The beast winded their head upward, bending into an S shape as they slowly leaned towards the observatory that Dr. Woodsworth was basically stuck inside. Dr. Woodsworth hyperventilated, slowly backing up as the beast got closer, “Please…please don’t…” As if the beast could hear him now, so far from the microphone. As anyone could come for his aid. Whatever happened now. He wasn’t ready.

“Heyo!” With a soft bonk against the glass, the dragon had responded, gently fluttering their massive wings as they peered at the doctor with interest. Refusing to leave the massive dragon waiting incase of…*something horrid*, Dr. Woodsworth clicked on the button once more, leaning into the mic. “…M-my name is-is…Doctor. Doctor W-Woodsworth. I’ve…come to a-ask some questions…” “Oh, my name’s Orpheus!” Orpheus’ ear flicked, their tail faintly swaying in the distance. “Can I ask a question first though…this place is kinda weird an’ all, so like…” “…G-Go ahead…” He pulled out a clipboard and pen, preparing himself to jot down notes of his ‘interview’. “Well, first off, how long have I’ve been hibernating, *why* am I a dragon, and where’s ghost cat? He’s smaller than me, and he…*also* isn’t a dragon.” Dr. Woodsworth, his finger hovering above the microphone, *how was he supposed to answer those questions?* But there…was something interesting. They weren’t always a dragon…? …Huh…? “…You weren’t always a dragon?” “Oh no!” Orpheus raised a claws,”I was like…uh…I think shorter than you…? I dunno. But my friends called me short. Also I didn’t have these cool wings before too! And now everyone is small too, not just ghost cat! Like you! …But. Uhm…it’s really lonely in here and it’s making me nervous.” Dr. Woodsworth wrote that all down,”…W-well I-I s-suppose we-we can help you g-get adjusted…” He tried ignoring Orpheus’ comment about being lonely. As kind as the dragon seemed…he didn’t want to risk it. “Or…or…we can r-reverse it.” “Oh no! No! I don’t want to reverse this! This is super cool, …um, unless ghost cat is uhm…scared of it, but! …You haven’t answered where ghost cat is…?” As Orpheus’ ears flattened, Dr. Woodsworth’s heart sank. What was he suppose to say…? “…I don’t know.” Orpheus paused,”I…I…” The dragon slowly turned. “W-wait! I’m sure we can think of something! Uh-uh…we-we still n-need to a-ask q-questions…and…” Dr. Woodsworth put his hand to the glass before taking it away, his feelings conflicting. Fuck…what was he supposed to do? The dragon wasn’t talking, but he was coming out with no research whatsoever.

He leaned into the buttons, slammed down on the lever, maybe that could do something…? With a mechanical whir, Dr. Woodsworth was… Descending.

Dr. Woodsworth PANICKED, desperately trying the switch the level back and forth, “No! No! No! NO!” No, fuck fuck FUCK. The room shook as it stopped at a halt, the door whining open as a chill swirled into the room. He was still frantically pressing buttons. “…Huh…?” THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Fuck…fuck…fuck…this was it. He collapsed onto his knees, clinging onto the panel. This was it. The end. Dr. Woodsworth screamed as he saw as Orpheus’ snout poked through the door. He attempted to curl into a ball, sobbing into his lab coat. “Heyo…is everything alright? I saw the square thingy going down, it’s probably really cold in here! I can warm you right up!” Dr. Woodsworth slowly turned, “Wh-“ Orpheus, using their mouth, plucked Dr. Woodsworth by the labcoat, pulling him out of the room. Dr. Wordsworth simply had gone limp, barely able to move by this point, his heart beating out of his chest as he simply accepted his fate. …Whatever that fate was. Being eat alive? Torn apart to shreds? …He didn’t know, but he accepted it to be painful. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness overtake him. …But there wasn’t any limbs slowly torn off, teeth tearing as his skin. …In fact, wherever he was, it felt soft. As he opened his eyes, he realized he had been gently pressed against the dragon’s chest, the dragon’s ‘arms’ curled around the scientist. Dr. Woodsworth caught his breath, still shaken from the recent events. He eventually let himself sink into the dragon’s fur, quivering as he sat himself right up afterwards. “…Is it less cold now…?” Orpheus turned their head slightly down, blinking as they awaited Dr. Woodsworth’s response. Dr. Woodsworth hugged his legs, he was finally able to relax, and soon as the panic was over, it had turned into annoyance. He let out a grumble, “I’m quitting this job.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t community #oc: dr woodsworth #oc: orpheus #orpheus solely goes by they/them btw!!#and dr woodsworth goes be he/him they/them #but i solely used he/him for the dr for simplicity's sake given orph's pronouns #feel free to ask ab them!!#diversity win! all the characters in this au arent cis!#unless guard is idk? BARD IS GUARD-

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1kook · 5 years

Text

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever.

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you? jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

#kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #mine

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xunolic · 4 years

Note

oh okay okay. Can I request a woodz smut where he’s on a world tour or something and bc of the stress of the tour he had no time to jerk off hence hes sexually frustrated so his staff suggested for an escort service and they call your company or whatever and they chose you to go to him and then smut? thank you :)

paring: idol!seungyoun x blackgirl!reader

warnings: switch!youn, switch!reader, slight food play, oral (m. recieving), fingering

wc: 3.4k

✎ genre: smut, fluff

a/n: not proofread buuut happy new years eve guys!! stay safe :))

“have you seen seungyoun?”

“woodz you're on in five.”

“where did he go?”

seungyoun had locked himself in his dressing room bathroom, making sure to keep the light off so no one knew he was in there. he panted softly, palming the bulge in his bottoms, trying to find any sort of satisfaction. he groaned out of frustration, knowing he wasn't content. he was stuck on a tour bus and plane so often to where he had been left with blue balls for months. he was pulled from his thoughts from the sound of banging on the door.

“yeah?” he answered, pushing himself from the wall he was up against. he opened the door, looking at his manager square in the eye. his manager let out a held sigh, rubbing his temples in slight annoyance. “what's wrong?”

“oh, nothing. you were just supposed to be on in like…” he looked down at his wrist although no watch was there. “3 minutes ago.” seungyoun showed no interest, walking past his hyung. he grabbed water, walking towards the stagehand. his manager followed closely behind, knowing something was wrong. he tapped his shoulder, seungyoun ignoring him.

“seungyoun. what's up with you?” he asked, staring at the back of the man's head. seungyoun shook his head, walking up to the side of the stage, the music starting slowly. the concert felt like a drag for seungyoun, just the last few. he made sure to give his best, but his manager, for the past concerts, had been concerned. the ride to the hotel was awkward, his manager stealing glances at him every few seconds.

“hyung, if you have anything to say, say it,” youn kept his eyes on the buildings and people that passed by, his chin resting in his hand.

“you know you can tell me anything right?” he said, continuing to steal glances at the 24-year-old. seungyoun nodded as they reached a stoplight. he looked over to his hyung, who was already looking over at him.

“what’s up?” he asked, turning the music down in the car.

“you saw my phone, why don't you tell me.”

it was true. he had looked through the phone of the younger male’s and found what he was watching. he stiffened, looking back at the road, driving yet again. he had to find a way to get him out of the funk he was in.

it was 11 pm, and the older man was on the phone with a company that he believed could help seungyoun whilst on tour. “yeah. do you think she’ll want to travel? okay… that’s good… okay i'll be there in two days. see you then.”

the next day rolled around and seungyoun had to make his way to the next city. you on the other hand were struggling with the courses you decided to take in college. you sat in your bed, frowning at the screen, your friend on the phone.

“i'm just saying, university is such a damn hassle. i can't believe you dropped out and left this struggle for me.”

“sorry, i couldn't do it, babe. it was stressful, but how is that job you've been doing.”

“the amount of rich, divorced men that pay big bucks for having a nice pretty girl on their side, surprises me.”

“so, any good sex stories?” she asked, a curious tone hinted in her voice.

“i don’t fuck them. i’m not a prostitute, i just accompany them to like big dinners and stuff, but i did one time. it was the worst ever, it’s like he hadn’t had sex in years, and after he cummed, i left. i had to do the heavy lifting myself when i got home.”

“damn… oh shit. i got caught, gotta go back to work. bye, baby.”

“bye,” you hung up the phone, heaving a sigh, closing your laptop. you took a break from the work, your phone ringing again. you answer putting the phone up to your ear, walking into the kitchen. “pack right now! oh my goodness y/n, this is big.”

“um… cora, please slow down. why am i packing?”

“oh, i forgot i didn’t tell you. okay, so i just got a call from some korean man about how he is a manager to some company and he needs you for a tour. people get very lonely on things like that.”

you sat in the bed, eyes training on the sheets. “this better not be another fucking underground rapper. the last time i did that, he wouldn’t let me leave.” a shudder leaves your body as you recall the memory engraved in your head. that night sent you home with tears. he was a good looking guy, but his intentions were the worst, making you fear going anywhere near people like that man again.

“y/n, i am not letting anyone like that near you again. plus, this must be a big artist for offering 1,000 a city.”

you choked on your spit at the amount that left your boss’s lips, thinking how to respond. “they leave from here today. i know this isn’t enough, but you have this time to decide okay. text me if you have your answer anytime soon.”

you nod knowing she couldn’t see you, mumbling an okay before hanging up your phone. your body reacted before your mind did as you stood up walking to your closet. you took down suitcases, not knowing how much you’d need. you took two, hoping it would be enough. picking out several outfits, your mind suddenly came to. you stared at the belts and jeans in your hands, thinking if you were gonna do this.

you pack up the bags, sitting them at the door, picking your phone up. you texted cora telling her you’d do it and she responded quickly telling you to meet up with them tomorrow. you tried clearing your mind, sitting your phone and laptop on your desk. your head started hurting before you laid down to sleep, mind fogged over with thoughts.

seungyoun’s manager woke him up early, like 2 am early, making him rush to the car; they were fifteen minutes late. seungyoun wasn’t sure of what was happening but got into the car nonetheless. he stared out the window as they finally pulled up to the relatively small building. getting out, they were greeted by the translator who worked at the building, with a smile on her face. as they were walking into the building, seungyoun looked around trying to get a grasp on the situation. they walked into a room that looked like the normal company meeting room. you looked up catching the view of a young-looking guy. your eyes lingered on each other before both he and the manager sat down.

you couldn’t stop looking for the whole meeting. he was really good looking, and it seemed he was in the same situation as you. his eyes never left yours for the fifteen minutes you were in there. cora, looked over at you to confirm your decision but traveled where your eyes led. she let out a chuckle, shoving you softly with her shoulder.

“i said, do you want to leave with them today or do you want them to fly you out in like two days?”

“i-i can go today…” you mumbled, seungyoun smiling but then looking at his manager with wide eyes.

“oh.. yeah. she’s coming with us,” he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. he looked over to you but you were already standing to get the things that you had already stuffed in your car.

the two men went to the car leaving one side open for you. you let out a small gulp, saying bye to cora before leaving for what you thought would be a simple trip.

boy was you wrong about the simple travels. you had been gone for three months, gone to almost ten+ cities, and there was finally one city left on the tour. you realized from the first show it wasn't just some underground rapper you were working with. you were shocked (maybe turned on, you didn't know) by how charismatic seungyoun was on stage. you had grown closer and attracted to seungyoun over these months and to your dismay, he hasn't tried anything with you. both of you had noticed the tension from day one, but he kept his distance when it came to anything sexual. you could tell he was frustrated, but you never brought it up. since it was the last day, you felt you should congratulate him for the hard work he did in the past months.

it was time for the encore stage, so you tried sneaking out before seungyoun saw you.

“y/n?”

“oh no,” you mumbled, turning towards the voice. seungyoun was there, sweat wetting his neck and the white tank top he was wearing. your eyes trained on his sweat glistened skin, eyes trailing on his tattoo-covered arms and the shirt almost glued to his torso. “i-i was just um.. g-going back to the uh.. hotel to surprise you with something f-for the end of the tour.”

he had his lips tugged in a smirk before nodding, “ahh. okay. well.. i'll see you back at the hotel.” you smile softly, walking to leave in the back. “the surprise better be good.” you heard him say before you felt the warm air of the night hit your skin. you walked to the van, making sure to get the extra key to seungyoun’s room before leaving. immediately after the car stopped, you ran into the hotel, getting everything ready for him.

it took about an hour for him to get back and you were laid upon his bed, a cake right beside you. you received a text from his manager telling you they made it and you rushed to turn off the lights and light the candle on the cake. you sat at the foot of the bed, biting your lip from nervousness just as you heard the door click and seungyoun turning on his light.

“fuck..” he murmured. there you sat, the lingerie fitting you in the best possible of ways.

“surprise,” you said, voice shaken from any nervousness you had before. he closed the door, focusing on you. you stared up at him, standing and walking up to him with the cake in hand. “blow out the candle.”

he tried prying his eyes from yours, but it felt like he couldn't. he blew out the candle but kept his eyes on you. you bit your lip, nodding to the bed, “go sit.”

he took his shoes off and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. you sat the cake down on the bedside table, straddling his lap. he promptly placed his hands on your waist, looking down at your lips. “you were struggling this whole time and didn't tell me. why?”

“i didn't want to bother you or you know… push myself on you like a horny dog.”

you let out a small giggle, rutting against his growing bulge. his grip tightened on your waist, pushing your already soaked core on his jeans. your face fell in the crook of his neck, sighing softly. “you aren't supposed to be pleasuring me.”

he laughed, not loosening his grip on your waist. “what? i finally get to fuck you aren’t gonna let me?”

“i had plans. now let me do them.”

he let go of your waist and sat back on his hands, “go ahead.”

you grinned, shimmying your way off of his lap, grabbing at his thighs. you placed a soft kiss on the tent that was still growing within his tight jeans. he let out a soft whimper by the apparent tension against the fabric.

“you want these off, i bet,” you said, kissing again at his strained cock.

he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, looking at you nodding swiftly. you began handling his button and zipper, tugging it midway before trapping the metal between your teeth. you kept eye contact with him, dragging it down the rest of the way. you pulled his pants down his waist, massaging his thighs, laughing lightly as he tried to find any sort of friction, thrusting into the air. your hand reached up to stroke him through the thin fabric of his boxers, a groan leaving his lips.

“you’re so fucking sensitive,” you giggled. your hand worked on his clothed member, watching as he sucked his lips in, trying to contain the bawdy sounds that were longing to come out. your fingers latching onto his waistband, pulling the material down, his dick finally being freed from its barrier.

you stared at his dick, the precum leaking from his tip. you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter, rubbing the wet substance from his slit on your thumb. you brought your thumb to your tongue, licking it, feeling the saltiness spread on your taste buds. he wanted nothing but for you to wrap your lips around him, but you kept teasing. your hands worked on his shaft, watching more cum leak out, making your mouth water. you couldn't stop yourself as you dragged your tongue from the bottom to the top of his cock, he shuddered under you, a soft groan leaving his lips.

you wrapped your lips around his bell-rounded tip, swirling your tongue. his hand went to grab at your hair, tugging at the roots. you let out a soft whine, deepthroating before pulling back, seeing the trail of saliva coming from your lips. you guided him back into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. your hand twisted around him, your mouth working magic. he grabbed at his shirt, stripping it away from his body. your hands gripped his thighs, moving the head of his cock to the back of your throat. you hollowed out your cheeks as much as you could, sending the utmost pleasure into seungyoun.

“you’re so f-fucking good,” his breathing began to pick up, his hips meeting your mouth. he twitched in your mouth and you pulled away just for your mouth to be laced on his tip. you pulled away with a pop, staring up at him.

“look at me younie,” he looked down at you with hooded eyes, one of your hands traveled to his abs, tracing them with a finger. your other hand continued to fondle along his shaft, his cum coating your tongue, your cheeks, and chin. your hand didn't stop until you knew he was finished, smiling at his fucked-out look. you wiped the remaining cum, putting it in your mouth, swallowing. you crawl on his lap as he brought his hand to your face, bringing it to his. he finally brought his lips to yours for the first time. you let out a satisfied sigh as he laid you down on the bed, your head resting on the plush pillow. he moved his hand to your back, unclasping your bra, groping your breasts gently. his lips connected to the soft mound, one of your nipples between his teeth. he sucked on the bud, moving to the other to give it the same attention. his hands caressed your sides, marking your breasts with hickies.

he pulled your panties down, rubbing your clit with two of his fingers. you let out a soft moan, an airy chuckle coming from his lips. “who’s the sensitive one?” you laughed softly, getting cut off by his fingers slipping into your sex with ease. he pumped his digits slowly, the wet sounds coming from your slick, his eyes glued to your body and the way it reacted to just his fingers. his other hand grabbed your face, kissing your lips again, lying beside you to watch his fingers disappear in you. you pulled away, looking down your body, his wet fingers spreading your labia. your moans poured out as his finger thumbed at your clit, rubbing small circles. he pushed two fingers back in your clenching hole.

you grabbed his arm, your head lazing to the side, to bury in seungyuon’s neck. your hips started to match the movements of his fingers, imprinting crescents into his arm. your whimpers were of desperation, his fingers speeding their pace. “shit. please d-don’t stop.”

he smiled softly, curving his fingers. you let out a shaky moan, biting your lip, continuing to stare down at his fingers. his palm connected to your clit, fingers curving and driving into you.

“fuck, right there.”

“mm. you're taking my fingers so well baby.”

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. you spread your legs wider, grabbing his bicep. he continued his movements, until your hips bucked up into his hand, cumming around the two fingers that were knuckle deep inside you. seungyoun moved his hand under your chin to tilt your head up. you fluttered your eyelids, eyes glossed over, parting your lips. he leaned down, lips once again connecting with yours. he slipped his tongue in, moving his body to hover over yours.

pulling away, you stared into his eyes. “t-there’s condoms in the drawer.” you pointed at the bedside table, resting on your elbows.

“since when?” he chuckled, sliding open the drawer, taking the foil packet out of it.

“since i put them there.”

he stroked himself before he tore the package open, slipping it on, shifting in front of you. “ready?”

“more than.”

it took no time for his cock to stretch your walls. you gripped your thighs, letting out a slight groan, closing your eyes. he gave you time to get used to him before thrusting his hips. he started slow, leaning down peck your lips softly. he looked over at the cake, an idea popping into his mind instantly as he eyed the frosting. he leaned over, gathering some of the frosting on his fingers, tapping your lips slightly. your eyes opened, licking your lips of the sweet cream, opening your mouth, accepting his fingers in. he groaned at the sight of his fingers in your mouth as you sucked and licked them. you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, grabbing your breasts, his thrusts becoming deeper.

“you're so gorgeous,” he grunted out. he gripped your waist, hitting various angles in you, leaving you a moaning mess. his fingers were still in your mouth as he tried to pull them out. you let go, your dribble trailing from his fingers. he leaned over collecting more of the cream, licking his fingers, but not swallowing it. he leaned down connecting your lips, the frosting spreading in your mouth as well. his tongue played in your mouth, the substance becoming mixed with the saliva in your mouths. his thumb met with your clit, letting out a growl in your mouth as you clenched one time around his groin. you let out a moan, grabbing the sheets, his pace picking up.

“oh my gosh, seungyoun. harder, p-please.”

he took notice of your plea, proceeding to bruise your core. seungyoun sopped up the view of your body under him, crying out his name in an attempt to take in the pleasure he was giving. your back arched off the bed, grabbing the pillow. his dick curved perfectly, hitting the spot you needed to feel that coil start to twist in your abdomen.

“i-i’m close.”

“so am i. just hold on for me,” he said, holding the side of your face. his hand moved from your face to your breasts, gripping the flesh as his thrust became sloppier. “we’re gonna cum together okay?” you nodded, trying to keep your eyes focused on him. he connected to your clit again, and that's all it took. you were sent off the edge, breath rigid and sweat moistening your body. seungyoun threw his head back, groaning loudly, twitching inside of you before releasing his cum in the condom. sweat fell from his brow, as he calmed down his body. he slowly pulled out, you whining from the lack of him in you. he pulled his condom off, tying it and tossing it. he laid beside you rubbing your hip softly, kissing your forehead.

“thank you,” he said softly. you looked up at him, a smile on your face.

“so was the surprise good or what?”

he laughed, “it was great, but now make me a promise.”

you looked at him, waiting for his proclamation.

“keep in contact with me, even after i leave for korea.”

you grinned, leaning up to his lips. “of course i will. maybe i could visit and we could go on a proper date.”

he nodded, sporting the same smile as you. he kissed you softly yet passionately, pulling away before wiping the sweat from your forehead. “round two in the shower?”

“i'll race you,” you got up, taking off to the shower, seungyoun racing behind you.

#woodz #woodz scenario #woodz smut #cho seungyoun #cho seungyoun smut #cho seungyoun scenario #woodz ambw #cho seungyoun ambw #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw smut #ambw

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jpegjade · 4 years

Text

Mr. Loverman - Spencer

I’m back with a short fic! It’s more like a part 1 because I have some work stuff to do and i’m tired but I wanted to do something bc I didn’t put anything out yesterday. So here’s the first part of the fic. I’ll work on part 2 tomorrow

____________________

“I will still love you. I will love you till my heart stops beating and every day after that.” Spencer said, looking at you with such fierce eye contact that you almost gave in.

But this was for the best. You were tired of living like this, the constant fear and sleepless nights were affecting your life to the point of feeling like it was never going to end. Your anxiety was over the top and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You made the decision to break up with Spencer, calling off the wedding. You were glad that you hadn’t gotten too far into the wedding because it would have been harder to make a clean break. The only people that would know is Spencer’s team. It broke your heart that you wouldn’t see them again but you needed to do this for your own health and safety.

“Goodbye, Spencer.” You barely said, turning to walk out the door of his apartment.

You closed the door behind you, trying not to look back. You couldn’t handle the broken look on his face. You would cave instantly. You had to be strong.

That was 2 years ago. Today, it was different. You lived a different life than the one you did before. It took a little while but you eventually returned to a level of normalcy. You still looked over your shoulder, made sure you had the alarm on at all moments, and never went the same direction twice in a row. Some things you learned from living with Spencer turned out to be things that you would never forget. The paranoia was ingrained in you, obviously, but over the past 2 years, you were able to let your hair down a little bit at a time.

You were going home from work, once again checking the mail from the first floor of your apartment complex. There was something different about the lobby. For once, it was empty. It was always filled with people milling around. You guessed that it was just a slower part of the day but you didn’t think it would be this quiet, so quiet that the guards weren’t even there.

There was a package on the counter with your name on it. You assumed that it was one of your amazon packages since you ordered so much from Amazon these days. The only reason you left was for work once a week since everyone switched to working at home. You grabbed the box and kept going to the elevator. Only one was working, which was odd because when you left that morning, both were working. You stepped inside, followed by the really cute boy who lived on your floor. You smiled at each other before he held the door open for you as you arrived on his floor. “Have a good day.” You said, putting the box on the ground to unlock your front door. He nodded in your direction and kept walking to his apartment.

Putting the box on the table and getting situated, you opened it while trying to figure out what you ordered that would be so heavy. Maybe it wasn’t Amazon afterall. Getting the last bit of tape pulled off, there was a yellow folder on top with a post-it note that said, “Read Me.” This definitely wasn’t Amazon. You immediately dropped the folder and grabbed your phone, calling the only person you knew would handle this.

2 years later and Spencer continued to mourn. The days went by so slowly and you were always on his mind. After you walked out the door, it took him a month to recover enough to return to the office again. He kept your engagement photos framed on his desk, reminding himself what he was fighting for. He knew you weren’t coming back to him but he fought everyday to protect you. In his mind, every unsub was one less person that could hurt you. He fought tooth and nail and worked twice as hard as anyone else in every case. He wasn’t going to stop any time soon, either.

Spencer walked out of the elevator, tightly gripping his satchel. It was the anniversary of when he proposed to you and he couldn’t wait to distract himself. Pushing through the glass doors, Spencer looked at his desk only to find someone sitting in his chair, holding one of the framed photos that he treasured so dearly. He was about to say something when JJ intercepted.

“Spence, we need to talk about something.” She said, attempting to pull Spencer away. He was adamant that he was going to walk in a straight line and give that person a piece of his mind when you looked up. Spencer stopped moving immediately. He rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was just imagining it because of the day but you were still there when he looked up.

“Hey, Spence.” You said.

Your voice sounded just like the voicemails. He didn’t know if you remembered but you were wearing the cardigan he bought for you 3 years ago. Your hair was different from the last time he saw you. You looked sleep deprived and tired and you were here, in front of him. For the first time in 2 years, you were sitting in front of him.

“Hi, y/n.” He whispered.

JJ pulled his arm, leading him to another part of the room. She positioned him so his back was to you because all he wanted to do was stare at the love of his life.

“Spence, I’m gonna need you to stay focused in a second. And you can’t freak out.” She said. Spencer wanted so badly to turn around and see what you were doing.

“Is she really here? I’m not seeing things?” He said. He could hardly believe you were there. You were still wearing your ring. That meant something, right? Was there still hope for him?

“Spencer. Focus. She’s being hunted.” JJ said firmly. This was serious and Spencer couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. But he did.

“What?” He said, immediately spinning around to look at you. You were cooling off a cup of coffee and smiling at Garcia.

“How did she get here? Who’s hunting her? What are we doing just standing here when we could be out there hunting whoever is hunting her? I’m not having another Maeve. We have to be proactive.” He said, panicking. He couldn’t lose you again. He already lost you once.

“We do have things in place to find the hunter. But I needed to tell you that you’re not working the case. Prentiss decided that it would be too close to you and your judgement would be severely crowded.” JJ said, treading softly.

“No. No, I have to help. I have to help catch this guy.” Spencer said, closing his hands into fists. He was pissed.

“Spencer, the biggest help you can be right now is being with y/n. She’s really shaken up and she needs the one person who knows her best.” JJ said, looking up at Spencer.

Spencer was quiet, a lag in his comprehension of his job this time. He was supposed to protect you while spending time with you. This was going to go either terribly wrong or incredibly right.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine

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magicflowershop · 4 years

Text

❁ every 12.30 pm

➳ timeskip!sugawara x reader oneshot

➵ fluff, heart-warming, cute kids

✿ you found a cute teacher in your niece’s school, so maybe picking up a kid from school everyday isn’t such a bad idea.

❀ // hi! i’ve been gone for so long and finally i finished this after weeks of letting it rot in my drafts,, i don’t wanna delete this bc it feels like i’ll foresaken my angel Suga so here i hope you all enjoy my first oneshot :>

word count // 3,257

of all days, you picked this day as the day to slack off.

there was no reason to doll up, you reasoned. this was your rest day. no plans were made and no places you needed to go, so you went and picked up your sister’s kid wearing your house clothes.

no biggie. a few blocks distance wouldn’t hurt your sense of insecurity. a kindergartener’s teacher also wouldn’t possibly judge how you look when you’re only out to pick a kid up from school.

today, however, was different.

everything became instinct. your fingers went up the center of your jacket, to zip it up entirely. your hands then reached down to your sweatpants, checking if you were wearing it the right way. to your hair, if there are hair strands that are where they’re supposed to be. everything became instinct so you don’t look so much like a mess

in front of this fine preschool teacher.

“i’m Futaba’s guardian.”

your throat let out the softest, shyest voice you could ever project. you found yourself shamelessly, and instinctively, acting cute in front of this fine preschool teacher.

how else were you supposed to react? his beautiful gray hair enticed you, with a fringe softly parted on the center of his forehead. his porcelain skin that put Snow White to shame, his round, brown eyes that reflected every star in the galaxy, and his smile that could win a boxing match against the sun. not to mention, the mole under his left eye definitely hit the mark.

“good afternoon, Futaba’s guardian-san.”

hearing his voice for the first time, you’re decided. it was a crush.

perhaps it was superficial of you. you claim to fall for a guy you don’t know only for the fact you found him cute. you thought looking at him, admiring him like this was enough however when his angelic smile brightened at the sight of the children waving bye-bye to him and him waving bye-bye back. when he went down on one knee in front of your sister’s daughter, politely asking her she has to stop playing with her classmates because you have come to bring her home. when Futaba spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, telling him a lispy see you tomorrow.

how dare you face someone like him looking like this.

on the way home, you were dead-set on asking your sister to let you bring your niece home every schoolday. seeing him once was not enough. something about him gravitated you to wanting to see more of him.

you remember the name written on his nametag when you caught the last glimpse of him.

“Sugawara”

his name reminded you of grass fields, as it is what it meant. it was perfect for him. the aura he emitted was rather calming. people must like having him around for he’s a breath of fresh air. he really was a perfect kindergarten teacher.

“how was school, Futaba?”

your niece skipped as she walked, visibly excited to talk about her day. “it was really fun! my classmates and i had a tea party earlier! Futaba almost spilled the cup because it was too hot.”

“what about your teachers?” you wanted to smack yourself for squeezing information about a guy from your 5-year-old niece. it is a desperate move however, which else choice do you have?

“ah! Sugawara-sensei read us a beanstalk story before nappy time.” Futaba put a finger on her chin as if to think about what else happened. she had no idea how hooked she got you to listen to her story. “then, then Sugawara-sensei helped Futaba with her clay family!”

you then considered yourself lucky.

“do you like Sugawara-sensei?”

and pushed the topic about the man further, seeing the sparkles in your niece’s eyes and how she skipped even happier. “yes! yes! Futaba’s favorite teacher is Sugawara-sensei,” she declared and continued shyly. “he helped Futaba talk to her crush Kaito-kun.”

when you said you were dead-set, you are dead-set for real. what’s there to lose? kids love him, including your own niece. he’s beautiful. he has a gentle voice. he probably smells like daisies. you just have to befriend him and get to know about him some more before introducing him to your parents-

as a friend.

right?

“for what? did you find a cute guy there or something?”

it sucked your sister knew you too well.

that day, you invited yourself in your sister’s room the second she got home from work. the sly yet desperate move visibly annoyed the older so much that she knew you had something up your sleeve to even dare show up in her room.

“no. just that, it’s a good way to take breaks from the café. plus, i get to hang out with Futaba.” you explained as simply as you could, even though your sister literally can see right through your lies.

she hummed and replied with, “you never get out of the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. when i asked you to take Futaba home from school yesterday, you hated it because your break time from café is ruined. please. find someone else to fool, y/n.”

you soon admit that you truly are dumb. that, however, did not stop you from redeeming yourself to your sister; that being telling the truth and not exactly redeeming anything. you told her the man you set your eyes on in Futaba’s school. you jokingly told her it was love at first sight even though you never believed of something as ridiculous as such.

besides, your sister has no room to reject. you aimed at two birds with one stone. not only do you get to see more of the guy, but you will do your sister a favor of taking care of her daughter for free.

she sighed, finding no way to deny this. “i hate to say it but your timing is too good. i was thinking of finding a babysitter for Futaba since both of us are busy. but if you insist, who am i to decline?”

so this side job began the following day.

thirty minutes spared during your break before you engage yourself to war. you decided to spend those thirty minutes to rearrange yourself. you would rather not switch into your house clothes like you did yesterday, would you? this time, you chose carefully. you didn’t want to look like a floor rag but you didn’t want to look like you went there to go on a date either. even to contemplate whether or not you must add a little more blush on your cheeks to look lively.

you changed into a casual fit. a plain shirt, denim shorts and a pair of slip-on sandals. it was an attempt to not look like you were trying too hard. not with those clean ponytail and tinted lips.

“good afternoon, i’m Futaba’s guardian.” you told yourself a good job that you remembered to greet today.

but Sugawara wasn’t the one you directed that to.

he wasn’t around. you sneaked glances left and right to see if he was playing together with the other kids, but alas.

you walked home with Futaba, holding her hand. you try to match the child’s mood as she was very elated to talk about her day. on the other hand, you; Sugawara could have been busy. you can still see him again the following day.

the following days, you lessened your get up from your first attempt. he was present, but the greetings were the same as first day you met.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? do you start conversations? well, of course, you told yourself, since you’re the one who wants something from him. but how? what should you talk about? your day? his day? the kids? his job? what?

“thank you for taking care of Futaba.”

“hm? it is my job though.”

there goes your little motivation to initiate conversations with people you’re interested in.

you hear him chuckle at you, which added to the embarrassment you had from your statement alone.

today was parents’ day. the kids were asked to bring their parents to school to have a little meeting with the rest of the class. it worried you that Futaba only had you as her guardian to go with her, not her mother, but you see the kid in her high spirits since this morning you didn’t want to ruin that for her and apologize on her mother’s behalf.

you think this as you lean against the wall at the corner, until you notice Sugawara stood beside you. so much so, you spoke absent-mindedly.

you should have kept your mouth shut.

“is Futaba’s mother doing okay? we haven’t seen her since a week ago.”

or maybe you don’t have to keep your mouth shut after all. you turned to him, stunned. like, goodness, he’s starting a topic with you himself. how can you not be stunned.

“o sorry. is it a sensitive topic? i’m sorry-”

“no!” you said audibly. too audibly. you clamped your mouth, worried if you took the children’s attention away from the kids who are presenting in front. you continued in a whisper, while he still chuckled at you, “Futaba’s mom recently switched work schedules that clashes together with the kid’s school. she wasn’t allowed to take a leave today, so i’m here in her place.”

geez, were you talking too much?

“i see.”

you probably were talking too much.

“you two are siblings, no?”

“uh, yeah. we are.”

he nodded to himself, turning to the kids presenting again. a silent heave of relief escaped you while you leaned comfortably against the wall again. guess that was enough interaction for the day.

“i guess, we’ll keep seeing Futaba’s guardian-san from now on.” he gave you a gentle smile, leaning a bit closer to you from the half-feet distance.

“you don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“my apologies. what should i call you?”

“y/n.”

“y/n-san then.”

he gave you one last boyish smile before walking off to his station.

hold up.

did he just come here to ask for your name? did he trick you into telling him your name?

you and Futaba went home happily. literally, the both of you had a great day in school. here, you were giggling like a kid who just got noticed by her crush. but you could be wrong. it’s only natural of a teacher to learn one of his student’s guardian’s name. he cannot be interested in you.

on the other hand, he did start a conversation with you.

don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. you cannot help but still think about it.

the traffic lights flashed a green color.

days went on. you stayed as the one bringing your niece home safely every afternoon while the mother is busy. the relationship and trust you built with the child strengthened. your heart swell each time you see her jumping in joy whenever you show up after school. when you thought that alone will bring you happiness everyday, Sugawara greets you everyday with the same boyish smile.

each day pass, soon you become close friends. this made Futaba happy as you two are two of her favorite people.

until one day, the teacher called saying Futaba got sick.

worry engulfed you. you wondered what could’ve happened for the child to get sick, when she was fine earlier before her and her mother left together. could your sister not have noticed? or did it happen during school? more and more questions took shape as you frantically closed the café and ran to the school.

you rushed inside the nurse’s office, panting profusely. your eyes first caught your niece lying on the bed unconscious, and Sugawara sitting by the bed, placing a damp towel on her forehead.

“good morning, I’m Futaba’s guardian.”

Futaba’s teacher explained the situation to you. the kids were outside playing in the playground when Sugawara saw Futaba drenched in one hidden part of the garden. you see another kid standing beside the teacher. the kid gripped the hem of his shirt tightly as if he wanted to rip it off. the scowl on his face says enough of why he was here.

“i didn’t do it.”

the teacher continued, “ever since parent’s day, apparently some students have been picking on Futaba for not having her mother around.

“i’m terribly sorry. i’ve helped Futaba in ways i can. even i wanted to call you for this, but when i told Futaba i will, she begged me not to tell you because you and her mother are both busy with work.” she nudged the kid beside her, “isn’t there something you need to tell Futaba’s guardian?”

the kid averted his eyes. you figured there was no reason squeezing an apology from stubborn children like him. you kneeled before the kid to be at the same level as his eyes.

“what’s your name?”

he spent a few seconds quivering his lips before speaking, “Sora.”

“Sora,” you held his shoulder gently, looking into his eyes. “you’re very lucky to always have your mother by your side.”

tears formed in his innocent eyes.

you went on. “always remember to tell your mom that you love her, long as you still have her around, so she will stay. okay?” you finished, smiling at him as bright as you could.

Sora erupted into tears, storming off out of the nurse’s office and yelling his apology.

kids.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make him cry.” you reasoned, when you know full well you did it on purpose to put that kid into a guilt trip for messing with your niece like this. the teacher said it was fine, that she could’ve done it the same thing but a different way.

ignoring that, you turned to Sugawara, who you forgot was there the whole time, “i’m sorry for the trouble. i’ll be taking her home now.”

“i can help you bring her home.”

Sugawara stood up from his seat. this startles you because you also forgot you had a crush on him. you try to decline his offer, reasoning that your house is nearby and that you can carry a kid no problem.

but the Futaba’s teacher helped insist, “Sugawara-sensei should help you look after Futaba… uh, y/n-san was it?” you nodded, dubiously. “it was also said by Futaba that you’re working alone in your house with no one to help you. so please.”

you couldn’t decline when you saw Sugawara already carrying the kid behind his back. so you went home together with him, big deal. you felt embarrassed after getting your background get found out like that. guess Futaba is too honest of a kid, but not honest enough to tell her family that she was bullied at school.

“here will do.”

the two of you finally stood in front of your father’s café. the walk was silent, but you believed it was enough interaction for the day once more.

“you weren’t kidding when you say it was nearby, huh?” he said, looking through the glass windows.

“well. yeah.”

“that’s too bad,” he says, still carrying the kid on his back. he looks back to you. the smile appears again, “aren’t you going to open the door?”

you unlocked the doors. then, it hit you. what did he mean by too bad?

after taking Futaba up to her room and tucking her in bed, you went back down to the café where you found Sugawara idling about. “you can rest yourself on one of the booths. let me brew a drink for you.” you took your apron and hurried behind the counter. meanwhile, the man stood up perhaps wanting to leave.

“oh, you don’t have to make me a drink. i should be leaving.”

this confused you. really, what was that too bad for?

“you went all the way to our café. it’s only natural i made a drink for you.” you try and justify yourself. also, you already pressed the espresso machine. there’s no reason to waste a cup of espresso.

“if so, must i stay?”

this was the second to the last straw.

you stood there, one hand holding the ice scooper and the other holding a grande-sized cup, while staring at him straight into his bright eyes. those orbs must be telling you something. there should be a secret hiding within those eyes. for example, an answer to his question.

“do you want to stay?” you first broke the gaze.

“i’m the one asking you, y/n,” he said with a chuckle.

once again, you hesitated. “sure.”

the café flooded with silence while you made an iced latte for him. you trailed your gaze to the top of his head as he sat on one of the booths. concerns arise from the pit of your mind. nothing seemed to be happening. then, what is he here for? if he stayed, what will happen? is this all on purpose? should you put your guards up?

are the green lights alit again?

you put the iced latte on his table when he spoke. “i’m quite worried about Futaba with what happened to her.”

“well, she did a good job hiding the truth from us.” you say as you sat across him. “she’s a strong kid. i’m more worried if she will continue hiding her pain from the people who care about her.”

maybe you shouldn’t start such a touchy subject like this, yea? Sugawara landed his eyes at you but you avoided it and stood up. you have no idea what’s going on. if anything, this is not the right context of when something will develop. both of you just brought home a sick kid, for Pete’s sake. must you really take advantage of this?

“anyway, i’ll tell my sister what happened. she can help Futaba better than i-”

“i wonder if i’ll still see you every afternoon.”

his honesty astounded you. Sugawara’s pale face flushed from shame. guess he didn’t mean to say that. this means, if you weren’t getting ahead of yourself again, it’s how he actually feels.

you tried to lessen his embarrassment, “of course you will, who else will pick Futaba up from school?” so you played dumb.

“if your sister knew about the situation, she might switch her schedule.”

what was he trying to say?

“she can’t do that easily, you know.”

“there will still be a possibility.” he rested his chin on his palm, smiling at you, “which reminds me, i have been looking for a part-time job around here. is your café looking for more workers?”

“you wanna work here?” you ask as you went and flip the sign to open, since you’re already back for work.

“sure,” he picked himself up from the booth and walked towards you. “but i think i should follow someone’s footsteps first and make an impression. you know, you’re going to be my boss. i should meet you with casual clothes, not with a track jacket, sweat pants and unkept hair. what do you think?”

you flipped the sign to close. “are you mocking someone here?”

he tried to not make himself laugh at you. “i’m just saying i shouldn’t half-ass it if i’m looking for another job, y/n.”

“doesn’t sound like you’re actually looking for another job though?”

“i’m not,” he admitted. “i’m only looking for a reason to see you more. every 12.30 pm isn’t enough.”

the traffic lights said go. it is now 12.31 pm.

#walk in my garden #flirty suga is canon for me #watch me flourish this hc #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! drabbles #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! x reader #sugawara #sugawara koushi #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x y/n #karasuno

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ethelphantom · 5 years

Text

Like You Could Be Family

And I’m back with new soulmate AUs. This is my Maribat Secret Santa contribution to @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry. I hope you like it even though it seems my brain took some liberties with the instructions. There shouldn’t be anything you specifically said you didn’t want, though. I think. So yeah. I hope you like it. (It’s Timari, by the way). There’s also a piece of art of one of the scenes that I ended up doing bc I’ve got absolutely no self-control at the end so don’t miss it!

Ao3 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf? I swear I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home— hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.”

Marinette stared at her wrist. Of all the things she was expecting to read on her skin once she turned 18, she wasn’t— it really was not, well, whatever the hell this was.

She massaged her temples, trying to make sense of the sentence her soulmate would say to her as the first thing after today. She could not believe that she would actually have to see someone modeling on the cheese shelf in a grocery store judging by how it all sounded like.

Yeah… What if she just didn’t go on her trip to the States with Uncle Jagged like she had meant to? After all, the sentence was in English — in all likeliness, she was going to meet her soulmate there. Marinette most certainly was not ready.

Then again, fate had a funny way of making things happen anyway, so it wasn’t like she could just avoid it. Besides, she did want to meet her soulmate, so maybe she just should resign to her fate and go regardless of how much she was not waiting for it to happen.

So. Everyone got to see the first words their soulmate would say to them after their 18th birthday, and as it was, it was Marinette’s 18th birthday. She had earlier that day heard from Uncle Jagged that he was going to take her with him to the States to go around the country and to perhaps meet new people that might want to commission her or possibly sponsor her. It was very sweet of him and Marinette really did want to go with him — after all, she was finally able to travel since there was no longer a threat of akumas because Gabriel Agreste had been arrested; He could just rot in prison for all she cared because of how he had treated Adrien and for endangering the entire City of Lights for so very long — but she really was not ready to meet her soulmate, not so soon.

Especially not if this was how she was supposed to meet them instead of a peaceful, not so strange situation.

But, as all things always went with Uncle Jagged, she gave into him and told her parents she would be gone for the summer at least. Maybe longer, since if she got enough commission work or someone to sponsor her, there was a chance she’s stay. Then there was the fact she might meet her soulmate, which also meant there was a chance she’d stay with them.

Really, she just didn’t know if she would even come home after this or if she’d start a new home there, but she told her parents that too. Her maman and papa just smiled at her and embraced her, telling her that it was fine, that they would support her no matter what. She just needed to tell them where she was going to live so they could visit.

And as she had guessed (and hoped), they were there too on the day she left, stood in front of the aeroport and told her their goodbyes and shed a few tears. They wanted to wait with her for her uncle. After all, she would be travelling with him and Aunt Penny. And Fang, obviously. One must never forget Fang. Oh, yes, she couldn’t leave Adrien out either — Uncle Jagged had insister he come with them since he was her best friend, his aunt had given the go-ahead when they asked after hearing Marinette was going as well, and he really didn’t have a family outside the Graham de Vanilys and Dupain-Chengs.

Her parents hugged her and told her she would always be welcome home, as was Adrien, and that they loved her more than anything. Marinette smiled back and told them she was going to miss them. Then they — along with his aunt Amilie — made sure they hugged Adrien as well and told him he was like the son they never had (well, Amilie did not say that) and that they all loved him, too. Marinette was glad, seeing he now had a family as well.

That’s how their journey began.

Adrien was, as one might have guessed, excited about the trip. He hadn’t gotten out much in the years before this and now he was actually free from his father — no, just Gabriel; That man did not deserve the title of a father — and allowed to actually travel with his best friend and his idol. There was no Gabriel to stop him from actually living. He too had received a soulmark (“I doubt he would. So, your best friend is the soulmate of mine, huh? Wait… that’s weird, I could’ve almost sworn— It’s you??”) a year earlier, on his eighteenth birthday, and as that too was in English, there was good chance they’d both meet their soulmates on the trip. The average age for meeting one’s soulmate tended to be between ages 10 and 23, after all.

Thank god both of them had oddly specific things on their wrists; it would make recognising their soulmates a whole lot easier.

They ended up visiting many beautiful cities (New York City, Los Angeles, Charlestown, Metropolis, Salt Lake City, St Louis and Portland) before Jagged decided he wanted to show his niece and her best friend his home city. Adrien was excited. Marinette was a little excited, but knowing Jagged, also suspicious. Penny tried her best to convince him out of it, but no. That did not help.

(If you asked Marinette, it was because she was weak when it came to Jagged being actually excited about something, and since it wasn’t messing with any actual schedules, she ended up giving in to him.)

And just like that, they were headed to Gotham.

“Listen up kiddos! I managed to contact my friend whose oldest kids I used to take to different places to have fun whenever I could, and he says he’s got room for us all! How does that sound like to you?” he asked, basically bouncing on the balls of his feet as they were on their way towards the aeroport. He had switched to French to make it easier for them to talk about it — it was a big decision to make, after all. On one hand, that person was Uncle Jagged’s friend, and to both Marinette and Adrien that meant it was unlikely they were going to run into another Gabriel Agreste. On the other hand, in reality they knew nothing about him and all those years spent as superheroes had taught them to be cautious of anything new. New could always be good, but the problem was, new could also mean a bunch of evil butterflies attacking the city, possessing people and torturing absolutely everyone in the city for years.

“Well, Chaton, it’s your call. I’m going to trust Uncle Jagged not to have chosen a serial killer to take us in—” Adrien snorted at that, “—but you’re the one who’s gone though more shittiness from rich people than I have, so yeah. I’m making this your choice. Please don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

Adrien looked thoughtful for a second before nodding. “Yes. I want this. I want to see new people that could maybe prove me wrong about what rich people are like.”

Marinette grinned. “That’s the spirit! Though, Chaton, I have to say, you are a rich person, Jagged is a rich person, Kagami is a rich person. I think you’ve got rich and not horrible people around you as well, and all of them also happen to be close with you. But yeah, I think I get what you mean.”

Adrien punched her in the shoulder lightly, grinning back at her. Marinette almost had to cover her eyes because it looked like he was brighter than the sunshine itself as he beamed.

Jagged seemed ecstatic to find out they wanted to try meeting his friend and spend time with said friend’s children. Penny rolled her eyes fondly at her husbands enthusiasm and excitement, but went along. After all, someone needed to make sure all of them got there alive.

Once they arrived at Gotham, Marinette was surprised to find the first thing they did was not going to whoever Uncle Jagged had said was his friend but to go to a grocery store.

To buy the ingredients to the favourite food of the mysterious friend was apparently the reason why. Marinette hoped the friend’s taste was better than Jagged’s, she could not handle another week of weird smelling, suspicious foods that Jagged wanted (thank heavens for Penny and the fact she had made ordering edible food an art of mastery.)

Marinette sighed, resigning to her fate. She snatched the shopping list from her uncle’s hands and dragged Adrien along before anyone could protest. “Alright, so we gotta get all of this… Could you please go find the vegetables? And actually the rice, too. I’ll text you which vegetables are needed in just a second, okay?”

Upon receiving a positive answer as Adrien nodded and walked off, Marinette went to search for the meat. It turned out to be a task more difficult than she would have liked to admit — the store was rather big and she didn’t even know where to start.

Finally she found her way to the milk products, proud of herself since usually milk products were placed somewhere near the meat. It wasn’t good enough just yet, though, so once she noticed a small group of guys goofing around (This is what it means boys will be boys, she thought, not when they don’t leave a girl alone even after she tells them no). She was just about to ask them if they knew where the meat was when she saw one of them walk to one of the shelves and lie down, propping one leg up as he posed himself to look like he was…

Modeling.

God, did Marinette wish this was not was she thought it was.

Marinette sighed and walked closer to them, watching as one of the shorter ones in the group groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf?” he asked. Marinette’s eyes widened but she walked even closer, not sure if she really had heard right. She needed to know whether she’d heard him right. “I swear, I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home—” The man turned around and looked Marinette up and down before putting a smile on his face. Then he walked to her and spoke as though what he was saying was completely normal and not weird at all. “Hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.”

The man still lying on the shelf laughed. “You’re right about that, Timmers. Blalck hair and blue eyes, fits the picture. We gotta keep Bruce from adopting her somehow. You don’t happen to have a tragic backstory, kid?”

Marinette was still staring at them in shock, mouth hanging slightly open before she took a quick glance at her wrist. Indeed. She had heard right. Then she looked at the man who had first spoken to her and, summoning willpower and confidence she didn’t even know she had right now, spoke up. “I don’t think disowning him is even necessary to make him my brother, and it seems there’s a chance we might become family regardless of whether this Bruce adopts me or not,” she blurted out, grimacing at her strong accent. She knew she spoke better and with cleared English, but the shock of meeting her soulmate had her relapse to the accent of her natice tongue.

All of the laughter quieted down as though cut off and their smiles fell, all four of them now looking at her like they had seen a ghost. The first to recover was a guy a little taller than her with auburn hair and — were those eyes yellow? — whose smile was probably brighter than what she’d ever seen on Adrien , and well. Adrien was the literal sunshine personified. She had barely even managed to blink before he was standing in front of her, having shoved her soulmate away.

“It’s great to meet you, miss! We were wondering already when we’d get to meet you, if he’d try to hide you from us or if he’d let us meet you right away,” he said laughing and winked. “Turns out, we got to meet you at the same time as he did! I’m Bart!”

With a light tilt of her head, Marinette smiled back at him. “Marinette, it’s lovely to meet you as well.”

The man still lying on the shelf was the second to collect himself (the other two guys who weren’t her soulmate seemed to recover as soon as he got up, but both of them stayed silent). He stood up (god he was tall, she didn’t deserve this. Marinette seriously wished the rest of the family would not be as tall so she wouldn’t need to look up to be able to talk to them easily — she had enough of that with Adrien) and was in front of her with a few graceful strides. He too greeted her with a smile on his face.

“Name’s Richard, though I have to say, please do not call me that. Especially family should call me Dick. And, since you’re apparently the soulmate of Timmy here, welcome to the family. I’m his oldest big brother, and that scowling kid (“I’m not a kid, Grayson!”) over there is our little brother, Damian. There are a whole lot more of us though, but you’ll meet them later (“Not if I can help it she won’t”). Actually. You don’t happen to be free tonight, do you? We’re having dinner with the whole family for a change today, it’d be great to have you there as well.”

“You are aware Father invited his old friend and his companions to the manor today, aren’t you, Grayson?” the scowling kid — Damian, wasn’t he? — asked from behind them, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, yes, but I strongly doubt Bruce would mind at all if we invited Timmy’s soulmate over as well. His freaking soulmate, Damian. It’s more likely that he will be happy we did so.”

“Er, I’m sorry, but my uncle wants me to be with him, his wife and my best friend today,” Marinette said, hopefully cutting off whatever argument was starting to form between the two. She was still standing in the same place, not completely sure how to act. She had never thought there would be this many people who were important in her soulmate’s life near at once. It was overwhelming — after all, it meant she had to manage to make a good first impression right away.

The last of them, the one who had yet to speak, was still staring at her, though now he no longer looked like he was shocked to see her. No, now he was scowling, glaring, looking like he was examining her. Marinette took a step away from him and closer to her soulmate unconsciously, her eyes never leaving him. Yet another thing years of fighting villains had taught her: do not let your guard down near people that looked even the slightest bit threatening — which this guy definitely look like.

She really wished she didn't need to be alone here.

“Maribug! What are you standing around for?”

Thank heavens for Adrien and his timing.

Adrien threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned forwards a little, whispering “I’m sorry it took so long to get here, my hearing and smell aren’t as good when in this form. Did they try to do anything to you?” in French.

She found it sweet that once he’d understood why flirting with her so much was not okay, he’d researched sexual harassment thoroughtly and now was quick to act and make sure she was okay if things ever looked like there was even the slightest chance someone was harassing her, just like she did with him and his fangirls (especially Lila.) Dear god did she love her best friend.

“No, there’s no problem. Thanks Chaton”, she replied, shaking her head. Adrien squeezed her lightly before he let go, now apparently having a staredown with the kind of scary guy. Marinette let out a quiet laugh before tugging him by the hand to look the other way, to her soulmate. “Adrien, I’d like you to meet my soulmate,” she said, easily switching back to English. That seemed to finally shake him — she recalled Dick calling him Timmy and Timmers, so his name was probably Tim — out of his trance. He shook his head and stretched his hand out to Adrien.

“Hi. I think I might’ve seen you before somewhere. I’m Tim, her soulmate,” he said, smiling at the two of them.

“I’m Adrien, her best friend. You better take good care of her.”

“Adrien!”

Tim just laughed. “It’s fine, I suppose mine will try to have that conversation with you later as well. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier either. Like said, I’m Tim Drake, it’s wonderful to meet you. I love your outfit, is it an MDC?”

Okay, wow. He recognised her outfit as an MDC — which, of course, was her own brand so it just meant she’d made her clothes herself, but it wasn’t like she had made her identity public information yet anyway. This guy was a keeper. “Ah, yes, it is! How did you know?”

Now that he had made it clear he knew who MDC was, she started examining his outfit for anything familiar — of, wait, his shirt. She’d made it as a commission as few years back. She was also pretty sure that the hoodie Bart was sporting was from her autumn line based on superheroes from last year.

Adrien shot her a knowing look and a smirk which had her want to just flip him off before he turned to look at Bart who was making his way to Adrien.

“The signature on the hem kind of revealed it,” Tim replied.

Marinette arched an eyebrow. “But it’s almost invisible. It couldn't be that easy.”

“I know how to look for details. I love MDC by the way, I have a few of her designs as well.”

“I noticed. The shirt is hers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! I commissioned it from her a while… back…” Tim’s voice trailed off. “...how exactly did you realise it was hers? I know for a fact the signature is hidden and on the flip side, so that cannot be it.”

It seemed Adrien had been listening to their conversation instead of talking with Bart as it didn’t take him even a second to chime in. “Yeah, that’s because she made it. Oh, and I might look familiar because I tend to model most of MDC’s — Marinette’s — designs for men for her website. If you like MDC and are that familiar with her work, that’s probably were you’d know me.”

“Well, there goes that secret. Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, better known as MDC. I’m glad to hear you like my designs.”

“Wait. Timmers, you got MDC as your soulmate? That is so unfair,” Dick said, leaning against Tim’s shoulder.

Tim didn’t even grace that with a reply. He was — once again — staring at Marinette, his mouth hanging open. It was a miracle he’d even managed to shove Dick away. Marinette just smiled sheepishly and shrugged, letting her gaze wander to the side and the suddenly very interesting floor.

The man who still had said nothing walked to them, placed a finger under Tim’s chin and closed it. “He’s just a big fan — as is a big portion of their family, apparently — couldn’t stop talking about how ‘amazing it was that MDC accepted his commission’ at all for weeks at the time. Hi, I’m Conner, also one of his best friends. You better treat him well, or…”

“Yeah, that’s enough, Kon, let’s not threaten her too much so she won’t run away. I think he’d probably like to keep her,” Dick snorted. “You can give her the shovel talk once they start dating — if they start dating, that is.”

Marinette didn’ t know what to say, so she just kept silent and smiled, instead opting to listen to Adrien talking with Bart next to her. It helped her ground a little, knowing her best friend was right there with her.

“Nah, sure I love her, but just platonically. She’s my best friend, like a sister to me, so he doesn’t need to worry about me coming in between them. Well, unless he hurts her, that is.”

In front of her, Conner stopped talking with Dick and turned to look at the two. Tim did the same. Marinette soon understood why, as well.

“I doubt he would,” Bart replied, an obvious smile echoing in his voice. “So, your best friend is the soulmate of mine, huh?” Marinette’s smile fell and she turned to look at her best friend, who seemed to recognise the far too familiar words coming out of Bart’s mouth as well. Bart was looking at his wrist, now mumbling. “Wait… that’s weird, I could’ve almost sworn—” Then his gaze snapped to Adrien. “It’s you??”

“Oh mon dieu.”

“Oh mon dieu vraiment.”

With a quick glance, it seemed that everyone was now looking at Adrien and Bart. There was a smile growing on both their faces, though it was there far faster on Bart’s definitely. Grinning, Adrien turned to Marinette.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and started speaking in rapid-fire French. Understandable, it was much easier to both of them to deal with feelings in. “I cannot believe this! We both got to meet our soulmates on this trip, almost at the same time, and in Gotham of all places! I swear this was the last place I would have expected to find them at and I am so happy about this and just look at him he’s so adorable and precious I can’t even! I have known him for all of three minutes but I already love him. Oh my god, Jagged is not going to believe this—”

“Oh my god, Uncle Jagged. And I forgot the meat. We have to hurry, we can’t let him and Penny and his friend wait for us too long. Please tell me you didn’t forget anything I asked you to find.” Thankfully, Adrien shook his head.

Of course she had forgotten something. Now, it meant that she was starting to panic. “I am so very sorry, but I forgot that I was supposed to find ingredients for my uncle and I have to go now. I’m so sorry. We’ll still be in Gotham for some time, maybe I’ll run into you later again? Bye!” And with that, she dragged Adrien with her, leaving both her and Adrien’s soulmates behind. Adrien just waved to them before running beside her.

She left them behind having completely forgotten about asking for any means to contact any of them.

This she, obviously, only realised when she was in the car with Uncle Jagged, Aunt Penny and Adrien, already on their way to Jagged’s friend.

“I cannot believe I forgot to ask for his number or anything. I had to clear my inbox a while back, too, so it’s going to take me ages to find even his email address,” she moaned and buried her face in her hands. Adrien just patted her head, trying to comfort her. Yeah, that’s right, she had dragged Adrien away from his soulmate as well. That made her even worse.

“Wait, who are you talking about, kid? Whose number did you forget to ask? A potential new client?” Jagged asked, confused about what his niece was on about.

Marinette lifted her head for a moment to answer him. There were tear streaks on her face, she realised, when the air was a little too cool at only some places on her cheeks and hands. “No, my soulmate’s. I finally met him but then I realised I was late and Adrien met his soulmate as well but I just dragged him away too and oh god I’m such a horrible friend.” Then she let her head fall into her hands again.

“You met your soulmates? In Gotham?” Jagged gasped. “I’m so happy you met them here.”

“Jagged, you do realise this is Gotham, one of the most crime-ridden cities in the world, right?”

“But Penny, I’m sure these kiddos’ soulmates aren’t bad! They are so pure, not even fate would be so cruel! Anyway, kid, you should have stayed with him or asked him to join us! There’s nothing as rock and roll as meeting your soulmate! I would have been fine with waiting for you so you could get his number.”

“His brother actually asked me to come over to his place and have a dinner with his family. I said no because I was supposed to come with you to your friend’s place.”

“You should’ve said yes, Mari! I could have told Bruce you weren’t able to come ‘cuz you met your soulmate and he would’ve been okay with it!”

“What’s done is done, Uncle Jagged. Can we forget about this now? I want to wallow in self-pity.”

Adrien just shook his head and took her hands to his. “No, and you’re not a bad friend, Buginette. I know how you get like when things start becoming hectic, but one, I’m already used to it, and two, maybe we’ll see him again. He lives here and he told you his name, didn’t he? And you told him yours? You can probably try to find him tomorrow. I’m sure you will. And, once you find him, I’ll get to mine as well because he said they were best friends. There’s really nothing to worry about, Mari.”

“You’re way too good for me. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do. Now take this tissue, dry your face and we can go inside.”

Oh. They’d already arrived at the manor Jagged’s friend lived in. Marinette took the tissue Adrien handed her, wiped the tears off her face and then stepped out of the car, Adrien following right behind her. There was a man with a white streak in his otherwise black hair waiting at the door, a cigar in his hands.

“Hi Jagged. B said you were coming soon. Get in. It’s a little chaotic right now, babybird apparently met his soulmate and then lost her just about immediately, so he also invited his friends over,” the man said, drawing a breath out of his cigar. It seemed he recognised Jagged immediately, which was probably a good sign.

“Seems like we’er not the only ones with soulmate problems today,” Adrien whispered to her. Marinette just nodded. While she wasn’t one to take joy in others’ problems, she was kind of a little glad to hear that they weren’t the only ones who had to suffer with them right now.

“Well, hello Jay-lad, you’re alive again!” Jagged exclaimed as though being alive again was totally normal and squeezed the man. What the hell. When Marinette looked at Penny, hoping for some sort of an explanation for this, she just shrugged. “Great to see you’ve grown into a big boy now. These are Marinette and Adrien, my niece and her best friend. Oh, and Penny, my wife.”

“Oh give it a rest, won’t you, I wasn’t actually that small back then either. Where’s Fang?”

“Left him in my brother’s care.”

“The one that works at Arkham?”

“That one. He said he’s gonna take him with him to work today.”

“Great, let’s hope he bites Joker’s head or at least hand off. But yeah, good to see you’ve gotten yourself a family now so you don’t need to borrow me or Dick to have children anymore. Now, get in, it’s not too warm a night.” Once Adrien and Marinette got near him, he nodded as greeting. “I’m Jason, B’s second son and the kid Jagged used to borrow every now and then when he wanted to take a kid to concerts or the amusement park or somethin’.”

Adrien snorted next to Marinette who just chuckled. “Sounds like something Uncle Jagged would totally do. He basically adopted me as his niece after I designed him an atrocious pair of glasses,” Marinette laughed. “And Adrien got in because his father is an ass, and my family has joint custody of him with his aunt, which then led to Jagged wanting to take him with us as well.”

“Of course he did. Only Jagged and B would, I swear. Only them.”

They followed Jason inside (Jagged had already taken the liberty to just march in like he owned the place and announce he was back in Gotham, dragging Penny with him), marvelling at how gorgeous and beautiful everything looked. Even Adrien, who had grown up in a similar house, did, perhaps because while this manor was as big (if not far bigger) and just about as decorated as the Agreste Mansion had been, this was also warm and felt like home, like someone actually lived there instead of just… occupying the space. It was amazing.

A broad-shouldered man walked to them to welcome them in. It was probably B (Bruce? Marinette was pretty sure that was what Jagged had called him), based on how Jason greeted him, punching him lightly in the shoulder while he just ruffled Jason’s hair.

“It’s wonderful to meet the family Jagged speaks so fondly of finally. I’m Bruce Wayne. Come inside, I’d like you two to meet my children,” he said, smiling warmly at the two of them. Adrien was a little wary, but followed him anyway, never leaving Marinette’s side and his hand in hers. It wasn’t surprising and Marinette didn’t judge him for it — after all, as far as Adrien was aware, this man could be just like Gabriel (even if by all likelihood he wasn’t).

Jason snorted behind them. “He speaks of his children like there are only a handful of us instead of like, a million, like there in reality are. He’s a serial adopter, I swear. Be careful or he adopts the both of you — Blondie Locks sounds like he has a tragic backstory, and you have at the very least the blue eyes and black hair.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, somewhat ready to meet new people. But, once they actually got to the living room, they weren’t met with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, no. Instead, Marinette immediately recognised four of them, one of which was her soulmate.

How else. Fate had a funny way of doing things, making sure you couldn't avoid your soulmate.

Not that she wasn’t glad about it for this once.

Bart looked up and basically appeared next to Adrien — how fast was he anyway? — who then immediately hugged him. Well. If Bart was here and he was indeed every bit the precious sunshine he seemed to be and Adrien claimed he was, Marinette could safely leave Adrien to him. She squeezed Adrien’s hand once more before making her way towards Tim who met her halfway.

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry, I kind of tend to get stuck in my head when things start to get hectic and forgot to ask you for your contact information,” she chuckled, tilting her head.

Tim just smiled at her, arching an eyebrow. “Well, we got to meet this soon anyway, so I think I can forgive you that this once.”

“Hey!”

He just laughed at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, you told me you were MDC — I would have been able to get in contact with you rather easily,” he reminded her.

Oh yeah. That too.

“It’s wonderful to meet you again, Tim. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Marinette. I’m glad I got to meet you, soulmate.”

Marinette opened her arms slightly, and once Tim nodded and she got the go-ahead, she hugged him tight. Glancing at her wrist and the odd words written on it, the corners of her lips quirked upwards.

Perhaps, perhaps it wasn’t that bad to have “Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf? I swear I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home— hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.” written on her body permanently.

After all, those words led her to the young man called Tim she could already tell was a wonderful person, and later on, Marinette couldn't have been happier to call him her beloved soulmate.

(click for better quality)

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@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

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