#Giant crying box

[jijimachu]

Sketches during break

[sugarsweetvirgo]

The second I saw your post I went on youtube an search how they gave shots to mice.

Hnn, as someone who's both terrified of needles and a huge animal lover it's so hard to watch...

Even though she's very mouselike herself, It's definitely really hard for Eve to get any sort of medical treatment because she's so tiny, things like giving her medication or taking samples can be a really big pain.

[lycanwlf]

im gonna fucking kill myself i just had to pay $60 for syringes for my testosterone and the ones they gave me aren't even correct. i have a huge box of syringes that are the wrong size and cant take the needles i have to use. and the needles that come with them are completely wrong. like the wrong gauge and wrong length and everything. i literally cant use these at all. what am i supposed to do with $60 worth of useless syringes.

[baka-monarch]

My boss: you work as an usher and have to clean disgusting theaters multiple times a day and deal with people

Me: okay, will I get paid well?

Boss: no, you'll be paid below the livable wage and have the lowest paycheck out of all the positions you can have here

Me: will I ever get a raise?

Boss: no

Me: do I at least get both a 30 and a 15 minute breaks during my shifts since they're all over 8 hours?

Boss: no, you'll always have a 30 but if we're busy we'll need you to not take a fifteen

Boss: also on weekends you'll have to stay an hour longer than normal

Me: am I guaranteed to always get my fifteen on those days?

Boss: no

Me: is there any way to get paid more?

Boss: yes, training to work in a different position so you can work in 2 positions at once, but only managers can decide if you can get double trained

Me: okay.... At least I only work part time so hopefully I won't get too tired when summer comes

Boss: this summer we're having early very cheap movies so we need you to come in an hour early for every shift

Me: will I get paid any more for this at least?

Boss: no

And like- I feel ripped off-

[juupitrr]

suitcases man / vent

my sister came back from uni and moved back into her and i's room - which for the past 4-ish years has been mostly just /my/ room with her bed still in it for when she came over on holidays or moving between the uni years - and that meant she brought all her stuff with her and I had to move my stuff to make space.

I didn't realize it also meant moving my clothes and where i put them; like the suitcase I keep under her bed specifically at the far left end of it placed so I can pull it out, zip it open and take out the only 3 items that are in that suitcase, my black skater skirt, those black ankle socks I brought to kosov and never wore so keep there just incase, and that one corset top that came a day late than when I needed it.

When my dad helped her put her suitcases under her bed, they initially had to take out /my/ suitcase to make space for it then when they realized they had extra space, put my suitcase back in. In the far right side of the bed.

When my dad left I immediately went to it and fixed it and corrected it and my sister was looking at me weirdly "you're acting kinda ocd" "this is very ocd of you" and it annoyed me a lot because it was only recently that I've been comfortable with saying I have ADHD and she knew this and I thought the suitcase thing was another me or ADHD or both thing, so her naming it as something else just. it annoyed me. because I thought I finally had a kind of guide as to what certain things were and why. then in comes this whole new term id never considered that i now have to give a guest room in my head cuz now its circling in my thoughts a little in the back of my mind.

idk man just like, knowing what kind of neurodivergent u are is so fucking tough sometimes man, like why cant it be like the sorting hat or smn and it just tells u

[darkveracity]

Homura is just straight up one of the weirdest people imaginable. Like, forget about the time loop tragic doomed romance for a bit, I want to see what it looks like if she wins and then actually tries to romance Madoka. She has a massive collection of illegal firearms. She builds her own bombs. She lives in an ultra-modernist white box apartment that she's decorated with a couch made of concentric circles, a giant swinging knife pendulum to remind her of the ever-present flow of time, and a wall of several dozen screens. She communicates primarily in vague and ominous warnings and is more or less incapable of saying anything directly. She addresses everyone she meets by their full name with no honorific which comes across as bizarre and intimidating. If you count time loop years she's 26. She was raised in a catholic orphanage. I want to see her take Madoka on a horrifically bad date and cry in the bathroom partway through when she realizes she's fucking up

[diejager]

Puppy reader who is teething and her teeth feels very itchy so she constantly needs to chew on something and monster!Konig tentacles are her favorite things to chew on bc they're kinda rubbery, soft and taste funny...

- 🐮

Cw: teething, biting, sea food???, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost had been your handler for the past year, having to train and teach you everything you’d need to work with them. He’d seen your lows as often as your highs, from a whining pup, moaning about not receiving enough pets or kisses or treats, seemingly almost missing something, to an energetic mutt, bouncing off the walls and running laps at the prospect of praises and affection. 

He’d seen it all, every little moment you had that had him strain against the limit of his patience as a competent handler. And despite your age, far from being a young puppy with frail limbs and limp ears, you could act as on: whining, crying, barking until something - someone - gave you the attention you needed, but he’d never seen you do… this.

It was unusual for you to be this mouthy, teeth itching to sink into something, your teeth bared and snarling when anyone tried to take the object from your mouth. Ghost had bought you toys, boxes filled with softer chew toys rather than the hard plastic of a shoe or the metal bite of utensils, but you worked through them faster than he could provide. Perhaps you were bored of the repeated drills despite dogs being creatures of habit, or you were lacking activity, he was getting busier with all the reports and paperwork he had to fill in for Price. Especially with another PMZ being called for a joint alliance.

He worried that they’d pose a danger to you, so young and naive to how others could treat you as a hybrid, he had both Gaz and Soap follow you —or rather, you follow them; but when he saw you perk up at the sight of a giant man and another hybrid, a scarred tiger, Ghost felt his shoulders tense. You just had to find interest in a man - could he even be a man with how big he was? - heads taller than him, broad and dangerous. You had completely forgotten his orders, trailing behind the giant like a lost pup, tail wagging and eyes bright. 

You’d go missing for hours upon hours, leaving the Task Force as worried as they were confused, lost without the small ball of sunshine around them. They would go looking for you, asking around until they eventually found you curled up and asleep on your bed, your snoring echoing softly in Ghost’s room. It went on like that for the week and the next, only finding you in the Mess Hall or your bed, not knowing where you went during these long breaks. 

Until- until Gaz had found you straddling the giant’s - König’s - lap, you face covered in a thin layer of mucus and gnawing on a tentacle, long and dark and viscous. Ghost was livid, König being an octopus hybrid - however odd that sounded - and how at ease you both felt to let each other be so physically close to one another. Granted, you were a sociable hybrid, which seemed to bother him less than the sight of you biting on a König’s tentacle.

He knew you were somehow teething, but it bothered him how you were dealing with it with someone else instead of coming to him for a solution. Ghost would have to talk to you later.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[takes1]

bokuto fucking your insecurities away

i LOVE his character. very fun to write. would love to do any requests for him!! working on an oikawa request now :)

warnings. nsfw. conversations around body image issues info. nsfw / rough sex / friend sex / chubby!reader / insecure!reader / bokuto has a praise thing / impatient!bokuto / airhead!bokuto / sweet!bokuto / bokuto likes big girls / dumb dick bokuto / pool party setting / 2.3k words

haikyuu collection. more here. links. masterlist / my ao3 / request box

Watchful eyes tracked the arrival of a group of girls from the house to the poolside, all clad in their colorful swimsuits, hats, sunglasses, and smiles.

Bokuto bumped a serve up to Akaashi and grinned at the perfect opportunity to show off in front of you.

SLAM! Right into the water on the other side of the net, splashing Washio hard in the face.

He cursed loud at his unnecessary force, but quickly shut himself up when the girls came walking around the side of the pool. He pushed the water off of his face with flexed arms.

Something was wrong, though. Bokuto swam to the side of the deep-end and pushed his body up to sit on the edge despite the game going on.

"Hey!" He waved enthusiastically to a couple of girls and brought them over.

They were more than happy to bend over in front of his sculpted, shiny body, but his attention was only taken by your absence.

"Where's (Y/n)?"

They frowned and stood back up, half-heartedly mentioning that you wouldn't come out of the room they all changed in, and walked away.

That just wouldn't do. He turned to look at the house.

"Put a towel on before you go inside!!" Akaashi called, exasperated he even had to tell him.

"AAAAAHH!!" Was his response; as good at articulating his frustration as any that he had to jog the distance back for a stupid towel.

Akaashi rolled his eyes into setting another ball. Bokuto rolled his eyes, too, and slid the screen door open.

It was so cold inside, his skin prickled up instantly. He wished you'd just come out already-- enjoy the warm sunshine, let him rub sunscreen all over you, lay on his chest in the pool. His stomach pooled with heat at the fantasy of it all.

Oh, you were coming out of that room even if he had to drag you out.

Just before his hand grabbed the doorknob, he thought better for a second. A loud, rhythmic knock.

"(Y/n)!! Come outside!" He yelled into the door.

He didn't spare a single second more to linger when he heard a faint sniffle.

You weren't a mess, but your eyes were still stinging and you were not happy to be walked in on when you had nothing but an ill-fitting t-shirt over your bikini, even if it was Bokuto.

His proportions were ridiculous. Giant, hulking shoulders and a strong, wide back dipped deliciously into his tiny waist. Itty-bitty trunks showed off his powerful thighs, though he was dripping all over the carpet.

In a way, it only brought you back down to the feeling that you were not up-to-snuff to walk out in your bathing suit with all these athletic bodies outside.

"What the hell?" He yelled; not at you, just at the fact that you were clothed, and clearly trying to not cry.

A couple steps forward made you tense. He caught this, so he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Being soft wasn't one of his strong suits, but he tried with you.

His affinity for you was never-ending after he passed you one day in the hallway. One big, empty-headed smile was all it took to start your odd friendship. He used this one interaction to wedge his way up to 'studying' with your small, academic club.

His eccentricities made him charming and personable to talk to, but Bokuto was undeniably attractive and even more popular. So, you weren't sure why he associated with you, since he never paid attention in your study group.

You pushed the wet off of your face with the heel of your hand and tried to sober up a little, "I'm going home."

Your voice sounded so hoarse and weak, you regretted saying anything and not just walking out when you had the chance.

Bokuto laughed as if you were really joking.

Instead of trying to explain yourself to him, which historically never went well in your favor, you grabbed your pants off of the floor.

His gaze dropping and necessary palming of his growing ache wasn't subtle, but you couldn't see it. That tiny shirt didn't cover your ass; he had to savor the sight.

His head spun with confusion and the beginnings of frustration at the sight of more clothes, "What are you doing?"

He tried again, desperate to keep you from putting on those pants, and closed the distance between you, "Come oooon, let's just go out there and have some fun! We're playin' some ball- I want'cha to watch me win!"

His big, adoring eyes chipped at your guard. Instead of getting lost in them, you looked to the side, to the corner you were changing in when you first started feeling like this bikini was a horrible idea.

A frown made his entire face droopy when he saw your expression harden.

"I should've gotten a one-piece," You muttered.

It took a few moments for him to process what was so bad about that. It took him longer to come up with a response, which gave you enough time to shiver at the lack of space he gave you.

You felt horrible that you wanted to leave him, since he was the reason you were invited and had the courage to wear something like this in the first place. It just didn't stand up to how overwhelming the possibility of judgement might be.

Bokuto closed the gap even more so you'd look up at him, face set, "You always think too hard about this stuff."

Frustrated that he couldn't even grasp at the concept, you gripped your shirt harder.

He let up, physically unable to keep a mean mug on his face for more than a few seconds.

"I'm sure ya look real good-," His wild and unruly imagination inspired an obvious up-and-down with his eyes. Your heart skipped at his intense energy.

"So come on!" He tore himself away, grabbed your wrist, and didn't give you the chance to pick apart his tone, "Let's go!"

You weren't moving despite his jerk towards the door. A frustrated sigh made you feel a bit smaller.

He was pretty imposing when he was close to you, and not his usual high-energy self.

This topic of contention wasn't new. He brushed away your usual self-deprecating jokes, and called you cute on a number of occasions-- you thought it was a joke, or just politeness. But he never got irritated before.

"Need me to prove it?" His thumb hooked under his the hem of his trunks and pulled on them enough to make you give a quick, uneven:

"N-o,"

One uncontrollable glance down, and your face was burning fast.

You were pretty sure you just saw his dick. He laughed at your sheepish reaction and slapped a hand to the back of his neck.

"I dunno how else to convince you that you're fuckin' gorgeous."

You tried to pretend not to see him adjust, but he was watching you, like an owl waiting for his mousey dinner. It was difficult to not feel aroused and curious when you were so plainly desired and lusted after by this big, stupid hottie.

The air between you was warm and still.

After a moment of deliberation, your fingers gripped the edges of your shirt and you lifted it off. It was more of a test to see if he still felt the same.

"Damn," He sighed, lids heavy, thumb still hooked to his trunks.

His free hand guided your face up to his- you found no reason to deny him a needy, raunchy kiss. He was so forward, there was no room to doubt or overthink his intentions when his hands were filling with your hips and chest so fervently.

You had never felt so wanted before.

The ease in which he picked you up and set you onto the bed forced a startled moan against his lips.

He sucked a toothy kiss to the side of your mouth with a boyish giggle, "Sooo pretty."

This time, you took his compliment as it was intended. Unlike the countless other times he told you that and you assumed the worst.

He was only gone for the moment it took for him to wrench his own trunks off, leaving him completely bare with a generous size straining against the air.

Being naked truly didn't bother him at all. He looked so natural it was like he could walk outside like that, completely fine.

You envied his simplistic mind.

His cock was burning hot against your skin once he sandwiched it between yourself and his weight.

If there was one thing you could tell from his messy, rushed kissing, it was that he hated taking things slow. It took a few deliberate whines to keep him from yanking on the bottom piece of your bikini.

He melted at your successful efforts and the squeeze of your legs around his hips.

Your hands fluttered over his strong back, pushing, pulling, poking here and there at some hard muscles that you didn't even know existed. You wanted to enjoy as much of him as you could.

To keep his discomfort at bay, he rubbed himself against your softness, breath labored and hot on your lips.

"'Need you so fuckin' bad," He laughed, unable to cope with his peaked impatience.

This time you didn't fight his efforts to remove your bikini bottoms-- but you gasped at his unhinged lick to the inside, where you had been slowly getting them wet.

He tossed them to the side with a smile and pulled you to the edge of the mattress so he could stand. This was better for his control, in his opinion.

The guy had clocked this height to work before you had even expressed any interest much earlier.

Another few kisses you had to reign him in for and he was sliding against you, getting himself coated with your wet, yearning to be inside you already.

It helped that he gave you such a good view.

His hands kept your twitchy, plush thighs still as he pushed into you.

You gave a fretful sound, not quite as prepared for his size as you preferred.

A guttural groan escaped from him, one that only further proved his bottomless lust as valid. You watched his face tighten, then drop into something a bit sleepier- it helped you adjust better, feeling, seeing, hearing exactly how much he wanted you.

His big, strong hand grabbed the bottom half of your face, "That feel good, baby?"

He didn't wait for you to respond to him before stealing a few hungry, rough kisses from your puffy lips.

When he pulled away after stealing enough of your breath, his head flew back and left you to watch his taut, muscular body twitch and flex as he fucked deeper into your cunt.

An absolute piece of art was taking you, in a stranger's bed no less.

"Ah-h!" You whined as he set an intense pace.

His cock felt so good, stretching you out over and over again, and you gladly adjusted to his unquestionable enthusiasm.

A handsome, boyish sound was his giddy chuckle, "Ya like that?"

Those skilled, eager thrusts resonated throughout your entire body- he watched your tits bounce in your strappy top under him in a stupid daze. His hands were filled with the plush of your hips, constantly stretching to grab and pull more of you onto him.

He fucked you like he'd never get the chance to again. Under his touch, you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Nothing else mattered much in comparison.

"Fuck, yeah," It came out in a whimper, but still captivated him like you'd muttered some spell.

His satisfied moan at your affirmation was choked and uneven. He nabbed one of your wrists to place a kiss on, but his pussy-fixated brain could handle one thing at a time.

You needed him deeper- fuck, he looked so pretty panting on your wrist like that.

The squeeze of your thighs stalled him. His eyes were filled with a confused, yet intrigued restlessness when you pushed on him so you could flip over.

"Mm, yeah, yeah- That's so-o fucking hot!!" Bokuto whined.

He let you take the lead because he loved seeing your confidence shine through. It was beyond sexy watching you own it and put your ass in the air for him.

"Oh, f-uck," He moaned, breathless as he sunk into you.

You squeezed around him when he landed a hard slap on your soft, supple skin.

Yeah, this was all you needed. Next time you were feeling down, this perfect man could just fuck the insecurity out of you.

You settled into a deep stretch with a nice arch for him and felt a calloused hand pressing into your lower back to keep you still.

He certainly hated wasting time.

At this point you leaned into it, crying whiny curses into the pillow beneath you while he fucked you hard.

His heart skipped a few beat when you cried, uneven at each thrust, "Feel s-o good, Bokuto"

His nails dug hard into your ass, his breath getting choppier, voice raspy when he told you, "Been waitin' so long."

He laughed, barely swallowing his own whine at the threat of needing to cum so bad.

"You'll get this- h-ah," He winced, having to stall a moment when you clenched around him, "Nex-t 'ime you wanna act all fuckin' shy..."

Your climax was hard and fast, rendering you a bit lightheaded as he pounded his last few strokes out and finished all over your ass.

Everything was hot and hazy when he rolled onto his back next to you. You slid so you were laying onto your tummy.

His big, goofy grin was a bit cloudy in your vision: "One more?"

requests: open

masterlist

[euphorajeon]

trippin' over, gettin' lost on you | jjk (m)

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, smut | college au, slight coffee shop au (?)

— word count: 12.4k

— warnings: pov change after the first part (its kinda obvious.. i hope), sleeveless jk, jealous jk, like really jealous, side character yoongi, cameo jimin and hoseok, they work tgt in a coffee shop, boxer!jk is back to his nature (he's boxing again, at last), cocky jk (but he's hot so its ok), usual banter between jk and oc, also banter between oc and jimin, mentions of cuts and bruises from boxing, references to the movie Real Steel, uhh what else i dont rmb anything else this thing is GIANT for me, smut in the form of: kissing, marking (hickeys), making out, an attempt at dirty talk, dry humping, cumming in pants, hint at unprotected penetrative sex at the end (don't do this!). [pls lmk if i missed smth]

— summary: a visit to the coffee shop you work at rewards jeongguk not only with a cup of coffee and a plate of brownie, but also with something else simmering deep in his veins. a challenge is issued, and all hell breaks loose.

— author's note: okay first of all full disclosure i started this in sept 2022 and just finished it today ^_^ i tried to edit it as best as i could, so if you see any mistakes, pls kindly... ignore... thank you... ^_^ that aside, i also feel the need to disclose that this is only my second time attempting to write smut so pls.. be kind.. hehe. okay! i hope you enjoy this absolute giant baby of mine!!

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

There’s an advantage to knowing someone for years. Jeon Jeongguk can attest to this fact from first-hand experiences he’d had with you throughout the many years you both have known each other. He’s seen you cry after you almost drowned when you were ten and you’ve seen him throw up his breakfast after drinking skimmed milk when he was twelve, where both life-threatening experiences had been deemed not serious by young-you and young-Jeongguk who used both experiences as means to roast each other. (Though growing up, your hands automatically grabbed the whole milk carton when grocery shopping with him and he’s never let you go within a five-meter radius of a swimming pool without his supervision.)

Years of friendship with you has also given him the advantage of being familiar with your likes and dislikes, from trivial ones like how you don’t drink coffee because it upsets your stomach to more serious ones like the type of boys you would date in your teen years. He’s never had a problem with the former, instead using it as another mean to annoy you (“You can’t drink coffee? What are you? A child?”), but the latter had always bugged him for reasons unknown prior to his big epiphany a little over a year ago. (Spoiler alert: it was the first time he came home with piercings on his eyebrow and lower lip, when he tempted you into kissing him stupid.)

Now he’s confident that the type of a boy you’d date would be someone who is handsome, tall, has a great smile and tattooed bulging biceps on the side. Add a lip piercing (and a fake tongue one!) as well and he’s sure you’re never going to look at other boys ever again. If you do, well, he’d just make the piercing on his tongue a permanent one, even though that means he wouldn’t be able to kiss you for weeks after. But as said earlier, he’s confident that you only have eyes for him alone.

With that same confidence, Jeongguk struts through the glass door of the coffee shop you’re working at for the summer, going up to the counter with a grin painted on his features. Said grin goes unnoticed by you, though, as you’re busy taking the order of the person in front of him. His lips stay tilted upwards as he watches you work, writing the customer’s name on the cup with your big, round, cute handwriting. Only when you’re done taking the order and the customer’s cup has been given to your coworker do you notice his presence, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” you greet him in your customer-service voice and smile like you do any other customer that has come before him. Jeongguk gives you an amused smile, making you chuckle as you key in his order even before he says it himself. He eyes the small screen in front of him that displays his usual choice of beverage, making a sound to stop you from ringing him up.

“Actually,” he says when you hum in question, “could you add milk to that? Make it a latte?”

“You want a latte?” you emphasize the last word, making sure you didn’t hear him wrong. “Like, with milk and foam on top?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeongguk confirms, leaning his elbows on the counter to stare at you as you change his order from an americano to a latte. “Can I also order you on the side? Look too good not to be devoured,” he adds, a sleazy smirk on his lips.

You scrunch up your face at his innuendo, his words hard to believe when you’re wearing a murky brown apron and a matching cap on your head. “I’m adding a brownie,” you deadpan. “That would be seven dollars.”

“You don’t want anything?” Jeongguk asks as he straightens up, hand reaching for his wallet to take out his credit card. “No coffee though, babe.”

“Nope, I’m good,” you answer as you accept the card Jeongguk hands you, swiping it through the card reader. “Yoongi said I can try the new menu in large for free! I’m saving calories for that so no sugar allowed for now.”

His forehead creases upon hearing the new name. “Yoongi? Who’s Yoongi?”

“Him,” you tilt your head towards a mint-haired guy who’s busy making all the drinks, hands skillfully moving from one cup to another. It’s a wonder how he doesn’t spill even a drop of liquid. “I’ll introduce you later but now you have to move, there’s a line. Shoo.”

Jeongguk gives you a playful pout as a protest but complies with your request to move, sliding down to the pick up counter as you greet the next customer in line. There are two people lined up after him, barely a line like you made it sound like, but he figures because it’s an hour before closing that you consider any amount above one person a line. He also notices that you and the mint guy (Yoongi, was it?) are the only ones manning the counter, so it’s not like you have any spare time to deal with him given the amount of work that has to be done.

“An iced latte and brownie for Jeongguk!” Mint guy shouts as he slides the drink and dessert on the counter, lingering for a second when he sees Jeongguk’s hands reaching for his order. Mint guy’s gaze trails up his arms to his face, eyes meeting Jeongguk’s confused ones. Recognition bleeds into his cat-like eyes as his mouth forms into an O shape.

“Kiddo’s boyfriend?”

The low baritone of his voice is unexpected, though that’s not the only thing throwing Jeongguk for a loop. ‘Kiddo’? He has a nickname for you??

Mint guy—Yoongi!—doesn’t take his lack of response personally, instead opting to turn around and talk to you who have just finished taking orders from the customers. Jeongguk can’t hear what words you and Yoongi are throwing around, but from the way you glance at him, it looks like the mint-haired guy is just trying to confirm the answer to his two-worded question directed at Jeongguk earlier.

Your response to Yoongi’s inquiry makes the guy give you double pats on your cap-covered head, triggering a laugh to come out of both of you. While Yoongi’s laugh looks like he’s teasing you good-naturedly, yours looks like a shy one if the pink dusting your cheeks are any indication. It prompts a scowl to appear on Jeongguk’s handsome visage, furrowed brows and clenched jaw. It is not in your nature to get shy.

As much as he wants to stay rooted to the pick-up counter to keep you and Yoongi in his close watch, he has to move his ass somewhere less crowded to avoid getting eye-fucked by the girl next to him who has been staring at his tattoos for the past five minutes. Prior to dating you, anyone who displays interest in his tattoos would make pride swell in his chest, an ego-booster guaranteed to make his day a thousand times better. He used to subtly flex whenever he caught someone looking at his sleeve tattoos, an equally subtle wink on the side if that someone is a girl he found attractive. But after dating you, he realizes that the only attention he wants (and matters) is yours. Now anyone staring at his tattoos with the intention of flirting or getting in his pants just makes him shiver in disgust.

Though, in this particular instance, Jeongguk admits it’s his own fault by showing up to the coffee shop in a sleeveless shirt. It wasn’t intentional, he just grabbed anything within reach when he packed for the gym earlier in the day, but the way he left his hoodie in the car is definitely intentional. He thought he would give you a distraction surprise by baring his sleeve when you’re working, but you seemed unaffected even when he leaned on the counter to flex his muscles. Which is weird, considering you never missed any chance to ogle his inked bicep whenever he’s boxing.

As Jeongguk plops a small piece of brownie into his mouth, he just realizes that your roles are reversed now, with you doing your thing and him doing the staring. His eyes never leave your figure as you ring up three more customers since he sat down, transferring plastic cups onto Yoongi’s never-ending queue of orders. He watches as you take the last two cups by yourself, re-reading the order before moving to grab the ingredients needed for the drink. Your hands don’t work as fast as Yoongi’s, the muscle memory not yet settling in, but Jeongguk can tell that your help is appreciated by the way the mint guy smiles at you while patting your shoulder.

When the orders are all done, you go up to the glass door to flip the sign so it shows the Sorry, we’re closed! side. A glance at the clock tells him that it is thirty minutes until closing time, meaning thirty minutes until you can get out from behind the cashier and into his waiting arms. He hasn’t seen you all day today and all he wants to do is kiss you breathless the second you get rid of that horrendous apron and cap. Jeongguk starts counting down from the thirty-minute mark, hoping time would tick by faster.

Behind the counter, Yoongi is still busy making one more drink while refusing your offer to help. It’s weird seeing your kindness being offered to someone that isn’t him, but Jeongguk supposes this time it’s strictly work-related as he knows Yoongi has been making all the drinks (except the last two that you did) ever since he sat down with his order. Though, it seems like the drink in his hand is not an order at all, because he gives the plastic cup to you instead of putting it on the counter for a customer to take. There’s an almost childish grin on your face as you sip on the drink, eyes lighting up as you shoot Yoongi a thumbs up. After you exchange some more words with Yoongi, Jeongguk watches as you skip happily to his table with your drink in hand.

You place said drink next to his cup of latte on the table before your hand reaches for his drink to steal a sip. “I just have to clean up and wait for everyone to leave, then we’re good to go.” You steal two more sips of the latte just because you can.

“Okay, babe, but I still want my latte, you can put it down now,” Jeongguk chuckles, watching you do as he says with a guilty smile on your face. But then your hand takes the little spoon that came with the brownie to cut a sizable chunk from his half-eaten treat, quickly plopping it into your mouth. “Finish your brownie so I can take the plate away to wash it.”

“Are you just here to steal all of my food?” Jeongguk jokes, no menace behind his words as he reaches up to thumb away a stray piece of brownie from the corner of your lips. “And you said you didn’t want anything when I offered earlier.”

“I didn’t,” you confirm, “stealing from you is just too hard to resist.”

Jeongguk would’ve continued the banter if not for Yoongi calling your nickname from behind the counter, signalling for you to get back to your job.

“Boss calls,” you say, sneakily stuffing some more brownie into your mouth. “Should get back. Bye!”

“He’s your boss?” Jeongguk asks incredulously, glancing at the mint-haired guy who’s still busy moving around behind the counter. “That young guy is your boss??”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later,” you wave your hand dismissively, turning to leave. “Don’t steal my drink!”

In true Jeongguk fashion, of course he steals a sip from your drink. He does it just to be petty that you won’t explain anything about Yoongi, but he’s also curious what the new menu tastes like. He doesn’t remember seeing any banner for a new menu when he entered the shop earlier, so he’s guessing it hasn’t gone on sale yet.

He scrunches up his face the moment the drink touches his taste buds, tasting the bitterness of coffee among the layers of other flavors. It’s not as strong as the americano he usually has, but he can still feel it linger even after he swallowed the drink. Definitely not the type of drink you’d order on your own, though, so why were you so excited to try this new menu?

Looking around the shop, Jeongguk’s gaze falls on Yoongi. You did say he was your boss, didn’t you? Could it be that this free drink is just a plot to use you as a guinea pig for his experimental weird recipes, knowing that you can’t refuse your boss? Was that why he refused your help earlier? So he could make the drink taste as bizarre as it is right now?

His eyes continue following your and Yoongi’s figures behind the counter, squinting them in distaste whenever he sees you laughing at something the mint-haired guy said. Your smile, your lowered gaze, your shy demeanor, all remind him of a feeling he thought he had buried a long time ago—the same feeling he got whenever you got a boyfriend in your adolescent years. Suddenly, Jeongguk feels fifteen all over again—a clueless doe-eyed boy who donned t-shirts in every color of the rainbow every day of the week and strutted like he owned the school just so you can see that he was cool, only for you to deny him of a Sunday together.

Those years have become a core memory for him that it inspired him to get one of his tattoos: Rather be dead than cool, because he realized the way to your attention was not by being cool, it was by just being himself. (Yes, the ‘him’ who showed up unannounced at your doorstep after two years and ended the day with you on his lap stealing all the breath straight from his lungs.)

Anyways, all of that doesn’t matter because currently, your eyes are not on him but on your mint-haired boss who’s busy grinning while washing some equipment. Why are you both smiling so much around each other? Do you have some kind of inside joke that’s so funny you can’t stop laughing? What is so pleasing about Yoongi’s presence that you keep beaming at him?

Jeongguk chews the straw of your drink in anger, not realizing that he has inhaled almost half of the cup’s content despite claiming that he hates the taste. Sipping on your drink has become an afterthought as he was busy analyzing how wide your smiles are while working with Yoongi and how friendly the shoulder and head pats you give each other are. It’s sickening.

Eventually, everyone else in the coffee shop left and you’re in front of him once again to get rid of the brownie plate from his table, whining when you see the half-empty cup in Jeongguk’s hand even as you’re chewing the rest of his brownie in your mouth. Fair trade, he says as you walk away with the plate and spoon in hand.

Not even five minutes has passed since you left his table, yet Jeongguk feels tired of being patient, taking your and his coffee cups in each hand before coming up to the counter. It seems like Yoongi senses his presence, because he looks up from the calculator app on the tablet in front of him to give Jeongguk a curious glance. Their eyes meet for a split second before Jeongguk moves his gaze past Yoongi’s shoulder to you, who’s still busy wiping down the counter. A knowing smile curves on Yoongi’s lips.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Yoongi turns towards you, the nickname still irritating to Jeongguk’s ears. “I’ll finish closing up, you can go. Great work today.”

“No it’s okay, I can help you mop the floor after I’m finished with the counter.” You don’t even look up as you wave him off, oblivious to Jeongguk’s presence and his increasing impatience in front of your boss. He clears his throat comically loud, making you turn around to see a frown etched on your boyfriend’s face and Yoongi tilting his head towards him with a small, almost teasing smile on his face.

“Oh.” You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay then. Sorry about him, Yoongi.”

“No worries, Kiddo.”

Yoongi’s nonchalant response is laced with a chuckle, which for some reason, upsets Jeongguk even more than the nickname he keeps calling you by. Is Yoongi not scared of him? Of his tattoos, of his muscles? Is he not intimidating? Can’t he feel the piercing stare Jeongguk keeps giving him ever since he walked into the coffee shop?

“You.” Your stern voice tears his hot gaze away from the mint-haired guy, whose focus is back on the calculator on his tablet to count the sales they made today. “I’ll clock out first then we can go. Please don’t do anything weird in the five minutes that I don’t have my eyes on you.”

Jeongguk follows your figure with his eyes until you disappear into the backroom, leaving him alone with Yoongi. Yoongi, the guy with the mint hair, whose surname he doesn’t even know, who is your boss that strangely have an endearing nickname for you. Things that stream steady questions into his head, about your initial meeting with Yoongi to the extent of your relationship with him. It’s the nickname he can’t seem to shake off of his mind, the way it rolls easily off Yoongi’s tongue, as if he’s been calling you that for years. Has he known you for years like Jeongguk has? Been through near-death experiences with you like Jeongguk has? Has he deserved the right to call you by a nickname like Jeongguk has?

“You can stop shooting daggers at my head, you know,” Yoongi’s low drawl almost makes Jeongguk think that he’s talking to himself, but the sentence is clearly directed at him. The older guy finally looks up from his tablet to look at Jeongguk in the eyes for longer than a second, no coffee orders to complete to interrupt their interaction this time. “Kiddo’s boyfriend, Jeongguk, right?”

As Jeongguk gives a nod to confirm Yoongi’s question, a hand is extended towards him to complete the introduction. “I’m Yoongi, Kiddo’s coworker-slash-boss.”

Jeongguk grips Yoongi’s hand with more strength than necessary, unintentionally flexing his muscles too. He thought that would be enough to tell Yoongi that Jeongguk is your boyfriend and he has no business being so friendly with you, but Yoongi only glances at his tattooed arm before letting go of his hand with a comment about how strong his grip is.

“Thanks, I do boxing,” Jeongguk mutters curtly, upset at the degree of nonchalance Yoongi is showing. He starts glancing at the door to the backroom where you currently are, wishing you would emerge right this second so he can go and doesn’t need to face Yoongi’s mint hair ever again.

“Yeah, Kiddo might have mentioned that a few times, just like she won’t shut up about your sleeve tattoos,” Yoongi says, going back to his tablet. “I used to box too, by the way.”

If you asked Jeongguk what Yoongi used to do, he wouldn’t be able to answer at all as he chooses to focus on the part where Yoongi said you won’t shut up about his sleeve tattoos and tune out the rest of his sentence. “My tattoos? What about them?”

“She said you have tons. Shoulder to fingertips. That’s how I recognized you when giving your order,” Yoongi answers lightly, which piqued Jeongguk’s interest even further. Wouldn’t it be fun to use this coworker-slash-boss of yours to get information about what you’ve been saying about him at work? What else does Yoongi know about him other than he does boxing and has a sleeve tattoo?

“Really? Does she gush about how hot they are to you, too?”

It’s not a question meant to be answered, its sole purpose to show off that you indeed gush to him about how hot his tattoos are. Though, if one thinks about it, why would Jeongguk need to boast to Yoongi about the compliments you give him about the strokes of ink on his arm? What business does Yoongi have knowing about it?

Yoongi seems to be unaware of Jeongguk’s inner dilemma as his face breaks out into a grin. “I think she’d be mad at me if I told you half the things she gushes to me about you.”

So you do gush about how hot his tattoos are to Yoongi. Interesting.

The fact that Yoongi insinuates there’s more to that is both endearing and terrifying to Jeongguk, because while he’s giddy that you talk about him with other people with so much enthusiasm, too much of it could end up in you sharing something about him that you should not have. Not to mention you’re sharing it with your boss, someone you should keep at an arm’s length when it comes to sharing about your significant others. One wrong move and he could use it against you.

Jeongguk is just about to ask Yoongi to elaborate further on his statement when you step out of the backroom, now out of the murky brown cap and apron and in a white t-shirt that looks like it belongs to Jeongguk. All thoughts of Yoongi knowing all sort of things about him evaporates right away, his mind focusing on how cute you look instead. If only Jeongguk doesn’t know basic human decency, he’d pull you by the waist to taste the mouth he’s been deprived of for the whole day, not giving an ounce of care about your boss watching the whole thing.

No, he’s a good boyfriend so he opts to pull you by the shoulders instead, letting your arms go around his waist before squeezing you in his arms. The kiss he drops on your cheek is chaste yet lingering, like he wants to let you know just how much he missed you. You tighten your arms around him in return, wordlessly saying the same thing back.

“Ready to go?” Jeongguk mumbles into your hair, not yet letting go of the hug.

“Ye—oh, wait!” You pull your face away from its initial position on Jeongguk’s chest. “You haven’t met Yoongi yet.”

“We did, Kiddo,” Yoongi waves you off. “You’re free to go. Your boyfriend here has been waiting long enough.”

“No,” you say, pulling away from Jeongguk’s hold. “I mean I haven’t introduced you two properly.” You gesture to the both of them back and forth as you say their names. “Yoongi, meet my boyfriend, Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk, meet my boss, Min Yoongi. His family owns this coffee shop.”

“That’s what you mean by proper?” Jeongguk says to you as he takes Yoongi’s hand for the second time that day, regular grip this time because you’re watching his every move like a hawk. “I didn’t know you own the shop. Nice place,” he nods to the older guy, releasing his hand.

“Thanks. It’s my dad’s, though. I just help from time to time,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You ‘just help from time to time’ but willing to dye your hair mint in honor of the new menu.” You nudge his elbow playfully. “Speaking of the new menu, did you finish the whole cup, Jeongguk? I’ve only had a few sips.” You frown as you bring the cup to your eye level, examining just how much of it is left. It’s an exaggeration, obviously, as the cup in your hand is still half-filled. But Jeongguk plays along, saying the reason why he inhaled your drink is because he’s tired from having just gone back from boxing.

“You have your own latte,” you point out, finally taking a much-deserved sip from your free drink. It still tastes okay, so you stop grilling Jeongguk about stealing your drink (even though you kinda stole his too, in the middle of your shift nonetheless.) “Oh, and did you know Yoongi also—”

Yoongi clears his throat loudly before you can finish your sentence. You look up from your drink, alarmed, afraid you might have said something wrong. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s and he gives you a tiny shake of his head, one Jeongguk doesn’t notice because he’s busy taking sips from his own cup of latte. (And because he’s more focused on you than Yoongi.)

“He knows, I told him I used to box too,” Yoongi says.

“You did? I didn’t catch it,” Jeongguk averts his eyes from you, turning to look at Yoongi. “Wanna have a match? I could use an opponent for my session tomorrow.”

“I said I used to, Kid,” Yoongi re-emphasizes on the two words. “I have a shoulder injury. It’s healing, but I still shouldn’t do too much to it.”

“Oh come on, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Jeongguk!” A slap lands on his bicep courtesy of you.

“What? He said it’s healing!”

It’s only now that Jeongguk witnesses the exchange between you and Yoongi using only your eyes, yours looking frantic while Yoongi’s looking as cool as a cucumber. Maybe he should dye his hair a shade of green resembling a cucumber rather than a mint.

After watching you and Yoongi have a silent conversation for a minute, Jeongguk lets out a sigh as he takes the final sip from his latte. “It’s okay, babe, I was just kidding. It’s fine if Yoongi doesn’t want to have a match with me.” He throws the empty cup into a trashcan nearby. “It just means that he backs down easily from a challenge.”

You physically face-palm at his sentence, missing the way Jeongguk throws a challenging smirk Yoongi’s way. The older doesn’t seem fazed at all, instead letting a small smirk take over his features as well. “That’s not a really nice thing to say to someone you’ve just met,” he drawls.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Just stating the truth.”

“Jeongguk, please stop,” you whine from behind your hands, still facepalming because you don’t want to become a witness in case this coffee shop becomes a crime scene.

“Alright, I’ll have a match with you,” Yoongi says finally, tone resolute. You peek out from the cocoon of your hands, glancing back and forth between your coworker-slash-boss and your boyfriend who are having a staring contest, both refusing to back down. “Tomorrow after my shift works? Kiddo here can take the same shift so she can watch us too.”

“Sure,” Jeongguk agrees without a pause. “It ends at three, right?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. See you then.”

Then Jeongguk puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the counter to finally go take you home as it’s the reason he came here in the first place. You hastily give your coworker a wave goodbye over your shoulder, getting a wave back accompanied with a laugh. Jeongguk uses the opportunity to steal yet another sip from your drink.

“Stop it! You’re gonna finish it all!”

“What even is it? It tastes really weird.” Jeongguk scrunches up his face.

“It’s mint mochaccino, you ass.” You pull the cup away from him, who chases the straw with his mouth while grinning wide. “Stop or I won’t kiss you until tomorrow morning.”

“Always withdrawing kisses when I need them the most,” he pouts, retreating from your drink to let you finally finish the cup yourself. “Can I kiss you in the car or should I wait until we get home?”

(Does not matter what you answer is, because he grips the back of your neck in the car to make out with you for five minutes, and then finish what he started in the safety of his room, under the blankets.)

“Are you sure you want to fight with Yoongi later?”

You and Jeongguk are back in his car, on the way to the coffee shop for you to start your shift and for Jeongguk to get his americano to kick off the day. His nod to your question is firm.

“Yeah. My coach said it’s good to train with an opponent sometimes.”

“You could’ve fought with your coach instead, then,” you point out.

“True, but—” Jeongguk tilts his head, sucking in a breath. “He’s the one who trained me, so he knows my fighting style and pattern. It’s good indeed, but it’s missing that element of fun.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Besides, I want to know what your Yoongi is made of.” He casts a glance at you to see your reaction.

“What ‘my’ Yoongi, what are you talking about …” You heave a sigh, massaging your temple. It’s not even 9 AM yet but you can already feel a headache coming. Sometimes you wonder why you’re willing to date this childhood friend of yours, knowing all of his flaws and bad habits like this. Though it’s given you the advantage of being able to read between the lines of his actions, often you wish he’d just say things outright without you having to dig it out of him.

“You know, the Yoongi you work with? The Yoongi who gives you head pats? The Yoongi who has a nickname for you?” Jeongguk’s tone gets more annoying near the end of his sentence, almost as if he’s trying to get a certain reaction out of you.

“The Yoongi who owns the cafe I work at, which is the sole source of income I have?” you reply instead, refusing to give in to Jeongguk’s silent provocation. “Also, the Yoongi who used to box. I think you should keep that in mind when you fight him later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bet he wasn’t even that good.”

You manage to arrive at the cafe unscathed, only losing a tiny piece of sanity because your boyfriend couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Yoongi and his non-existent boxing skills (Jeongguk’s words, not yours.) It doesn’t help that the Yoongi in question is already standing behind the register, greeting you with a smile and throwing a lopsided smirk your boyfriend’s way. You don’t like the thick tension between them at all so you quickly slip into the backroom to let Jeongguk be a big boy for once and order his own americano for the day.

Stepping out of the backroom in your mandatory work apron and cap, you’re kind of relieved when you see the shop is still intact, not thrown upside down courtesy of your boyfriend and his inability to control his strength (and emotion) in the face of a threat (read: Yoongi.) Upon seeing you, Jeongguk pushes himself off the counter he’s leaning against before reaching for your waist despite your boss standing just a few feet away. The cup of americano on the counter tells you that you took too long in the breakroom, which if anyone asks, you’d justify with adjusting your work attire. In reality, you just don’t want to face your boyfriend and the sour look he has whenever he so much as glances at your boss.

“You can always cancel the fight with Yoongi, you know,” you murmur, biting your bottom lip in worry. “You could hurt him, he could hurt you … it’s not ideal.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk purses his lips. “What’s not ideal is your boss having a nickname for you.” There he goes again, always having something to say about Yoongi. “Aside from it being highly unprofessional, it’s also inappropriate since you have a boyfriend and that is me. Jeon Jeongguk. I am your boyfriend.”

“Jeongguk, he knows,” you groan, fed up with the back-and-forth about this whole Yoongi thing. You don’t even know why your boyfriend is so threatened by the older guy when he’s a whole lifetime ahead of him. “It’s not even a nickname. You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

Jeongguk’s reply never makes it out of his mouth as he’s interrupted by Yoongi clearing his throat, making you both look at him tapping on his wrist to signal the time. It’s a reminder that you’re here to work, not to continue the argument that sparked in the car. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes at your boss, sharing a hard stare with him before deciding to do something one should not do in front of their boss: dip down to kiss you, using your surprised gasp as a way to slide his tongue inside your mouth. In the five seconds he manages to tangle his tongue with yours, you completely missed the sound of the glass doors opening and the low whistle that came after, along with Yoongi’s chuckle and greeting to the person who just came in.

Shoving Jeongguk away by your hand on his chest, you try to cover your burning face with your other hand as an attempt to save your dignity in front of Yoongi, though you doubt it’s working at all. Jeongguk licks his lips then winks at you, squeezing your waist in his grip before stepping back to grab his cup of americano, now full of condensation sliding off the plastic cup. He takes a sip to taste test before scrunching up his nose.

“Could’ve been better,” he sneers, making you glare. “Alright, I’ll let you get to work. See you later, babe.” Then, after a second, turns to Yoongi to add: “you too.”

When Jeongguk disappears into his car, you put your head in your hands and let out the loudest groan known to man. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

The mint-haired guy only gives you a gummy laugh, eyes turning into crescents as he shakes his head. “Your boyfriend is really something, Kiddo,” he muses. “A really … fun early morning entertainment, you could say.”

“Entertaining it was!” You hear the voice first before you see the person, the one who must’ve come in when you were rather preoccupied with your boyfriend. Park Jimin, your other coworker, slides behind the counter in a brown apron identical to yours and Yoongi’s, just minus the cap. Good, that means he doesn’t have a bad hair day today and can take the position at the register instead of you. You could use some more time to learn to make the drinks, anyway.

“Didn’t know you and your boyfriend were such exhibitionists, Kim,” Jimin taunts you, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “Although, if my boyfriend were that hot, I would have wanted to exhibit him too…” He purses his lips in an exaggerated manner of faux thinking, obviously trying to rile you up. “Lucky you, Kim.”

“Shut up, Park,” you seethe through your teeth, slapping him with a dish rag while he cackles happily. “We’re not exhibitionists. You just have terrible timing.”

“Oh, it was perfect I’d say, just in time to catch sight of his tongue going into your mouth—”

“JIMIN!”

When Jimin continues making fun of you by making gross kissing sounds, you turn to Yoongi for help. As the oldest amongst you three, he must have a sound solution to get Jimin to stop making those awful sounds and put you out of your misery. Although, your trust in him is probably misplaced as Yoongi just chuckles and tells you something your own mom would tell you whenever you’re telling on Jeongguk: “Just ignore him, Kiddo.” The sacred word of ignore. “Go prepare the breakfast pastries now.”

So much for sound solution.

You go about your shift as usual, with Jimin manning the register like you planned to. Time goes by quickly when you’re busy working (and when your coworker is Park Jimin) that you didn’t realize it’s almost time for your shift to end. You glance at the line in front of Jimin and see that there are still three more people he needs to serve, while you and Yoongi still have about five tickets to finish before you can clock out and leave. Scratch that, might be eight tickets to go considering the workers who have their shift after you aren’t here yet. It’s gonna be a while before you can see your boyfriend and be a witness to an unnecessary fight between him and Yoongi.

“Hey, Kim, where’s your boyfriend? Didn’t you say he was gonna pick you up from work?” Jimin nudges your elbow when he finishes taking one customer’s order, sliding a plastic cup into the queue in front of you. “I want to see just how hot he really is,” he continues while wiggling his eyebrows.

Before you can slap the guy with your dish rag again—it’s looking more like your weapon rather than a cleaning tool at this point—Yoongi pipes up from his position in front of the sink. “Just look for someone with a tattoo sleeve. He loves brandishing it.”

“Ooh, a hot guy with tattoos,” Jimin whistles. “Add some piercings and I might steal him away from you.”

“Jimin, quit drooling over my boyfriend,” you sigh, taking the next cup in line as your coworker turns back to the register. He’s already starting to greet the next customer when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, sliding next to him to brew the espresso needed for the order you’re making. “He has one on his lip, but he’s mine. Note that, Park,” you whisper to him while he’s keying in an order, earning a light chuckle from the man.

“He’s just messing with you, Kiddo, don’t mind him,” Yoongi chuckles from beside you, eyeing Jimin whose focus is currently on the cup he’s scribbling a customer’s name on. “He has his eyes set on someone else already.”

“Gossiping, aren’t we?” Jimin turns to you and Yoongi with a sleazy smile. “Careful now, unless you want Hoseok to know about your hot boyfriend too, Kim.” He gestures to the glass doors, where Hoseok from the next shift just walked through. He’s a great guy, but you’ve only shared a couple shifts with him, so you think you haven’t got to the point of sharing about significant others.

With the mention of Hoseok, you and Yoongi move to finish the orders you have left before handing over the shift to the aforementioned man. When all your orders are done and you’re ready to head to the backroom, you turn to ask Jimin to go with you only to find him still rooted in front of the register. “Jimin, you’re not going?”

“Oh, I’m actually covering for Eunbi.” Jimin shrugs, sliding a cup into Hoseok’s line of orders. “Go, Kim. Have fun with your boyfriend,” he grins, sending you a teasing wink.

Hoseok, a clueless witness, looks at the both of you with a scandalous stare. “What, what, what did I miss? Why are you winking like that, Park Jimin?” he says, urging Jimin to elaborate while pouring drinks into a plastic cup.

“You should ask her, Hobi,” Jimin snickers into his hand as he turns to greet a customer. Hoseok turns to you, his expression hopeful that you will shed light on the reason behind Jimin’s wink.

“My boyfriend is about to fight with our boss and I don’t know how to talk him out of it,” you say through your teeth, giving an overly-sweet smile to a confused Hoseok. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet him and make sure he’s not gonna bite Yoongi’s head off.”

“Bye, Kim,” Jimin sing-songs, waving his hand to you. “Say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

You’re already walking away, turning to tell Jimin off when you bump into Yoongi who’s just came out of the backroom, void of his work apron and ready to go. He grabs your shoulders to turn you around, pushing you into the backroom to prevent anymore banter between you and Jimin. “Let it go, Kiddo.”

In the backroom, you catch a text from Jeongguk saying that he’s already in the coffee shop, ready to go when you are. You emerge from the room after clocking out, moving your feet to the dining area of the cafe while waving to Jimin and Hoseok behind the counter. Scanning the room, you search for a familiar mop of black hair that belongs to your boyfriend.

It’s easy to spot Yoongi’s mint hair amongst the sea of other natural-colored hairs. What’s not easy is believing your eyes when you see the person sitting in front of Yoongi waving wildly at you, grinning like a mad man. It’s your boyfriend, the person you’re supposed to see after work, the person you’re supposed to supervise when he fights your boss later, alright, that part you know. The part that you don’t know and have a hard time believing is:

Jeongguk’s hair is mint.

Not black, not brown, not the experimental half-half he tried in high school. Mint.

The exact same shade as Yoongi’s.

It feels like you’re on autopilot when your feet carry you to their table, jaw on the floor while your eyes are stuck on Jeongguk’s freshly-dyed strands.

“Hi, babe,” your boyfriend has the audacity to say, lips stretching impossibly wider. He reaches up to run his fingers through his mint hair, an act so deliberate even Yoongi sighs at the sight of it, but it makes your heart skip a bit nonetheless. “Do you like my new hair?”

The light green strands previously tangled with his fingers fall back to cover his forehead and frame his face perfectly, the light hue somehow blending well with Jeongguk’s skin tone. It also accentuates his jaw more, making it appear sharper when the grin on his lips morphs into a smirk once he notices that you can’t stop staring. Oh, that smirk. Usually hot with his previously black hair, it is now lethal with his mint hair, toeing the line of playful and dangerous at the same time.

You want to scream at the obvious and cheesy question.

Yoongi, the third person who’s been watching the entire interaction unfold before his eyes, clears his throat. “If you’re done eye-fucking your boyfriend, can we go now? I have somewhere else to be after this.”

“Yoongi!” you whisper-shout, half scandalized, half disbelieving that your boss can say something so crude in the middle of his own buzzing coffee shop. Maybe he’s been hanging out with Park Jimin too much. (Or maybe he’s just sick of you drooling over your boyfriend time and time again … yeah, maybe that.)

“Can’t wait to lose to me, Min?” Jeongguk snickers, taking your hand in his as he follows Yoongi—who pointedly ignores his taunting question—towards the glass door of the coffee shop.

You catch Jimin’s eyes as you’re stepping out, his eyes rounding in surprise before a sly smile takes over his features. Have fun! he mouths, giving you a wink. Ugh, you’re gonna face a lot more questions the next time you have a shift together with him.

After another futile attempt at talking Jeongguk out of fighting with Yoongi, you’re seated where you usually are, on the sidelines of Jeongguk’s gym, this time with heightened anxiety out of fear that your boyfriend and your boss could hurt each other. You’re worried less about the physical part—boxing is a very physical sport, after all—and more about the mental part.

Boys are full of pride, full of ego. They pride themselves on their ability to box, delivering punch after punch until their knuckles bruise. They pride themselves on their muscles, bulging biceps that took years to build and maintain. They pride themselves on their strength, how they are able to hold you up against the wall when you’re busy sucking air off each other’s lungs.

Oh, and in case it’s not clear, by boys you mean Jeongguk.

You have a lot of faith in your boyfriend, of course, but knowing Yoongi’s boxing skills, no matter how long ago it was, the outcome of the fight today could just be the one that would hurt Jeongguk’s pride. The possibility of it happening is so high that you’re already preparing yourself for when Jeongguk comes back to you with his ego bruised. God, you can only hope Yoongi won’t hit too hard.

You’re too busy thinking of the many possible outcomes of this fight that you don’t realize when Jeongguk is back from putting his gloves on and warming up, now standing in front of you. “Wish me luck?” he says, along with a toothy grin your way.

“Yeah, good luck, Ggukie,” you reply, lacking your usual sarcastic bite. Jeongguk seems to pay no mind to it, though, ducking down to peck your lips before turning around to face his opponent for the day.

You catch Yoongi’s eyes when Jeongguk has his back to you, quickly mouthing don’t hurt him! to your boss, which he only responds with a smirk. All the blood drains from your face. Looks like your worries about someone getting his ego bruised won’t be just worries after all.

When the fight has started (Jeongguk’s coach started it—you’re grateful he’s there because then you don’t have to worry too much about Jeongguk and Yoongi beating each other to a pulp), you can’t help but watch. You just realize, in the years you’ve known Jeongguk and watched him box, you’ve never actually seen him fight anyone else other than his coach. He’s said before that he only took boxing as a way to work out, not to actually fight, so you guess that makes sense.

You don’t watch boxing matches a lot (actually, you don’t watch them at all), your only knowledge of boxing you get from watching Real Steel, a movie about boxing matches for robots, set in the far future when human boxing is not interesting anymore due to the limited brutality. You’re not sure how much information you retained from the movie, and how accurate they are, but you’re pretty sure you don’t need much boxing knowledge to know that right now, Yoongi is playing defensive while Jeongguk is playing offensive.

Alright, you admit, you have no idea if the terms you’re using are right, but it’s the simplest ones you can use to describe the sight in front of you. Since the start of the fight, Jeongguk has been throwing punches continuously, while Yoongi has had his gloved hands covering his face the entire time. Okay, not the entire time, but he’s only thrown one punch compared to Jeongguk’s one hundred ones.

As the fight goes on, Yoongi starts throwing punches here and there while still dodging Jeongguk’s aggressive fists. You’ve never seen Yoongi move this much in the entire time you’ve known him, and it surprises you how agile he is. The way he ducks under Jeongguk’s arm and throws him off balance is admirable, sometimes a little bit funny (just a bit, you promise) because it shows just how calm he is compared to Jeongguk’s aggressive, almost-angry boxing style.

When Jeongguk’s coach declares a break, your boyfriend walks back to you with his brows furrowed, tearing off one of his gloves so he can remove his mouth guard and grab his water bottle. After chugging down half of its content, Jeongguk heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t grasp his fighting style,” he grumbles to himself. His eyes are set on Yoongi, who’s on the other side of the room, drinking from his own water bottle. “Who the fuck ducks all the time while boxing?”

“Maybe it’s because you keep throwing angry punches at him, babe,” you say, initially to keep his frustration at bay, but instead it makes him raise his eyebrow at you in a duh way. You backtrack immediately. “Okay, okay. But it’s just your first time fighting him, isn’t it? Be patient, Jeongguk, and maybe let up your punches a little bit?”

“Baby, it’s boxing,” he says exasperatedly. “Someone has to throw some punches.”

“I know, but you just seem so … angry. Yoongi’s only ducking to dodge that. I’m saying maybe you can tone it down so he could stop dodging, so then you can see his fighting style better.” You’re saying this while gripping his biceps, hoping your words can go through his seemingly-clouded mind. “When you see his fighting style, won’t it be easier to figure out a way you can beat him? Isn’t that what you taunted him with at the cafe?”

You know it’s not even remotely possible to learn one’s boxing style just from a single fight, let alone “figure out a way to beat him”. Somewhere in his fogged mind, you believe Jeongguk stores this fact as well, he’s just currently too deep in frustration to place it in the front of his mind. You’re not even sure your suggestion to learn Yoongi’s fighting style is registered well in his head, considering your boyfriend is now back to eyeing your boss with fire in his gaze.

“Jeongguk?” You give his shoulder a firm grip as he puts his mouth guard back on. “Tone it down. Yoongi could just be waiting to punch back. You don’t want that.”

Jeongguk parts ways with you with an absent-minded nod and two pats to your head with his heavy gloved-hand. On the other side of the room, Yoongi looks ready to go back into his fighting stance. You sigh internally. Jeongguk is so going to punch him aggressively, again.

The next thirty minutes of the fight goes like a blur in front of your eyes. Jeongguk throws a hook that Yoongi dodges, Yoongi retaliates with a jab to Jeongguk’s side which makes you wince, rinse and repeat. Maybe you’re wrong about your boyfriend for once, you think, seeing his calmer fighting style now. With the way he left your conversation minutes prior, you really thought he was gonna continue raining punches on any part of Yoongi’s body he could reach. You’re relieved that that’s not the case.

Although, perhaps your relief came too soon because a boxing match isn’t over until it’s over.

Watching Jeongguk fight with Yoongi is like watching a cartoon character with an energy meter atop his head, except for Jeongguk, it measures his patience instead. As the minutes went on, you feel like you could see the patience meter above his head depleting until it’s all gone, and that’s the moment he went back to his initial fighting style: aggressive and angry. You almost pull your hair out in frustration because you just know that this is what Yoongi has been waiting for ever since the fight started.

The next thing that happens reminds you a lot of one fighting scene in Real Steel, where Atom was waiting for his opponent to run out of energy so he can fight back. In the movie, Atom knocked the other robot down with a final uppercut, gaining him a win and advancing him to the next round. Well, uh, in this case, just replace Atom with Yoongi and the other robot with Jeongguk.

Yoongi’s clean uppercut wiped your boyfriend out, who’s now lying on the ground clutching his face—which you’re sure is beginning to swell right now. Despite already knocking Jeongguk down, Yoongi is still in his fighting stance, never lowering his guard even as Jeongguk’s coach counts to ten. Your boyfriend remains immobile, though, and the second the count is up you’re running towards Jeongguk’s limp body.

“Gguk, are you okay? Baby, look at me,” you say hurriedly as you try to pry his arms away from his face. He doesn’t budge, and for a second, you’re scared that Yoongi has maimed your boyfriend for life. “At least let me know you’re alive,” you continue when his silence becomes concerning.

“Hmmph,” Jeongguk grunts. You heave a huge sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to offer some comfort even though you know he had this coming. Gigantic ego, big talk, cocky as shit? Yeah, you understand that Yoongi would want to knock him down a few pegs. But now is not the time to launch into an ‘I told you so’ spiel, not when Jeongguk is still freshly bruised—both his body and his ego.

So instead, you lash out at your boss.

“I told you not to hurt him, Yoongi,” you snap-slash-whine, a frown on your lips. You thought, as the oldest among all of you, Yoongi could be trusted to knock some sense into Jeongguk’s mind without physically hurting him like this. As it turns out, all boys are the same.

The older guy just shrugs. “Probably wouldn’t get my point across if he weren’t knocked down.” He shakes the sweat out of his hair as he starts taking off his boxing gloves. When he sees you’re not impressed, he chuckles. “Relax, Kiddo, I didn’t even hit him that hard. He’ll be okay.”

“Really, Yoongi?” You roll your eyes. “You gave my boyfriend an uppercut just to prove a point!”

Yoongi just continues laughing as he chugs from his water bottle. His nonchalance about this is starting to piss you off. Maybe it’s your turn to put on the boxing gloves and sock him in the face, give him a taste of his own medicine. You scoff to yourself, picturing your own body lying next to Jeongguk if you really did that.

“Just tell your boyfriend here that there’s no need to be jealous of me, Kiddo,” Yoongi says, picking up his bag. Just then, Jeongguk’s coach appears with an ice pack in his hand, offering it to you so you can place it against Jeongguk’s swollen jaw. Despite your attempt to coax him out of his arm cocoon, he still refuses to move.

“Yoongi, look at him, you really broke him.” You’re flat-out whining now, kicking your feet like a child. It doesn’t even occur to your mind that you’re all still in the middle of a public boxing gym, with other people around you, being witness to this ridiculous scene.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi laughs before crouching down at Jeongguk’s legs. “Hey, Jeongguk, you hear that? Your girlfriend is worried about you,” he says, nudging Jeongguk’s leg lightly. “She only has eyes for you and your tattoos, too, you don’t need to be jealous at all.” You smack him on the shoulder for that.

Jeongguk finally removes his arms from his face at Yoongi’s words, his doe eyes menacing. “Go away,” he grits out at the older male, his scratchy voice making him sound less threatening than he intended. Despite that, Yoongi still holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Yoongi relents, standing up while adjusting the hold he has on his bag. “Was gonna go anyway, I have a date to get ready for,” he throws a grin your way. “Alright, I’ll be going first. Take care of your boyfriend, Kiddo.”

Yoongi retreats with a wave towards you both.

Jeongguk lets out a groan, shifting your attention away from your boss who’s already backing his car out of the parking lot. “Quit your job tomorrow,” he says. “I hate your boss.”

“Stop moving around!”

“It hurts!”

You’re both back at Jeongguk’s house now, with you sitting atop his outstretched legs on the bed, attempting to take care of his battle wounds courtesy of his fight with Yoongi. Aside from the swollen jaw, Jeongguk has a cut on his eyebrow and a split bottom lip. For a boxing match, you’d say these are minor injuries—proving Yoongi’s words right, he didn’t hit Jeongguk that hard—but your boyfriend is acting like a baby. He keeps jerking his head away every time the alcohol swab comes in contact with either of his cuts, it irritates you to no end.

“You have a goddamn full sleeve of tattoo and a lip piercing, quit acting like this hurts more,” you hiss, pressing the cotton in your hand to the cut on his lip as Jeongguk hiss back in response.

“At least when I got my tattoos and piercing, the artist didn’t do it while yapping my ear off,” he lisps through the cotton. “What happened to the caring girlfriend at the gym? Did she go away too, alongside Yoongi?”

“Oh, shut up, if I yapped back there Yoongi would’ve stomped on your ego more than he already did, do you want that, Jeongguk? Huh?” Your words are harsh, but you try hard for your hands to be the opposite, gentle as they cover the cut on his eyebrow with a band-aid. Jeongguk’s forehead is still damp from his quick shower earlier, beads of mint clinging to his skin. He might look smoking hot with his newly dyed hair, but the way the color rubs off on anything is starting to get onto your nerves. You wipe lightly at the color to make sure the band-aid sticks to his skin and does not come off the second he jumps around again.

“My ego is fine, you don’t need to protect it like this,” Jeongguk grumbles, adjusting the ice pack he’s holding to his jaw as you press a new cotton ball on his lip, discarding the one stained crimson red to his bedside table. “Maybe if you care about me as much as you care about my ego, everything would’ve been better.”

The way he’s rambling like he got his sense knocked out of his head as well makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Don’t test me, Jeon. If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be here sitting on your thighs patching your minuscule injuries like they’re fucking wounds from a war.”

“Maybe,” Jeongguk half-agrees, a pout on his lips. “But you haven’t kissed me even once ever since the fight ended. Do I not deserve a kiss because I lost? Do you not want to kiss me ever again because I can’t beat Yoongi in boxing? Do you think Yoongi is way better than me now? Do you want him to be your boyfriend instead of me?”

With every nonsensical question, his pout deepens, and his eyes droop to stare blankly at nothing.

“Hah, ‘my ego is fine’ my ass,” you mumble, mostly to yourself as you turn the gears in your head on how to stop the bleeding on Jeongguk’s lip. It keeps gushing out blood, and you can’t exactly stick a band-aid to it like you did his eyebrow. At last, you just hold a cotton ball against it and hope it stops bleeding soon.

“Yoongi was right, you know,” you say clearly now, the tumble of Yoongi’s name out of your lips making Jeongguk glance up and focus his sight on your face. “You don’t need to be jealous of him at all. Heck, you don’t need to be jealous of anyone, Jeongguk. I’m your girlfriend and will always stay your girlfriend, no matter what. You don’t need to beat anyone in boxing or dye your hair the exact same shade as anyone for me to stay. You, Jeon Jeongguk, are enough.”

Jeongguk’s eyes, gazing into yours, are glassy with unshed tears. You don’t know if they are there because he’s touched by your words or are leftovers from crying over his bruised ego from the fight with Yoongi. Either way, it throws you off balance. Next thing you know, you’re being tugged down by the nape for a kiss.

Jeongguk’s lips are warm, like usual, but the tinge of metal you taste on your tongue is making you worry. Before you lose yourself in his kiss, you pull away to thumb at his lip lightly, seeing streaks of red on your skin. You’re about to continue pressing the cotton ball in your hand to his lips and stop all forms of kissing immediately, but your boyfriend has a mind of his own as he instead sucks your thumb into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the digit delicately as he holds eye contact with you.

Gone is the trace of any tears from his eyes, now replaced by something you can only identify as lust. As flattered as you are that Jeongguk finds you desirable in your current situation, it also makes you confused. He’s hurt and the only thing in his mind is getting his dick wet? Unbelievable.

The ice-cold feeling on your waist tears your attention away from Jeongguk’s dark eyes as you yelp, hand instinctively prying the cold thing away. The ‘thing’ turns out to be his hand, which was previously holding the ice pack to his swollen jaw. He’s sneaked his fucking cold hand under your shirt to hold your waist when he should’ve kept holding the ice pack to his jaw—his swollen jaw!

Your boyfriend has a swollen jaw, a busted lip and a cut eyebrow. This is not the time to be screwing around.

Pulling away your thumb out of Jeongguk’s mouth at the speed of light, you attempt to climb off his lap, but he’s read your mind even before they are conjured up in your own brain. His hands are back on your waist—yes, the cold one too—and they hold you firm in place. The side of Jeongguk’s lips turn up into a sickeningly sweet smile, before he tugs your body towards his, making your hips come in contact with his crotch. He’s hard. Oh, fuck.

“You know, I never really understood why you’re so bratty whenever you’re horny and I can’t tend to you right away, but I think I get it now,” he says right by your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. “I’ve been trying to will away my boner ever since you sat on my lap, but your weight on it is so damn distracting, it’s hard.”

“So,” he punctuates the word with a kiss on your neck, “I started saying anything to get my mind off it, but the way you care for me just … turns me on even more, if that was even possible.” He noses his way down your throat, coming to a stop at your collarbone. “And then all that talk about how I am enough … holy shit, I lost it. All I could think about was how I want to kiss you and fuck you into next week on this very bed.”

You can barely hear the last few words Jeongguk is saying, because he’s mumbling them into your skin as he peppers kisses and nips there. His fingers are now pressing into your back, pulling you closer and closer to him until there is no space left between you. You crane your neck so he can have more room to splash reds and purples onto your skin, sighing to the top of his mint head.

“You know, for someone claiming to be horny, you’re doing a terrible job at dirty talk,” you jab at your boyfriend, earning you a bite on your neck and a tightened grip on your body, making you close your eyes with stuttered breath.

“Easy, babe,” Jeongguk chuckles. “You talk as if you won’t be a moaning mess by the end of this,” he continues with much confidence. “But also, my lip is still kinda bleeding and my sides are still throbbing from the bruises. Kinda debating should we continue or just go to sleep.”

“Jeon Jeongguk I swear to God if you leave me high and dry—”

“Maybe you should kiss them better,” he cuts you off with a suggestion, his lips still trailing butterfly kisses on your neck and collarbone. The hands still on your back sneakily climb up and up until they’re reaching for the clasp of your bra, easily opening it to free your breasts from its confines. Your sound of protest gets stuck in your throat as a strangled moan comes out instead when Jeongguk massages your breasts tenderly with his fingers.

“Maybe I would—fuck—if you get rid of your shirt,” you say, tugging on the offending piece of fabric still covering your boyfriend’s gorgeous body. It’s not fair that he’s got you half naked already and he’s still fully clothed.

Jeongguk parts himself from your body long enough to tug his t-shirt off from the back of his neck in one smooth motion, exposing the golden expanse of his skin to your hungry eyes. If you thought his mint hair was smoking hot with his shirt on, it’s literally burning a flame of desire deep in your belly with his shirt off. You’re tongue-tied as you marvel at the sight in front of you, you almost jump when your own shirt and bra are taken off your body.

Now both bare from the waist up, Jeongguk wastes no time leaning back in for a kiss on the mouth, this time open-mouthed so he can slide his tongue inside. You keen happily, slipping a sigh in between as he slowly lowers you to the bed. Jeongguk anchors his hands on your hips, teasing at the waistband of your sweatpants as he keeps your mouth busy with his own. In contrast, your hands are everywhere, from his broad shoulder to his firm back, from his bulging biceps to his rock-hard abs. You even tease your fingers past his waistband, grabbing onto his ass and squeezing, making him groan hotly into your mouth. It’s only when your fingers brush against his sides that he winces, reminding you of his earlier request.

“Flip around,” you whisper against his lips, “so I can kiss your bruises better.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk hums, your words a murmur in his head. “But I like having you like this. Under me, naked, panting, wet,” he says, slipping his hand beyond your sweatpants to prove his words right—you’ve soaked through your panties. He drags a finger slowly up your center. You shudder.

“Yeah? I can be naked, panting, and wet on top of you as well.”

“Ooh, tempting.” Jeongguk licks his lips. He flicks your clit with a cheeky smile dancing on his lips, before settling his hands back on your waist. “Alright, I’ll flip over.”

The next second, you’re staring at him from up top, admiring how his mint hair looks against his dark grey bed sheets. Although, his hair is the least of your concern right now, as you’re tugged back down for another bruising kiss. Now that you’re on top, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to return the favor that is slipping his hand into your pants to squeeze your ass, but his version involves pulling your hips down while his thrusts up, creating a delicious friction between your body that makes you exhale a moan into his mouth.

You move away from his lips, down to his jaw where you take care to land a kiss light as a feather, before moving to his neck and collarbone where you have your own share of bites and licks. Aside from your infatuation with his tattoos and biceps, you actually have another one with his collarbone, this one you keep secret from him lest he goes around the house shirtless more often just to brandish his clavicle. But maybe he’s already noticed from the way you always make sure to cover that body part of his in blooms of red and purple, taking care to trace each and every bite mark slowly with the tip of your tongue.

While you’re busy with his collarbone, Jeongguk keeps dragging your crotch steadily over his, like he can’t get enough of the feeling and wants to keep chasing it. The delicious pressure on your center is a bit distracting, so you smooth your palm across his chest to pinch at his nipple in warning. Jeongguk lets out a broken whine from his throat.

“Stop humping into me, do you want to cream your pants?” you chide, fingers still giving tiny pinches to his nipple to keep him on his toes.

“Was trying to get you to cream your pants,” Jeongguk grins guiltily, his hips snapping up yet again to collide with yours. Even if you roll your eyes at his antics, you still continue your journey of kissing down his body, making sure to suck and lick on his sensitive nipples. You love the moans and groans that slip out of his throat every time you do things to his nipples. He likes it so much that his hips keep chanting up, searching for friction, that you have to pin them down so you can slide down to pepper kisses on his abs and waist.

Jeongguk works really hard to maintain the body he has, clearly evident in the eight pack he’s sporting on his stomach and the tiny, minuscule waist that’s way too slutty for a man to have. Sometimes you’re jealous of how nice his body looks, how firm it is to touch. You told him this one time, along with your regret that you couldn’t give him a similar experience, but he’d only laughed and said that admiring and appreciating him was enough, before proceeding to show you how he admires and appreciates your soft body (he kept biting into your inner thigh as he was eating you out, coaxing you into four orgasms back to back that day.)

And so, you admire his body by kissing the taut muscle one by one, tracing the lines outlining them with your hot tongue, caressing his bruised waist with the pillow of your lips and the feather of your touch. You know he’s hurt, but you can’t hold yourself from nipping on his slutty waist, gifting him another bruise that’s not a result of a punch. From the choked sob that rips out of his throat and the jump of his dick somewhere on your stomach, you take it he likes the bite.

“So,” you say as you mouth at the seam of his waistband, hand massaging his hard cock through his pants. “Do you want to cum in your pants, in my hand, in my mouth, or—?”

“Fuck, in you, please,” Jeongguk begs, eyes glassy from your ministrations. “But can we go back to dry humping for a while? Kinda like the friction on my sweatpants,” he breathes.

“Like this?” You move your hand up and down his cock, dragging the material of his sweatpants with it, paying special attention to the head. With every rub of the sweatpants against his head, a bead of precum comes out, with Jeongguk throwing his head back in silent pleasure. “Yeah, fuuck, that feels good.”

“But babe, want you, on top,” he demands, making grabby hands at you. “Was serious when I said I wanted you to cum first,” he continues, sighs in content when you oblige, resuming your position on top of him and lining your clothed crotch with his. He starts dragging your hips against his, building the pleasure up the faster he goes. “Want to fuck your swollen pussy, dripping with cum. Oh, I’ll slide right in, no problem, so wet, warm … fuuuck.”

The grip Jeongguk has on your hips is bruising, you have no choice but to let your body be manhandled by him. Slowly but surely, the band inside your stomach begins to tighten as your hold on his shoulders does as well. You’re so close, just one more move to tip you over the edge. When Jeongguk sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, the band inside you snaps and you come with a jerk of your hips and a whine from your throat.

Jeongguk slows down his move, taking care not to cum before being inside you, before stopping altogether and wrapping his arms around you to bring the both of you into a sitting position. Your limbs feel like jelly, still trying to come down from your high, when Jeongguk pecks your cheek before carefully lying you back down on the bed with your face down. He then maneuvers himself behind you, lifting your hips off the bed. You’re starting to have an idea what position he wants you in when he spreads your knees and slowly peels back your pants and panties to reveal your bare ass and pussy.

He takes his time caressing the globe of your ass, inching his fingers towards your pussy lips before spreading them apart, tearing a low whine from your chest. You guess he’s admiring the way cum still drips out of your cunt, because he’s silent, immobile for almost a minute.

“Gguk…” you whisper out. “You gonna fuck me or not?”

Jeongguk scrambles to get his pants off. “Fuck, yes, of course, baby, you just look so beautiful like this, I want to stare all day long,” he breathes, lining up his dick with your entrance.

God, I’m so thankful you’re mine, is his last warning before he slides home in one thrust.

Later, when you’re both freshly showered and cuddling on Jeongguk’s bed—with blue bed sheets this time, because you forced him to change the sheets as the grey ones smelled gross after your activities—you ask him a question.

“Are you still jealous of Yoongi?”

There’s a three second pause before Jeongguk’s answer comes. “Maybe a tiny bit,” he says, nearly connecting his thumb and forefinger together in a ‘tiny’ motion. “Of his boxing skills only. Amazing how he could still move like that with an injured shoulder. I want to be like that too.”

“You want to injure your shoulder?”

He gives you a flat look. You giggle.

“His shoulder is actually healed, you know, so he’s still actively boxing until now. He trains the boxing club at my campus whenever our coach can't, that’s where I know him from and how I’d gotten the job at his cafe.”

Jeongguk purses his lips. “So he lied to me.”

“Hmm,” you agree. “I figured it was to ‘teach you a lesson’, that’s why I asked him not to hurt you before your fight. Did you, though? Learn your lesson?”

“What? To not be jealous of him?”

You pinch his waist. “To knock your ego down a peg and stop feeling insecure whenever I interact with other men?”

“Baby, the guy had a nickname for you. My insecurities were valid!”

“You mean the ‘Kiddo’ one?” you ask. Jeongguk nods. “He calls Jimin Kiddo. He calls Eunbi Kiddo. He calls you Kiddo. He calls everyone younger than him, Kiddo.”

More silence ensues.

“So … my jealousy was for nothing?”

“Yes! What I’ve been saying!”

Jeongguk giggles. Then he kisses you. Then he giggles again, while still kissing you.

“How about an apology?” he offers.

“In what form?” you challenge.

“Round three?”

“No.”

Well, at least he’s not jealous anymore.

a/n: thank you for reading!! please let me know what you think of this, i literally almost cried in the process of writing it and when i finally finished it :') and yes this started because of that one mint jeongguk in memories 2020/2021, i think? the one with him in a black sleeveless and a pair of sunglasses, hahah. wish he'd dye his hair mint again (he looks rly good in it ugh)

→ request is open for my 1k folls celebration!

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ‘when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Next Pt. 3

!Warnings: angst, swearing, fun at the end bc reader needs fun in life (lmk if i missed anything)

Important!Side-Note!: Should I do a happy ending for them?

It has been 3 days since that incident. 3 days and still not a single message from Chan, not even an apology for yelling at you, nothing. You've been texting him every now and then, to ask if he's okay, eats and sleeps. He never replied to any of them, nor has he seen them, so you spend most of the time packing your stuff and working from home. You were glad you had a job you also could work from home for. Every now and then, you went over to the building, to check a few things, walking extra detours, to make sure, you won't bump into Chan.

A few of the other members texted you the past days, asking if everything is okay and why the haven't seen you around for a while, to which you just replied with "Busy with work and private stuff, dww:)". It made you happy they actually care that much about you, just because they haven't seen you in a few days, but also anxious and sad, since they care, but chan hasn't even shown any intress in you the past days. You weren't even able to tell him that you're moving.

More days pass, and a few days, turn into a week of no textes from Chan. At this point, you wondered if he even knew that you still exist.

So here you were, in your old apartment, stuffed with boxes, not being able to get your mind off chan and his well-being, even though, you're still deeply hurt from what he said, you couldn't just not not care about him....He pointed out two of your insecurities, just like that as if it was nothing and he doesn't even care...not about you not your feelings.

You let out a deep sigh. You should be getting ready for a day with your friends. Not think about some man, who happened to be the love of your life, who calls you his partner, but doesn't even know how to cherish you.

You let out another, heavy, sigh as you drop to the floor to put on your shoes, Let's just focus on having a great time today, you thought to yourself and left the apartment.

Well, maybe it was not the best decision to go out today...

Chan for his part, had to listen to a lectur from Felix, after you ran out, crying. "Chris..you really shouldn't have said all that to her. I understand that you were annoyed or whatever, but that was no reason to yell at her" "Really now? They were just being a fucking, clingy and annoying crybaby that couldn't take no for an answer, for whatever reason." chan sighed out, at the younger member. "That crybaby...was really uncalled for chris. They're your partner, not some random person on the street you can yell at. I wouldn't wonder if they took that "Leave me alone" to heart and actually leave you after that action." "But I-" chan starts, "I'm just saying chris. You better fix this before it's too late. After what you pulled, partners are faster gone than you could blink" with that, Felix leaves the room, leaving Chan alone, again.

Since that talk, Chan locked himself in his studio, thinking about the best way to apologize for what he said. But he couldn't find one. No matter how long he thought, days, a whole week, there was nothing but regret. He just had to apologize in person and beg for forgivness, hoping that you'd actually forgive him.

So there he was, with a giant bouquet of flowers, fresh clothes and hope.

He had the code to your apartment, so he opened the door, ready to be greeted by the warm, wide open hallway, but was greeted with the cold gray of bunch of boxes instead and the first thing he felt, was panic."Y/n? Y/n are you there?" he yelled, as he ran through your whole apartment, but as he saw that even all your date polaroid pictures where gone, he couldn't help but panic even more.

He let's the flowers fall on the floor, running to your room and nearly collapsed when he found..nothing. Where were you? Did you actually go? Did you actually leave him? All these questions consumed his head and that's when he broke, crying to the point he couldn't breath. He took out his phone and called the first number he saw in his recent calls. It peeped a few times, before someone took the call.

"Hey Chris everything alr-" "They're gone! Felix they're gone, they're not here i don't know what to do! I've never meant it I was just-" chan cried and gasped out at felix on the other line. "Woah there calm down, try to breath I don't understand a word. Relax, I'll be there okay? You know there is an explination for everything, that's what you always say, so try to relax it's okay" Felix tried to soothen the older man, while grabbing his keys and running out to his car. Chan didn't reply anything to that and continued soobing.

I have your location, I'll be there in 5." that's the last thing chan heared from felix, before he collapsed on the floor in your apartment.

And you? You were drinking coffee with your friends, while your bestie told you guys a story how she saw a horse that nearly drowned.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

@finnbbl @wolfs-howling

[fatkish]

The Hashira and their Children

——————————————————————————

(Gyomei is introducing his chubby newborn baby to the other Hashira)

Gyomei: This is Yusuke. Y/n just gave birth to him a few weeks ago.

Mitsuri: aww! He’s so cute!

Shinobu: he looks just like you

Gyomei: would you guys like to hold him?

(After everyone but Sanemi has held the baby)

Gyomei: Shinazugawa, would you like to hold Yusuke?

Sanemi: *holding Yusuke* you look like a lump of mochi

Baby Yusuke: *face contorts and he starts to cry*

Mitsuri: Sanemi, how could you? You made him cry

Tengen: nice going Sanemi

Sanemi: *grumbling as he hands Yusuke to Gyomei* I didn’t mean to make him cry

——————————————————————————

(Kyojuro and Y/n are trying to take a family picture but their 3 year old won’t stop crying)

Y/n: what are we going to do, they won’t stop crying?

Kyojuro: Just give them a box of raisins

Y/n: Seriously?

Kyojuro: *pulls out box of raisins and hands it to his child* there see

Three year old: *immediately stops crying and is waving the raisins around*

Y/n: I swear they get that from you

——————————————————————————

(Sanemi was left at home to look after his 4 year old and 1 year old alone. He was watching them but took a small nap. He wakes up to find his oldest has drawn all over his 1 year old in marker)

Sanemi: what did you do to your brother?

Four year old: *holding the marker* wasn’t me

1 year old: *laughing*

Sanemi: *mumbles to himself* help me clean your brother up now

——————————————————————————

(Conversation between Kyojuro, Sanemi and Tengen)

Tengen: I’m pretty sure my neighbor thinks I’m a terrible father

Sanemi: just ignore them

Kyojuro: you’re not a terrible father, what makes you say that?

Tengen: they saw me chasing my naked three year old twins around the front lawn. Again

Kyojuro: why were you chasing them

Sanemi: wait, what do you mean again

Tengen: they finished taking their bathes but refused to put clothes on

Tengen: then they unlocked the front door and began running around. As soon as I caught one, I’d start chasing the other, but the one in my hands would slip out as soon as I caught the other one. My neighbors saw the whole thing

——————————————————————————

Y/n: *walks into the bathroom where their five year old son is* oh my god! What did you do

Son: *smiles and looks at their mom*

Sanemi: *comes running in* what’s wrong? What happened?

Y/n: take a look at your son, notice anything missing

Sanemi: *stares for a minute* what happened to your eyebrows?

Son: I gets rid of them. Now daddy and I match

Y/n: *turns away snickering*

Sanemi: OI!

——————————————————————————

Kyojuro: *is asleep*

3 year old: Daddy wake up

Kyojuro: *continues to sleep*

3 year old: *grabs TV remote and proceeds to smack Kyojuro with it* Daddy up!

Kyojuro: ow! I’m up

——————————————————————————

(Giyuu, y/n and their 5 year old are in their backyard)

Y/n: and just what do you think you’re doing?

5 year old: *holding a giant Japanese salamander like it’s a stuffed animal* I found him, can we keep him?

Y/n: *looks at the salamander that’s as big as their child* where did you even find that

5 year old: in the river… so… can we keep him?

Y/n: *flabbergasted* where do you expect to put him?

5 year old: in the pond with the fish

Y/n: I’m sorry but that thing will eat the fish

Y/n: *looks at Giyuu* you want to say anything?

Giyuu: …. We could build a second pond for him

Y/n: *throws hands in the air* seriously

Giyuu: what’s his name?

5 year old: Mr. Flabbs

——————————————————————————

Y/n: honey, do you know where our daughter is?

Gyomei: I believe she is in the kitchen….

Y/n: *after walking into the kitchen* oh my god no! Spit that out!

3 year old: *runs out of the kitchen*

Y/n: Gyomei catch her!

Gyomei: *catches daughter and holds her up*

Y/n: spit that out right now!

3 year old: *spits out cockroach into Gyomei’s hand*

Gyomei: please tell me this isn’t what I think it is

Y/n: I wish I could

——————————————————————————

(Y/n, Sanemi and their 3 year old are at an appliance store)

Y/n: *looking at washing machines with Sanemi* what do you think of this…. Where’s our child?

Sanemi: they were right here

Y/n: *look’s around and is mortified* oh please no

Sanemi: what?

Three year old: *is sitting on one of the display toilets with their pants down singing while grunting*

Y/n: stay here while I get the wet wipes

Sanemi: *covers his face in shame*

Store attendant: *trying so hard not to laugh*

——————————————————————————

(Obanai, Mitsuri and y/n are giving their 2 and 3 year olds a bath in the tub)

Obanai: *leaves the bathroom to grab something real quick*

Y/n: how are the kids?

Obanai: just got them into the bath

Mitsuri: *getting the kid’s pajamas ready* they are just so cute

3 year old: *shouting* boat! A boat!

Y/n: did you put toys in the tub?

Obanai: no, we don’t even have any boat toys

Mitsuri: then what is…

Obanai, y/n and Mitsuri: *runs into the bathroom*

(They walk into the bathroom to see their 2 and 3 year olds in the tub with a turd floating around)

3 year old: look a boat!

Mitsuri: *covers her face*

Y/n: *scrambles to quickly remove the kids from the tub*

Obanai: *disgusted as he empties the tub and removes the turd* I’ll run another bath

Y/n: *looks to Mitsuri* still think they’re cute?

——————————————————————————

[g1rlken]

Hi hi! For the prompts can you do 10 and 14 with Christian bales Bruce Wayne?

Prompt: chaotic married life w kids + domestic fluff

Words: 2k

Thank you sm for this req it’s so cute

-

Marriage tends to change people is a superficial analysis of growing together but children sure do change routines. Especially morning routines where chaos is an understatement. Raising a child requires a village but for twins a whole army might just suffice. Vincent and William. A very pleasant blessing of two little boys in the Wayne household. However Bruce and y/n were subjected to consider just how much of peace was the cost of that blessing.

Their twins were such serene babies, toddler phase was a transition to literal devils during grade school. Getting them to do home work, go to school, eat the greens, not unleash hell…such difficult tasks.

Today like every other school morning, the parents had divided to bathe the twins in different bathrooms. When they were much younger and playful as babies bathing them in the giant bathtub where they’d just play with soap bubbles and those Amazon find bath toys was a cute activity. Nowadays, on Sundays sometimes they’d just hose them down in the garden and call it a day. It was so much more convenient for the parents and even the twins who absolutely despised bathing. Y/n bathed the older twin Vincent in the bathroom which was upstairs, Bruce downstairs with William who was a bad influence of his brother to not bathe and Alfred preparing breakfast and lunch boxes.

“Bruce!” Y/n voice shrieked from upstairs followed by a whiny cry from Vincent and he rushed to inquire, finding his wife looking for the sink holding her eyes shut.

“What happened here…?” Bruce asked as stepped inside and was immediately attacked by a plastic bottle Vincent could get his hands on as he moved frantically in the bathtub. Bruce dodged it with dad reflex thankfully.

“There’s shampoo in our eyes” Y/n briefed him and pointed at their son to go help him given she could assist herself with the sink water.

Vincent was just moving frantically in the shallow bath water shaking his head and hands splashing the water “Do something!” The boy demanded with a shrill cry.

“ Vin, calm down” Bruce urged as he bent on his knees to the bath level and held some of the running water in his hands to pour into his shampoo hurting eyes but he’d just squeezed them shut. “Open your eyes”

“I can’t! They hurt!” The boy whined and splashed the water very disruptively it went all over Bruce’s face.

“Breathe, you’re alright just breathe…open your eyes.” Bruce soothed anyways as he helped Vincent soothe the hurt by sprinkling cleaner water again, “why were you shampooing him anyways? We literally have school in an hour”

“I wasn’t but someone keeps on changing the bottles with soap and shampoo again and again” Y/n replied scoffing in obviousness as she air dried her eyes, it was Bruce who colour coded them like that in a different set of bottle at each refill. Washing hair of a seven year old who will fight a literal battle to resist it, will most definitely end up in a painful situation as such.

“It is literally so simple, white for soap and off white for shampoo” Bruce accounted for his way of arrangement as he dabbed his son’s eyes with towel, soothing his cries.

“We don’t have time to go into that discourse I’ll go pack lunch” Y/n said as she hurriedly wiped her own eyes.

“Oh Alfred’s on it…” Bruce informed her casually as Vincent’s eyes were normal again he opened them with a heavy sigh.

“Oh man I’m never using shampoo again.” The boy said dramatically and received a disapproving shake of head from his dad.

“Wait then who’s with Will?” Y/n asked about their younger twin William, whose morning crankiness were much worse.

“Uh” Bruce paused realising he’d not considered that as he’d rushed to his wife’s call for help “He was brushing his teeth”

“Alright he’s most definitely asleep again.” She sighed composing herself, leaving Vincent to get out of bath and dressed for his dad she rushed downstairs. As expected, William was fast asleep on the marble sink leaning against the wall with his legs dangling down the sink, ever since the kids learned to climb places no surface was unreachable. “Willy!” Y/n exclaimed as she carried him down the sink “William wake up come on we’ve to go to school!” She exclaimed and brushed his teeth for him hurriedly as he mumbled something about not wanting to go.

“I don’t want to…” will whined still half asleep not wanting to go because he still wanted to sleep. During vacations it was difficult to put him down to bed just absolute monkey activities all day long jumping here to there and during school days he couldn’t be bothered to brush his teeth even.

William tried to have a one sided debate about why he shouldn’t have to go to school and was eventually fully awake, much to y/n’s demise now she couldn’t manhandle and carry her son to brush his teeth and bath because now he was ready to have full sassy conversations. “You know I’m not getting in that right?” He said to his mum and gave the filling bathtub a disgusting look.

“We literally don’t have time for this please don’t bring-“ his mum started sighing as she foresaw the upcoming torment.

“What?” William said exaggerating his obviousness “I won’t be clean with gutter water”

“It’s not guttter water!” She tried to , despite being on the clock “Don’t believe everything you hear in school” she bent to her knees to match his eye level and try to convince him better “you know no ones want to sit with the kid who hasn’t bathed in 24 hours?”

“But didn’t you say people should like each other for who they are and their kindness and not what they dress and look like” Will responded smugly crossing his arms at his mum, well aware he was winning this debate so far.

Taking a deep breath to subside her annoyance of her own words biting her back, “No, that was for when you wanted to wear your ducky hat and those big kids made fun of you. Not for hygiene.”

“I don’t even know what that word means so…” he trailed off with a pout of correctness.

“Look, we’re going to be really late can you please cooperate.”

“I am awake, I brushed my teeth and I am talking to you that is enough operation on my part” William reasoned with his mom with a shrug.

“It’s cooperation.” She corrected him.

“It’s the same thing” William answered offering her mom a smile of encouragement, as if she did not know the word.

“No it’s not.” Y/n replied before she could continue Bruce’s knock on the open door averted their attention.

“He’s still not ready?” Bruce exclaimed in urgency.

“Vin?” Y/n asked about the status of the other twin as Bruce nodded and briefed her that he was with Alfred. Joint breakfast plus lunch box duties. Bruce stepped inside because clearly with his wife on his son’s eye level trying to convince him to shower seemed like she needed help.

“I literally don’t even have to go to school!” William exclaimed “I know each and every animal and I know that that water comes from sewage!” He said pointing to the bath water.

“For the hundredth time will, it doesn’t come from the sewage!” Bruce interjected with a sigh. “It’s very clean”

“So I can drink it?” William proposed raising brows at his parents.

“No” Y/n replied almost instantly, William was very fast to react she was worried he might actually try something “No you can’t drink it.”

“Why?” William demanded an answer with the hopes of his parents getting trapped in their own initial proponent that the water was not from sewage.

“Look I’m going to count to three if you don’t get in-“ Y/n began, as they were really on the clock she couldn’t reason ever so rationally.

“Hey hey no” Bruce interrupted his wife shaking his head, “We don’t do that, don’t threaten him. We have a civil conversation.”

“I’m not threatening him woah” she replied with a huff at his accusation.

“Count to three and what? Splash him?” Bruce asked somewhat wanting to have stern yet hostile approach to the kid.

“—Of course!”

“But I only have to bath if I have to go to school wight?” William enquired mispronouncing right for wight “what if I don’t? Can’t I just be homeschooled?! Dada was homeschooled.”

“Exactly, dada was homeschooled and he’s now a grown up who has no friends.” Y/n explained it to him rather unapologetically but not in a poking way to Bruce . “Do you want to be like that?”

“No that’s not true I have friends” Bruce jumped to his defence somewhat taken aback how casually his wife threw that one in, despite an apologetic smile she offered him.

“Name your two best friends then.” William investigated as he looked up at his dad with an anticipated look.

Bruce paused for a moment as he thought about it, he looked serious which made y/n wonder if he had any friends she hadn’t known of this entire time. His face seemed like he was trying to pick between his ever so large group of friends but he began, “Y/n and..” he trailed off thinking again but William had gotten his answer.

“Okay I understand now.” William said looking his mom, both of them shared a small laugh which Bruce didn’t exactly get on but at least William agreed to get in the bath.

-

Leaving Bruce to dress the boy y/n rushed outside to help Alfred with breakfast and lunch boxes, “hey hey hey” she rushed over to Alfred, where Vincent was clinging to the old man as piggy back. A very concerning sight given, not that he would fall but Alfred was rather old. “Get down from there!”

“It’s alright Miss Wayne.” Alfred said with a smile as Vincent just laughed getting favoured against his mum’s demand.

“No it’s not.” She shook her head carrying Vincent off of him and placed him on the dinning table chair, “They’re both getting way too heavy to carry.”

“I just can’t refuse them.” Alfred laughed a small laugh as he set the plates for breakfast.

“Well you should” Y/n said hurriedly as she rummaged through the cabinets to get the lunch boxes out, by then Bruce returned with a towel over will’s head. Once he sat him on the chair he rubbed his drenched hair hastily.

“No not my hair!” Vincent flinched with a scowl on his face when Bruce attempted to dry his hair as well.

“We’re late Vin, come on” Bruce refused to give into the whining at this point and dried Vincent’s hair anyways. He walked across the kitchen to help y/n reaching for the lunch box on the top shelf as she prepared one of those.

“Late?” Alfred asked as he registered the sentence “Late for what? It’s Sunday.”

“It’s Sunday today?!” Y/n asked as she turned around and her eyes winded.

“Yes.” Alfred nodded positively as he pointed to the calendar.

The parents just sighed relaxing their shoulders in regret, “wow” y/n chuckled softly as Bruce joined along comprehending his regret with the humour of it as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I did not just bathe both of them on a Sunday.” She laughed as Bruce brought her into a side hug.

“You?” He raised a brow looking down at her.

“We” she corrected herself with a smile as she gave him with a soft peck on the lips.

[flamboyant-king]

I have a lot of penny sleeves for pokemon cards so I got the idea to use them as packaging!

Also I don't have a good printer, so instead you get doodles wheeeee.

The backing postcard thing for the pokemon energies I made with posca markers. Maybe I'll have to print em onto cardstock, but that's just a prototype! I'm thinking "ooh what if they were different pokeball, but that would be too much, no?

My hole puncher can't reach the middle so I taped the fairy energy to the paper instead haha

Look guys! I'm making buttons again (and injuring myself again because I work too hard.)

But I've successfully acquired myself over 200 fairy cards from shuffle through dozens of card shops bulk cards. They're hard to find, man.

I'll open my Etsy shop once I get my tablet and am able to draw digitally again heeho! But it's gonna be stickers and buttons until I get the confidence to get charms made. So keep an eye out!

[itstheghostofmypast]

Big Spoon

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Who knew he'd wake up bleary-eyed to find her a mess, one that was out of her control and his - or so he thought.

Genre: Fluffish

Warnings: None (just mentions of sad puppies)

Word Count: 1.3 k

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

"What are you doing?" He sat up, squinting at his lover who was sitting with her headphones on, blasting God knows what at 2 am. Good lord, no wonder the bed seemed so lonely and-

"Why are you awake?" She snapped at him, causing him to flinch, his little pout and amusing bed hair had her mentally scolding herself for the outburst, he was sitting there half asleep, half awake, though completely ready to get to the bottom of this mystery. She took a deep breath before biting her lip and mumbling, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to sound mean, client called and Hongjoong needed more photos so I uh...got up to do it now so I won't have to do it later- just because that lady's rich. " Turning the chair to face him she winced slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice it, though how would it be Choi San if he didn't?

"What's wrong?" He asked pushing the covers off as he sat at the edge of the bed, feet planted on the cold floor. The moment of clarity allowed him to notice the small hot water bottle on her lap, and the cup of green tea in front of her beside a giant flask and a tissue box- "Were you crying?" He cooed, getting up to go closer only for her to whine and roll her chair back, keeping her distance.

"Hey, come on." He pouted before jumping at her causing her to gasp, only to realise he had held onto the armrests of her chair, locking her in place, "What happened?"

"I-it...nothing." She mumbled, averting her gaze, in no real mood for anything at the moment, she just wanted to finish editing these photos and- "Does it hurt here?" He asked, gently placing his palm against her belly, causing her to whine and try to push it away, only for him to shake his head  and remove his hand, instead using it to cup her cheek, "Let me guess, you got the call, they asked you for something that makes no sense, and shark week hit mid brooding session?"

Her eyes widened by the end of his little monologue, as she nodded, staring at him in awe like a little girl who had just met a fairy, well, he was a fairy, a rather feline-looking fairy she could call her own. Elegant, yet endearing, soft and warm yet as solid as a rock, smart yet, just a little dumb- either way, he was her pretty, cute, little fairy- though if he heard this analogy he'd probably be throwing a fit for days, claiming he was anything BUT A FAIRY- he was, as he'd like to call himself and his bros (minus Wooyoung because frankly she had realised he was the only sensible one in the lot)  A KING!

"How did you know?" Her lips quirked upwards when he leaned closer to place a soft kiss atop her head, a gesture that would oddly make her all putty in his hands.

"Because I'm the world's best boyfriend." His voice boomed across the quiet room causing her to cover her ears due to heightened sensitivity, before frowning up at him

"The world's best boyfriend missed one thing though."

His shoulders deflated at the statement, and he flopped backwards on the bed dramatically, his back landing with a loud huff, "And what is that?"

"I was crying cause- " her breath hitched as the memories resurfaced,  "Some dogs go through depression and this puppy did too- I was watching the video and it was so sad...Sannie" she whined, calling him out for God knows but the flashing images of the puppy and the stupid client's appeal just bothered her even more, the cherry on top was the excruciating pain that was a constant reminder of how the world is too cruel to women.

Not a moment later she was gently pulled out of her chair, engulfed in a warm embrace as his familiar scent enveloped her senses, work left behind, as she felt the soft, warm pillow- nope that was his arm, "My head's heavy," with a small mumble she tried to move, but he clicked his tongue and pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head, "And my heart is heavy....my poor baby is in so much physical and emotional pain and I can't do anything about it-"

"We're never getting a puppy."

"I- um...okay?" He mused, giving her a gentle squeeze, of course, that one video of the sad puppies would make her come up with this verdict, possibly fuelled by her hormones. Making her laugh right now probably wasn't the easiest task, which is why he resorted to asking her the real question, though gentle toned and carefully curated, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on her back as he approached the topic, "I thought you sent the client all they asked for, did they want something out of the contract?"

With a loud huff she began, only to pause for a moment when another cramp hit, her fingers gripping his shirt as she took a deep breath before speaking (venting), "Apparently some of the guests, who refused to take solos then, now want their solo pics because the others who did get their solos taken got good results- like flattery will get you nowhere, I can't pull out your solo pics from my as-ah shit, " she hissed, trying to move, "I need my heating pad." He was quicker than her, jumping over her, letting out a hearty laugh when he heard her squeak and let out a few vulgar words. As quick and agile as a cat he hopped back on the bed, turning her on her back as he placed it on her lower belly, "There, all better?"

Nodding she placed her hands on the pad, pressing it against her skin before sighing, continuing, "Anyway, someone was like oh can you like crop us out and put us somewhere to turn it into our logo- you mean cut you out and paste the image, spend time blending, shading, fixing the highlights- no, because its not in the contract and I'm not being paid more for this."

"I...wow..." he mumbled, running his fingers through her hair soothingly as he sat beside her, looking down at her only to notice her trembling power lip and glossy eyes, "What's...wrong...baby, you don't have to do anything that wasn't under your contract." He hummed, tracing his fingertips over the slightly warmer skin of her forehead absentmindedly, "You want me to talk to -"

"That puppy was so sad, he looked like he wanted to cry and..." Turning to her side, as she closed her eyes, the rush of emotions getting a bit to strong, the tears leaking through her clenched eyes, hugging herself. This was stupid, she had ruined his sleep, woke him up in the middle of the night, snapped at him, told him stories that were irrelevant and then ended up crying about a video on puppies.

"I like being the big spoon."

Oh- that's why she felt so warm, and-

"How is laying on top of me the bigger spoon, you're crushing me."

"I'm protecting you from the bad vibes. Told you Hongjoong as a boss sucks, man's a capitalist monster."

With a sigh she relaxed in his hold, the added weight actually helping with the pain, both, physical and psychological.

"To sleep, you should stop thinking, leave your worries, for tomorrow's you." He sighed, giving her another squeeze, though he didn't recieve any response to his wise words, he could get them printed, "You asleep?" He whispered peeking over her shoulder only to smile,  two hours, they'd been awake for two hours, listening to God knows what she was going through, biological and induced. Either way, he was glad that she had the world's best boyfriend, he'd probably boast about this tomorrow to her, when she's in a better mood, when she's well rested and probably complaining once again, about how Hongjoong finding the dumbest, but richest clients. Need not worry, she'd always have someone loyal, sincere and the best big spoon out there- all her's.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

[call-sign-bambi]

🤍𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬🤍

info: john price x female reader | inspired by 🎧daddy issues / the neighborhood🎧

category: angst, fluff

warnings: negative self talk, dd/lg themes, petnames (sweetheart & doll), lmk if i missed any.

a/n: excited to finally post something of substance on here, i have a million ideas i'm gonna try to write over holiday break.

You let your head fall to the steering wheel, huge, ugly sobs wracking your body. Your chest coiled in pain, constricting around the giant, empty hole of nothing, where something should be. Where you needed something to be. Or someone. 

You felt disgusting as you blew your nose once more, adding the rough napkin to a pile of its snot-covered brethren littering the passenger floorboard. You’d been trying not to cry for an hour, all to no avail. 

Rolling down the window, gasping for fresh air, something, anything…

The sky, dark and cold, offered no comfort, the moon and stars, no light, and the breeze gave only a bitter chill. You needed to not be alone tonight. You couldn’t be alone tonight. Dear god, I’m so tired of being alone…

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three ti-

“Evenin’.”

“John-” you choked out, tears streaming at the sound of his voice. “John, it hurts.”

“Darlin’, what-”

“Can I come see you?” A pause. “Please.”

“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave a light on for ya’.”

You threw the car into park, yanked your keys out, and slammed the door. You weren’t gonna make it. He lived on the ground floor, no stairs, that was good. Your head felt like it would float away if it weren’t for the pounding ache. You slumped against his door and knocked as loudly as you could.

A moment passed, and you wondered if the light had already been on for someone else. You ruin everything.

Footsteps. Bolt sliding out of place. Move. You gathered your weight and stood, lip trembling, in front of John Price. 

He wore a simple tee, worn with age, and faded track pants. Nothing fancy. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He made a soft vocalization and beckoned you inside. You stepped in quickly, skirting past him, afraid to get him contaminated. He closed the door behind you, locking it with surety, and turned to you with a tilt of his head. “What happened, doll?”

That did it. You crashed into his chest, crying nigh uncontrollably, hands gripping his shirt, hair a mess. 

John let out a small uff and it took him a moment before his arms very gently crossed behind your back. You didn’t care. 

“It fucking hurts, and I hate it, I hate this shit, I just want it to go the fuck AWAY!” you wept into him, tugging at the fabric he wore, hoping the clench of your palm would take away the clench of your heart. 

He sighed. In an instant, his arms had slipped down and around, scooping you off the floor and letting you curl into his torso as he walked to his room. 

“No, John, no, I’ll fuck up the bed, I can’t stop cr-”

“Hush,” he grumbled. His voice sounded thick but you didn’t have the capacity to wonder why. “Y’can’t stand right now. I’ll worry about the bed.”

He nudged the door open with his foot and you did your best to bury your entire head into his shoulder. Something, anything to take it away, to go to sleep, and feel nothing for a while…

John set you down and the mattress cradled your body. His bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like John. He lifted you up by the back and slid a few pillows underneath you, handing you a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Easy, now.” John stepped to the door, but you audibly cried. 

“Please don’t…please don’t leave.”

His eyes rested on you for a long beat, softening by the second. He stepped back to the bed and cupped your tear-damp face in his hand. “Okay,” John said, tucking your head into his stomach. “I won’t leave.” 

Those words set you off again, and your body shook from the weight of the heaviness on your shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this, John, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I know,” he murmured as he began to stroke the back of your head, “I know.” Still keeping you tucked into him, John moved over your body and sat next to you, his back against the headboard. “Come here, doll.”

Sniffling, you scooted closer to him and pressed your head into his chest. His arms wrapped you once more, and he touched his rough lips gently to your skin. “I’m here. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Your head pounded again, in cadence with your heart, your breathing, your chest, your pain, your everything, and it was all too much-

“Please make it stop, I can’t do it anymore, John, please, please!” you begged, nails carving moons into your palms. 

“Gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Gotta breathe.” John took your wrists in his hands and lifted them above your head, brows creasing at the way your torso still tried to cave on itself, like the implosion of a star. “In…all the way…atta girl, out…easy, now…in…out…there y’go, in…out….” You gradually came down from the high, hiccuping less and seeing more clearly. John sighed again. “Come on, you.”

“Where?” you said, voice cracking. 

“Shower. Warm water’ll do y’good.”

You nodded numbly and held onto his index finger as he stepped around the bed to the bathroom, afraid that he would vanish into the dark. He clicked the lightswitch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the cool tile room. “Up y’get,” he grumbled, taking you by the waist and planting you straight onto the counter. John leaned into the shower and turned the water on, letting it run over his hands. You let your foot dangle on his leg. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Ever. 

“John?” 

He stood, flicking the water from his fingertips, and motioned for you to lift your arms up. He began to peel your shirt off your body with heartbreaking gentleness. 

“Yes, doll.”

“I’m sorry,” you said through tee-shirt cotton, pulling your arms out of the entanglement.

“Don’t be.” John lifted you from the counter and crouched, unbuttoning your jeans. 

“I am.” You stepped out of the awful denim as he pulled it down your legs. “I feel disgusting and I made a fucking mess of you.”

He stood once more, stepping around you, pulling the fastens of your bra apart. “‘Boutta clean it off.” He moved to face you once more, pulling the straps down your shoulders and away from your skin. John’s eyes found the angry red line underneath your breasts from the combined too-small band and heaving sobs. He thumbed them softly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible over the shhhhh of the water. 

John knelt again, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Gotta get these off.”

You obliged, stepping out so he could hook his fingers around the elastic of your panties and take those off you as well. 

You stood in the pile of your clothing and reached out, tugging at his own. “Can I?”

John nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face as you worked his body out of his shirt and track pants, hovering over his boxers before he stroked the shell of your ear. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick again. “Won’t hurt ya’.” You mimicked him, crouching to the floor and tugging the waistband down to reveal his naked body. He was soft, not an ounce of arousal present. Something in your stomach twisted, and tears prickled at the edge of your eyes again. You moved the boxers over his foot and put it on the growing pile of clothes. 

John’s knuckle traced your cheek. “Come on, doll. Into the water with ya’.”

You stood and shivered when his hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you slowly into the warm water haven. Stepping over the rim of the tub and into the shower stream, you let the water engulf you, flowing over hair and neck and face and chest. 

John stepped in after you. He didn’t move for a moment, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “What?”

“‘M sorry you’re in s’much pain.”

“...thanks.”

“Let me make it better.” You stiffened. His eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “No, not like that. Easy. Just….” John picked up a dark bottle of shampoo. “Just let me help.”

“Okay,” you whispered, turning to face the water, trying desperately to keep from crying, if only to stave off another headache. 

John’s fingers laced through your hair then, working down to your scalp, through your roots all the way back to your ends. “I know it’s not what you normally use…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

John put his palms on your shoulders and turned you gently, gathering you into his still-dry chest and rinsing the soap from your hair. “Not a problem, doll.” 

As the shampoo ran down your back, you lifted your arms ever so tentatively, and put them around his neck. John went still for a moment, but only just a moment, and soon his fingers were back to scrubbing your head. 

You opened your mouth to the smell of his shampoo on your hair and the bare skin of his chest in front of you. His heart, thumping steadily, beat right below your cheek, and you instinctively pressed into him. 

John’s hands slowed and he began stroking your back, gathering any hair fallout, smoothing over your skin, and breathing in your scent the same as you inhaled his. “I got ya’. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

The tears came again, unbidden, but not fighting their way out as they had earlier - now they simply flowed. As you cried, John turned you back around, applying conditioner, body wash, scrubbing your body for you, tapping gently when he needed you to lift an arm or move a leg. He never stopped touching you, never lost contact with your skin. And he didn’t take advantage.

When John tapped your thigh, you wondered vaguely if he would attempt to rile you up, making the excuse of “just cleaning”. But he didn’t. A soft wash cloth lay between his fingers and your folds, and he worked the soap over your mound just the same as he had the rest of you. He lathered your breasts gently, without an ounce of boyishness, simply soaping and rinsing. John’s own body got wet in the process of cleaning you, but you found yourself too exhausted to care. 

As the last of the conditioner was washed out of your hair, John let the water run over your back, holding you between the heat of his body and that of the shower. 

“Thank you, John.”

He nodded, muscles squeezing almost imperceptibly tighter around you. “Let me know when you want to get out,” he murmured.

“Okay.”

Minutes passed and you simply stood in his arms, letting every emotion that once filled your ribcage to the point of breaking flow down the drain with the water. And John stood with you, stroking your hair when the sniffles and hiccups returned, pulling you to him when they subsided. 

You spoke up, quietly telling him you were ready to get out. He shut off the water, reaching out to grab a towel for you and helping you step out of the slick tub.

“Atta girl, doll. Slow. Good.”

John wrapped you in the plush cotton, using another towel to dry off your legs, crouched before you once again. You managed to get to your arms, but it wasn’t long before he made his way up your body and met you there, his eyes soft as he took over. “I got ya’, darlin’. I got ya’.” You looked up at him with still-teary eyes as words failed you. The ghost of a smile passed over John’s features. “I know. You want a shirt?” You looked at your own tee, covered in snot, and nodded profusely. John took your hand and led you back into his darkened room. Switching a lamp on, he opened a dresser drawer and produced an almost-identical faded, age-worn tee, indiscernible from the one on the bathroom floor. “Here you go, doll.” John turned to see you right on his heels, feeling small in the unfamiliar territory. He really did crack a smile then. “Come on. Arms up.” You obeyed, your chin sinking to your chest. His eyes never strayed from their task, even as the towel covering your body fell to the ground and fluffled around your ankles. “I got shorts or pants,” he said, “You got a preference?”

Your skin prickled in the post-shower chill. “Pants, please.”

He nodded and did the same as before, dressing you with quiet comfortability, slipping soft material up over your calves and thighs. Without asking, John also produced a pair of black, thick socks, pulling them onto your feet with ease. 

“Do…do you want me to…?” You gestured to his bare skin. “I…can. If you want.”

He met your gaze, gentle eyes making you feel a bit less hollow. “Just stay next to me.”

“Okay.” I can do that. You settled onto the bed’s edge, feet not quite touching the floor, and watched him pull a shirt over his huge back and another pair of pants over his massive legs. “John?”

“Yes, doll,” he replied as he shook the water from his hair into a towel. 

“Can we…can I, I mean, you don’t have to, can I, um…take a nap?” When he didn’t answer immediately, you tripped over yourself to explain. “Just-just for a bit, I’ll drive home tonight, I won’t stay, I just thought maybe-”

“Sweetheart.”

You sat stock still. John’s hand came up to your shoulder. “Breathe, kid. ‘M not gonna kick y’out. Stay as long as y’need.”

You stuffed your hands in your lap. “Thanks.”

He tilted his chin to the headboard. “Get under the covers, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up, and you were snug as a bug in a rug before you processed the full extent of his words. He’ll be here in…does he think we’re…what the fuck- 

As the confusion set in, John returned, leaning on the doorframe, phone in hand. “Y’like pizza?”

You blinked. “Yes.”

He padded toward the bed, clambering onto the mattress - the added weight made your body fall towards him as an uff escaped your lips. You smiled, the first one tonight, and curled under his arm. 

“Y’wanna order it?” John asked, showing you the screen. It’s cracked, but you can still easily make out the Domino’s online ordering menu. 

“Yessss.” You kicked your feet out in his soft sheets. Making your selections, you handed it back to him and watched his face for any sign of displeasure. He showed none. 

“Looks good, doll. You can sleep while we wait for it.”

You sat with that for a moment. “No.” You twisted your head up to look into his eyes. “Thank you, John. I would have driven off the road if not for you.”

He cleared his throat. “‘M glad y’came to me. Thank y’for lettin’ me take care of you.”

“I…like you taking care of me.” Your heart pounded and you became acutely aware of his hand on your shoulder, large palm and splayed fingers. 

“Yeah?” John’s voice rumbled in your ear, low and full and delicious-

“Yes,” you said earnestly, propping yourself up to look at him properly. “John, I…I…” He had the nerve to look amused. “...I…”

John chuckled. “Just stay. Stay and I’ll take care of you.” 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  

“I…don’t know what to say.”

His features softened even more, if that was possible. “Don’t have to say anythin’. Just tell me what you wanna watch.” John nodded toward the tv atop his dresser. 

“John…” you sniffled, squeezing his shirt in your hand once more. “Can I just…lay here for a while?”

“Course.” And without a further word, he plucked a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand, opened the faded western they laid on, and began to read. 

A few moments of silence pass, and they are un-fucking-bearable. Your thoughts begin to race again - He doesn’t want you here. You’re a burden. You take up more space than you deserve. What happened to looking out for yourself? You can’t, can you? Fucking pathetic, you are. What happens when he gets tired of you? What happens wh- “John?”

He looked at you over his glasses, brows raised. “Yes, sweetheart?”

You felt small again, but safer. Safer than you had in a while. “Would you mind…reading to me? I don’t think I can sleep otherwise.”

“I’m that tedious, eh?” John grinned when you flicked him on the arm. 

“No! No, I…I want you to.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I’ll read to you.” He turned the page back (“Can’t start right in the action, can we?”) and began, his voice flowing in its same gravelly cadence, filling your brain with soft warmth. The story was of a merchant’s daughter and the cowboy she fell in love with, and John had just gotten to the part where her father finds out. “‘-and they came to blows, fists flying through the dusty air, the world fallen silent save for the sound of knuckles on bone, and-’ Are you asleep?”

You blinked, still very much on the verge of unconsciousness. “Nuh-uhhhh…” You stretched out under his comforter, nestling your face back onto his warm thigh. 

“S’okay,” he said. John laced his fingers through your hair once more. “Y’need the rest. Take it. I’ll wake y’up when pizza’s here.”

You needed no further encouragement. As sleep overtook you once more, you managed to mumble out, “Thanks, Daddy.”

John was very still for a very long time.

Then, “...You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

a/n: if you liked this, please let me know with a like, reblog, or comment 🤍

all dividers courtesy of @saradika