#Gum “Flash In The Pan”

[johnkatsmc5]

Gum "Delorean Highway" 2014 + "Glamorous Damage" 2016 +  "Flash In The Pan" 2016 +  "The Underdog" 2018 + "Out In The World" 2020 + "Saturnia" 2023 +  Gum / Ambrose Kenny-Smith "Ill Times" 2024 Australia Psych,Alternative,Indie Rock,Neo Psych (Pond, Tame Impala,The Novocaines,King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, Sambrose Automobile,The Murlocs....members)

full spotify

https://open.spotify.com/album/7L2V8nkVHQnQN3DA4E2xzj

https://open.spotify.com/album/0zYcOqtQZYhKESKBKJ3eEU

https://open.spotify.com/album/0iGk2Y9nXIsX1OnP12CXhP

https://open.spotify.com/album/3t24SFsyPmgC5K20d3aOof

https://open.spotify.com/album/5xSRTWBpIFJZZGGRjxNP4F

https://open.spotify.com/album/0hCgQsKDH2Gd3U6njazzHv

https://open.spotify.com/album/2aVVkK5Wm8bcUGxMK0Hh4J

Jay Watson’s restless imagination has treated us to some of the most sonically diverse explorations of the past decade, most notably under his solo moniker: GUM. On his most recent 2023 album Saturnia, these visions have coalesced into the richest, but also the most coherent work of Watson’s career to date.   Saturnia marks GUM’s sixth studio album since 2014, somehow finding time to record between his commitments as co-founder of POND and longest touring member of Tame Impala (besides Kevin Parker himself). In April 2023, GUM released two tracks with King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s Ambrose Kenny-Smith for Record Store Day. “Minor Setback” and “Old Transistor Radio”. These tracks now form the basis for their collaboration album, Ill Times, out now on (p)doom records.....~

Gum "Delorean Highway"2014

Tracklist Delorean Highway 3:31 Growin' Up 4:07 The Sky Opened Up 2:29 Misunderstanding 3:00 Summer Rain 2:48 21st Century Radiation 3:12 Pink Skies 3:14 Living And Dying 4:27 Day Of The Triffids 1:29 Can't See Past My Eyes 3:17

Gum "Glamorous Damage" 2016

Tracklist G.U.M 0:28 Anesthetized Lesson 2:45 Glamorous Damage 1:34 Notorious Gold 4:51 Elafonissi Blue 4:16 Television Sick 3:13 New Eyes 5:13 R.Y.K 5:23 Science Fiction 3:59 Ancients 4:00 Greens And Blues 3:22 She Never Made It To Tell 4:43 Carnarvon 1:36

Gum "Flash In The Pan" 2016

Tracklist Flash In The Pan 0:49 Gemini 4:25 If You're Gonna Love Again 3:50 Deep Razz 4:27 Ophelia 4:35 Heatwave 1:47 Deep Heat 4:12 Rares 4:13 Honey (Don't Cry) 3:12 Don't Let Time Get You Down 3:33 Flash In Japan 1:24 Distorted Star 5:09

Gum "The Underdog" 2018

Tracklist Introduction The Underdog S.I.A. Serotonin After All (From The Sun) Rehearsed In A Dream Couldn't See Past My Ego The Blue Marble Trying My Best The Fear

Gum "Out In The World" 2020

Tracklist Weightless In L.A. Airwalkin’ Out In The World The Thrill Of Doing It Right Many Tears To Cry Alphabet Soup Don’t Let It Go Out Down The Stream Low To Low You Make Your Own Luck

Gum "Saturnia" 2023

Tracklist A1 Race to the Air 5:56 A2 Muscle Memory 1:27 A3 Argentina 3:23 A4 Would It Pain You to See? 3:49 A5 Fear of Joy 5:30 B1 Music Is Bigger Than Hair 4:18 B2 Real Life 4:42 B3 Saturnism 2:39 B4 In a Glasshouse (With No Light) 5:11 B5 It Lies a Lifetime 5:28

Gum / Ambrose Kenny-Smith "Ill Times"2024

Tracklist Dud Ill Times Minor Setback Fool For You Resilience Powertrippin’ Old Transistor Radio Emu Rock Marionette The Gloater

Gum "Delorean Highway" 2014 + "Glamorous Damage" 2016 +  "Flash In The Pan" 2016 +  "The Underdog" 2018 + "Out In The World" 2020 + "Saturnia" 2023 +  Gum / Ambrose Kenny-Smith "Ill Times" 2024 Australia Psych,Alternative,Indie Rock,Neo Psych (Pond, Tame Impala,The Novocaines,King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, Sambrose Automobile,The Murlocs....members)

https://johnkatsmc5.blogspot.com/2025/03/gum-delorean-highway-2014-glamorous.html?view=magazine

https://johnkatsmc5.tumblr.com/post/777282642192236544/gum-delorean-highway-2014-glamorous-damage

[rafecameronssl4t]

What’s in My Bag Interview || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: Reader partaking in Refinery29’s What’s In My Bag interview!!!!!!

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 1,127

MASTERLIST

The camera pans in as two smiling women stand before a white table. One speaks first, "Hi, I'm Brianna," she says, flashing a grin. "And I'm Sara," the second chimes in, her energy equally lively. "And we're about to spill it!" Brianna declares. "And guess whose celebrity bag this is!" Sara finishes.

Off-camera, you sit comfortably in front of a monitor, arms crossed and lips curved into an amused smile. as the two dive into your bag with giddy curiosity. The first item they fish out is your phone. "Okay, wait—no case?" Brianna gasps, holding it up for the camera to see. "Bold choice," Sara agrees, examining it closely. Then her eyes narrow.

"Wait, who’s this on the wallpaper?" They angle the screen toward the camera, revealing the photo. "Is this her boyfriend?" Sara guesses, her tone suddenly conspiratorial. "Or maybe just some random guy at Disneyland," Brianna jokes, though the way she squints at the image suggests she doesn’t fully believe it.

Behind the monitor, your shoulders shake with silent laughter, enjoying the speculation. Next, Brianna pulls out your sunglasses. "Ooh, vintage Chanel," she gushes, inspecting the delicate details on the frames before showing the camera, "she's got style." "Agreed," Sara nods.

Then she pulls out something heavier. "Okay, so there's a camera in here, like old school film camera" Sara announces, holding it up. Brianna digs deeper in your bag, before pulling out a roll of film. "So is this a clue? Should I open it?" Sara wonders aloud. "Maybe don’t," Brianna laughs nervously as they exchange giggles.

"Okay, next—Ted Gibson Texture Spray," Sara announces, holding up the bottle like a prize. "We love this!" "So good," Brianna agrees, nodding. "So she's got great hair," Brianna continues as you make eye contact with the camera that is focused on you and playfully flip your hair. "And what’s this?" Brianna pulls out your hand cream.

"How do you even say this? Goe… Go-ee oil?" Brianna stumbles, sniffing it cautiously. "Interesting smell," Sara comments, scrunching her nose. "It kinda smells like sunscreen," Brianna comments as you let out a soft snort, leaning closer to the camera and whispering "I thought it smelled good!"

Sara's hand then closes around something shiny and gold. "The only way out is through," she reads from the surface of a coin, inspecting it closely. Sara furrows her brow. "Is this… a medal?" "No, wait—it says ‘challenge coin,’" Brianna corrects, turning it over in her hands.

"Is this, like, a secret society thing?" Sara wonders. "Or maybe a movie prop?" Brianna counters. Behind the monitor, you laugh to yourself, your shoulders shaking slightly. "Drinking game!" You say lowly to the camera, amused by their speculation. "Maybe an actress?" Brianna says as Sara hums thoughtfully.

You turn your head to the camera again, winking. Sara then pulls out a small pin with the text “LOVE DC, GO” embossed on it. "Okay, are you from DC?" Brianna asks, holding it up for the camera. Laughing, you shake your head. "Initials!" you say quietly, clearly enjoying yourself.

"Ooh, cute," Sara pulls out your nail paint. "OPI in the colour 'Girl', super cute," Sara says. You flash your nails at the camera. "Did these in the car on the way here!" you confess with a cheeky grin. Brianna then pulls out your car keys. "Keys to a Mercedes," Brianna observes, dangling them in the air. "She’s driving in style," Sara teases.

They then pull out some gum. "So she's definitely someone who talks to people a lot," Sara guesses as Brianna pulls out some cash. "Canadian money?" Brianna says, unfolding the bill. "Is she Canadian maybe?" Sara questions. "Wait—there’s also Barbadian dollars. Are you Bajan?" Brianna asks, genuinely curious as she looks at the camera.

You silently laugh, throwing your head back, unable to hold yourself back. "A fan favourite!" Brianna gasps, holding up your Baccara Rouge 540 perfume. "She smells good!" Sara comments. They then pull out some bar wrappers. "She's on the go! I feel like she is someone who travels a lot. She's either an actress, or a travel influencer." Sara comments.

"She's an important person, obviously, she's in front of the camera. Whether that's her own, or other people's camera." Brianna guesses. "Can we get a hint?" Sara questions. "She's in the Outer banks cast," the producer says as the two girls look at each other with a knowing look. "Is it Y/n Y/l/n?" They say, "Yes! You're right!" The producer confirms, and you step into view, pulling off your headphones with a big grin as they squeal.

"Hi!" you greet, waving as you step onto the set. "You’re even more gorgeous in person!" Sara exclaims, pulling you into a hug. Laughing, you return the embrace before turning to Brianna. "Aw, thank you! It’s so nice to meet you both!" you say, settling between them.

"How did it feel watching us go through your stuff?" Brianna question, "Hilarious," you admit, still laughing. "I was cracking up the whole time," you say as they chuckle. "I thought this was a good clue because we shot OBX in Barbados the past couple seasons," you say picking up the Barbadian money as their mouths drop in synchronised surprise.

"And this," You pick up the coin, "Charlie, who plays Big John in the series, gave everybody this coin for a drinking game. It’s part of a drinking game and basically, if someone challenges you with their coin and you don’t have yours, you buy drinks." You explain.

"And I think it says," You start, opening the coin package, "yeah, Outer Banks season three," You chuckle. "Oh my goodness, we should have opened it but we didn't want to be nosey," Brianna says as you laugh. "Yeah, no you should!" You say. "Now we know next time," Sara adds on as the three of your chuckle.

"This is a pin I got when we wrapped Glass Onion," you explain, holding up the small, gold-embossed pin. "The ‘DC’ stands for Daniel Craig," you add with a smile. Their eyes widen, and Brianna lets out an excited gasp. "Love Daniel Craig!" she exclaims, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

"Same," you chuckle, enjoying their reactions. "This is actually my second pin, though," you admit, tilting your head slightly. "I lost the first one but he was sweet enough to give me this replacement just last week in London," You explain.

Next, you pick up your phone. "This is my co star and boyfriend Drew Starkey," You reveal with a grin as the girls erupt into cheers "I thought this would be another fun clue," You chuckle. "That we failed," Brianna chuckles. You laugh. "One of my favourite people. Hi, babe!" you add with a wink at the camera.

[aangelinakii]

SAYING SOMETHING STUPID.

— and then you go and spoil it all.

summary : you and jason have been dating for a year, and although both of you know it, neither of you have said the dreaded L word. what happens when, accidentally, the truth comes out?

note : technically zimtsterne are christmas cookies so pretend like this is a christmas time fic

despite the countless beatings he took each and every night, jason's forearm was already beginning to ache. you had him whisking egg whites until they looked like snowy mountains, but not too mountainous, you'd said.

"where did you find this recipe again?" he hummed, not wanting to take his eyes off the bowl he was attempting to whisk at a flash-speed. beside him at the counter, of which he'd stepped away from to allow you more space, you were mixing ground almonds, cinnamon and powdered sugar into a dough. "what even is a zim— zimt—"

"zimtsterne."

"yeah, that."

"i found it online," you responded, barely taking your eyes off your almost-mixture. once jason would whisk the egg whites into soft peaks, you'd add half to your dough and it would be ready to cut into star shapes.

"online?" jason snickered, bumping your hip lightly with his. "you heard it on that game you play, didn't you? what was it again... choices?"

before you could get a handle on yourself, your eyes rolled almost back into your head. at this, you whipped your head over your shoulder to cast a very meaningful look to your boyfriend. "i only play it to get diamonds. i don't even use them, i just want to reach ten thousand just in case."

"how many do you have now?" he asked in return, looking back down at his white foamy mixture.

with a soft munch on the gum of your cheek, you turned back to your own bowl sheepishly. "more than ten thousand."

from behind, jason's warm laugh hummed through the kitchen. soft footsteps approached from behind, and his broad figure ghosted against your back. at once, a muscular arm, as well as his bowl, came into your vision. "this good enough?"

in the bowl, much faster than you would've been able to, jason had whisked the three egg whites cracked in there into soft peaks, leaving a little fluffy curl when you pulled the metal whisk out of the mixture. "perfect!" you grinned in return, taking the bowl in your own hands and scooping half the egg whites into what you'd so far made from the ground almonds.

watching you scoop and mix, scoop and mix, jason leaned back against the counter, hands resting on the edge, the veins pronounced on the back of the hand he'd used to whisk. "you're not gonna ask me to do any more whisking, are you?"

a soft chuckle brushed past your lips as you placed the bowl of egg whites back on the counter, and resumed stirring the zimtsterne mixture. "not today, you lucky boy," which earned an uncertain smile from jason.

"i liked that," he hummed bashfully.

"what, being lucky boy?"

jason gave an uncharacteristic laugh, his body swaying slightly against the counter. "maybe."

when you'd started dating, jason todd had never been an outwardly affectionate type; it took a few months for him to finally be willing to hold your hand in public. he was so used to suppressing his feelings, his affections, that it was certainly a challenge to get him to unlearn certain behaviours. now, a good year in, jason was getting more and more comfortable being the person he truly was.

still, at times, you weren't used to that person, hidden under years of trauma and dirt and grit.

but here he was, presenting himself to you in his cupped hands.

with a laugh matching his own, you paused your stirring for a moment to look up at him. "no more whisking, but i need you to get a tray, put a piece of parchment paper on it, and sprinkle some powdered sugar on the counter."

obedient like a dog gone soft, you could hear the clashing of pots and pans and opening and closing of cupboards behind you, until the cooking tray was placed on the counter beside your bowl, where the batter was coming along nicely.

jason tore off a square bit of parchment paper, and lay it upon the tray, where the corners curled, but otherwise stayed on, then he peeled open the bag of powder sugar. "how much do i put?" he asked, glancing over at you, hand hovering above the flour.

"not too much just yet, but we'll probably have to add more later."

and so his hand disappeared into the bag, and when it reappeared, he sprinkled a good serving of sugar along the countertop.

"perfect," you hummed once again. "next what we're gonna do is take the batter and press it down, then use the star cut-outs."

"we have to put our hands in that?" jason groaned, although playfully, you knew.

with a casual shrug, you began digging your hand into the zimtsterne mixture and pulled out a chunk to roll into a ball in your palms. "i mean, i could always do it by myself — if baking is too difficult for you."

a massive shoulder came into view, and jason's hand dunked into the bowl. "hell no! i can bake."

eyes closely watching the movement of your hands, jason rolled the amount of dough into a ball between his palms. then, once you'd placed your dough on the powdered sugar, pressed it down with the heel of your palm, jason followed suit.

you reached across the counter for the small star cutter, and sunk it down into the dough. "and... there! it's a little cinnamony star."

despite the grit and sheer size of him, in your company, jason todd was small, all soft touches and blush along cheeks.

as you carefully placed your star atop the parchment paper, jason took the small metal cutter in his calloused fingers, skilled in pulling the trigger.

he was careful as he pushed the cutter into the dough, glancing over at you a couple times as though he were doing something wrong.

somehow reading his mind, you reached over, hands placing them atop of his, spreading them in the muck of the dough you'd made, though jason didn't seem to mind; he'd had worse on his hands. "you're doing great," you smiled softly. "to get a clean cut you need to shake it a bit now."

and, with a laugh, your grip on jason's hands tightened slightly, and you helped jiggle the star cutter, separating his little biscuit from the rest of the dough, which you could reuse for another zimtsterne star.

a breath brushing past your ear, jason gave that kind, boyish laugh, and when you glanced over your shoulder, his eyes had halved into crescents, little moon shining down on the kitchen. "this is the strangest thing i've ever done."

perpetual smile by his side, you pulled away and tore the remaining dough from around the cookie cutter, pressing it into a sugared mound to be used again. "put that one next to my star on the tray," you ordered, although kind. "i'm gonna put more sugar down."

with ginger movements, jason lay his dough zimtsterne star down upon the parchment paper, a few inches from the one you'd made. eyeing him for a moment, to make sure his biscuit was far enough away from yours, you dunked your hand into the pink bag of icing sugar.

with a soft smile you made a nice comment on jason's placement; he was just about to reply when everything went white.

it must've caught through the gaps in your fingers while you weren't looking, must've been more than you'd meant to grab, for the powdered sugar hit the sleek countertop, and jumped back up in a whisp.

jason donned a white tuft of hair in his raven normally, but when the sugary fog began to clear, you could barely tell where the original streak ended and where it began.

your powder-covered hand shot to your agape mouth. "holy— that was an accident, i swear!"

his emerald eyes blinked open, sending some more snow-white dust into the air as it bounced off his eyelashes.

in one swift swoop, jason reached up to his blizzard of hair, and stretched out his hand over your face. you didn't need a mirror to know you probably looked like a snowman slapped you — but this action only caused room for ammunition, your dropped jaw setting and clenching as you pulled your arm back and launched.

the remnants of icing sugar in your palm exploded through the air, and whatever didn't land on the floor or counter (and most of the parchment paper) certainly his jason.

you could see in the way he lurched forward, but halted himself, that he was purposely holding back; you'd seen the way he would react when dick or tim tried to one-up him at the dinner table at the wayne family dinners you'd been brought to, or when training. his instincts are primal.

but, beneath the avalanche of icing sugar, his lips thinned. letting out a small sigh, jason shook his head, sending powdered sugar down onto the counter, where you could make your next zimtsterne star.

he gave a joking scoff. "you should be grateful i love you, or else this whole kitchen would be white."

it was a one-off sentence, supposed to be casual as he took the mound of dough in his hand to press flat against the monstrosity of sugar on the countertop. but it caused you to freeze, right in your place, hand gripping the edge of the counter falling slack.

jason hadn't seemed to notice.

he continued palming the dough until it was flat, but thick enough to be carved into a star, and reached for the cutter, content smile etched into his white powdery face.

"what did you say?"

your voice, however, was small.

even after a year now, neither of you had said the words he just had; you knew he had issues with attachment and relationships, so you supposed it just had never crossed your mind that he would... love you.

jason glanced up casually, shaking the star-shaped cookie cutter and placing down the new biscuit on the tray with the others. "oh, i was just saying that you're lucky, because if you were timothy drake, it would be over."

"no, no, you didn't say that." two steps forward, small, uncertain, but curious, aching to hear it again, make sure you weren't dreaming.

you placed a hand on his elbow, urging him to turn and look at you, which left a snowy handprint along his flesh. once he had carefully pushed the dough onto the tray, he placed the metal cut-out back on the counter and turned. "maybe not verbatim, but that's what i meant."

seeing the urgent look in your eyes, his smile faltered, but the lines it had made remained in the sugar.

"you said... you said you love me."

as the words left your lips, jason's eyes widened, and his body shuddered as if to stagger away from you, but your grip on his elbow tightened and didn't allow him.

"jason, is that true?"

beneath the powdered sugar, his bottom lip gave a tremour. "i... i guess i did say that."

your thumb brushed carefully over the bone of his elbow. "it's okay if it's true, i just want to know." trying to convince him he was safe — that you were safe — your voice softened, and you forced your body out of its initial shock.

but he didn't respond, only lips thinning, stare remaining still, like he'd been caught out on a really bad lie.

"i think so," he mused quietly, almost... afraid?

instinctively, your grip tightened once more upon his elbow, and you leaned in, eyebrows raised, a smile widening by the moment. "you love me?" it was spoken more like a song, more like it were an accomplishment than a question.

jason's bottom lip quivered, and when he spoke he sounded rather shaky, but he put on a brave, sugar-covered face. "is there– is there a problem with that?"

not minding the powder on your hands — and you hoped he wouldn't either — you leapt forward, engulfing his tough frame with a hug so tight it was possible all the knots in his back unwound at your touch. jason stumbled back, one sugared arm finding the small of your back and the other taking hold of the counter's edge to stabilise him.

sugar dusted itself along his breastbone, where you pressed your face into him. "oh, i didn't want to scare you away, or say anything i shouldn't," you began, voice extraordinarily muffled, until you pulled away to finish, gazing into his eyes, the only colour besides white on his face. "but i love you, jason. i really, really love you."

feeling suddenly shy at your sudden confession, your fingers toyed absently with the fabric of jason's once-black shirt, and your teeth sank awkwardly into your bottom lip.

but jason didn't hide away; he didn't contort into fear or anger. instead, his body sunk into yours, a warmth comparible to that of the pre-heated oven behind you. any uncertainty in those brilliant eyes of his seeped out through the corners, creating a coccoon of watery sugar beneath his lashes.

one of your hands came away from his back, and lay itself upon his cheek. an equally as powdery thumb swiped carefully beneath his eye — jason didn't even flinch.

all he could think was how stupid he was to have ruined the moment, not even thinking as he spoke, but also that he had finally admitted it out loud, and that you had reciprocated without any semblance of hesitation.

[nottysnake]

like real lovers do

☆pairing: theodore nott x reader

★wc: 1.7k

☆genre: fluff, angst

★summary: theodore keeps getting into fights and you need to know why. 

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

loud. that’s all your head could process with the boosted bass coming from the speakers in the middle of the slytherin common room. 

“fuck, it stinks in here.” pansy says, sitting on my right. “mattheo threw the party this time. what do you expect, no weed?”i say. pansy snorts, “yeah right, he couldn’t last an hour without it, he’d ended up assaulting someone.” “that’s not true pans and you know it. that “someone” would be dead, not injured,” mattheo says, coming up from behind the couch we are sitting on, arm wrapped around theodore’s broad shoulders. i look up and see theo, finally seeing his face up close and not from across the room. “woah what the fuck happened to your face?” the flashing green lights can’t mask the big purple, swelling bruise forming on the bottom left of his jaw. i quickly sit up on my knees, turning to face theo while leaning against the back of the velvet dark green couch, courtesy of mr. malfoy.

 i reach up and carefully place my hand on the unaffected side of theo’s jaw. it’s a nasty looking bruise, but all i can think about is how close i am to theo and the fact that the minty gum he is chewing is causing my mouth to water. “nothing.” he says while grabbing the palm of my hand. “liaaaaaar” pansy and matt say in unison. pansy gets up “alrighty, i’m not getting involved in this one, good luck nott.” she says while leaving, quickly making her exit. i narrow my eyes at theodore, who is currently smirking. mattheo unwraps his arm from theo’s shoulder. “as much as i like when you rip him a new one, i somehow always get yelled at too, so i am just gonna…” mattheo drifts off, leaving us, and the bruise, alone. 

“why won’t you stop.” “stop what, piccolo?” his voice is raspy. i can now distinguish  the faint smell of weed and firewhisky. he must’ve started chewing gum before they came up to us, he knows i hate firewhisky.  my heart stops for a second and my eyes soften at the name he uses for me. he rounds the couch to sit on my right, never letting go of my hand. i shift towards him still on my knees, leaning towards his jaw to get a better look. “you can’t call me that when you’re in trouble” i say frowning. taking my hand back and placing them on my lap, looking down trying to figure out what to say.  yeah, i get upset when matty gets hurt when he fights someone for talking shit during a quidditch match. or when draco and potter get into it for whatever merlinforsaken reason. but when it’s theo, it's completely different. my heart feels like it physically stops and my lungs stop working. my chest tightens and my eyes blur.

“what's wrong pico-”

 “you know what’s wrong, i hate when you do this.” i whine. “it's too frequent now, you got detention for fighting with pucey the other day, you’re making them every week practically. your eye JUST healed and now you have to wait on your jaw to get better. i just don’t ge-” im swiftly cut off my being pulled into his side. maneuvering my legs to be splayed out over his instead of towards him. his left hand is now rubbing my back, while his other is holding my head, i close my eyes and sigh while i feel his lips against the top of my head “im sorry, baby”  i lean in closer, finding shelter in the crook of his neck. “then tell me why, you never tell me what happens, just that you beat the shit out of these people and that you’re sorry. don’t i deserve more than that if you're gonna continue making this a habit and making me sad every time i see another mark on you?” 

it's his turn to sigh now, “stop looking too much into it.”

 with that, i get up from the very comfy and warm seat that is his lap, and walk away. weaving in and out of people who are very drunk and probably very high. i’m getting bumped into by people and the dress i am wearing, that is already very short, is getting slowly higher and higher due to the amount of dancing drunk idiots run into me, riding it up. i can hear theo telling people to fuck off or get the fuck out of the waymeaning he is catching up. however, i am able to weave in and out faster than him. reaching the stairs, i get ready to ascend the ones to the right which leads to the girls dormitories, but i am grabbed by the waist before i can even make the first step. i gasp and tense , but a quick look down confirmed it is theo by the watch he is wearing that i got him for christmas two years ago. dang it, he caught up.

i relax, letting him now lead me up the stairs on the left, probably to his dorm room. he is still behind me, and his arm is still around my waist. each step we take, the closer i feel his body on mine, and the more im hyperaware of it. “let me go” even though i really don’t want him to. “okay” he let me go, but once we made it to his room. he opened the door and guided me through. no one was in there, draco must’ve been with pansy. lorenzo and mattheo were probably drinking, and blaise was probably hooking up with some girl who he will fall in love with for the next week and then forgets exists the next. i’d bet accuracy on that one. 

as he shuts the door behind us, he lets go of my waist. suddenly,  it;s cold, and my mouth temporarily frowns before he turns me around to face him with his arms on my shoulder. he ducks down to look into my eyes, “i am sorry piccolo. i’m not sorry for doing it, but im sorry that i upset you when i do and i still do it knowin that. i just react.” his face is genuine and his words are slow, something that happens when he is telling the truth. “please tell me why, maybe i can help.” he closes his eyes for a second and then takes a deep breath. opening his eyes, he moves his hands to my face, cradling me like i'm the most precious thing in the world. “they deserved it. adrian was telling a couple of his blokes in the courtyard that he wanted to fuck you. he was saying all the vulagar things he would do to you and i heard it and i snapped,” he starts, breathing heavily “i didn’t even think, i just went at him. his lads got scared and left, but i knew who they were and whenever i saw them i just beat the fuck out of them for laughing at what he said. that’s what happened tonight. they all deserved it for fucking with you so im not gonna say sorry for giving them what they deserved.” 

“you got hurt though”

 “i’d get beat to the brink of death to defend you and make sure you're safe. i couldnt give a fuck less if i get hurt”

 “but i do theo, i give a fuck!” i yell, my voice cracking while my tears start to well. his eyes widen, bringing me into a hug. his arms squeeze around me and i am home.  

“smettila di piangere amore mio” (stop crying my love).”he whispers.

”i dont even know what that means” i muffle against his chest. his hands soothing me, leaving a trail of heat on their wake. 

he chuckles, “why are you crying?” 

i dig deeper into his chest, “i don’t want you to hurt. i don't want you bruised. i just want you to be okay. i get stressed whenever i think about you in any state of harm and it hurts my heart. i don't care what they were saying about me. they don't matter. you do” 

i feel his lips on my forehead. “i care what they say about you. they cant just speak ill of what's mine. especially you, piccolo”. theo moves his arms to wrap around my waist once again. finding solace against him, i wrap mine around his shoulders. with instinct, theo starts to lift me and my legs find shelter around his hips. the bottom of the short black dress i wore to the party is surprisingly not exposing me, but i feel one of his hands position right under my thighs to stabilize myself against him as he moves us to his bed. he sits down against the headboard, now making it so i am sitting/laying atop him, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “look at me” he whispers. i shake my head. “tesoro, look at me.” i sigh, tilting my head to comply. my eyes reach his, except they don't meet mine. i am looking at his eyes, while he is looking down, at my lips. i breathe shakily, and he copies.

 “fuck it” and with that, he kisses me, and i am in heaven. he grabs my face, and i feel every emotion theo is feeling right now. All for me. 

the kiss is sweet, not rough, like everything theodore nott embodies. theodore nott loves me, and i love him. and not like how best friends love each other. like real lovers do.

theo pulls away panting, and i open my eyes to meet his. “i love you piccolo. i love you and i won't let anyone speak of you like that. ever.” my heart swells at his confession.

“ i love you too theo.” i pause, then smirk. “if you really loved me, you wouldn’t get into more fights.” 

ha, now he's backed in a corner. 

my celebration is quickly turned into surprise as theo flips us, and my back collides with the soft mattress of his bed. he is leaning over me now,smirking, and my brain stops working. “shut up and let me kiss you as my apologies, i can get yelled at later. i want you now.” and so he does, and so i forget why he was in trouble. i just focus on his sweet lips on my lips, and i am euphoric.

[the-rad-pineapple]

teeth

prompt from bitchassboi on r/HannibalFanfiction: "will is a dentist and hannibal goes in for his regular cleaning. hannibal, being annoying, leaves some human flesh or hair in between his teeth and ofc will notices"

ao3

words: 1k

One of his patients is a psychologist. Of course. Will can't escape psychoanalysis even at work. His patient—Dr. Hannibal Lecter—also used to be a surgeon. His past medical background allows him to get along with Will's staff quite well. It doesn't help that he's handsome. Like, handsome handsome. Rich and European with a beautiful lilting accent. His face looks like it's sculpted from marble. Regal and unmoving. He's charming and well-educated and loves the arts. He's fucking perfect. It bothers Will for some reason, so he rarely says more to Hannibal outside of a customary greeting and questions about his teeth.

Hannibal has sharp teeth. Predator's teeth. Dangerous teeth. It always sends some sort of sick thrill up Will's spine to put his fingers in Hannibal's mouth as if the predator belonging to those teeth will suddenly emerge from behind the gelled hair and pretty suits and snap at Will's fingers. But that never happens. It shouldn't be disappointing.

Will supposes Hannibal's teeth may be the only imperfect part of him. But Will doesn't think they're imperfect. Not really. Hannibal's teeth aren't completely straight, and Will had to fill in a chip last month. Will had asked what happened, but Hannibal simply blinked innocently and said he didn't know since he cooks most of his own food. Because of course he's an amazing cook, too. Bastard.

But there is something…else about Hannibal. Will catches glimpses of it in the flash of Hannibal's eyes when one of his assistants was a bit rude and in the perfectly neutral mask he wears most of the time. He's hiding something. He is something. Something he wears a person-suit to cover. And Will wants to see.

One of the dental hazards many people don't realize is when something becomes embedded in the gums or teeth so snugly that it becomes stuck. It's then prone to terrible infection if not treated promptly. Hannibal knows this—probably due to his medical background—and scheduled an appointment for this problem almost two weeks ago. Today is the day of his appointment, and he and Will have undergone their usual—yet slightly awkward—greeting when he arrived.

Hannibal is laying down on one of the reclined dentist chairs now as Will gently prods at his gums where the debris has been caught. It's between a couple of his back right molars. Will can't quite tell what it is despite the giant lamp hanging above them illuminating his work. With a pair of dental tweezers, Will delicately removes the debris. It's…stringy. It's…hair? Will pulls it out of Hannibal's mouth and into the light. It's a chunk of flesh attached to several long strands of hair. Human hair. This is human flesh. Hannibal bit someone so hard he ripped part of their scalp off. Holy shit.

How the hell did he even do this?

Will glances down to see Hannibal already watching him. Wordlessly, Will places the piece of flesh on the small pan beside them.

"Open," he commands.

Hannibal does.

Will closely and carefully inspects Hannibal's mouth, but the rest of Hannibal's teeth are clean and free of any more…debris.

Will follows it up with a standard cleaning he does himself. It's something the techs usually do, but Will's silently decided he'll be monitoring Hannibal closely today. And maybe probably forever. But no more flesh is upturned during the cleaning. And Will is…disappointed.

Will sets his tools down on the pan. The piece of flesh is still there. Will looks at it. It's a decent sized chunk. Hannibal must've bitten the person and then ripped through the flesh, tearing it off violently with untamed strength. Will bets there was blood. Oh, God. It was probably on Hannibal. It probably covered his lips and dribbled down his chin. His sharp teeth probably shone red with it. Jesus. That mental image…

This is a problem. Or it should be a problem, but Will finds himself more morbidly curious than disgusted or afraid. He should definitely be more afraid. Will tugs his gloves off and pulls his surgical mask down to his chin. He needs to say something to placate this. To show Hannibal he needn't harm Will. But…how exactly do you tell one of your patients you're okay with finding human flesh stuck in their teeth. When Will glances up, he realizes Hannibal has been staring. Shit. Fuck. He needs to say something. Now.

"Um."

"Will this be a problem?" Hannibal asks politely. Always politely.

Will shakes his head, suddenly mute.

"Are you afraid?" Hannibal asks.

Will should be. It would be normal to be afraid. Would it be worse if Will is honest and told Hannibal he isn't?

Will tears his eyes away from Hannibal's penetrating stare. He clears his throat. "Uh, yeah," he lies.

Will's eyes land back onto the piece of flesh. Where did the rest of the person go? Did Hannibal tear them apart completely? Or did he— The back molars is an odd spot for the flesh to be stuck in after being viciously torn through. It should've been stuck in the front teeth. Unless Hannibal had…

Will wonders what it tasted like. He licks his lips.

The dental chair creaks as Hannibal moves. Will looks over, and Hannibal is sitting up while still staring at him.

"You aren't afraid," Hannibal says.

Will swallows. "I think I should be," he admits quietly.

"What do you feel then?"

Curiosity.

Intrigue.

Excitement.

Instead of voicing any of that, Will scoffs and shakes his head instead as an ill-timed grin tugs his lips upward. "Are you psychoanalyzing me?"

Hannibal's eyes gleam in amusement. "Yes."

"Is that even real?" Will asks while nodding in the direction of the flesh. "Or are you fucking with me?"

"Can it not be both?"

Laughter bursts out of Will at Hannibal's unexpected honesty. He's still smiling when he replies, "I suppose it can."

"You didn't answer my question."

Will raises his eyebrows. "You mean you asking me how I feel after finding…that in your teeth?"

"Yes."

With a sudden and strange confidence that doesn't belong to him, Will answers, "Ask me to dinner first, and then I'll tell you."

Hannibal grins, revealing his sharp, glinting, perfect teeth. "May I have you over for dinner tonight?"

Will mirrors his grin. "Yes."

[flameswallower]

something that has been extremely beneficial to me is developing the ability to go

wow, that sounds like an important world-historical question. it's a good thing i, a random gay writer who doesn't make a lot of money and has no significant social/political/economic power, don't actually need to come up with a comprehensive answer or engage in oracular prognostication about what the future might bring. i can probably just stick to things like "it seems like, whether it's a flash in the pan or here to stay, messing with LLM technology while it's gumming up the internet with useless and boring garbage & threatening to put a lot of precarious creative workers out of jobs is not a fantastic use of my personal time" and "i think genocide is wrong and we should do everything possible to stop it from happening, even if i don't necessarily know how peace, liberation, and equity in a certain part of the world can/should/will be achieved"

&

2. wow, it sounds like you have a moral perspective and set of preferences you're very comfortable with on this comparatively trivial question (eg content warning best practices, voting as an anarchist, should you be friends with that person who has a Dubious Past but pinky-promises they've Really Changed). i have a different moral perspective and set of preferences that i'm equally comfortable with. we're probably both fine here tbh, as long as neither of us is being a dick about it. this is not a question that necessarily has a single correct answer, and even if it did, it wouldn't be a very big deal for one of us to be wrong

[inkinmyheartandonthepage]

Corny Rom Com

Day 6 of Flufftober and the prompt is Corn Maze! Read it here on AO3

As Buck bounded up the steps to the loft of the fire station, freshly dressed in his uniform and ready to start his shift, he caught the end of Hen’s sentence.

“- all been there.” Hen’s voice was full of sympathy as she leaned across the table to pat Eddie’s hair where he was face planted on the table.

Eddie slowly lifted his head up off the table. “You’ll help me?”

Hen snorted. “Not even if you paid me.”

“You won’t help with what?” Buck asked with a frown as he bounded over to his friends. He paused by Eddie’s slumped body, taking in the defeat that was radiating off the older man.  He bit his lip, hand hovering over Eddie’s back. “Ed’s?”

“It’s not use, Buck,” Chimney said, popping his gum with a sharp snap. “The PTA mums got to him. Rest in peace, Diaz. It was an honour serving with you.”

Hen snorted loudly, dissolving into a cackle. Even Bobby chuckled from where he was sitting at the head of the table doing paperwork.

Eddie glared at Hen and Chimney before dropping his head to the table with a loud thunk.

Buck winced at the sound, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s back. “Ed’s.” He couldn’t help it. He lips twitched, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “You let the PTA mums get you?”

Eddie sat up, fixing his glare on Buck. “You weren’t there Buck.” He jabbed a finger at Buck’s stomach, making Buck squirm at the touch. “They cornered me at pick up!”

Buck’s laughter bubbled out of him, loud and bright. Everyone else fell into laughter alongside him, filling the loft with a joyous sound as Eddie pouted at them all. Ever since Chris had started at Durand, Eddie had been in battle with the PTA mums. Eddie had found himself cornered multiple times, forced to help with bake sales and other events they put on. Eddie had gotten good at avoiding them, dragging Buck into his weird war on the PTA mums, especially with Jenna Bourke. She was the mum to Caitlyn Bourke, a friend of Chris’s and seemed to take pleasure in outdoing everyone in the bake sales but especially Eddie.

(Okay so Buck willingly had allowed himself to be dragged into it. Anything to spend more time with the Diaz boys.)  

Buck sat down as his laughter subsided. He nudged Eddie with his shoulder, relishing in the press of heat against his side. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Eddie gave him a dead-panned stare.

Buck fought the smile off his face. “What did they rope you into exactly?”

Eddie sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face and up into his hair. His fingers tugged on the fluffy strands and Buck bit the inside of his cheek as heat flashed through his skin at the sight. How Buck wished they were his fingers running through Eddie’s hair, dragging him close, sucking and nipping at his neck, hearing him groan –

“Corn maze.”

Buck snapped out of his thoughts, fighting against the heat that threatened to turn his cheeks pink. “What?”

Eddie heaved a deep sigh. “A corn maze. The school is putting on a Halloween fundraiser to raise money for a new equipment and they want me to build a corn maze.”

Buck pressed his lips together, trying to drown out the sound of Hen and Chimney laughing.

“Laugh all you want,” Eddie huffed. “You’re helping me.”

Buck let out a squawk of indignation. “What? Since when?”

“Since you abandoned me to pick Chris up alone while you went and got groceries,” Eddie said, curling his fingers in quotation marks when he said the word groceries. Buck was semi impressed with the level of sarcasm he managed to insert in that one word.

“I was buying ingredients for dinner!” Buck protested. “Dinner that I made for you and Chris, by the way.”

Eddie shrugged. “You left me alone with the PTA mums, Buck. You’re supposed to have my back.” He gave Buck a smile, flashing all his teeth. “Now you get to help me.”

“But Eddie,” Buck whined, laying it on thick. There was no way Buck wasn’t not going to help Eddie. He’s pretty sure he would have helped anyway even if Eddie hadn’t dragged him into it. Anything to help with Chris. “I don’t know anything about making a corn maze.”

“You think I do?” Eddie demanded with a scoff.

“Fine,” Buck said, pulling out his phone and opening the search engine. “Do we have to buy the supplies ourselves?”

“The school will supply them,” Eddie said, shuffling closer to Buck until they were pressed together from their shoulders all the way down to their calves.

This close, Eddie was a line of heat against Buck, causing his heart to gallop in his chest. Buck could smell the aftershave that Eddie wore, something woody and spicey that made Buck feel a little light-headed. Not because of the scent but that fact that it was Eddie and Buck’s crush on him was all he could think about lately.

“Oh,” Eddie said faintly.

Buck stared at the screen, taking in the images that had loaded. He looked at Eddie and blinked.

“I’m sure they’re not expecting that.”

Buck caught the uncertainty in Eddie’s tone, and he tried not to find the worried look on his face cute.

“They won’t be expecting that, right?” Eddie asked, sending a helpless look to Buck.

“You’re the one who put Chris in a private school,” Buck pointed out with a teasing grin. “Shouldn’t have been such a good dad.”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed pink, and a bashful smile lit up his face. He pressed his shoulder against harder against Buck’s. “Shut up. How are we going to do this?”

Buck hummed thoughtfully. “Grab some paper, we’ll sketch out a design, so we aren’t going into this blind. Last thing we need is Jenna Bourke beating us with whatever booth she sets up.”

“There is some paper in my office,” Bobby said to Eddie, giving him a little smile.

“Got it,” Eddie said. With one last press to his shoulder, Eddie slipped out of his chair to grab the paper.

“You know the PTA mums by name?” Hen asked, arching a brow at Buck.

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice,” Buck shrugged. He glanced between Hen, Chimney, and Bobby, all of whom were looking at Buck with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Jenna Bourke though seems to have a weird sort of pleasure competing against Eddie though.” He scrunched his nose up at the thought.

“Oh my god,” Chimney said. “It’s like some corny rom com in the making.”

“Really?” Hen gave Chimney a look. “You went with that pun?”

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” Chimney grinned.

“Wait, rom com? Huh?” Buck looked between them; brow furrowed with confusion.

“Ignore them,” Bobby said as both Hen and Chimney groaned. “That’s a nice thing you do for Eddie and Chris.”

Buck beamed with pride, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.

Eddie came back, sliding the paper to Buck and passing him a pen. “Here you go.”

“I don’t know how to design a maze,” Buck said, pushing the paper towards Eddie.

“Either do I,” Eddie said.

Both paused before looking towards Bobby.

Their captain sighed and pushed his paperwork aside. “Give it here.”

~*~

Eddie didn’t know whether to praise Jenna Bourke or curse her. He had been distracted when he had come to pick up Chris from school, the thought of Buck going to pick up groceries to make them dinner had his imagination running double time. All he could think about was how domestic it was. How he could come home to find Buck already cooking, how he could greet Buck with a kiss as Chris went to get started on his homework.

So caught up in his domestic daydream he hadn’t clocked Jenna until it was too late and the next thing he knew he’s agreeing to build a corn maze before he herded Chris into the car so they could make their escape.

Now he was at Chris’s school, both blessed and tormented by the sight of Evan Buckley in a tight, white tank top, tight jeans, and muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat that glowed under the sun as he helped Eddie put together the maze.

Eddie wasn’t the only one who was staring. Most of the PTA mums who were setting up their booths for the Halloween festival had stopped working in favour of watching Buck work. And Eddie couldn’t blame them; Buck was hot. But that didn’t mean he had to like them staring at Buck like he was a piece of meat. Buck was so much more than his muscles. He was kind, caring, generous, the best person that Eddie knew. These mums didn’t know Buck, not like he did.

All they saw was biceps bulging as Buck stacked another hay bale on top of another before securing it tightly with string.

“Almost done,” Buck grinned, lifting them hem of his tank top to wipe the sweat from his forehead. In doing so he gave Eddie a perfect view of his abs, his mouth suddenly going dry at the sight.

“Not soon enough,” Eddie grumbled under his breath.

Buck laughed, knocking Eddie’s arm with his own. “Come on, it hasn’t been that bad. Bobby’s design really helped.”

It had helped. The corn maze wasn’t really made from corn but hay bales instead. The school had provided them, along with a few bundles of corn stalks for them to decorate at the front of the maze, which they just had the last of the bales to place. They had also provided decorations for them to hide around the maze which they had both planned on putting out when they were finished.

“Thank god for Bobby,” Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “Pretty sure we’d be here all day if it wasn’t for him.”

Buck shrugged his shoulder easily. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

Eddie heart pounded in his chest. “Yeah?”

Buck flashed him that smile, the one that made Eddie’s knees a little weak and just want to grab him by the front of that stupid tank top and pull him into a kiss. He cleared his throat, bending down to grab one of the water bottles and tossed it at Buck before he could do anything stupid.

“Drink up,” Eddie said.

Buck did as he was told and Eddie bit back a groan as he guzzled down the water. It looked almost sinful the way some of the water dribbled down his chin, sinking into his already sweat soaked tank top, the way his Adams-apple bobbed with each swallow. Eddie had to look away, eyes scanning the booths.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he clocked Jenny sashing her way over to them, her eyes fixed on Buck. She was overdressed for the day, her blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. Eddie watched as she smoothed down the tight skirt she wore, and he could have sworn she had put on lipstick that hadn’t been there when they had first arrived.

“Well, you boys have certainly been busy,” Jenna said when she reached them. She flashed a smile at Buck. “Very hard at work.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched tightly. “Jenna.”

Jenna turned her attention to Eddie, her eyes drifting up and down his body. Her smile grew. “Eddie.

“It’s going to be great,” Buck said, twisting the cap back on his water bottle. He shuffled over to Eddie, pressing himself into his side. “The kids are going to love it.”

“We’re just lucky that Eddie here agreed to volunteer,” Jenna said smoothly. “And even luckier he brought you a long to.” Her smile was flirtatious, her body posture open and inviting and it made Eddie’s stomach clench tightly.

Eddie felt Buck shift from foot to foot. “Well, anything for Eddie. And Chris.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Eddie said, cutting Jenna off as she opened her mouth to say something else flirty and suggestive. “Got to finish this so we can go pick up our kid.” He grabbed Buck arm and all but dragged him into the maze and out sight of all the mothers.

“Eddie?” Buck asked as he stumbled after him.

Eddie ignored him, twisting them into the maze before he got them caught at one of the dead ends.

“Eddie?” Buck tried again.

“Sorry,” Eddie grunted, dropping Buck’s arm, and putting some space between, crossing his arms over his chest, gaze trained on his feet.

“Our kid?” Buck asked softly.

Eddie looked up. Buck’s expression made Eddie’s heart twist in his chest. It looked vulnerable, hesitant but there was hope shining in his eyes as he held Eddie’s gaze.

Letting his arms drop, Eddie huffed a laugh. “Yeah, Buck. Our kid. You’re his dad as much as I am. I mean, you do all the baking for the bake sales, pick him up and drop him off. Help him with his homework. So yeah, our kid.”

Buck took a hesitant step forward. Then another. “And you dragged me into a dead end because…”

Eddie felt himself flush and he adverted his gaze.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with Jenna, would it?” Buck asked, amusement in his voice.

“She was practically drooling all over you,” Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks heat up at the admission but there was a relief pouring flooding through him. His breath caught in chest as Buck stepped into his space, hands coming out to grip his waist.

“Were you jealous?” Buck asked, his voice low and teasing. Carefully, he started moving Eddie backwards who had no choice but to allow himself to step backwards with each step forward Buck took.

“You’re not a piece of meat, Buck,” Eddie huffed. “You’re so much more to you than just your physique, not that any of those mum’s would know that.”

“No,” Buck agreed. “Not like the way you know me. The way you see all of me.”

Eddie’s back hit the stack of hay bales and his stomach clenched as Buck plastered his front to Eddie’s, leaving no space between them. “Buck.”

“I love you,” Buck grinned at him as he slid his palms over Eddie’s ribs back and forth. “And Chris. And I want to be your partner and do all the bake sales and other school events you don’t want to. I want to come home with you every night and –“

Eddie cut Buck off with a kiss, groaning as slid his arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. Buck didn’t fight him, simply melted into his touch, kissing him with as much fever as Eddie was. It was only when Buck started making deep moans, hips grinding up in little circles did Eddie break the kiss.

They panted against one another, Eddie gently playing the with hair at the nape of Buck’s neck as he kept him close.

“As hot as this is,” Eddie panted. “We do need to finish this maze and pick up Chris.”

Buck kissed him one last time, hot and deep, before he pulled himself out of Eddie’s grip, putting some distance between them.

Eddie took in Buck’s swollen lips, the deep flush that ran down his neck and the way he not-so subtly adjusted himself in his pants. Eddie groaned loudly. “I love you.”

Buck beamed, bright and joyful.

“Let’s finish this so we can go home,” Eddie said, and he pushed himself off the hay bales. He let his gaze drag over Buck. “You can never wear that top around the PTA mums again.”

Buck’s laughter followed him as Eddie started making his way out of the maze. Buck caught up to him quickly, taking his hand and linking their fingers together.

“I’ll wear it just for you,” Buck promised.

Eddie grinned and squeezed Buck’s hand. Chimney was right; it was the start of a corny rom com and Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

[didyoutrydynamite]

Rookie: *Holding onto both pairs of Nubbys prosthetic legs, having hoped removing them would have slowed him down* Come on, Nubby! Just get it over with.

Nubby: *Stuffed himself up between the top of a medicine cabinet and the medical care's cieling, using a bed pan as a shield* NO!

Doc: *Holding up a Flu shot* Everyone is due for their shots. We don't need you getting sick on mission.

Nubby: *Practically hisses at the syringe* Dont need it!! I am the perfect picture of health!

Aimy: *Rolls her eyes as she reloads the tranquilizer gun* Oh please, if you were one of the Seven Dwarves, they would have named you "Leprosy". Stop being a pussy and take the damn shot already.

Nubby: FUCK YOU.

Aimy: NO FUCK YOU.

Rookie: What if we traded you something?

Nubby: I want all the ketamine in this office!

Doc: You're not selling my drugs again.

Rookie: *Pulls out the contents of his pocket* I've currently got three dollars and five sticks of grape bubble gum.

Nubby: ...It's a start. What else do you have?

Aimy: I'll flash my tits if we can stop wasting our time with this.

Nubby: If I wanted a chest like yours I'd go to the kitchen and fondle the cutting board!!

Aimy: OH THAT'S IT. *Shoves the tranq gun into Doc's hands* I'LL FONDLE YOUR THROAT YOU LITTLE SHIT! *Starts climbing the cabinet*

Nubby: *Shrill shrieking as he flails the bedpan*

[rabid-sheep]

Animal

Chapter 2: Hunger

Summary: Midori through the perception of a faulty man. (Canon-divergent fan-story told from the perspective of Muchisute)

Author: Rabid-Sheep

Fandom: Mr. Arashi’s Amazing Freak Show/ Shoujo Tsubaki

Warnings: Heavy Abuse, Abuse of a Child. This is the world of  Shoujo Tsubaki, if you know that that is and what that entails, you are warned enough.

Meal time was always interesting. 

Hunger had a way of warping a person. Of changing them, killing the conscious mind and allowing the most basic self to emerge. To blend into the skin and bite through the heated restraints. When the skin came loose and dogs bit at the only scraps they could find.

This was the third night that Midori had gone without. 

And all she had the decency to look like was tired and sad. Her face flickering between the heavy curtain as a winter breeze swayed the material back and forth. She was staring at the empty pan, a drying noodle stuck to the edge like a worm drying in the open air. No teeth, no gum, no snarl of wild instinct. Just…disillusioned blankness. 

A month ago, she had been faced with the same situation and she had cheated her way into a meal. He’d held some sick version of disgusted pride at that, that she would lower herself and use cheap tactics that both humiliated her and delivered her what she wanted. A flash, a vision, that she could someday be like them. 

But now? No. That Midori wasn’t here. Instead, what stood in the cold wind outside the view of everyone else was something so very foreign, so very beyond him that he couldn’t do anything but hate it. A phantom, haunting the circus. 

Muchisute lifted the chopsticks to his mouth, the head of his femur grinding in the socket of his hip as he did so. He had not been born flexible, but had adapted to stay alive. You had to adapt and adapt and adapt.

So why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she match her expression with the hungry craze that glossed over Kanabun’s or the manipulative sexual malaise that crawled between the cracks of Benistu’s. Get over the ache, the pain of muscles conforming to a new pose. 

None of them here were human. And she! She was not human either. That had all changed that her first night here when they took turns to degrade, rape, and destroy her. When they proved to her that she was them now and there was nothing that the world could do about it. 

But as blood spread like rivers from her destroyed sex, she stared blankly at the wall. And he, who had been in a war that had taken his arms at her age, could see that they had failed in stripping her true innocence. That bitch. 

Blinking, the image of Midori’s still, stiff body and bloody thighs was replaced with an empty image. No girl, no yellow and red dress in the midst of fat, floating snowflakes. 

“Where’d she go?” Muchisute spoke before he could stop himself. His tone was grating, angry. His curiosity hidden beneath a veneer of hatred that had the pleasant effect of sounding like crushed gravel between his clenched teeth. 

“Who?” Akaza grunted next to him, his teeth clacking as the mismatched edges cut through the oily bits of meat in his bowl. The strongman didn’t even look up and the tone was disinterested. “The girl?” 

“...tch.” Kanabun made a noise before snickering. “Want her cute cotton panties to chew on instead? You’ve hardly touched your dinner.”

There was that familiar hunger in the boy-girl’s eye as well. The hunger reflected in pitless black eyes and expressed in a mouth of chipped teeth. Kanabun wasn’t far off, a different hunger had coiled beneath the surface and Muchisute had made it no mystery that he liked the curveless body of Midori. The taste of salty tears on savory cheeks.

“Come near me and I'll kick your jaw in.” He growled it, matching Kanabun’s look with one of volatility as he lifted his chopsticks back up and to his own bared teeth.

[flammenkobold]

First two books I read in 2025

Both books are from the same publisher both queer but I bought them independently from each other. Love, pan fried I bought a couple years ago in Gay's the Word in London and The Child of Hameln I bought last year at World Con.

Love, pan-fried

It's a flash fiction collection from Gray Crosbie and it's a lovely little book with very expressive and evoquative and visceral little stories. Some stuck with me like a peculiar aftertaste, some stuck to me like gum, all of them where a good short stories that caused some kind of reaction in my brain.

The Child of Hameln

This one is a lovely short book that reimagines some aspects of the Piper of Hameln in interesting and horror-y ways. Even though it is short it does pack a lot of emotions. It's one of those books where I wished there was more of it and some concepts worked out a bit longer, but it was a very enjoyable read and scratched the itch in my brain that always looks for a good merge of horror, fairy-tales, queer triumph, lots of yearning and interesting ideas.

[audiophiliacfan]

[Verse 1] You're the bee to my honeycomb The bubble of my gum You're a Saturday morning The coco on my puffs You're the anticipation Before the fireworks go off You're the quick contemplation Between the flash and the pop

[Verse 2] You're the Mike to my Pippen You're the cola to my coke You're a last second red shell On the old rainbow road You're the last song on the radio We were singing so loud Bouncing all around my head And spilling out my mouth

[Chorus] It goes La da-da, da-da, da-da

[Verse 3] You're the apple of my еye The pumpkin to my pie You'rе like old Mr. Rogers Saying, "It'll be alright" You're a warm pair of socks Put on fresh out of the dryer You're a plump golden marshmallow Kissed by the fire

[Verse 4] You're my silver lining On every storm cloud You're the smell of the springtime When the rain's coming down You're the first little sizzle When the egg hits the pan You're the mint chocolate chip Drip-, drip-, drippin' out my hand

[Chorus] You're like La da-da, da-da, da-da You're the warm summer sun On the toes in my sand You're like La da-da, da-da, da-da You're the butterflies in my stomach Every time that I hold your hand

[prettyboymunson]

random eddie munson headcanons (gn!reader)

warnings? implied smut, descriptions of smoking, references to drinking and injury, hurt/comfort if u squint with a magnifying glass

ok I almost never write stuff like this but I am DOWN BAD for this man.

he’s a deep sleeper but he also thrashes around a lot

every time you sleep over you leave with at least one bruise in your shin because he accidentally kicked you in his sleep

he feels so guilty he lets you pick any of his shirts to borrow

eddie keeps a little a little jar of weed on him at all times

when he decides he’s too sober for something, he goes outside and rolls himself the worst joint you’ve ever seen out of some crumpled papers he found in his pocket and a gum wrapper or something

he doesn’t usually cough when he smokes, except for when he smokes his own joints

when he’s really in a pinch he’ll go for the classic stoner coke can pipe

he is fighting for his life

almost immediately after lighting up he’s rasping and begging you for a sip of your water because he inhaled half the weed

the sound of your laugh is almost worth it

your reaction to his voice in the morning is definitely worth it

his voice is so sexy when he wakes up, all rough and gravelly

its sexy until you realize he has wicked morning breath

after you’ve made him brush his teeth probably for the fist time in a couple of days, lets be real he comes waltzing back into his room and bellyflops into bed

sometimes you’re already up and getting dressed. he likes to watch you get dressed on these mornings

he flashes those doe eyes and lovingly asks you to pick out his outfit

on his favorite mornings, you’re still in bed when he bellyflops onto you, coming at you with his “infamous munson tickle attacks”

yes that’s what he calls it

as you squeal and writhe under him with eddie’s hands on your bare sides underneath his favorite t shirt

he looks at you with that damn look in his eye as you both catch your breath

as soon as he catches a glimpse of  your chest rising and falling, and feels your breath on his collar bones, he can’t help himself

exploring every square inch of you as if he hasn’t already committed all of you to memory

he is most definitely not a morning person, but he insists on letting you stay in bed while he makes you breakfast because you’re “his guest”

he goes into the kitchen and quickly realizes he has no clean pans

he walks sheepishly back to his room and hands you a bowl of cereal

“I promise I know how to cook, just not at this ungodly hour”

its 10 am

and he in fact does not know how to cook

he would do anything to avoid doing dishes its actual torture for him

you have to be quiet getting ready so as not to wake his uncle

this works until eddie falls over putting on his shoes

he refuses to squat to tie his laces so he hops around on one leg like an idiot instead

driving with eddie is either terrifying or exhilarating, depending on who you are

its kind of like riding a rollercoaster

there’s absolutely no way you should be alive right now, but you “haven’t died yet right?”

this is also his excuse for driving like a madman

but you trust him with your life, even if he has almost flipped his van every time he drives

lets talk about the van

he loves his van. aside from his guitar, its his baby. practically an extension of himself

despite this he treats his van like shit

there are a million scratches and dents, his shocks are ruined from hitting potholes and driving over curbs

there are crushed beer cans everywhere

he keeps an old skateboard from middle school in the back 

he used to skate everywhere before he got his van so yeah he has really nice thighs for sure

the two of you will often just sit in a random parking lot for hours just hanging out (small town activities lol)

when you do he likes to show off all the tricks he remembers. it isn’t many and he’s bad at all of them

he loves that you keep a first aid kit in his car for him

he’s probably got a disgusting mattress he found in a ditch back there too

definitely doesn’t know how those stains got there

he has to put like 3 layers of sheets on it before you even consider laying on it

keeps it back there for drive-in movies or stargazing or making out

[theharrowing]

Lips Like Honey

Chef Min is easily the prettiest man Namjoon has ever seen, and now Namjoon is questioning everything—including his sexuality.

🍯  Namjoon x Yoongi 

🍯  word count: 13.9k

🍯  strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, light angst, slash, nsfw, 18+

🍯  warnings: top namjoon, bottom yoongi, light angst (namjoon has an identity crisis), fluff (flirting, mutual pining, self discovery, falling in love), smut (phone sex, blow job, frotting, ass to mouth, anal fingering & anal sex. first time with same-sex partner.)

🍯  note: namjoon is older than yoongi. also, uhhh.....holy shit, did i.....did i write fluff???? like tooth-rotting fluff?????????? what is happeing?!?!?!?! ahhhh i love this one! enjoy!!!!

🍯  written for the BTS One Line Wonders Fest!

🍯  beta read by @neoneunnajimin​ 🍯  posted june 2022 | read on ao3

"Alright, everyone, we'll be going on air in 3...2..." the producer holds up a single finger, mouths the word "one," then points to Namjoon, who flashes a practiced winning smile into the camera.

"Welcome back!" Namjoon beams, doing his best to ignore the excited audience behind the cameraman to speak directly into the camera. "Today, we have a very special guest who will be showing us how to create his spin on several popular street food dishes from the ease and comfort of your home. Please give a warm welcome to the hottest new chef on the block, Chef Min."

As soon as the camera pans over to the guest chef, Namjoon's heart begins to pound heavily in his chest. All morning he has been struggling to so much as make eye contact with the guy, and now, in front of hot stage lights and a live audience, he has to actually speak to him.

Chef Min smiles shyly into the camera, showing off his gums as a faint blush paints his cheeks. He looks incredibly soft despite his sharp features, with bleached blond hair falling just below his dark eyebrows and silver earrings dangling from his ears, accentuating the pale and rosy shades of his skin and the deep browns of his eyes.

Under Chef Min’s dark denim apron is a fuzzy white sweater and skinny black jeans, and Namjoon cannot pinpoint why, but the combination makes his heart go do-geun, do-geun. Even glancing over at him for a moment feels like an impossible feat.

And god forbid Namjoon looks at his hands. Chef Min's hands are large and veiny with sakura-hued accents around his knobby knuckles, and although they appear soft and warm, with perfectly manicured nails, when the chef turns them over, they are marked with rough calluses.

Many things swim through Namjoon's mind at the sight of such deft, hard working hands, and luckily they swim at breakneck speeds, never allowing Namjoon to dwell on any one thought at a time because it would surely be the death of him, he thinks. And in front of a live audience, no less.

Although Namjoon knows he looks nice today with his sandy brown hair coiffed off his forehead, wearing his trusty soft brown cardigan over a white tee with golden brown slacks, he still feels inadequate near someone so strikingly pretty. Chef Min is the kind of pretty that could easily get away with being mean, but he seems quite the opposite; daresay, he is very polite and warm as he walks through his recipes with ease, talking straight into the camera and addressing the audience as if he has done this a hundred times before, carrying a confidence that makes Namjoon sweat.

And Namjoon is no stranger to pretty people; he interviews celebrities and high-status folks all the time and rubs shoulders with some of the most well-paid news anchors and morning talk show hosts in the country. For many, it is their job to be pretty. But there is something about Chef Min that Namjoon just cannot shake—that he finds himself almost fixated on.

Namjoon manages to ask every teleprompted question and even makes light conversation throughout the segment, but he still struggles to look the young chef in the eye, and once the interview is over and the cameras are off, Namjoon feels exhausted.

During the last segment of the show, Namjoon's voice continues to shake at times, despite Chef Min no longer being in the vicinity to distract him. Still, Namjoon hopes to get backstage in time for a chance to see the chef one last time, despite worrying he might not be able to talk to the man without making a fool of himself.

Because, the thing is: Namjoon has never been attracted to a man before—not like this, anyway. He has never had a problem admitting that men are attractive, but he has never met a man that has made his heart race before. Chef Min makes Namjoon's heart race so fast, he is worried he might actually pass out. Or throw up. Or both.

Once backstage, Namjoon plays it cool, peeking into the various greenrooms to greet his coworkers and the other guests they had on the morning show as if it is standard practice and will therefore totally not be weird to peek into the last room. The room Chef Min occupies is at the far end of the hall, and from inside, he should be able to see—or at least hear—Namjoon make his way closer, so Namjoon thinks he definitely has an in, at least to say hello.

When Namjoon approaches the last room slowly, he knocks on the open door before peeking his head around the corner to the left. Chef Min is sitting at a vanity table, gently wiping the makeup off of his eyes with a cleansing pad. When he notices Namjoon, he smiles widely.

"Namjoon-ssi! Come on in."

Namjoon hesitates; he wasn't expecting such a warm welcome. As he enters the room, Chef Min finishes what he is doing and turns, leaning against the table with his hands on the edge. He has taken his apron off but still wears the fuzzy sweater, and he looks devastatingly pretty.

"Chef Min, I just wanted to—"

"Yoongi."

"W-what?"

"Call me Yoongi. The cameras are off; you don't have to call me Chef. Although I don't mind powerplay, we should probably get to know each other a little better first, yeah?"

Namjoon's head spins, and in an attempt to not stand in front of Yoongi like an absolute idiot, he says, "Yoongi, right. I don't actually think I got your name before, apologies. Y-you can just call me Namjoon, no need for formalities."

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow and drags his bottom lip through his teeth. "Sounds good, Namjoon. And, no need to apologize."

There is something so absolutely disarming about Yoongi's gaze that makes Namjoon question his entire existence. The crew whispered about Yoongi seeming cold and reserved, but he is anything but cold, to Namjoon.

"Uh, anyway, I just wanted to thank you for coming onto the show. It's nice to have fresh young faces, and I think the housewives who tune in will really like you."

"Ah, so you're using my pretty face for ratings?" Yoongi teases, once again playing with his bottom lip between his teeth.

Namjoon attempts to let out a chuckle, but it sounds awkward and forced. "Whatever works, am I right?"

"So, are you really as useless at cooking as you say?" Yoongi asks with a smirk.

Before Namjoon can answer, Yoongi begins to roll up his sleeves. Under the soft, fuzzy sweater, from his wrist up, Yoongi is covered in elaborate, colorful tattoos. Namjoon wants to step closer and inspect the designs—wants to trace his fingers along them.

"Ah—I—yes," Namjoon manages to mutter, pulling his eyes from Yoongi's arms, forcing himself to make eye contact with Yoongi instead. Not that his eyes are any less intimidating and alluring, but staring someone in the eye when you speak to them is more socially acceptable than staring at their appendages, Namjoon figures.

Yoongi grins. "And what does your partner think of that?"

"My partner? Uh, no. I don't—um—I don't have a partner." Namjoon cringes inwardly at his sudden, complete inability to form a simple fucking sentence and tries again. "My ex-wife hated it, though. It was definitely a point of contention between us."

Yoongi's expression is suddenly unreadable, and he turns back toward the makeup mirror, leaning in and checking his face once more. Then, he turns, reaches into his pocket, produces his wallet, and pulls out a card. Much to Namjoon's delight and horror, Yoongi approaches, holding out the card between two long fingers.

"Well, if you'd ever like a private lesson, here's my number," Yoongi offers.

Yoongi smells like a forest on an autumn morning from this distance, and Namjoon takes the card and turns it over in his fingers, doing his best not to inhale the scent too deeply. The background looks like a wooden cutting board, which Namjoon thinks is clever.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm so lousy, even private lessons would probably go to waste. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than try to teach this old dog new tricks."

Yoongi hums in understanding and lets out a soft chuckle. "Alright, well, I also do personal chef calls. So if you're ever craving something in particular but don't feel like ordering takeout or burning your house down, you should shoot me a text."

Namjoon knows he is not going to take Yoongi up on such a generous offer because it already feels like he would be asking way too much of someone he has barely just met, but he smiles and thanks Yoongi, telling him that he will be in touch.

Namjoon does not get in touch with Yoongi. For three weeks, Namjoon pulls Yoongi's card out of his wallet every so often, turns it around in his fingers, and thinks about all the things he would like to say to Yoongi over the phone. Then he puts the card away, promptly abandoning those thoughts.

Sure, some of the things Namjoon thinks to discuss with Yoongi are related to his work as a chef. Such as asking how he got into that line of work, or what kinds of foods Yoongi enjoys making the most, and other inquiries of that nature. But he also wants to know things unrelated to food, like what—if anything—his tattoos stand for, what kind of music Yoongi listens to, what would Yoongi surmise it is about him that makes Namjoon's heart go wild in his chest, and so on. Namjoon is not sure he has any business asking Yoongi any of these things, so he does not bother reaching out at all. He thinks about these things, though; he thinks about them a lot.

"Wait, so you, like, have a crush on a man?" Namjoon's best friend Hoseok blurts out loudly over a chorus of shouting and some new hip hop track. They are at a local dive bar where drinks are nice and cheap, and it is within walking distance of their apartments, which are close to one another.

Namjoon shakes his head, but he does not necessarily deny it. He is not sure. "How do I know if I have a crush on a man?"

Hoseok scoffs, turning his heart-shaped lips into a smile. His shaggy dark brown hair falls over his eyes, and he tilts his head to the side as if to get a better look at Namjoon.

"How do you know when you have a crush on anyone?"

Namjoon shrugs. "I get all nervous and nauseated, and I can't stop thinking about them, I guess."

"Okay, well, does the thought of the hot chef make you want to throw up right now?"

Yes, it does. It absolutely does. Namjoon smiles awkwardly and nods.

"Sounds to me like you're down bad, my guy."

Namjoon scoffs. "But I don't—I'm not into men. Am I?"

Hoseok stares at his friend incredulously and shrugs. "I guess there's a first time for everything, I don't know?"

Namjoon takes a gulp of his beer. He feels stressed out and confused. "Like, I'm not opposed to the idea, or like...grossed out or anything. I'm not homophobic."

Hoseok gestures to himself, being Namjoon's very gay best friend, and says, "Obviously."

"Right."

"But you're unsettled."

"Yeah," Namjoon admits. He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut; he feels like an asshole. Why should he be unsettled about finding someone attractive? What kind of person does that make him?

"Look, it's okay to be uncomfortable with new feelings. Discomfort does not make you a bad person; it just means your brain is struggling to process the information. You just need time."

"I don't even know where to begin unpacking this," Namjoon mutters, picking up his beer and emptying the rest of the bottle into his mouth.

Hoseok leans forward on his elbows, twirling his mostly empty bottle around. "Do you want to kiss him?"

Namjoon's eyes dart up; he feels scandalized. "I met the guy once!"

"So? You've seen his lips. Are they kissable?"

Namjoon stares ahead, eyes unfocused. Yeah, he thinks. "Extremely."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Wait, you said he was offering to give you cooking lessons, and when you turned those down, he offered to be a private chef. Are you sure he wasn't coming onto you?"

Namjoon's brain seems to rid itself of all thought or feeling, and he stares once more at the table between him and Hoseok, absolutely failing to come up with a response, so he just shrugs.

"Did he seem gay?" Hoseok asks.

"I don't know. He was smirking a lot."

"Ah yes, smirking," Hoseok chuckles, intoning sarcastically. "The telltale sign of gayness. I should have known."

Namjoon feels dumbfounded. Silence befalls them until Hoseok chugs back the rest of his beer and announces he is going to get them another round, leaving Namjoon alone. Namjoon mulls it over again—he should, at the very least, try to strike up an innocent conversation with Yoongi. The guy seemed interested enough in being friends with Namjoon to give him his card...he thinks. It didn't feel like just another formality or vapid attempt at networking. So why is it so difficult?

It is after three more beers while on his way back home that Namjoon decides that, once he gets home, he is going to text Yoongi, at least to say hi and apologize for not getting in touch for several weeks; he thinks he owes the guy that much. Hoseok sings Namjoon's praises, telling him that he is kind and thoughtful and handsome and deserving of good things and that he should not be worried about reaching out to a pretty boy just because the thought of him makes Namjoon wanna throw up whole swarms of butterflies. Namjoon supposes he is right.

Once safe in the confines of his somewhat swanky bachelor apartment full of hand-carved driftwood furniture and lots of cute little plants, Namjoon stumbles out of his shoes, nearly toppling himself and his coat rack over, then makes his way into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Namjoon is so distracted by the thought of Yoongi and his dangly silver earrings and colorful tattoos and bleached white hair and huge, veiny hands that he over fills the glass, spilling water all over his hand and into the sink. He mutters profanities to himself as he shuts the sink off, then flicks his hand in the air to dispel the water, which hardly actually works as intended, before making his way to his brown faux leather sofa and sinking down into it.

With a nervous, damp hand, Namjoon pulls out his wallet, fishes out Yoongi's card, and takes out his phone, punching in Yoongi's number before staring at a blank messenger screen. Suddenly he cannot parse words, and nothing of any substance comes to mind, and he begins to spiral.

It is not like he can open with, "Hey Yoongi, it's Namjoon. Sorry for being MIA, but I want to kiss you so bad it makes me wanna vomit a swarm of bugs and anxiety, and I have no idea what the fuck to say to you." That probably would not go over too well. Instead, he settles for something a little more run-of-the-mill.

Namjoon: Hey Yoongi, it's Namjoon. Sorry for not texting sooner; work has been busy. Just wanted to reach out in case you wanted my number. Maybe I can take you up on the private chef offer some time.

It is not too cringe, though Namjoon feels a little trepidation sending it; at least it is already past 1:00 AM, so Namjoon does not expect a response to come in any time soon. So when his phone lights up with a call from Yoongi's number, he panics, and the anxious swarm of nauseating insects takes flight in his tummy once more.

"H-hello?" Namjoon mutters into the phone, embarrassed by how weak and overused his voice sounds from shouting at the bar.

"Namjoon," Yoongi rasps through the line. "Here, I was starting to think you'd never call."

"Yeah, s-sorry about that.”

Yoongi hums and says, "Shit happens."

Silence hangs between them, with Namjoon absolutely clamming up, and Yoongi speaks again. 

"So, what were you up to tonight?"

"Uh, I was out with my best friend at one of the local dives having some beers and catching up."

Yoongi hums again, and Namjoon thinks he really likes the way it sounds. 

"Local dive, huh? You don't strike me as a local dive kind of guy."

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asks, sitting up and readjusting his legs onto the couch as if he feels the need to get comfortable before being perceived.

Yoongi chuckles—another sound Namjoon likes. 

"I mean, you're somewhat famous as far as news anchor talk show host...whatevers go."

"Uh-huh," Namjoon responds, amused.

"I would expect you to go somewhere fancy, like a whiskey den or one of those hip little spots with thirty-dollar craft cocktails."

"Ah, you didn't think the somewhat famous news anchor talk show host whatever guy likes low tier beers? I see."

Namjoon is surprised by how comfortable it is to talk to Yoongi despite not really knowing him at all. He feels himself smiling, waiting for what Yoongi might say next.

"Nah," Yoongi mutters. "Guess I didn't get a very good read on you."

"Yeah?" Namjoon challenges, raising his eyebrows as if anyone might see him. "How did you read me?"

Yoongi exhales, but it is not exasperated, and Namjoon plays with his lip between his teeth as he waits.

"Stuck up DILF who likes thirty-dollar craft cocktails. Though, divorcee isn't too far off from a DILF, so maybe I didn't do too bad."

"Stuck up!" Namjoon parrots, sitting up even more.

Yoongi laughs, wheezes some, and Namjoon wishes he could see the look on his face. He wonders if Yoongi's eyes scrunch up when he laughs.

"Look, you redeemed yourself when you came to the greenroom to say hi. In fact, you seemed afraid of me. It was cute."

"Wow, so first you thought I was stuck up, and then you thought I was scared-slash-cute. What a whirlwind, Yoongi."

"You're telling me!"

The word "cute" ricochets around Namjoon's brain, and he tries not to think about it too hard, but it is difficult not to when Yoongi, of all fucking people, rasps it over the phone like it's nothing.

"Wait," Yoongi says, "so you've been drinking? Are you drunk?"

Namjoon scoffs. He is not not drunk, but he is not drunk. 

"No."

"Ah huh, sure."

"Why, should I be?" Namjoon asks—unsure why he asks that.

"I dunno, drunk people are fun. You can get them to confess to things."

Something in Yoongi's tone deepens, and it makes Namjoon nervous. He shifts around on his couch, pulling his legs tighter under him and leaning into the armrest.

 "Like what?"

"I dunno," Yoongi teases. "What's a guy like you got to confess to?"

Namjoon hums as if he is mulling it over. "Not much, I'm afraid."

"What was your first impression of me?" Yoongi asks, catching Namjoon off guard.

"Intimidating," Namjoon responds without thinking.

"Wow, that's it?"

Namjoon chuckles, but it's more of a nervous laugh. 

"I mean, I don't know. You seemed nice, and talented. Interesting."

Yoongi lets out a breath, like a laugh, but it sounds humorless, and it makes Namjoon nervous—he worries he might have said something wrong. Then, Yoongi clears his throat.

"Well, it's late, so I should probably—"

Namjoon panics, "Wait, Yoongi. We should—I mean—if you'd like to get a drink sometime. Or something."

"Nah, you don't mean that," Yoongi grumbles, and Namjoon cannot help but wonder how the tone of the conversation seemed to shift so abruptly.

"Of course I do. I messaged you, remember?"

Silence hangs between them, and Yoongi says, "Sure, alright. Text me when you're free sometime, and maybe I'll be free too."

"Okay, sounds good," Namjoon mutters before Yoongi says, "Bye," and ends the call.

Another week passes before Namjoon reaches out to Yoongi, in part because he is busy, but mostly he just feels uncertain. Maybe even a little stupid. Try as he might, he cannot figure out what made the last conversation turn sour, and he is worried that he might say something again to bother Yoongi. 

Tonight, he figures he can strike up a conversation; he happens to find himself in a fancy craft cocktail spot with some coworkers and feels the overwhelming urge to talk shit about it to a certain someone. It gives him a nice excuse to reach out.

Namjoon: I'm actually offended that you thought I would be into $30 craft cocktails. They're so fucking sweet; I can already feel the headache coming.

Yoongi: And I'm actually impressed that you use semi-colons in text messages. Namjoon, darling, to what do I owe the pleasure on this fine Friday night?

Namjoon: Sorry again for the radio silence. My life is actually pretty dull outside of work, so I never know what to say to people over the phone if it's on me to strike up a conversation.

Yoongi: Well, no pressure to talk to me if there's nothing that comes to mind.

Namjoon: Ah, but therein lies the problem: I want to talk to you. So what's a guy to do?

Yoongi: Oh?

Namjoon: Tonight, however, I have an excuse. I'm out with some execs drinking the most disgusting concoctions I think I have ever tried and was reminded of your first impression of me. I don't know how the youths these days do it. I can't believe you thought this was something I could be into.

Yoongi: You know you could just order anything you'd like there, right?

Namjoon: Yeah, but it has all the pomp and status regardless. I shouldn't have to shell out $12 for a two-finger pour of some mid-tier whiskey just because this bar is covered in fake greenery and has a pretentious fucking name written in fuchsia neon lights.

Yoongi: Tell me how you really feel.

Namjoon: This is why I go to dives.

Yoongi: Yeah? I'm at one now, come join me? Or do you have to rub shoulders with the execs a while longer? I can be out later, too.

Namjoon: Nah, I can leave soon. Send me the address?

Namjoon thanks the shitty overpriced cocktails for giving him the courage to walk the six blocks to where Yoongi is—which is pretty impressive, considering how close they are in a city so big. When Namjoon arrives at the bar, somewhat loud, aggressive music wafts out from inside, and he immediately feels overdressed, undoing his tie and rolling it into a ball to shove into his pocket before unbuttoning the first few buttons on his black dress shirt.

The inside of the bar is pretty nice, with retro fixtures casting red and yellow light about, and the seats and booths are all dark red leather; it looks pretty clean for a dive. Namjoon looks around before spotting bright white hair at the far end of the bar, and he nervously makes his way over.

Yoongi is sitting in a black leather jacket and black jeans, and when he looks in Namjoon's direction, he has hints of black eyeliner and shadow around his eyes, which makes Namjoon's anxiety bug swarm open a fucking mosh pit in his guts.

"Hey, handsome," Yoongi winks, eyeing him up and down. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

Namjoon feels warmth flood his cheeks as he takes a seat beside Yoongi, and he tries not to stare at him, but Yoongi is so fucking pretty there is literally nowhere else Namjoon wants to look, and it makes his head spin. And, being that Yoongi called Namjoon handsome, he figures he can return the compliment. He tells himself it is acceptable and gives it a shot.

"Just here to meet up with this pretty chef I know," Namjoon responds, praying that he sounded cool.

Yoongi stares at Namjoon, lips parted as if there is something he might say, but then he closes his mouth, tugs it into a lopsided smile, and turns to his drink. Thankfully the bartender comes by to distract them by taking Namjoon's order, and Namjoon glances at the glass in Yoongi's hand containing caramel color liquor before saying, "Whatever he has."

"This is straight bourbon," Yoongi mutters.

"Alright."

"So you think I'm pretty," Yoongi says the moment the bartender turns around, and Namjoon turns his gaze back to him, studying the blank expression on Yoongi's face. Namjoon wishes he knew what Yoongi was thinking about.

"Of course," Namjoon mutters. "I mean...look at you."

"I don't remember pretty being one of the adjectives you gave me, though. Just intimidating, nice, talented, and..."

"Interesting."

"Ah, right."

There is a hint of something sour in Yoongi's tone, and Namjoon wonders if that was what upset him that night. After Yoongi had called Namjoon cute, he couldn't return the compliment in kind. He does his best to make up for it.

"Yeah, I must have left it out, on account of finding you so intimidating and all."

Yoongi watches Namjoon with a squint in his eyes and a glimmer of something indiscernible, then he turns away and stares ahead.

"If you think I'm just here because you're pretty, though, you're wrong," Namjoon continues.

Yoongi scoffs. "Is that right?"

Namjoon hums in agreement. "I'm here tonight because the place I was before was terrible and boring and annoying, and you seem to be the opposite of those things. Actually, by contrast, I worry that I'm the terrible, boring, annoying factor here; I really stand out in a place like this."

"You do look a bit like a dad," Yoongi teases.

Namjoon hums. "I guess it's a good thing you're into DILFs."

Yoongi laughs, and it is a lighthearted laugh that someone makes when they are caught off-guard, and Namjoon enjoys watching Yoongi in a moment like this—noting that Yoongi's eyes do, in fact, scrunch up, and he looks absolutely breathtaking.

"Yeah, true," Yoongi says, pulling his glass to his lips.

Namjoon learns a lot about Yoongi over a couple glasses of bourbon, such as that Yoongi is from Daegu, and he got into cooking rather easily because it is a skill that has always come naturally to him. Yoongi likes most music but favors rap and hip hop, especially from the 90s. Yoongi doesn't really have a favorite dish that he prefers to prepare but enjoys making soups and stews because they are hearty and versatile, and you can easily store the leftovers. Yoongi moved to Seoul to open his own business and became a commercial chef. Namjoon also learns that Yoongi is in his mid-20s, which takes him by surprise; not only is Yoongi quite successful for being so young, but he is several years younger than Namjoon.

"Maybe that's why you intimidate me," Namjoon confesses as they walk along the river in a randomly chosen direction that happens to be toward where Namjoon lives.

"Why?"

"You're quite a bit younger than me. I don't think I look very old, but I feel old, especially now that I have a divorce finalized. I feel very disconnected from people your age half of the time."

"Age isn't everything," Yoongi rebukes. "Experience counts for something. I'm sure there are plenty of things that I have way more experience in than you do."

Namjoon doesn't doubt that. 

"Ah, speaking of, you were talking about stews earlier, and I thought it's been a long time since I've had a really good home cooked meal. Maybe if you wanted to come by some time and show me a favorite recipe of yours or something."

Yoongi stops in his tracks, eyes on the ground. 

"I was just trying to hit on you."

"Oh."

"I mean, I would still come to cook for you, but all of that was just an excuse to give you my number. I couldn't tell if you were into me or not, so I was trying to play it cool, but since you think I'm pretty, maybe you are into me after all."

Namjoon feels a mix of emotions, and he struggles to identify any of them. Hoseok was right; Yoongi was just coming onto him. And with all the lip bites and hard-to-read expressions, it should have been obvious.

"Oh," is all Namjoon can say once again, which clearly is not enough for Yoongi, who turns away and looks out over the river, avoiding eye contact. His shoulders are up around his neck.

"Ah—I mean, I was—I am. It's just—ah." Words, Namjoon. Think whole, actual words, preferably in a complete fucking sentence. "I like you, Yoongi. I liked you then too, which is why I came to say hi to you in the greenroom despite finding you intimidating. And despite being too shy to talk to you."

"You have a strange way of flirting," Yoongi mumbles, staring ahead, still. The wind from the river pushes Yoongi's hair around, dangling his earrings, and there is a chill that turns Yoongi's cheeks pink. He frowns, and he kind of looks like he is ready to jet.

"Well, it would help if I could think in cohesive sentences around you," Namjoon admits.

Yoongi turns his face to Namjoon with wide eyes, and a smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. "You were able to over the phone."

"Hard to be distracted by how disarming you are over the phone. Actually, that's a lie; your voice was much more..." Namjoon is staring at Yoongi, openly gawking at his sharp cat-like eyes dusted in black. He is so pretty, Namjoon fnds it difficult think.

"Much more...?" 

Yoongi’s smirks grows.

Despite being away from the loud music of the dive bar, all of Namjoon's thoughts still push and pull around his mind, making it hard for him to sort them out.

"Alright, I guess, I've had some drinks, and they've loosened me enough that I can spare a single confession."

Yoongi brightens up and turns to face Namjoon, who turns to fully face Yoongi. Beneath Yoongi's leather jacket is what appears to be a black band tee with some chaotic design in white ink, and Namjoon cannot even begin to parse what it is, but what he can identify are horizontal rips in the fabric and pretty skin peeking through, and he forces his eyes up to Yoongi's pretty face, instead.

Namjoon swallows a lump in his throat. 

"I think I have...god, I don't know why I feel so embarrassed to talk about my feelings." He looks over to the river to think, and the cool air stings his eyes, forcing him to look back at Yoongi, instead.

"You have feelings for me, hmm?" Yoongi teases with an eyebrow raised. Namjoon thinks Yoongi may have stepped closer in that split second he looked away, and he nods in response. "What color are they?"

"Blue," Namjoon blurts out without giving it any thought. "And warm orange."

"Interesting," Yoongi says, stepping even closer.

Yoongi's proximity terrifies Namjoon because he does not know what to do with it. It shouldn't be any different from when anyone else has flirted with him, but he still feels panicked. Maybe it is the crisp night air wafting off the river that is putting him on edge.

"It's cold," Namjoon mutters, and Yoongi eyes up Namjoon as if just realizing he is not dressed for the weather, only wearing a dress shirt and slacks.

"Right, sorry, I got distracted," Yoongi says and chuckles, then he turns and begins walking the way they were going. Namjoon follows and falls into step next to him.

"I live nearby," Namjoon blurts, and Yoongi's head cocks quickly in his direction, though he continues to look ahead. "Unless you had another bar or something in mind, but we should probably put something else in our stomachs."

"We should eat," Yoongi says. "I can't imagine what a man who doesn't cook would keep in his kitchen, but I guess I can work with just about anything."

"There's a convenience store by my place."

Yoongi scoffs and shakes his head. "If we're going to fill up on sodium, I'll just take you to a nearby noodle bar. It's open late."

Namjoon follows Yoongi several more blocks, and they do not say much. Now that there is a promise of food, both men have a pep in their step. The noodle bar is in an alley, and there aren't very many people inside, so they get served rather quickly. While bowls of udon topped with vegetables are served, Yoongi cracks open a bottle of soju, and Namjoon finds himself staring once again at Yoongi's face.

Yoongi glances up, notices Namjoon's eyes, and smirks. "Yes?"

Namjoon mutters half profanities under his breath. "I'm terrible at this."

"So you're divorced," Yoongi says, and Namjoon nods, humming quietly. "From a woman. Ex-wife." Namjoon nods and hums some more. "And before her?"

"I dated around a little, but not a lot."

Yoongi nods and passes a small cup of soju over. "Men and women?"

There it is. Namjoon can no longer skirt around it. He chews on his bottom lip staring at his steaming bowl of food, wishing the noodles would magically materialize into words to help guide him through his myriad thoughts and insecurities. He swallows another lump in his throat.

"I've never—" Namjoon's voice is shaky. "No. Only women."

Namjoon cannot bring himself to look at Yoongi, but he can feel his eyes on him, and he shifts in his seat. Yoongi hums in acknowledgment then picks up his glass of soju and holds it out, causing Namjoon to tear his eyes from his bowl to find Yoongi smiling softly. Namjoon grabs his own little glass and holds it up, touching it to Yoongi's.

"To figuring it out," Yoongi says.

"Cheers," Namjoon responds with a smile.

After the noodle bar, Namjoon and Yoongi part ways. Apparently, Yoongi lives nearby, which is information Namjoon's mind seems to have on repeat, playing it over and over because Namjoon lives nearby too. He hopes to see Yoongi again, and soon.

During their meal, Yoongi changed the subject rather quickly, after having slurped some of his broth, to talk about all the nuanced flavors used in the dishes, and Namjoon just listened with bated breath despite having no idea what he was talking about half of the time. He was relieved, in a way, that Yoongi didn't seem to mind that Namjoon liked him despite having no experience dating men. Then, as the night ended, Yoongi promised to cook for Namjoon, to make an attempt to teach him something, and Namjoon happily accepted.

Now Namjoon sits in his bed, in a t-shirt and flannel pants, staring at his phone. He wants to text Yoongi, to keep talking to him, but he has no idea what to say. He is no longer intoxicated, but he is feeling a little lighter after spending some time with Yoongi, so he does his best.

Namjoon: Thanks for the drinks and the food. And the walk along the river. It was really fun.

Yoongi: You're sending fragment sentences rather than complex ones. Are you anxious, Namjoon?

Namjoon: For the record, I'm always anxious.

Yoongi: Do I make you anxious?

Namjoon bites on his bottom lip and stares at his phone, catching his breath. He wonders how honest he should be and reminds himself that Yoongi fully admitted to coming onto him and liking him, so he should just be honest and stop second-guessing himself.

Namjoon: Extremely.

Yoongi: Can I call?

Namjoon: Yes.

The phone rings exactly once before Namjoon answers it, bringing it to his ear almost frantically.

"Hey," Namjoon all but pants into the phone.

"Hey gorgeous," Yoongi rasps. He sounds out of breath. "So I make you anxious?"

"Yoongi, you make me a lot of things," Namjoon confesses, closing his eyes. "Anxious is just at the top of the list."

"What else?"

"Nervous. Confused. Dumb."

"I make you dumb?" Yoongi chuckles.

"Yes. Brain empty, can't speak, what even are words, mouth doesn't work right."

"Damn."

Namjoon chuckles. "Yeah."

"Sounds like you have a huge fucking crush on me, Namjoon."

"Yeah," Namjoon mutters. "It does sound like that, huh?"

"And confused?"

Namjoon sighs. "I've never had feelings for a man before." Silence hangs for a fraction of a second, and it is just enough time to make Namjoon panic. "I'm not opposed to the idea or anything, though. Not at all. It's just...it's all so new, and I don't really know how to navigate it, and I'm overthinking it in a big way. And now I'm rambling; geez, this is embarrassing."

"You are spiraling, sweetheart."

"I am absolutely spiraling. But I like that, just now, when you called me sweetheart."

"Well, what do you want? You know I also like you, but there's absolutely no pressure. If you just want to be friends too, I could live with that."

"No," Namjoon blurts, "no, I don't want to just be friends. I can't look at you without getting so wrapped up in my feelings; I don't think I could handle it if we tried to just be friends."

Yoongi hums. "Talk to me, then. What do you want?"

"I want to kiss you," Namjoon confesses, so soft he wonders if Yoongi even heard him. A small gasp on the other end of the line suggests he did.

"Well, you're in luck, Joonie, because I want to kiss you too."

The nicknames and confessions make Namjoon's head spin and blood rush to his cock, and he rests back against his headboard, doing his best to ignore the swell of arousal pooling in his guts.

"Anything else you want to do?" Yoongi's deep voice taunts him, and Namjoon lets out a shattered breath.

"Yes. I think so, but I don't know...I don't know how."

"I could teach you."

"Fuck," Namjoon whimpers softly to himself.

"We'll start slow, though. I'll come over with food, and we can hang out, and if you have the urge to kiss me, we'll kiss."

"You make it sound so easy," Namjoon chuckles.

"How does tomorrow sound?"

Fast. Terrifying. Overwhelming. "Perfect."

"Perfect," Yoongi parrots, and Namjoon can hear his smile. "I'm falling asleep, but I'll call in the morning, and we can iron out the details, alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Namjoon mutters, nodding his head to nobody but himself. "Sounds great, Yoongi."

As soon as the call ends, Namjoon drops his phone and grabs his cock over his pants, gasping from the pressure and slight friction. He cannot shake Yoongi's deep, raspy voice and enticing promises of kisses and lessons on more than just cooking. Soft, pretty lips and hints of pale skin play over and over in Namjoon's mind as he frantically pushes his pants down to his thighs and jerks himself off. When Namjoon comes in his fist, coating his fingers in viscous release, he is whimpering Yoongi's name.

Namjoon: I think I might be losing my fucking mind.

Hoseok: Go on...

Namjoon: I saw Yoongi last night, and I confessed to liking him and I told him that he's the first man I've ever had feelings for.

Hoseok: Big steps! How did he take it?

Namjoon: He took it well. He asked whether I just wanted to be friends or if I wanted to try to be more.

Hoseok: Okay, that's good. He seems confident despite your inexperience. Points for him. What did you say?

Namjoon: I said I want to kiss him.

Hoseok: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Namjoon: He's going to come over tonight and cook for me.

Hoseok: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Namjoon: Same.

Hoseok: Shaking, crying, throwing up, Joonie Bear!!! This is huge!!! How do you feel?

Namjoon: Excited. And terrified. Mostly excited. It's been ages since I've wanted to kiss someone, and I am trying not to panic.

Hoseok: Well, I'm rooting for you! I hope all your dreams come true. Remember to take it slow and don't get too wrapped up in your head, alright? Just communicate how you're feeling. It sounds like you really like him and that he'll take good care of you.

"You already look lost," Yoongi teases.

Namjoon feels overdressed in his pale blue dress shirt tucked into charcoal grey slacks next to Yoongi in his denim apron, with a short white band tee tucked into tight black jeans beneath. Yoongi has a studded belt around his hips, and Namjoon wonders what Yoongi would look like with the belt wrapped around his wrists.

"Y-yeah," Namjoon mutters. "I'm terrible at cutting things."

"You own expensive knives and don't know how to use them?" More mocking tone with raised eyebrows, and Namjoon feels delightfully dizzy.

"Well, I figure, if I lose an appendage, I may as well do it in style," Namjoon shrugs. 

Yoongi shakes his head.

Watching Yoongi move around the kitchen with poise and grace, humming to himself all the while, fills Namjoon's chest with warm affection. Although Yoongi is smaller than Namjoon in nearly every sense, his presence is huge, almost overwhelming, though never stifling.

"I just have to cut the rest of the spring onions for garnish, and then we're all set," Yoongi says, and although Namjoon hums in response and nods, he cannot help but stare at the way Yoongi's large, delicate hands hold onto his knife, nor how patterns and colors twist the length of Yoongi's otherwise pretty pale arms. Yoongi clears his throat, and Namjoon's eyes shoot up to meet his, watching as he smirks.

“You’re drooling Namjoon,” Yoongi says as he deftly chops an onion while staring into his eyes. “Be a good boy and set the table for me.”

At the words be a good boy, a shiver runs through Namjoon, starting at the base of his skull and shooting straight down into his cock. He knows he must look bewildered because Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle as he uses the blade of the knife and the edge of his hand to scoop the spring onions from the cutting board into a small dish.

Namjoon bows his head and mutters, "Yes, sir," before turning to his cabinet to grab his dishware, and when he peeks from behind the open door to find Yoongi blushing and nibbling on his bottom lip, Namjoon smiles, forcing himself to focus once more on the task at hand.

With the table set and bottle of wine open, Namjoon sits across from Yoongi, who has removed his apron. The food smells incredible, and Namjoon waits for Yoongi's signal before digging in. Everything from the flavors to the aromatics fills Namjoon's senses, and he closes his eyes and groans into the first spoonful; he is not sure he has ever tasted anything so good before. It is rich yet delicate and hearty, and Namjoon fears that this will only serve to make him fall even more head over heels for the pretty chef. When Namjoon opens his eyes, he finds Yoongi chuckling with blushed cheeks while filling their glasses with red wine.

"It's just a stew," Yoongi mutters, though his smile has reached his eyes.

"You're amazing," Namjoon blurts, and he does not miss the way Yoongi's eyes shine wide with surprise. "Seriously, this is spectacular. And you make it look so easy. I'm impressed, Chef Min."

"Impressed enough to kiss me later?" Yoongi asks as he pulls his wine glass up to his lips.

"Absolutely," Namjoon mutters while taking his own wine into his hands. The first sip warms Namjoon even more than the stew managed to, making him a bit more dizzy. Though, he knows that it is Yoongi intoxicating him more than anything else.

They eat primarily in silence, save for slurping sounds, the occasional scrape of a spoon against a bowl, and Namjoon groaning repeated praises over the food. Yoongi smiles contentedly, though he seems to become shy the more Namjoon swoons over his skills. He looks so cute when he blushes that it only makes Namjoon praise him more.

Once they have killed the bottle of wine, Namjoon finally gets up and collects their dishes, taking them to the sink. He stacks everything neatly, intending to clean them later, then turns to find Yoongi leaning into the kitchen island behind him. At the sight of Yoongi watching Namjoon, his heart pounds, and his breath comes out ragged. Slowly, Namjoon approaches, and when he gets close enough, Yoongi reaches his arms up, resting his hands around Namjoon's shoulders.

"Thanks for cooking for me," Namjoon mutters softly.

Yoongi nods and smiles, "It was my pleasure, sweetheart."

Yoongi's fingers play gently at the nape of Namjoon's neck, and Namjoon leans in slowly, eyes locked on Yoongi's lips. He tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and Yoongi's tongue does the same, then Namjoon wraps his arms around Yoongi's thin waist as he pulls him close enough to slot their lips together. Yoongi gasps and smiles against Namjoon's mouth, and Namjoon darts his tongue out, testing the kiss, already eager for more.

When Yoongi parts his lips, Namjoon licks inside and moans softly, finding the warmth of Yoongi's mouth so inviting. Yoongi slowly chases Namjoon's tongue in a dance of back-and-forth, and their hands begin to grip tighter until Yoongi is tugging at Namjoon's shoulders to be closer.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, practically gasping for breath, and rests his forehead against Yoongi's, opening his eyes to smile at him. Yoongi's lips are pink and slick and slightly swollen, and Namjoon wants to nip at them until Yoongi falls apart in his arms.

"I didn't prepare a dessert for tonight because I just had a feeling your lips would be this sweet," Yoongi says softly. “Lips like honey.”

"Fuck," Namjoon whimpers, gripping onto Yoongi tighter.

"How do you feel?” Yoongi asks sweetly. “Do you need to slow down?"

Namjoon shakes his head. Although he is treading somewhat new territory with Yoongi, and his heart is racing against his ribs, the last thing he wants is to slow down. 

"I feel great."

"You like kissing me?"

"Yeah," Namjoon says through a shattered breath. "I like kissing you very much, Yoongi."

Yoongi grins and bites his lip. "Kiss me some more, then."

Namjoon grips onto Yoongi's waist and lifts him, setting Yoongi onto the marble countertop. Yoongi gasps and immediately wraps his legs around Namjoon's hips, pulling him closer, and Namjoon is acutely aware of just how close their cocks are to touching. 

He thinks he would very much like it if his and Yoongi's cocks were to touch, and he moans into Yoongi's mouth as he is drawn into a kiss that is more heated than the last. Namjoon's hands rove up Yoongi's back, one holding him tightly around the middle while the other gently engulfs the back of his head. As Yoongi sucks on Namjoon's bottom lip, Namjoon's hips rut, and Yoongi moans into his mouth.

"How are you?" Yoongi asks against Namjoon's lips.

"Amazing," Namjoon says as he gently sucks Yoongi's bottom lip between his teeth. 

Yoongi whines and Namjoon is certain he wants to hear that sound from Yoongi's mouth a lot more.

"Want to keep making out, or do you want more?"

Namjoon wants more, but he cannot wrap his mind around what more might mean exactly, so he catches his breath and attempts to gather his thoughts.

"We don't have to dive into anything too intense," Yoongi clarifies. "I know this is your first time with a man, and I want you to be comfortable. But I also really want to suck your dick if you'd let me."

Namjoon slides his hands under Yoongi's ass and lifts him, then turns to exit the kitchen, and Yoongi rests his head on Namjoon's shoulder, holding him tight. The walk from the kitchen to Namjoon's bedroom is not very far, but it is a bit dark, and that, mixed with Namjoon's innate clumsiness, has him fearing for not only his life but for Yoongi's life, too.

Thankfully, Namjoon makes the trip unscathed and walks through his dark bedroom, sets Yoongi down on the edge of the bed, and leans to his bedside lamp to flick it on. Warm, yellow light fills the space, and Yoongi rests back on his hands and stares up at Namjoon as if in awe.

"Do you think you'd be more of a top or a bottom?" Yoongi asks.

Namjoon has thought this over extensively since the day his crush began, and he sits on the bed beside Yoongi, leaning over to gently tug Yoongi's lips back to his.

"Both," Namjoon mutters. "I think I would want to do both."

This seems to please Yoongi, who moans into Namjoon's kiss, then parts quickly to shift onto the bed more, crawling into the center, facing the headboard. "I want you over there," Yoongi says as he nods, and Namjoon does as he is told, getting onto his knees and crawling to sit in front of Yoongi with his back resting against the board and his legs spread around Yoongi.

Yoongi runs his hands up Namjoon's legs, leaning into his thighs, then stops with his fingers tapping Namjoon's belt. 

"May I?" he asks with a grin.

"Please," Namjoon whimpers.

Yoongi's long, beautiful fingers move to Namjoon's buckle and begin to unfasten it, and already Namjoon's entire body begins to swim with so much lust and desire, it is overwhelming. He is noticing things he never did before, such as the delicate curve of Yoongi's eyelashes and the placement of several moles and freckles that grace Yoongi's cheeks and nose.

"You're so pretty," Namjoon mutters, and Yoongi's hands pause as he looks up at Namjoon. "So fucking pretty."

"Is that why you like me so much? You like pretty things?"

Namjoon chuckles. "There are so many reasons to like you, but that is certainly one."

Yoongi stops mid-mission to undo Namjoon's pants and crawls up to him, straddling his waist, wrapping his arms around Namjoon's neck. The weight of Yoongi's ass and crotch against Namjoon's dick makes him whine under his breath.

"What else?" Yoongi asks.

"You're incredibly talented,” Namjoon begins as if praising Yoongi is the easiest thing in the world. “You're fucking sexy. You didn't balk at the knowledge that I had never been with a man before; you just rolled with it like it was no big deal, which is a huge relief. I feel really comfortable with you."

Yoongi fidgets with his lips between his teeth, smiling nervously. "I mean, going into something new with someone is always scary, regardless of orientation and all of that. There's always a cloud of what-ifs that hovers over our heads, you know? You seem genuine and not like someone who is willing to waste my time, so I feel comfortable at least trying."

Namjoon feels himself blush. "I can't believe you like me."

"Don't say shit like that, Namjoon," Yoongi says softly but firmly. "You're so smart, kind, and fun. You're handsome, and you're fucking sexy as hell. And you're so eager to try new things. You are fucking perfect."

"I'm far from perfect."

Yoongi's fingers slide to Namjoon's shirt and slowly begin to undo the buttons, and Namjoon rests his head back against the headboard.

"I doubt that," Yoongi mutters as he leans forward, pressing soft, warm kisses to Namjoon's neck, roving over his throat and down each inch of slowly exposed skin. Namjoon places his hands on Yoongi's thighs and whines into Yoongi's touch as his lips find more and more sensitive patches of skin.

"Gonna make you feel so good, Joonie," Yoongi mutters as his ass slides down Namjoon's legs and his lips get lower.

"I know you will, baby," Namjoon says softly, feeling Yoongi gasp against his tummy.

With Namjoon's shirt undone, Namjoon tugs on it to untuck it from his slacks and jerks it off his shoulders, doing his best to wiggle out of it rather than sit forward too far because Yoongi's lips are on his hip, and he does not want Yoongi's lips to leave his skin for even a moment. Yoongi's lips do, however, leave his skin as Yoongi begins to check newly shirtless Namjoon out.

"My god," Yoongi mutters, running his hands up Namjoon's tummy, over his pecs, and back down again. "You're so fucking hot, Namjoon. God damn, I knew you would be, but...wow."

"Yeah?" 

Namjoon suddenly feels shy and unsure of himself despite Yoongi's praise.

"Yeah. Wow, yeah, sweetheart, you're a work of art. Sun-kissed to perfection."

Namjoon can feel his cheeks turn red hot, which is not helped by Yoongi's fingers undoing his pants. At a glance, he can see a pretty sizable bulge hiding below Yoongi, which will not be hidden for long, and he rests his head back once more. Then it occurs to Namjoon that Yoongi is still wearing a shirt and that he would very much like to see what his torso has to offer, so he reaches forward and takes a handful of the back of Yoongi's shirt, tugging it until Yoongi sits up and helps Namjoon pull it off.

Intricate tattoos swirl to just below Yoongi's clavicles, adorning his shoulders and pecs with beautiful designs. Despite his smaller build, Yoongi's chest is broad and toned, and his tummy is a perfect mix of cut muscle and soft curves.

"Wow, Yoongi," Namjoon mutters, running his fingertips up from the middle of Yoongi's arms, to his shoulders and back down. "You are the work of art, baby. Just look at you."

Yoongi blushes a pretty rosy shade as he grabs at Namjoon's slacks and begins to pull them down, and suddenly Namjoon is back to feeling incredibly nervous. He has never had complaints about his dick before, but what if Yoongi doesn't like it? Namjoon really wants Yoongi to like his dick.

"Are you spiraling again, Joonie?" Yoongi asks gently, and Namjoon realizes Yoongi is looking up at him.

Namjoon nods. 

"I am, yes. But I don't want to stop. I'm just nervous."

"I'm nervous too, sweetheart; it's okay."

"Yeah?"

Yoongi chuckles softly. 

"Yeah, of course. I want to impress you, after all; there's a lot to be nervous about."

"I'm already impressed, baby," Namjoon says.

"And I'm already so into you it makes me dizzy, but that doesn't mean you'll stop feeling shy about letting me undress you." Yoongi smiles sweetly and Namjoon nods and breathes a shattered sigh of relief. He is in good hands; he just needs to relax and trust Yoongi to take good care of him.

And Yoongi does take good care of him. As soon as Yoongi pulls Namjoon's slacks and briefs down, his eyes widen, and he groans. Yoongi fumbles backward, somewhat frantically pulling the clothing the rest of the way off, then eagerly gets between Namjoon's legs once more, looking between Namjoon's face and his cock as if he's just made the most breathtaking discovery known to man.

"Please tell me this isn't what you were so nervous to show me," Yoongi beams, rubbing Namjoon's thighs with his open palms. "That is a beautiful cock, Joonie. I can't wait to taste it."

Namjoon sits dumbfounded with his hands to his sides and stares down at Yoongi. He cannot believe the words that come from Yoongi's pretty mouth, and he has no idea how to respond. 

Yoongi smirks, leans forward, and asks, "May I, Joonie," so softly, it is almost a whisper.

"Yes," Namjoon nods emphatically, "please, Yoongi."

Yoongi takes Namjoon's cock gently in one hand, and sparks shoot out from Namjoon's groin to the ends of his limbs, causing his breath to hitch. Then Yoongi wraps his lips around the head, and Namjoon moans a deep, broken sound as Yoongi slowly works Namjoon's length in and out of his mouth, taking more and more each time. Yoongi groans as he swirls his tongue along Namjoon's shaft, and Namjoon whines, gently taking Yoongi by the hair in one hand, surprised by how soft it is.

"That feels so good, baby," Namjoon gasps, doing his best to keep from letting his head roll back, determined to watch his length disappear between those pretty sakura petal lips.

Yoongi sucks his cheeks in, slurps Namjoon hungrily, and laps his tongue around, and Namjoon completely falls apart, slowly but gradually turning into a needy, eager mess. He wonders if he could do the same to Yoongi—if his lips and tongue and sucked-in cheeks could make Yoongi unravel like this. He thinks he wants to try. He thinks he wants to try a lot of things and wonders what Yoongi's cock must look like and if it is as pretty as the rest of him.

"Fuck, Yoongi, you're gonna make me come," Namjoon whines before long.

Yoongi moans and continues to suck and lick Namjoon, pulling him over the edge, and Namjoon does his best not to let his hips buck, but they tremble beneath Yoongi's large hands as his pleasure builds.

"Ah—I'm coming," Namjoon warns just before he does, and Yoongi sucks Namjoon down eagerly, groaning as Namjoon's release sprays his tongue and throat. The feeling is so intense and so fucking good; Namjoon pants and moans, squeezing Yoongi's hair as his hips shudder.

When Yoongi finally releases Namjoon's cock, grinning ear to ear like a fool, Namjoon takes Yoongi by the head gently in both hands and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. Yoongi's lips are swollen and slick as he falls against Namjoon's chest and engulfs him with his arms, and Namjoon licks into Yoongi's mouth, tasting hints of his own heady release.

"Good?" Yoongi asks against Namjoon's lips.

"Amazing," Namjoon responds, pulling Yoongi close. “Everything you do is amazing.”

Namjoon feels breathless and euphoric. They sit quietly for a moment, and he wonders if he has the energy to keep going or if they should call it a night; if Yoongi wants to get off, too, Namjoon is more than happy to try. Yoongi is the first to break the silence.

"I hate to go, but it's getting late, Joonie. I have an early morning."

Namjoon nods and hugs Yoongi close, breathing in his musky, earthy scents. After much reluctance, he manages to bumble his shaky legs back into his briefs and kiss Yoongi all the way to the door. Namjoon begs for whatever this is to continue and promises to get Yoongi off next time, feeling a swell of happiness when Yoongi agrees to do this again soon.

Namjoon: I think I'm in love

Hoseok: Did you kiss!

Namjoon: We did.

Hoseok: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Namjoon: Also...

Hoseok: ...??????????

Namjoon: For the purpose of decency, I shall bleep out some of the words in my next message.

Hoseok: Uh oh!

Namjoon: He s***ed my soul straight out of my d***.

Hoseok: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg, no wonder you're already catching feelings.

Namjoon: Everything about him is perfect. I'm in awe. He's so pretty and funny and a fantastic cook, and he's sweet, and he made me c** in like 3 minutes.

Hoseok: I'm glad you had a good time. Congrats on being gay! I love this for you!

Namjoon: Thanks for believing in me!

Hoseok: I never doubted you for a minute!

Falling into a routine with Yoongi is easy, and slowly, over the course of a month, Namjoon is opened up to a world of firsts, from sampling delicious foods that Yoongi cooks on the weekends to learning to suck Yoongi's cock and discovering what frotting is. Though coming in tandem while Yoongi's large hand holds both his and Namjoon's thrusting dicks and feeling the slide of their shafts together is something that Namjoon thinks about often when he is fisting his cock alone, taking Yoongi into his mouth is his favorite.

Namjoon cannot get enough of the way Yoongi whimpers and moans each time he discovers a new rhythm to flick his tongue and suck in his cheeks. And although it made him gag the first time, Namjoon loves it when Yoongi comes in his mouth, feeling a sense of pride wash over him whenever Yoongi grips tightly to his hair and whimpers through his release. Namjoon swallows his load eagerly as if it is another delicious meal Yoongi has prepared just for him.

During the week, when Namjoon and Yoongi are busy with workloads and early mornings, they talk on the phone before bed, sometimes ending the call while moaning and whining about everything they want to do when they see each other next. Namjoon often thinks about Yoongi's pretty thick cock and how easy it was for him to take a strong liking to it, wishing it was in his hands and mouth whenever Yoongi lets out raspy breaths through the phone.

It is a Thursday when Yoongi whimpers, "I want you so bad, Joonie. I want you to fuck me so bad," and Namjoon worries he might blackout. His hand grips his cock tightly, and he lets out a strangled groan.

"Only when you're ready," Yoongi throws in quickly, though Namjoon can hear how worked up the thought makes him—can hear the quick passes of lubed-up fingers sliding over his cock through the phone.

"I wanna fuck you, baby," Namjoon moans. "I think I'm ready."

Namjoon pictures Yoongi's fucked out, euphoric expression and imagines him bent over with his pretty little ass in the air, and he comes in his hand, moaning loudly for Yoongi to hear. Yoongi sounds just as gone when he reaches his orgasm, and when they finally end the call, Namjoon immediately falls asleep with a smile.

Tonight at Namjoon's place, there is a bit of tension hanging in the air that Namjoon can feel but does not want to address just yet. He thinks it may be related to their last conversation when they discussed the idea of Namjoon fucking Yoongi, but he feels like discussing it further can wait.

For now, Namjoon takes to getting dishes and utensils set up, and rinsing vegetables for Yoongi to chop. Although Namjoon still cannot be trusted to do the actual preparation of meals, he has found ways to be helpful, sharing some of the workload.

Namjoon has begun to dress down in a simple tee and slacks for Yoongi's visits, and Yoongi continues to wear the same random graphic tee tucked into jeans with his trusty apron on top, and Namjoon enjoys how relaxed and domestic their nights feel. Whenever Yoongi's hands are free of something sharp or hot, Namjoon likes to place his hands on Yoongi's hips and kiss him on the neck, smiling against his skin when Yoongi lets out a satisfied hum. Everything feels so natural and easy; Namjoon has difficulty believing not much time has passed since all of this began.

"You never told me how the ratings were for my appearance," Yoongi says as he tosses tonight's stir fried meat and vegetables in a wok.

"Oh, you killed in the ratings, both on-air and online," Namjoon beams. "I was right, the housewives loved you."

Yoongi chuckles. "Good, good. I rewatched the segment the other night and it was so painfully obvious how nervous I made you. You were so cute Joonie."

Namjoon cringes; he has not rewatched the segment, remembering clearly how awkward he seemed to be interviewing Yoongi. 

"Yeah, no need to remind me," Namjoon he.

"What was going through your mind that morning?" Yoongi teases.

Namjoon carries a bottle of wine to the table, cradling two glasses in his other hand, humming loudly, in thought. 

"It was a lot of alarm bells and internal shrieking. Panicking because I couldn't look at your pretty face without getting nervous, then realizing I also couldn't look at your hands without picturing how badly I needed them all over me."

"My hands?" Yoongi chuckles, gathering two plates to fill with food.

"Your hands," Namjoon repeats sheepishly.

"And just what did you imagine I was doing with my hands, hmm?"

Namjoon can feel his cheeks flush with warmth, and he takes a seat, watching as Yoongi unties his apron to hang over a cabinet handle before bringing their plates over.

"It was like a quick montage of all the things I imagined you could do with them, like sticking your fingers in my mouth, wrapping your fingers around my throat or around my dick. Gripping onto my hips and my ass. You know...hand things."

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, fighting the urge to laugh as he sets Namjoon's plate in front of him.

"Hand things," Yoongi parrots with a smirk.

"I may have thought about how long your fingers are, and how thick they are at the knuckles, and how they might feel stretching me open."

Yoongi gasps, hovering over Namjoon with his own plate in his hand. 

"You mean to tell me you had never had feelings for a man before, but you imagined me fingering your tight little asshole at seven o'clock on that bright Tuesday morning."

"S-something like that," Namjoon mutters, grinning awkwardly as blood rushes to his cock in response to Yoongi's teasing.

"Well," Yoongi says, turning away to round the table and stand in front of his seat. Yoongi sets his plate down and leans on his fists against the table, towering over Namjoon for a moment longer. "If you want me to finger you that badly, all you have to do is ask."

Namjoon stares up at Yoongi and waits for him to sit, but Yoongi continues to stand. He is wearing the black band tee with the rips from the night they walked along the river, and Namjoon finds himself looking between those peeks of skin and Yoongi's face. Tonight Yoongi wears a thin line of black makeup under his eyes, and Namjoon wonders if he will get to make him cry it off later.

"Of course I want you to, baby. Let's talk about it after we eat, though; I'm so hungry, and this smells so good."

"Fine, fine, you're right," Yoongi concedes and reaches for the wine to fill their glasses.

The food is fantastic as always, and Namjoon sits back in his chair, wondering if it is too early to ask Yoongi to just move in with him and cook every night. Of course, he knows it is way too early, but that does not stop him from imagining how nice it would be to wake up to Yoongi every morning, come home to Yoongi and his delicious cooking every evening, and fall asleep to Yoongi every night.

Although they broke the tension to discuss Yoongi's hands earlier, something tense still seems to be hanging in the air between them, making Namjoon nervous—making it hard to hold eye contact with Yoongi for too long. Once they finish their meals and the bottle of wine, Namjoon collects the dishes as he always does and takes them over to the sink to rinse and stack them to be cleaned in the morning.

Typically, when Namjoon turns from the sink, Yoongi is nearby with lust in his eyes, waiting to be carried off to the bedroom, but tonight Yoongi still sits at the table, with his back to the kitchen, separated by the island. Namjoon feels his heart pound heavily in his chest, worried about what may have gone wrong, and he rounds the counter and approaches Yoongi. Yoongi's chin is resting against his hands with one pointer finger tapping along his lower lip, and Namjoon squats beside Yoongi, looking up at him.

"Everything alright, baby?" Namjoon asks gently.

Yoongi breaks from his thoughts and slowly lowers his hands, turning his body to face Namjoon, and smiles softly. 

"Just have a lot on my mind."

"I can tell. There seems to be a tension hanging over us tonight."

Yoongi chews on his bottom lip and lets out a quiet laugh. 

"It's my hovering cloud of what-ifs. It followed me all the way here."

Namjoon stands and holds his hand out to Yoongi, and Yoongi accepts. He leads Yoongi to his brown faux leather couch and sits facing him, still holding his hand.

"Talk to me," he says.

"This has been an amazing month," Yoongi begins, speaking in a tone that borders somber and puts Namjoon on high alert; suddenly, all he can think is that Yoongi is trying to break up with him, even though it wouldn't make sense for Yoongi to bother making him dinner first; who does something like that?

"It really has been," Namjoon manages to respond, doing his best to keep his voice even, though he can hear it shake.

"Shit," Yoongi mutters, "this isn't how I wanted this to go. It must sound like I'm trying to end things because I've gone all fucking emo for no reason."

Yoongi shifts his body more, pulling his legs onto the couch and underneath him. "I can tell by your eyes that you began to spiral. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry; I promise I'm not trying to break things off."

Namjoon lets out a big, deep sigh of relief and smiles, feeling his eyes threaten to well with tears. 

"Yeah, you actually worried me for a second there."

Yoongi chuckles. 

"It's the opposite, actually. I know we haven't discussed all of this and us and everything, but I've been exclusively seeing you, and I want us to actually, like, date. Or whatever. I want you to be my boyfriend."

Pink flushes over Yoongi's cheeks, and Namjoon melts. 

"In my head you were my boyfriend the first night you sucked my cock, if I'm being honest."

"Good," Yoongi grins, then his expression falls back to a look of vulnerable uncertainty. "So then it won't be too weird to tell you that I love you already...will it?"

Namjoon gasps, and he can tell that the expression on his face is one of surprise, which Yoongi clearly cannot accurately translate, because his eyes seem to be frantically searching Namjoon's for any hint of a response. Namjoon clears his throat, and this time his eyes do well with tears, and he does his best to blink them out of existence.

"S-sorry, was that too soon?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon snaps himself out of his thoughts and wraps his arms around Yoongi's shoulders, pulling him into Namjoon's chest.

"No, oh my god, I'm sorry—I just—you said you love me, and everything went blank and," Namjoon takes a deep breath to stop himself from rambling. "I love you too, Yoongi. I began to fall for you the moment we first kissed. Maybe even sooner."

Yoongi hugs Namjoon tight and buries his face into his neck. 

"Sorry, I was weird all night, I just wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to scare you away. Or make the mood weird since you were probably expecting to fuck me tonight, not get all fluffy and gross."

Namjoon chews on his bottom lip and smiles sheepishly.

"Baby, knowing you love me just makes me want to fuck you more."

Yoongi pulls back from the hug and takes Namjoon's face and neck in his hands, pulling him into a deep, needy kiss full of tongue and teeth and moans. Namjoon grabs Yoongi's hips and pulls him onto his lap, then stands and carries Yoongi into his room, slamming his elbow into a corner on the way and trying, once more, not to cry.

Namjoon has begun to leave his lamp on when he expects Yoongi to come over, so there is no more walking through a dark bedroom, and he makes his way to the bed and lightly tosses Yoongi into the center, watching with bated breath as Yoongi scrambles onto his elbows to stare back at Namjoon, who pulls his shirt over his head, then undoes his belt and pulls his pants down.

Yoongi gawks through lust-filled eyes, then pulls his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Namjoon approaches the bed and makes quick work of Yoongi's belt, pulling his pants and briefs down in a rush, and Yoongi lifts his hips to assist, but the swift movements make him crash onto the bed with a giggle. Namjoon hovers over Yoongi, bending to pull Yoongi into a kiss, gently nibbling on Yoongi's lip until he whines.

"On your knees, baby," Namjoon commands softly, and Yoongi's breath hitches. "I read about performing anal sex extensively online in the last two days, but if there's anything you need me to do, just tell me, okay? I'll go slow."

Yoongi chuckles softly, though he still looks dazed, and he stares at Namjoon and nods, blinking out of whatever mental fog he has been caught in before rolling onto his tummy and crawling to the center of the bed. Namjoon grabs a bottle of lube that he has left on his bedside table and gets onto the bed behind Yoongi, admiring the soft curves of his tattoo-covered back and the swell of his perfectly round ass. He puts the lube on the bed beside him and gently places his hands over Yoongi's ass, admiring him from this angle for the first time as he draws circles with his thumbs over the soft flesh.

"Of course your ass is perfect, like the rest of you," Namjoon groans, digging his fingers into Yoongi's cheeks.

"Shut up—hhh, ah fuck," Yoongi whines as Namjoon licks over Yoongi's rim.

Yoongi tastes tangy and sweet, and Namjoon circles and flicks his tongue over his hole, moaning and spreading him in his hands. Yoongi whimpers and moans, and already his voice is broken and raspy in a way that causes Namjoon to become lightheaded, making all the sweet sounds that urge Namjoon to explore more. He presses his tongue into Yoongi's hole slowly, and Yoongi sobs with pleasure, so Namjoon pulls out and pushes it in once more, a little deeper this time, pulling more euphonic sounds from Yoongi's lips.

"You taste so good, baby," Namjoon groans before lapping over Yoongi in slow, hungry motions.

"Fuck, Joonie," Yoongi whines. His legs are trembling, and Namjoon can hear his fingers gripping onto the blanket below him.

"You like the way I eat your ass, baby?"

Yoongi whimpers a sound that resembles "uh-huh," and Namjoon grins and dives back in, savoring Yoongi a little more.

By the time Namjoon reaches for the bottle of lube, Yoongi is already panting and drooling into a pillow that he has wrapped his arms around tightly, and Namjoon smiles to himself at the sight of him already fucked out before they have hardly gotten started.

Namjoon opens the bottle and squirts some liquid onto his fingertips and rubs it to warm it, making sure to coat his middle finger. Then, he sets the bottle down and rubs the pad of his finger gently over Yoongi's rim, and Yoongi gasps before letting out a deep whine.

"Ready for my finger, baby?"

"Yes," Yoongi whimpers. "Please.”

Slowly, Namjoon slides the tip of his finger into Yoongi's ass, trying not to completely unravel from the choked sobs that already escape Yoongi's lips. Gently, Namjoon pulls his finger out, then presses it back in, this time a little further, again and again until he is in past his knuckle and Yoongi is begging for him to let him catch his breath.

"Let me know when you're ready for more," Namjoon mutters, leaving lazy, wet kisses over Yoongi's ass cheek.

"Okay," Yoongi pants after a moment, "I'm ready."

With a generous amount of lube and steady, patient hands, Namjoon stretches Yoongi on one finger, then two, and then three, scissoring his fingers open and slowly fucking Yoongi with his hand until Yoongi is no longer begging to slow down, and instead begging for Namjoon's cock. Namjoon stands to remove his briefs, which are wet with precum, and Yoongi sits back on his shaky knees and pats the bed for Namjoon to sit in front of him.

"Wanna ride you," Yoongi says, and Namjoon nods, eagerly stepping from his briefs and getting onto the bed, right where Yoongi wants him.

Yoongi pulls Namjoon's cock into his mouth and swallows it back into his throat, and Namjoon moans loudly as a wave of pleasure rocks through his body. He had been so focused on Yoongi's pleasure that feeling his own is suddenly overwhelming. Yoongi slurps and sucks eagerly and makes a fucking mess drooling all over Namjoon's cock before pulling it from his mouth with a grin, and Namjoon watches lines of spit pull between his cock and Yoongi's lips before bursting.

"Holy shit, baby," Namjoon mutters as Yoongi reaches back for the bottle of lube while he straddles Namjoon's thighs, and squirts a generous amount into his hand.

"I've dreamt about this moment," Yoongi whines, engulfing Namjoon's cock in his fist, coating it with the slick liquid and making Namjoon shudder with bliss. "Since the moment you came into the greenroom looking like a scared little puppy, I wanted to get on my knees and make you mine."

Namjoon holds Yoongi's thighs, helping Yoongi sit forward and line Namjoon's cock up with his hole. "I'm yours, baby," Namjoon groans as Yoongi sits just enough to make their bodies touch—just enough to remind him that this is really, truly, actually fucking happening and not just a dream. Namjoon's eyes are glued to Yoongi's cock and his tummy, and he worries that, at any moment, he might blackout.

"You're spiraling, Joonie," Yoongi mutters. "Look at me."

Namjoon quickly looks up at Yoongi, meeting his sweet, lustful gaze, and Yoongi smiles softly, pulling Namjoon from wherever he was mentally and helping him focus. His eyeliner is smudged around his eyes, and his cheeks, neck, and chest are flushed, and Namjoon thinks he must be the prettiest man alive.

Slowly, Yoongi lowers his ass over Namjoon's cock, and he is so tight that Namjoon sucks in a deep puff of air, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. Yoongi grips onto Namjoon's chest and digs his fingers in as he lifts his hips and slowly lowers them more, moaning and sobbing from the stretch of his cock, and Namjoon does his best to hold onto Yoongi's thighs and help him ease up and down and up again until he is fully engulfed in warmth and Yoongi is leaning into his chest, gasping for air. Yoongi chokes out a croaked sob as he lifts his hips, and Namjoon can feel his legs tremble against him. 

"Too fucking big," Yoongi whines, dropping his ass back down and filling the room with his and Namjoon's moans. 

The more Yoongi lifts and drops his hips, the more Namjoon's body burns red hot. Yoongi feels incredible beyond anything he could have imagined, and he doesn't want this moment to ever stop, though he is certain that if it does not stop eventually, his brain will actually break.

Once Yoongi is adjusted enough to fuck himself on Namjoon's cock, all sight and sound that isn't Yoongi is completely wiped out; all that exists are their two bodies in this moment, fucking. Yoongi digs his fingers into Namjoon and cries out with his head lolled back while Namjoon holds onto Yoongi's waist and watches his cock bob.

A lewd chorus of bodies slapping and squelching, and voices moaning and sobbing fills the room. Yoongi's ass swallows Namjoon so tightly that it is not long before Namjoon fears he is going to come.

"I'm not gonna last, baby," Namjoon groans, doing his best to think about things that definitely would not make him come, like the time Hoseok got so drunk, he threw up in several pairs of Namjoon’s shoes.

"Grab my cock," Yoongi whines, ripping that unattractive thought out of Namjoon's head. "Please, Joonie, make me come!"

Namjoon takes Yoongi's cockhead in his hand and rubs the precum over his palm before stroking Yoongi's length to the rhythm of his hips, making Yoongi cry out and tremble.

"Please," Yoongi mutters as he rides Namjoon. "Please, please, make me come."

As soon as Yoongi reaches orgasm, spraying his release onto Namjoon's fingers and tummy, the squeeze from his ass is so intense that it pushes Namjoon over the edge, sending him hurtling towards completion. Namjoon lets out a string of profanities as his head slams back against the headboard of his bed, and Namjoon comes hard, filling Yoongi with his release.

Yoongi's hips slow to a stop, and he slumps forward onto Namjoon's chest, both bodies trembling into one another. Namjoon drops his come-covered hand to the side while his other snakes around Yoongi's back and hugs him tight. Both men pant loudly, and the sheen of sweat that covers them quickly turns cold.

"Is fucking you always going to feel like a near-death experience, because if so, I don't know how I'll handle it," Namjoon mutters groggily.

Yoongi attempts to chuckle, but the sound comes out weak and shaky.

"Let's take a hot shower and tuck you into bed, baby," Namjoon suggests, kissing Yoongi on the forehead. Yoongi cuddles into the feeling and lets out a satisfied sigh, and Namjoon nudges him some more. "Come on, Yoongi. Let's clean off."

"Don't want to be done 'cause I don't wanna have to go home," Yoongi pouts into Namjoon's chest.

"You don't have to go home, baby; I want you to stay."

Yoongi sits up with wide eyes, and his makeup is even more smudged and runny than before. 

"But you never ask me to stay."

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. 

"You always say you have to go, so I let you. But I don't ever want you to go."

"Watch it, Joonie; you're treading dangerous territory by telling me you always want me to stay."

"Oh, please," Namjoon chuckles, "while you were having an existential crisis over whether to tell me you love me, I was thinking about how much I wish you lived here."

Yoongi's breath hitches, and a playful grin tugs at his lips. 

"I could cook for you every day."

Namjoon's heart pounds heavily in his chest. 

"It's true."

Yoongi pulls Namjoon into a tight hug, and although they do not continue the conversation from there, there is a spark of hope in Namjoon that Yoongi might consider his offer at some point. 

But, for tonight, Namjoon carries Yoongi into the bathroom for a nice warm shower before finding some oversized pajamas and tucking him into bed. Yoongi mutters while mostly asleep about how Namjoon's dick is made of magic, and he cannot believe he fell in love with a former straight boy who had to read online about how to fuck him, and how he did such a good job fucking him—even though Namjoon thinks Yoongi did all the work—and Namjoon falls asleep twirling fingers in Yoongi's soft blond hair with a smile on his face.

In love. Yoongi says he is in love with Namjoon, and right here, cradling him in his arms, there is nowhere else he would rather be.

i love this story with all my heart & i hope you love it too! ❤ tag list: @dasexydevitt13�� & @giriiboyy​ 

Lips Like Honey is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved. Don’t be a silent reader, I love to hear from you! 

[moneymasnn]

Match day|mason mount

notes: I haven't really proof read this so ignore any mistakes lol <3

“Good luck” you whisper in masons ear as you go to pull out of your hug. He was standing outside chelsea changing rooms ready for the match against norwich city.

With a strong grip still on your waist, he gently whispers back “your all the luck I need.” kissing your head and then entering the changing rooms.

“Honestly, you guys make me feel sick, but you're cute so it doesn’t matter.” lewis says with a huff as you both walk down the corridor to go to the stands. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his comment.

You had been to every single Chelsea home match since the begging of the season, you always like to be there when he scores his first goal of the season. A tradition you had picked up when you first stared dating when you was only 16.

Although It became more difficult as you became adults, mason because he was now a professional footballer and had more matches to play, and you being a famous YouTube and social media star you become nervous of getting huddled by fans and crowds at matches.

So far he hasn’t scored this season and you knew he was feeling slightly disheartened about it. But this morning you assured him that it will happen, and even if he doesn’t get on the score sheet he’s going to do great in todays match. Your always keep to remind him that your always proud of him no matter what, and mason loved that you was always there from him, supporting him when he needs you most. He loves you more than you know, and is extremely great-full to have you in his life.

Sitting in your cold seat with masons brother Lewis, you had black puffer jacket and black cap on (that you stole from mason) and a blue number 19 shirt nestled warmly underneath, (the shirt also stolen from mason)

You noticed masons team mates timo and Christian sat in the seats in front of you, with there hoods up protecting themselves from the coldness outside.

You pat timo on the head, flashing him a huge smile while offering him one of your wine gums.

And not long after that the players get ready for kick off. Your chest grows warm as you notice mason on the side with a huge smile on his face talking to chilly while stretching to warm up. After the game started mason scored 8 minutes in, Lewis could have sworn he’s never seen you scream so much and timo could have sworn his ear drum popped. You cheered for his goal and felt your eyes go glossy because you know how long he had waited for this. After that you sat though the whole game shouting even louder when he scored his second and third goal.

After the match you was buzzing to run down onto the pitch to congratulate mason. Walking down the tunnel with your vip lanyard that you and Lewis had on so security would let you thought, you notice mason on the feild. He was all sweaty and his hair was stuck to his forehead, with the football under his arm and a hand on his hip. “Mase” you practically shouted it loud enough for the whole stadium to hear as you sprinted over to your boyfriend.

As soon as he heard ‘mase’ , you only ever called him that, he threw the ball at chilly.

“look after that for me would you mate” as he ran over to you. His smile was absolutely everything you wrap your arms around his shoulders your hand grazing the stubble on the back of his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up and spins you around. You both knew that people were around taking videos from the stands and all the interviewers cameras were panned on the two of you, but you didn’t care. As soon as he spun you around you brought your hands up to his face and heald his cheeks.

“You scored!” You screeched, a huge smile plastered on both your faces. But before he could say anything.

“THREE TIMES!” you screamed, mason laughed at your excitement he knew how proud you are of him.

“Thank you y/n” he said in a calm voice.

“For what?” You say looking him in the eyes as he now has a serious face.

“Believing in me all the time” you just smile and pull him in for a kiss. You bend back as he leans forward to deepen the kiss. It was slow and passionate, and everyone was watching. Once mason pulled away pecking your lips a few more times for good measure, you giggle and kiss his freckly nose.

“I love you” slips from masons mouth. A word you guys say often, like when you end a phone call, or when you say goodbye but the way he said it tonight was different, he really really meant it.

“I-“ you was cut off before you could finish.

“Mason mount, you can’t just walk away from an interview, get back here now” you giggle while placing your hand from his neck and now on his chest.

“My little goal scorer.” You peak his lips one more time, “can’t wait to congratulate you properly when we get home” a smirk playing on your lips.

He was thinking of all the very unholy things he was going to do to you later when you got home, groaning with annoyance while he was being shouted out by Chelsea’s pr manager, and Jen was a very scary woman. He turns around to see an angry Jen tapping her foot, when he turns back to you you both giggle.

“Wait, dont go anywhere I want you to sign my ball” he kisses your hand while removing it from his chest and steps back to leave.

“Oh hey Lewis, thanks for coming bro, means a lot that you stood in the stands with my way to over excited girlfriend,’ who just might I add nearly knocked me out on multiple occasions! Especially when you got that hatrick, ugh and all the pda i just experienced too, where is my best brother of the year award?.” Says Lewis in a sarcastic manor behind me.

Mason rolls his eyes and turns to his over dramatic brother, “Yeh yeh mate don’t get jealous, I love you too. I’ll be back in a minuet okay? I can practically see steam coming from jens ears” and with that he runs off to finish his interview.

[sophie-writings]

Maybe some hcs for Aizawa, Bakugou, Hawks, Fat gun and Mirio discovering that their shy s/o keeps photos of them on their phones with silly captions like "love of my life", "my hero♥️", "best boyfriend" etc. Well, some embarrassing things like that xD

this was so fun and cute ✊🏼😤💖

i have a bonus at the end, so stick round for that 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Characters: Aizawa Shouta, Bakugou Katsuki, Hawks, Fat Gum and Mirio Togata 

Type: Headcanons, SMAU

Aizawa Shouta 

☁️Aizawa is asleep on your lap as you keep scrolling through his phone.

☁️You looked down to look at your boyfriend's face and he just looked so peaceful and cute???

☁️You couldn't resist, you just had to snap a picture for your "just for me" album.

☁️But as soon as you clicked on the white button, the loudest "SNAP" sound and flash woke him up.

☁️"What... What are you doing?" He was so confused.

☁️"I was snapping a picture...?"

☁️"For what?"

☁️You just sighed and handed him the phone.

☁️His eyed widened slightly when he saw a bunch of pictures of him, mostly candids and a few pictures you took together. 

☁️And you had the corniest captions for them, such as "my love 💖" and the one that made him smile "hubby. 💍"

☁️He looked up at you and you were blushing deeply.

☁️"Maybe I'll actually turn into your "hubby" really soon." He said pushing your head down to kiss your lips.

Bakugou Katsuki 

☁️You and Bakugou were having a date at a new coffee shop.

☁️The place was so beautiful and the cakes are really well made.

☁️"Katsu! Take a picture of me please." You ask handing him your phone. "And make it seem like I don't know you're taking a picture."

☁️"Then don't lOOK AT THE CAMERA IDIOT."

☁️Bakugou unlocked your phone, but to his surprise the app was already opened and he could see all of the pictures you had taken.

☁️And mostly were pictures of him.

☁️Him eating his cake just minutes ago.

☁️Him when he fell asleep on your lap.

☁️Him making dinner for you when you were sick.

☁️And every single one had a cute caption.

☁️Corny, but cute. 

☁️"So the best boyfriend ever, uh?" He said smirking.

☁️You blushed super hard as soon as you realized what he was talking about.

☁️Bakugou wouldn't say it out loud, but he was super happy.

☁️Mostly because he also had a bunch of candids of you on his phone, but he'll never tell a soul about that.

Hawks

☁️"Hey y/n, can I use your phone to make a call? Mine just died." Asked your boyfriend.

☁️"Sure, It's on top of the drawer." You said leaving the room. "I'm gonna take a shower."

☁️He hummed in response and grabbed your phone, and dialed the number.

☁️The call was quick, quicker than he thought.

☁️Now he his your phone on his hands and you still haven't come out of the bathroom.

☁️A peek wouldn't hurt right?

☁️He opened up your Snapchat app and swiped to the memories.

☁️He was ready to see your face and cute smile.

☁️But instead, he got his face and also a very cute smile.

☁️A picture from when he flew around the city with you on his arms.

☁️He smiled, reading the caption. "My hero." 

☁️"Kei, what are you doing?" He was so focused he didn't even notice you walking into the room you both shared.

☁️"I didn't know you loved me so much y/n!" He teased, as he got closer.

☁️"I-It's not-" You wanted to defend yourself but before you could he placed a kiss on your lips and hugged you tightly. "I'm glad to know I'm your hero."

Fatgum 

☁️"Y/n dinner's ready!" Taishiro called as he set the hot pan on the table.

☁️"I'm coming!" You answered, still looking for your phone.

☁️Taishiro just shrugged and sat down, spotting your phone on top of the table.

☁️You got a Youtube notification and the screen lit up.

☁️He felt a smile creep to his face when he saw the picture of both on you in your background.

☁️He grabbed the phone and it suddenly unlocked.

☁️Your phone was unclocked using fingerprints, and he could also unlock it with his.

☁️But since it was an accident, and he didn't want to go through your phone, he was ready to lock it again. But a small glimpse of his face made him stop.

☁️You had a LOT of pictures of him on your camera roll.

☁️You even took pictures at the screen of the tv when he appeared-

☁️But the cutest thing about it was the cute captions.

☁️He SO did the same to your pictures on his phone.

☁️"Ugh, I can't find my phone anywh-" You stopped on his tracks and stared at the device on his hands. "Uhhh, why are you tearing up Taishiro?"

☁️"YOU'RE SO CUTE Y/N!" He said.

☁️You both had dinner and he showed you the candids he took of you, with just as corny captions.

Mirio Togata

☁️You and Mirio were lazing around in his dorm room.

☁️You had a hard week and finally, it was time for a well-deserving rest.

☁️You were laying on Mirio's chest, watching some Snapchat stories, while he was watching some videos on Youtube.

☁️You looked up to him just to see his focused face watching the screen.

☁️He was probably watching a hero fight.

☁️This was the perfect opportunity.

☁️You opened your Snapchat camera and snapped a picture of both of you.

☁️The picture looked cute, even if you barely appeared in it.

☁️Mirio's cute focused face stole the show.

☁️Smiling, you wrote "my big baby" on the caption and saved the picture.

☁️"Oh, you took a picture! Show it to me!" He said, surprising you.

☁️Hesitantly, you showed him the picture, hoping he wouldn't swipe.

☁️But he did, and there was another picture of him.

☁️And another.

☁️And another.

☁️"Ownnn y/n, these are so cute". He hugged you even closer and kissed your forehead. "You need to warn me before so we can take proper one, I want us as my background photo".

Bonus: y/n’s snapchats

[echo-of-sounds]

halloween pt.3

Small Halloween drabbles with Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum.

Hizashi’s is for a mature audience. I realized how horrible it would be to go shopping with him. He’s definitely the type to get distracted by everything that you have to keep pulling along to get your shopping done.

Aizawa Shouta - Halloween Fair

“Let’s go down there.” You pointed to the branching street.

Aizawa took a long swig of his beer before chiding, “We’re not going to waste money on any games.”

“Sho, come on. You said you wanted to come with me but you don’t want to try anything.”

“They’re rigged and the prizes aren’t even good.”

You grabbed his hand, stopping him in the middle of the flowing crowd. “If we’re not going to do anything, let’s just go home. We’ve already walked everywhere and petted all the animals, anyway.”

He stared at you. Eyebrows weighed low. Dark eyes reflected twinkling lights. Only he could manage an incredibly grumpy expression surrounded by cute mermaid and fairy costumes and glittering jack-o’-lanterns. 

Heaving a long sigh, he glared at the stuffed animals in the distance. “Two games.”

“Each?”

“In total.”

You smiled wide and led him down the street. A wall of balloons caught your attention. Orange and black balloons laid out a pumpkin design with purple ones enclosing it. A fair amount had been popped. “I’ll play this.”

“It’s the easiest game here.”

“Which is why I’m choosing it,” you whispered so the worker didn’t hear. She handed you three darts. You quickly and rather easily popped three balloons.

“You can choose from those items,” the worker said, motioning to the right side.

The giant bat stuffed animal was the only real choice. Its wings fit around your shoulders and Velcroed together in the front. You wore it like a shawl.

Shouta just glowered at it. You squeezed his hand, smiling and requesting, “Can you try to have some fun? If not for you, for me?”

“I don’t see how any of these games can be fun. Most depend on dumb luck and the very few that require skill don’t offer good prizes. It’s how they take your money.”

“Try this one. There’s skill in it.” You walked to the apple bobbing game. “Looks like a new group is about to go. Join them.”

He kept his groan to himself. A buff man was talking with, or more like to his girlfriend, about using his skillful mouth to win. His gaudy machismo grated almost everyone around him.

“Dumb place to brag about that,” you muttered, noting the kids running by.

Shouta finished his beer, then agreed with a smirk, “Cherry stems are better at proving that anyway.” He tied his hair back and handed over his cellphone and wallet. “Hold these.”

He lined up at the basins right beside the big guy. The worker explained they couldn’t use their hands and the first to catch one in their mouth, won. The contestants crossed their arms behind their backs. A whistle blew and everyone’s head dipped into the water, splashing and soaking themselves.

But Sho waited, calmly watching the apples float and spin. He bowed for one. His nose and chin barely ducked under the surface to swiftly pop back up, holding an apple by the stem. The worker blew his whistle, congratulating him as the winner. A bag filled with colorful objects was thrust into his arms.

Lifting the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs, Sho dried his face and returned to you. He handed over the prize: a bunch of 3D puzzle cubes and toy puzzle games.

Despite knowing he didn’t like PDA, you gave him a peck on the cheek. And you couldn’t help but smile overhearing the buff man accusing him of cheating. You’d rather deal with a grumbling and grumpy Shouta than someone who’s way too into it like that guy.

Yagi Toshinori - Haunted Hedge Maze

A blast of air rocketed out. You spun, hiding against Toshi. Despite his laugh, you felt his hand shaking on your back and his heartbeat quickening. “It was only an air cannon, sweetheart.”

You glimpsed out from the safety of his chest. No monster or man stood on the path. You muttered to yourself, “Okay, alright, I’m good.”

“Let’s go. The faster we walk, the faster we get out of this.”

“Yeah.” You stayed flush behind him, holding his hand, letting him lead. Beams shot into the night sky from all over, giving a little light. The dirt walkway was barely visible under the smog.

“Left or right?”

A yelp came somewhere from the right. His shoulders stiffened for a millisecond. You answered, “Definitely left.”

“Definitely.”

Something popped out from the hedge, growling and crackling and dripping liquid. You tucked into his shoulder blade as you walked past the monster. It glared then lurched forward. You pushed on Toshi’s back, “Go, go, go!”

The corner opened to a spacious area- definitely not the end. Little girls danced around in circles, all singing different nursery rhymes. Their white dresses splattered red with blood. When you took a step, they stopped, turned, and started.

“Just walk away,” you whispered.

He nodded, slowly shuffling to a new path. Right as he was about to step over the threshold, a ghost vaulted down from the hedge’s arch. The girls shrieked. You turned, seeing them rushing at you.

Toshi gripped your arm and pulled you to another pathway. A few other demons and doctors jumped out, scaring you each time. Your heart began to beat a little too fast, fearing you were lost.

But Toshi didn’t stop. He kept his hold and hurried forward, eventually rounding a corner that revealed the end. Relief smacked your chest. You could breathe and took the finish line’s safety to kiss him deeply. 

Fingers dug into your forearm, shaking more than before. He asked when you broke the kiss, “Are you alright?”

“Are you?” you said, half breathless, half laughing.

“I’m okay.” He looked at the Haunted Mansion’s front doors. “Do you want to go in there next?”

You scarcely made it through the hedge maze, but if he truly wanted to go through the next part of the haunt, you would. You croaked, “Yeah.”

Blue eyes snapped to you. “Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

A group of teens walked out giggling. They complained about the ‘lack of horror’ and mentioned heading to a nearby restaurant.

Toshi cleared his throat, “I could go for some food.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” You scurried back to the car, more than ready to leave.

Yamada Hizashi - Costume Shopping

Nothing caught your eye in any of the rows and racks. Hizashi’s laughter came from another aisle. He popped out, holding a racy maid costume, chuckling, “You’d look so sexy in this. Try it on!”

“No.” You grabbed it and hung it back on the rack. “If I’m going as sexy anything, I’m going as sexy Present Mic.”

Arms embraced your waist. Lips kissed and nipped your neck. You sighed his name, trying not to get distracted like he’s been the entire damn day. “I’d rather not get it on in a witch shop.”

“It’s a metaphysical shop,” he corrected. 

“Whatever. We’re just here for costumes. Have you found anything good?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re screwed then. We’ve checked everywhere else.”

“It’ll be fine.”

He continued his kissing while you searched the hanging outfits, hoping just one was good enough to wear, but it was all sexy nun, sexy clown, and sexy Pikachu. It wasn’t too much to ask for a decent costume. Or at least something that’s actually sexy, not a children's video game character.

Hands rubbed down your hips, clearly in want. You sighed, “Go try to find something.”

“Alright,” he sulked away. But he scurried back thirty seconds later, smiling as wide as he could, holding a green cylinder with spirals. “What about this?”

“What the hell is it?”

He read the sticker, “A six-inch, Reiki infused, jade dildo that increases love-”

“Hizashi.”

“- and nurturing, and stimulates and aids in emotional-”

“Hizashi.”

“- release. It also boosts fertility and balances bodily fluids.” His eyebrows bobbed up and down as he smirked at you.

“Hizashi, did you find a costume?”

“Oh no, I got distracted in the sex toy section.”

“You were gone for a few seconds. Costume shopping shouldn’t be this hard,” you grumbled, walking the rest of the aisle.

He followed, hugging you again, kissing your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it, baby. We’ll find something.”

“The party’s tonight and unless you’re going as a sex enthusiast, we don’t have anything to wear.”

His head snapped up. And you realized you shouldn’t have given him the idea because he ran back to the sexy maid dress. “I’m totally going as a sex enthusiast.”

You laughed, “You think you can fit your shoulders in that dress?”

“I’ll make it work. I’ll educate people on sex safety and give out free orgasms.”

“You’ll give me free orgasms. No one else gets you.” You kissed him.

“Oh, here!” He picked up something from the floor. It was a gray headband with mouse ears. “You can wear your gray dress and those fishnet stockings with the lace,” he hummed, pulling your waist against him. “And that cute, little pink bow you wear for me whenever I ask because you’re such a good-”

“Are you guys gonna, like, buy somethin’ or just keep makin’ out?” The worker blew a giant bubble with her gum.

“Sorry.” You took the items from Hizashi. “We’ll take these.”

Taishiro Toyomitsu - Making Candies and Cookies

Tai meticulously spaced out the globs into four rows, measuring their size and roundness till they were perfect. When it was filled, he took out another baking sheet.

“What do you need that for?”

“Oh, there’s more.” He tilted the bowl down. A huge amount of cookie dough still remained. “I quadrupled the recipe. Gonna make seventy-two!”

“Tai, we don’t need seventy-two cookies.”

“I do.”

“We already have two pies, fudge, brittle, and a truckload of whoopie pies. I think we have enough,” you laughed.

“Nah. I found a good recipe for peanut butter bark. Looks good.” He pulled a recipe from the top of the microwave, handing it to you as he finished pouring the cookie dough. “Get the stuff out, babe. We’re making that next.”

Pans and crumbs scattered over the counter. Foil and containers were running low. Silverware lumped in the sink. All the snacks and desserts were arranged on the table. As much as you enjoyed sweets, you weren’t confident in yourself to finish all of them.

“We’re going to be sick come Monday.”

“We’ll deal with it then.” He kissed your forehead on his way to the sink. 

You gathered the ingredients. The chocolate chips melted quickly. As you poured it, Tai kept trying to smudge some on your arms or nab the candies before you could use them. You fended him off each time and sprinkled peanut butter cups, toffee, and candy over the melted chocolate.

The white chocolate was next. Right when you were about to drizzle it, a finger sunk into it, gathered a globule, and moved to smear it on your cheek. You grabbed his arm, laughing, “Tai, don’t.”

“You just need a little right there.”

He poked your nose. Between your giggling and his strength, you struggled to hold his arm away. 

“Trust me, baby. I know what’s best for you. It’ll look pretty.”

“No-” Fingers tickled your side. You tried dodging it, but he followed, ultimately plastering your face with the chocolate. His mouth landed next, smooching and licking it up through your laughing.

You scooped some onto two fingers and smeared it over his forehead. It clung to his hair which rubbed off on yours as he continued tickling your sides. He wasn’t going to release you until you were nearly peeing your pants.