#This ask kinda threw me for a loop

[whosectype]

Are there any blogs u can’t stand r hate

I’m guessing you mean in my direct lil community? (Cause I don’t interact anywhere else) I don’t hate anyone here??? I find it hard to hate people online because you just don’t know them, yknow? Ofc blogs that support cupcest and stuff I will block because it makes me uncomfortable, but I don’t consider them part of our community anyways. now for blogs I can’t stand, I wouldn’t say there’s any! There aren’t any blogs that are “annoying” per se. I follow lots of people, and the people I follow are the ones I enjoy seeing (and the ones I’m not too scared to follow :’D)

as someone great once said, the internet is where nuance goes to die. so if someone makes a mistake and gets called out for it, but apologizes and tries to fix their mistake, i don’t think thats reason to ostracize, or harass them. Granted if they do something incredibly harmful that has permanent consequences to one or more people, then maybe they should take a break off of the internet entirely. I don’t block people that often, all the hate I’ve gotten has been entirely anonymous, so it’s not like I can block those who just wish to be a butthole. But a lot of the hate asks I’ve gotten are really silly, and often don’t completely involve me?

so short answer, nope!

[coldgoldlazarus]

So I used to watch Ninjago when I was much younger and I saw that post you reblogged about Nya a few days back, and I didn't remember any love interest for her so I decided to google ninjago and holy shit when did this show get 15 seasons??? The last time I watched it, there were 2. Isn't crazy when you look back on old interests and see stuff like that?

Oh, huh, that's pretty funny XD

But yeah, I have been in kind of a weird spot of like, not actively following Ninjago a lot of the time, but still having a passive interest due to it being adjacent to Bionicle. Plus, like, having seen bits and pieces of it, (saw the miniseries and Serpentine season, then a later one with a tournament arc, and then one of the more recent ones, but have been meaning to go back and watch it all properly and in order) and getting a few of the sets on impulse here and there; so the current season count isn't as much of a surprise to me. (Also, part of it is a recent shift to shorter seasons coming out faster, so it jumped from like, nine to fifteen in just the past three or four years?)

But without that sort of consistent secondhand awareness, I can definitely see how that would be a shock, yeah XD

And yeah, I know there's been stuff out there that I ran into as a kid, then later found out had continued on without my knowing, and it's just kinda wild to realize, so I feel you there.

[spicyraeman]

Would Virran be part of the band? Who would he date in the modern band au

I have a hard time keeping my blorbos out of AUs so yeah Vir would def be a part of the band in some way, thinkin' maybe rhythm guitar and backing vocals

As for dating, in their canon they get with Shadowheart and then later Lae’zel gets added into the mix so I'm inclined to say that they’d go a similar path in a modern AU. Although they do have some chemistry with just about every party member (not Astarion) so I might play around with that a bit

[rafesangelita]

omg congrats on the 5k! can i order a freshly baked slice of warm vanilla cake [🍰] for bitchykook! reader + “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid” + smut

warnings: kinda mean!reader lol, rafe is desperateeee, oral sex (f. receiving), rafe finishes in his pants (!!!)

rafe wasn’t a desperate guy. he could have any girl he wanted, except you of course, and that drove him crazy. he was so used to girls bending at his will, that when he made advances towards you and you outright rejected him, it threw him for a loop. “fuck a guy that’s been in every bed in figure eight? no, thank you.” you blew him a kiss, walking off with a laugh as your friends cackled alongside you. rafe’s ego had definitely taken a blow that night, and it was from that point forward that he decided to make it a mission to get you to say yes to him.

he would find out where you and your clique would be for the evening and show up, buying rounds of drinks for you and your girlfriends, only to not be acknowledged or even waved at by you. rafe couldn’t crack you and he hated it. taking it a step further, he managed to get dozens of flowers sent over to your house, a pathetic little card with the words ‘just one time.’ written in gold script was folded into one of the bouquets. the next time you saw him, he wasted no time in asking if you’d received his ‘romantic’ gesture. “i did actually! but just for future reference, roses aren’t my favorite. bye now!”

you had left rafe at a loss for words, and feeling more defeated than ever. apart of you would feel bad if he was begging for a chance to actually be with you instead of just using you to add to his list. that was one of the reasons why you were being so cruel to him, the second reason being; you loved to see the drop in his shoulders everytime he thought he had you. a few weeks had passed, and you were throwing a party for your best friend, the entirety of figure eight taking over your home. “i’ll be right back, i’m going to go get your gift.” your bestie squealed excitedly as you went upstairs to your bedroom.

walking over to your closet, you had grabbed the glittery pink gift bag, your door clicking shut as you fixed the white tissue paper peeking at the top. “chanel! this is supposed to be a surprise..” you looked up, being met with rafe instead. “what do you think you’re doing in here?” you arched a brow at him, jutting your hip out as he fiddled with his fingers. “i just wanna talk.” he held his hands up defensively. narrowing your eyes at him, you placed chanel’s gift on your nightstand before taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “well.. talk.” you watched as he lowered himself to his knees.

you laughed. “rafe, what the hell?” you let him rest his hands on your thighs. “why won’t you give me a chance?” his eyebrows were drawn together, a pleading expression on his face. “a chance to get me out of my panties?” rafe sighed. “you want it that bad?” you weren’t surprised, rafe wasn’t the first man to get on his knees for you. “yes, i’m begging.” you studied him for a moment. “i’ll tell you what..” you leaned forward, “you could have a taste.” rafe’s fingers curled into your skin, nodding frantically as he spread your thighs apart. you watched him slide the lace material of your underwear down your legs, your dress pooling at your waist.

rafe cursed at the sight of your bare cunt. he’s been fantasizing about this for months. “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” he marveled, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt his tongue run up your glossy folds. “oh my god- you taste so good.” while everyone knew rafe to be an intimidating man with an even rougher exterior, you had him crying at the fact that he got to eat you out. so, so, so pathetic. rafe was already hard as a rock, his cock straining painfully against his jeans.

“holy fuck, i can’t believe this is happening.” he felt his chest bloom with pride when he made you moan, desperate to make you do it again. his tongue worked skillfully on your clit as he palmed himself to relieve some tension in his groin. you couldn’t deny the way rafe had you melting into his touch, your skin sore from where he had a bruising grip on your thigh. you reached down, nails running across his head as he ate you like a man starved. “rafe..” you whimpered, hips chasing his mouth as your voice echoed in his ears. he could die happy knowing you moaned his name.

rafe was still palming himself through his pants, a groan leaving his lips when he felt his cock twitch with need. “please let me fuck you.” he gazed up at your pretty face, meeting your eyes as if to persuade you to let him have his way. “just the tip, baby, please.” you shook your head, propping yourself up on your elbows. “you wanna fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” soon after you said those words, you were shaking in his arms as he brought you to your orgasm, a cry leaving your lips. rafe’s eyes widened. you weren’t the only one who made a mess.

he brought you down from your high, cursing under his breath when he looked down and saw a wet patch on the front of his jeans. following his eyes, you placed a hand over your mouth aa you gasped at the sight. “oh my god, did you cum in your pants, ‘cameron?” you giggled using your heel clad foot to push him away. “you should probably go home and clean yourself up..” was the last thing you said before leaving him alone and taking chanel’s gift downstairs.

[wooahaes]

skz - forgetting to kiss them

pairing: non-idol!skz x gn!reader

prompt: u forget to kiss them hello when u come home

genre: fluff!! just silly fluff

warnings: food mentions :3 + intentional lowercase & no proofreading.

daisy's notes: couldnt b me. id never stop greeting them w kisses. no one look at how long jisung's is i was particularly delulu when i wrote it

bang chan

chris noticed... almost immediately that was off about you. the embarrassing part was that it was partially due to the fact you didn't greet him with your usual "hi, i'm home" kiss.

it wasn't that chris looked forward to that kiss (he did, but that wasn't the point). he liked to think he was just... attuned to you. that he could feel the general vibe you had whenever you entered a room. he wasn't missing your "i'm home" kiss--he was merely noticing that you weren't feeling great. that something was weighing on your mind. so he called out as he heard you go back to the kitchen to get something to drink, asking about your day.

immediately, he heard you let out a long sigh. "work was awful and then i missed my bus so i had to take a cab."

chris nodded. "ah. gotcha."

you made your way over, sitting down next to him. "... did i do something?" you looked over toward the door, trying to retrace your steps. you hadn't slammed the door, and you hadn't been too late coming home...

"nah!" he looked over, "i mean, you kinda didn't give me a kiss when you came home. figured something was wrong."

you stared at him for a moment. did you really always give him a kiss when you came home? you liked to, because it was your own little way of saying "hi, i missed you," to him with just a quick peck. after a moment, you leaned in, pressing a quick peck against the corner of his lips before planting another on his lips proper.

"there," you giggled. "is that better?"

judging by the way chris giggled back, pulling you in for a third... maybe not. (but it wasn't as if you were going to complain.)

lee minho

usually, minho didn't mind whether you kissed him or not. he'd always enjoy your kisses, and found it endearing that you pressed a quick kiss against his lips whenever you came home, but he never asked nor would he ever force you to do it. sometimes he'd kiss you as a greeting, though, just because he liked to see your smile.

other times, when he was feeling a little more devious... he'd call out to you, just like he did tonight. "you forgot something!"

you came back into the room, shirt half-unbuttoned as you'd been in the middle of changing. you furrowed your brow, pouting a little as you tried to figure out what was wrong.

he just smiled at you. "you did."

a moment later, it hit you. you snorted, and made your way over, pulling him in for a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer than the usual one you usually gave him. your hands fell to his shoulders, and you drew back. "there. is that better?"

"i missed you," he giggled. "is that so wrong?"

you rolled your eyes, and gave him another peck on the tip of his nose. "love you, too, you dork," you said, pulling away from him to go change.

(and the sound of your laugh as you continued away despite the way he lunged to grab at you, just barely missing your ass... all minho could do was smile to himself.)

seo changbin

changbin was a reasonable guy. he waited a reasonable amount of time (ten minutes: you said you weren't going to shower or anything yet) before approaching you in the kitchen. "are you mad?"

you looked up from where you were working on dinner. he was so genuine about the question, and it threw you for a loop. had you done something to imply that you were...? all you did was get started on dinner because it was your night to cook. "what?"

"we always talk about these things," he said with a sigh. he crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, eyes bearing into your own, "did i do something? you can tell me if i did. it's okay."

"binnie, honey, i have no idea what you're talking about."

"really?" he frowned, and gave you this look of disbelief. "you always give me a kiss when you come home, and today, you didn't. do i need to run to the store? did i forget something--"

oh! you almost laughed at how adorable he could be sometimes. "nope," you said, reaching forward to pull him in. "just got distracted when i got home." ever so casually, you kissed him, and planted an extra on the corner of his mouth. "good to know you'd miss my kisses, though."

changbin just pulled you in again with a giggle, content to steal a few more from you before he let you go... for now.

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin didn't notice at first. he'd been curled up on the couch with a book when you came home, carrying a few bags of groceries that you insisted on handling yourself since they were for tonight's dinner. it was your night to cook after all, and--after asking to make sure you didn't want help--he settled back into his spot.

and then it hit him eventually: you... didn't kiss him when you came home. why didn't you kiss him? you always went out of your way to do it, after all. he leaned up, looking over to where he could see you deeply concentrating on the recipe you were reading. then again, you had set down the groceries and lounged around for a little bit first--the two of you had even talked during that. maybe you were mad at him? he knew he'd been petty about things before and denied you kisses as a result. maybe he was the one who was supposed buy groceries...? but you didn't give him a list or text him anything...

"honey?" he called out.

immediately, it caught you attention. 'honey' wasn't really his usual term of endearment for some reason: you were always his love, his baby. "what's wrong?"

his face grew warmer--was it really that concerning? "nothing--" he started, but realized that you only grew more concerned. "you didn't kiss me when you came home."

"oh."

he decided to keep going, "did i do something--"

"if you want it," you cut him off, "then come get it."

he just stared at you. "... what?"

"i was thinking about dinner," you said, turning back to what you were cooking. "but if you want that kiss, you'll have to come get it."

hyunjin found himself smiling, pushing aside his blanket and the book to get up and make his way over to you. he kissed you, smiling into it as well, as his hands fell to rest on your waist.

all better.

han jisung

jisung was not afraid to admit that he was deeply in love with you. and sometimes... that meant he'd overthink the little things. his heart was so full of devotion to you that sometimes he'd get too deep in his own head, trying not to do anything to wrong you. of course, he knew you, and he knew that you'd always accommodate him by telling him things outright. if he hurt you, you pointed it out and asked for space so that the two of you talk things out properly when both of you were ready for it. but today you were sitting at the other end of the couch, a pillow hugged against your chest as the two of you watched TV. or, well, you watched TV. jisung was watching you.

"hey." his foot bumped against your leg. "did something happen today?"

you tore your gaze away from the screen, brows drawing together. "no?" yet you continued to watch him for a moment, eyes scanning his face for anything that would give him away. "are you okay?"

he nodded. even that confused 'no?' was enough to soothe his thoughts. you would be honest with him, after all: that was what the two of you did. he settled into the couch. "i'm fine," he said, hoping it sounded casual enough.

yet you tilted your head, as if trying to get a better look at him. "baby?" you set the pillow onto the floor, moving a little closer. "did i forget something?"

he grew flustered immediately. "it's okay--it's not a big deal--"

"ohh," you lit up, smiling as you already knew. he liked the twinkle in your eyes whenever you knew something. "i know what it was." you crawled over to him, teasing him a little, "my jisungie didn't get his kiss today--"

he found himself unable to fight back a smile. "it's not a big deal, honey--"

"nope!" you giggled, and practically launched yourself at him. he'd end up pinned against the couch, "gotta make up for it with extra kisses for worrying my jisungie."

god, he loved you. you peppered kisses all over his face despite his laughter, slightly pushing back against where your hands were at his wrists to try and re-ground himself better against the couch, yet you didn't let go. sure, maybe you were hamming it up and acting extra cute for him... but he knew what this was. it was a message, loud and clear, that you cared about him wholeheartedly. you knew he could get anxious sometimes, especially when it came to potentially accidentally upsetting you. 'i want to make you happy' was what you told him once. he hoped you could feel the way he smiled into the soft kiss you pressed against his lips. when you drew back, you just stayed there, hovering over him and admiring how the glow of happiness looked on him.

"i'm home," you said.

jisung just brushed a stray strand of hair away. yeah... you are his home.

lee felix

as much as felix wanted to whine at you playfully for forgetting to kiss him when you came home (a staple of your relationship, he'd joke)... he couldn't help but worry. he continued to work at dinner, mentally going over your interactions today. he knew you well enough to know that he hadn't done anything to upset you unless you were having an off day where everything annoyed you (no shame in it, he thought; he had those days, too). it wasn't until after he finished making dinner that he called out to you.

"did something happen today?"

you looked up, brows drawn together, but he could see the fatigue on your face from stressing about something. "no?"

he set aside what he was doing, making his way over to where you were sitting, laptop open in front of you. you changed tabs immediately away from whatever you were doing for work right as felix began to knead at your shoulders.

"this is cheating," you whined, head dipping back so you could see his face.

"and i'd do it again," he said, dipping down to plant a quick peck against your forehead. "you can talk if you need to. i don't mind listening."

with a sigh, you shut your eyes while felix continued to massage your shoulders. sure enough, there was someone you had to deal with at work that had annoyed you enough that you were still running through the conversations hours later. he just stood there, listening and nodding along as he continued to work his magic on your tense muscles.

when you finished, he leaned down to press another quick kiss against your lips. "feeling better?"

"a lot, actually," you sat straighter in your chair, reaching forward to close your laptop. "thank you, lixie."

kim seungmin

seungmin had sat on the couch for too damn long, pretending that everything was fine. yes, you didn't kiss him when you came home, but that didn't mean anything. clearly, it didn't mean anything. except maybe you were mad at him, and you were withholding a stupid kiss because of it instead of talking it out like adults. that was what the two of you agreed on: no going to bed mad. to say that you were mad and needed space. not... whatever this is.

"seungmin?" you had sat down at the other end of the couch. "what's eating you?"

his eyes were a little too sharp when he looked at you, frustration all too evident on his face when he was supposed to be hiding it. "that's what i should be asking you."

and then... genuine, unfiltered confusion. your brows drew together as you watched him, smile falling. oh.

fuck. you weren't mad at him.

"never mind," he says quickly, "it's stupid--"

you moved over so that you could reach out and take one of his hands in your own, "seungminnie, it's not stupid if it's bothering you!"

ah. using cuteness to get what you wanted. unfair. "you didn't kiss me when you came home like you always do, so i thought you were mad. so then i got made because we agreed to always talk things out."

immediately, you giggled. "aw, seungmin... you really like my kisses that much?"

when you leaned forward to kiss him, he immediately shrank away, trying to block your mouth from his own. "no! not now! it's not the same now!"

yet your laugh was enough to make him drop the act. your lips pressed against his, and he smiled into the kiss, happy to have your arms around him... even if you'd never let him live this down.

yang jeongin

jeongin considered himself one of the more mature people in his friend group. sure, he could be silly and goof off sometimes, but he'd heard his other friends with partners complain about the tiniest things that turned out to be nothing. so with you, he felt a little comfortable in assuming that your "i'm home" kiss just slipped your mind. you'd texted him your bus was running late, so he'd decided to make you a cup of tea for when you came in. and when you threw yourself onto the couch, saying nothing to him for a while...

well, jeongin had a pretty strong feeling that you needed someone to listen to you instead. he'd sat down next to you, passing you the mug as he leaned in to press a quick peck against your lips. his own little "welcome home" kiss that he'd try to greet you with sometimes, if given the chance.

"do you want to talk about it?"

he watched as you took a long sip of tea, letting out a sigh once you'd set the mug down. "work sucked."

jeongin nodded. "and your bus was late..."

another heavy sigh. you turned your face to look at him, reaching for his hand. he gave it to you without any teasing, and watched as you pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

"are you sure it's fine for me to unload all of this on you?"

"that's what i'm here for," he hummed, sliding in a little closer so that he could draw you closer. "you listen to me, right?"

the hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, and jeongin watched as you settled in, head resting on his shoulder. "right..."

he just pressed another kiss into your hair as you launched into telling him about your day. no need for you to worry about giving him any 'i'm home' kisses: jeongin would supply you with as many 'welcome home' kisses as you needed to make you smile again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. ��it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[kiesbrainjuice]

— FAV HQ BOYS WITH THIS TREND !

pr : timeskip!bokuto x fem!reader; timeskip!suna x fem!reader; timeskip!kageyama x fem!reader; nekoma!kuroo x fem!reader; timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader.

syn : you show your boyfriend a trending photo pose. After some playful banter, you both decide to try recreating the pose.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

wc : 3.5k

tw : no noya and kenma :(( suggestive talks and ends, fluff ! credit pic : srkork on insta

— BOKUTO KOTARO

The lazy Sunday afternoon stretched out before us like a cat in a sunbeam. Outside, the world was alive with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of neighbors enjoying the warm weather. But inside our cozy apartment, time seemed to slow to a delicious crawl.

Bokuto Koutarou and I were sprawled across our bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter. The late afternoon sun filtered through our fluttering curtains, painting everything in a soft, golden glow. It caught in Bokuto's wild silver hair, making it shine like a haphazard halo. I couldn't help but marvel at how even in this state of complete relaxation, he managed to look like he'd just stepped off a volleyball court – his muscular arm draped over my waist, a reminder of the power coiled within his laid-back frame.

We'd spent the morning in a whirlwind of activity – a impromptu volleyball match with friends that had turned into a picnic, which had then evolved into a competitive round of frisbee. By the time we made it home, we were pleasantly exhausted, content to lounge in comfortable silence.

Now, we were both absorbed in our phones, sharing the occasional meme or funny video. Bokuto's laughter, when it erupted, was like a sudden thunderclap – loud, infectious, and impossible to ignore. It never failed to make me smile, even when I had no idea what had tickled him so.

I was idly scrolling through Pinterest, looking for new recipe ideas (though knowing full well that Bokuto would eat anything I put in front of him with the same enthusiastic gusto), when a particular image caught my eye. It was edgy, provocative, and unlike anything we'd ever tried before.

"Bo," I said, gently nudging his ribs with my elbow. "look at this. It's pretty nice."

He rolled over, nearly crushing me in the process, his golden eyes bright with curiosity. "What's up, babe? Found another cute owl video?"

I shook my head, angling my phone so he could see the screen. "Nah, it's this new photo trend. Check it out."

The image showed a couple taking a selfie, but with a twist. The guy had his arm around the girl's neck, pretending to choke her in what was meant to be an sexy, edgy pose. It was provocative, to say the least.

Bokuto's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his messy fringe. "Whoa, hold up! Is he trying to choke her or something? That's...weird!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. You could see the confusion on his face. Bokuto was usually up for anything, but this clearly threw him for a loop. "No, no, it's not real choking," you explained. "It's just for the picture, to make it look sexy and l possessive."

He scratched his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "I dunno, baby… It looks kinda weird. What if I really choke you with those strong arms of mine?"

You turned to face him, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come onnnn, Bo. You could look sexy and scary! You're like a big, cuddly owl."

He puffed out his chest, trying to look offended but failing miserably. "Hey! I can be sexy and scary when I want to be!"

You laughed, poking his cheek. "Sure you can, tough guy. So, do it for me!"

Bokuto's face scrunched up in thought for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Alright, let's do it baby! But if i choke you, we're deleting it and I’m killing myself, okay?"

You grinned back, relieved. "Deal. And hey, if it doesn't work out, do not kill urself please, Bo."

"If you ask!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "But even if you have the picture don’t post it!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Of course I won’t, Bo. Let's start with this and see how it goes."

After your initial attempt, you had an idea. "Hey Bo, let's try using the mirror length for the picture.”

Bokuto's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yeah! We can see more of us that way!"

You scrambled off the bed and positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. It was then that you really noticed what Bokuto was wearing - one of his compression shirts that he usually wore for volleyball practice. The tight black fabric clung to every contour of his muscular torso, accentuating his broad shoulders and defined chest.

You couldn't help but stare for a moment. Even after all this time, the sight of him like this still made your heart race. "Uh, Bo? Have you always looked this good in that shirt?"

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a mischievous grin. "Oh? Like what you see, huh?"

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Maybe. Just a little."

Bokuto flexed playfully, striking a pose. "Well, I did just finish a workout this morning. Gotta keep in shape for my number one!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, muscles, let's focus on the photo. Same pose as the pic?"

He nodded, moving behind you and wrapping his arm around your neck. This time, you could feel the warmth of his chest against my back, the firm pressure of his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?"You asked, trying to keep my voice steady as you held up your phone.

"Ready!" Bokuto replied, his breath tickling your ear.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection in the mirror. Bokuto's arm was around your neck, his intense "game face" expression in full effect. But what really stood out was the contrast between you both - his powerful, athletic frame in that form-fitting shirt, next to your smaller figure.

As soon as the picture was taken, Bokuto's serious expression melted into a grin. He peered over your shoulder at the phone screen. "Wow! We look good, don't we?"

You nodded, a little breathless. "Yeah, we do. Especially you in that shirt. Maybe you should wear it more often."

Bokuto's grin widened. "Oh? I thought you liked my owl-print t-shirts better…"

You turned in his arms, looking up at him. "Let's just say both have their merits! But right now, I'm definitely appreciating this one."

You handed him the phone to show him the photo you took. his eyes opened wider and he felt quite aroused by the photo of you surrounded by his arm. “w-wow, you turn me on…”

But he tried to get over it and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "Noted. So, another picture, or...?"

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think we've got enough pictures for now. How about we find something else to do…?"

Bokuto's golden eyes sparkled with mischief. "I might have a few ideas…"

As he leaned in for a kiss you chuckled into it…

— SUNA RINTAROU

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining bright outside, and a cool breeze was blowing. In your room, everything felt slow and peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that feels good when you're with someone you really like.

Suna, your boyfriend, was lying on your bed, looking relaxed. His eyes were half-closed as he looked at his phone. The sun made his face look nice, showing off his sharp jaw and the small smile on his lips. You couldn't help but stare a little.

You were both doing your own thing, but still felt close. Sometimes Suna would laugh at something on his phone, or you'd say something small. It felt nice and normal. In these quiet times, you felt closest to Suna. He looked softer than usual, and you could see how much he cared even if he didn't say it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"baby," you said, breaking the comfortable silence. "look at this."

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes, usually half-lidded, showed a flicker of interest. "What's up?"

You showed him the picture on your phone - a couple doing the possessive choking pose with the muscular arm for a selfie. "It's this new photo trend. Kind of sexy, don't you think?"

Suna's eyebrows raised slightly, the most expression you'd seen from him all afternoon. "Huh? Interesting choice for a couples photo…"

You could see the wheels turning in his head as he analyzed the image. Suna was always observant, probably already picking up on details you'd missed.

"Wanna try it?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice.

He looked at you, then back at the phone, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You sure about that? I don't think you could pull off the 'dramatically choked' look. You'd probably start laughing."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. He knew you too well. "Oh, c’mon. I can be serious when I want to be!"

Suna sat up, his movements fluid and graceful. "Alright, let's see it then. Your ‘serious’ face."

You tried your best to look serious and dramatic, but you could feel your lips twitching, fighting back a smile.

Suna's smirk grew wider. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Very intimidating."

You grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, which he easily dodged. "It’s your fault, your face makes me laugh! How about you show me how it's done?"

He shrugged, but you could see a glimmer of competitive spirit in his eyes. "Well thanks…” he sighed and raised his eyebrows ”And sure, why not. Could be interesting."

You positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. Suna stood behind you, his arm loosely draped around your neck. Even in this silly pose, you could feel the quiet strength in his lean muscles.

"Ready?" you asked, holding up your phone.

Suna nodded, his face transforming into an intense, focused expression that you usually only saw during volleyball matches. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection. Suna's intense muscular arm bore into the camera, a stark contrast to your slightly flustered expression.

As soon as the picture was taken, Suna's arm relaxed back into its usual demeanor. He peered at the phone screen over your shoulder.

"Not bad," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Though I think we just proved my point about your serious face, baby."

You elbowed him gently in the ribs. "shut up. Not everyone can go from zero to intimidating in half a second like you."

He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's a gift," he deadpanned, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

You leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "So, what do you think? Should we post it?"

Suna was quiet for a moment, considering. "Nah," he finally said. "Let's keep this one just for us. It's more sexy that way."

You smiled, turning in his arms to face him. "You know, for someone who acts so aloof, you can be pretty sweet sometimes."

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint blush on his cheeks. "Don't go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain. And look at you in my so-muscular arm…"

As you leaned in to kiss him, “I look pretty hot like that…”

— TOBIO KAGEYAMA

It was a rare day off from volleyball practice. You and Tobio were in your living room, trying to relax. The TV was on, playing a volleyball match, but neither of you was really watching. Tobio sat on the couch, his posture a bit stiff, eyes darting between his phone and the TV screen.

"baby," you said, gently nudging his arm. "look at this."

He turned to you, his intense blue eyes focusing. "What is it?"

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's a new photo trend. Kind of sexy, right?"

Tobio's brow furrowed as he stared at the image. "Why would anyone want a picture like that?" he asked bluntly.

You couldn't help but smile at his typical straightforward response. "I guess some people think it looks sexy or possessive, like me. Want to try it? Just for fun?"

He looked confused for a moment. "Is this important to you?"

"Noooo," you admitted. "I just thought it might be fun to see how it turns out. Be please baby!"

Tobio hesitated, then nodded with a sigh. "Okay. If it'll make you happy..."

You both stood up and moved in front of the mirror. Tobio proudly put his muscular arm around your neck, and started flexing to show off his muscles, which made you chuckle a bit.

"Tobio, can you hold less tight," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I know already how you are muscular, don’t worry baby."

He adjusted his grip slightly, his face a mix of concentration and redness. "L-like this?"

"Perfect. Now pose for me, baby."

Tobio's expression immediately changed to his game face - eyes sharp and focused, jaw set. It was almost scary how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture quickly. As soon as it was done, Tobio dropped his arm and stepped back, looking relieved.

Looking at the photo, you couldn't help but chuckle. Tobio's intense muscular and flexed arm next to your slightly amused smile was quite a sight.

"What's so funny?" Tobio asked, peering at the screen while chuckling.

"Just us, baby," you said, still smiling. "We look so serious. It's kind of sexy actually, don't you think?"

Tobio's cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's... different," he mumbled. "But I like how you are in my arm like that..."

You felt a warmth in your chest at his honesty. "Me too, baby. How about we take a nice, cozy pic now?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Okay. But no more weird poses."

As you cuddled up to take a regular selfie, you kissed his cheek “I love you, Tobio.”

— KUROO TETSURO

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at training camp. You were sitting on the grass outside the gym, enjoying a brief respite from the intense volleyball practices. Kuroo sauntered over, his trademark messy hair even more disheveled than usual, and flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh.

"Exhausted already, captain?" you teased, poking his side.

He flashed you his signature smirk. "Me? Never. Just giving the others a chance to catch up."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Hey, check this out."

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's some new photo trend. Pretty hot, huh?"

Kuroo's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh? Trying to tell me something, kitten? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing..."

You felt your cheeks heat up as he leaned close to your face, brushing your lips with his at the end of his sentence. "Tetsu! It's not like that. It's just supposed to be…artistic or whatever."

He chuckled, leaning in closer. "Relax, I'm just teasing. Though I gotta say, it does look nice for us. Wanna try?"

You blinked, surprised by his enthusiasm. "Really? You don't think it's too weird?"

Kuroo shrugged, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Hey, I'm always up for trying new things with you! Plus, it could be fun to mess with the team later."

You couldn't help but laugh. "You're impossible. Alright, let's do it and my arm is muscular, I could show you..."

You both stood up and moved to a nearby wall. Kuroo positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm draped around your neck. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, and it was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?" he murmured, his breath tickling your ear when he leaned down just to adjust right after.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure as you held up your phone. "Okay, try to look hot."

“Try?? I don’t even need to try!” He acted offended. Kuroo's expression immediately transformed into his focused game face, the one that always sent shivers down opponents' spines. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, then turned in Kuroo's arms to look at it together. The contrast between his muscular arm and your slightly flustered expression was striking.

"Well, well," Kuroo said, his voice low and teasing. "Looks like my arm is so hot, don't you think? Though I gotta say, you look hot under the collar there, kitten. Was it something I did?"

You elbowed him gently, but couldn't help smiling. "Oh, shut up. You're such a tease."

He laughed, pulling you closer. "You love it though, admit it, baby."

You leaned into him, enjoying his warmth. "Maybe. But don't let it go to your head. It's big enough as it is."

Kuroo gasped in mock offense. "My head is perfectly proportional, thank you very much. Anyway, now I can show to everyone that you’re mine…"

He kissed your lips with hunger, but you pushed him back gently. “Not here…”

He took your hand and brings you up, the silly photo forgotten for the moment.

— ATSUMU MIYA

The MSBY Black Jackals' training facility was quieter than usual, the usual squeaks of shoes on polished floors and the thunderous impacts of spikes replaced by a lazy afternoon lull. Most of the team had already left for the day, their energy spent on grueling drills and practice matches. The air still held a faint scent of sweat, mingled with the sharp tang of air salonpas.

You had been waiting for what felt like hours, alternating between watching Atsumu's extra practice through the gym windows of the lounge area and idly scrolling through your phone. It was a familiar routine - Atsumu pushing himself just a little further, always chasing that perfect set, while you patiently waited, a silent pillar of support. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the lounge area where you sat, when you finally heard the telltale sound of the gym doors opening and Atsumu's distinctive footsteps approaching.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Oi, still hanging around?" he called out, a smirk playing on his lips.

You looked up, matching his smirk. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't overwork yourself, the Pro Athlete."

Walking behind you to give you a shoulder massage for a few seconds and kiss you on the mouth from behind, he stopped by to sit on the sofa in the lounge next to you to cuddle slightly.

Atsumu plopped down next to you, peering at your phone. "Whatcha looking at? Better not be Tobio-kun's serves again."

You snorted. "As if. No, look at this trend."

You showed him the picture of the couple doing the possessive choking pose. Atsumu's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, ain't that something," he drawled. "People really do anything for likes these days, huh?"

"Says the guy who spent an hour perfecting his hair for his official team photo," you retorted.

Atsumu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Your wounds cut deep, ya know that?"

You laughed, then had an idea. "Hey, we should try it."

"Try what? You wanna make out here, huh?" Atsumu looked skeptical but was ready to jump on you if you nodded, which you didn’t.

"The pose, dummy. Could be funny."

Atsumu's eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh? You want me to manhandle you for the 'gram? Kinky."

You felt your face heat up as you gently push his head of your shoulder to face him. "Shut up, 'Tsumu. You in or not?"

"'Course I'm in. Can't let my baby down, can I?"

You both stood up, moving to a clear wall. Atsumu positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm tight around your neck.

"Ready when you are, darlin'," he murmured close to your ear.

You suppressed a shiver. "Okay, press."

Atsumu's arm pressed your cheeks and flexed his muscles. You snapped the picture quickly before you could faint from blushing.

Looking at it together, you couldn't help but laugh. "We look ridiculous."

"Speak for yerself," Atsumu retorted. "I look dashingly hot."

You elbowed him playfully. "Your ego is showing, 'Tsumu."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Ya love it though."

As you leaned into him, he carried you like a princess to the lounge sofa: he had locked the door…

pic :

Ⓡ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[specialagentlokitty]

Elijah x reader - calm confusion

Heyyy can i request and Elijah Mikaelson fic with human reader who has ADHD and Elijah is the only one that can kinda calm the reader down if they're over excited or something. Thankssss - Anon 💜

Running down the street, you nearly tripped over your own two feet but you managed to catch yourself, running straight up to apartment complex and ran up the stairs.

You didn’t even bother to knock as you threw the door open and rushed inside.

“Klaus! Your brother!”

He turned around, blinking a few times before he pointed to the other room with a confused look on his face.

“Thanks!”

You ran in that direction, looking in the other room, you found the man you were looking for and jumped on his back.

Elijah chuckled, placing a hand on your wrists to make sure you didn’t just fall on the floor.

“Hello Darling, you have a lot of energy I see.”

“You need to come with me and see what I found.”

Elijah leant back, letting you place your feet on the floor and let go of you, turning around to look at you.

“And what did you find?”

“Cant tell you! Come with me Eli please!?” You begged.

You grabbed his hand and began tugging him, and he stayed rooted in his spot despite your efforts.

Elijah moved his hand back towards him, dragging you back towards him.

“No! Come on please!”

Elijah chuckled a little bit, lacing his fingers with you and he gestured towards the door.

“Go on then darling, lead the way.”

“Yes!”

Dragging him out of the room, you left the apartment and took him down the stairs, outside and began dragging him down the street.

“Darling?” Elijah asked.

You carried on dragging him, and he stopped, pacing his hand on your arm and you turned around.

You looked at him with a wide grin, and he smiled softly.

He gestured for you to step closer so you did, and he placed his hand on the side of your face, running his thumb along your cheek.

“I understand you’re excited about something, but you must calm down.”

“But I really want to show you!”

He chuckled.

“I understand, but calm down. I don’t want to see you falling over or getting hurt in anyway.”

You stopped bouncing on your feet and you looked at him.

“You’d catch me if I fall right?”

“Well of course I would darling.”

“Then it’s fine!”

You pulled your hand free and began running down the path.

With a sigh, Elijah followed you, one hand in his pocket while the other was ready to catch you just in case you tripped.

You went around the corner and you stopped, and he looked at you.

“What is it?”

“Christmas tree!” You beamed.

You pointed and he looked at it with a smile, turning his attention back towards you.

“I see that, is that what you wanted to show me?”

“Nope!”

You took his hand, walking backwards with a huge grin on your face and you turned around to carry on walking.

Taking him towards the tree, you stood there, bouncing in the balls of your feet as you looked just past it.

Elijah could see what you were looking at.

“You wish to walk through there?” He asked.

“Yeah! All the lights and the snow! It’s amazing!”

You tried to drag him again and you slipped on some ice.

Elijah quickly caught you, his arm wrapped around your stomach and you laughed a little, arms reached out to try and touch the snow.

Elijah smiled at you and he lifted you up over the ice, placing you on the other side.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, he walked around you.

“(Y/N).”

“Eli.”

“You must calm down please, before you get hurt.”

He could still see you were full of energy and he smiled, leaning down he got face to face with you.

He placed his forehead in yours, and you closed your eyes.

You stopped moving about, bringing your hands up you cradled his face, brushing your nose against his.

Elijah moved away after a minute, and he looked at you, your bright eyes staring up at him.

“There we go darling, now, take my arm, and let’s go for a winter walk shall we?”

“Yes please!”

He leant down, gently kissing you and you took his arm, looping it with yours.

Elijah led you over to the entrance of the winter walk, and he was absolutely enticed by you.

You had calmed down now for a peaceful walk, he always knew placing his forehead on yours would calm you down.

When he first did it you went into a state of confusion, and since then he carried on doing it.

It always confused you, but you loved it when he did it, you would always stop to memorise the moment of him right in front of you

[annievrse]

it's a bad idea, right?

eren x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: seeing your ex after a night out… it’s a bad idea, right? cw: 18+, smut (afab!reader, unprotected sex, creampie), exes to lovers, swearing. w/c: 4.5k a/n: first time writing a ~proper~ smut, kinda bad, kinda fucking terrified to post but, we move 💪 olivia's new song is perfect for an exes to lovers whore such as myself, so i had to use it in a fic. enjoy :)

Despite having the same friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from your ex for 2 months. The break-up was mutual, something about growing apart and wanting different things. Sure, you were upset, devastated even, but something inside you that knew you’d hold him again. And somehow, that one sliver of hope had wrapped around your heart and held it hostage. 

It’s how you found yourself at Moose with your two friends, Hitch and Annie, on the brink of passing out. The club’s multicoloured lights gave you a headache, and the generous amount of alcohol you had consumed an hour earlier started to wear off, but you continued to dance, laugh, and sing with the two girls. 

You held your phone in your hand as you threw your arms in the air. The room was lively and had been the best night you’d had at Moose in the past few months (or maybe it was because you knew who would call you tonight…). 

But when Hitch slapped you on the arm, and the phone in your hand started vibrating simultaneously, you had an inkling of who was calling.

“Don’t answer it,” Hitch yelled over the music, her eyes narrowed. 

You shrugged and, without looking, declined the call. “Who was it?”

“Don’t act dumb,” She shook her head, still jumping around. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth, and your heart started pounding faster. There was only one person who could elicit that tone from Hitch. 

You kept a playful smile on your face, and it remained when your phone rang again. But, this time, you faced the screen toward your body so the girls wouldn’t see. 

Eren’s name flashed on the screen, along with his contact photo: him with bedhead, shirtless, with the biggest smile on his face. Why his contact was still in your phone, with that specific photo, was beyond you, but all questions were out of your head when you turned around and left the dance floor without explanation. 

Swiping right to answer, you brought your phone to your ear. “What?” It probably wasn’t the most polite thing to say, but you were half-drunk, and your feet hurt. 

“Hi to you too, baby.” 

The tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. It was the first time you’d heard his voice in months. 

“Eren,” You said, squeezing through groups to get to the bar. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m great, actually, now that I’m talking to you.”  

You could hear the smirk in his voice over the music, and that’s when you could tell you were in trouble. “What’s up?” 

He hummed into the receiver, but you could barely catch it. “Wanna come over tonight?” 

“Why?” You asked, but it was playful. 

“I got a new place. Wanna give you a tour.” 

“Do you? Well, where was this call, I don’t know, a month ago?” 

Eren groaned into his phone. “Just come! Please, I miss you.” 

You paused as you were adjusting your spot on the bar stool. “You want me to come over?” 

“Do you want to come over?” 

“Yes,” Your voice was breathless as you answered, and Eren’s soft laughter in the background wasn’t helping. “As friends.” 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll text you the address, bestie,” He said. “Can’t wait to see you.” 

And then he hung up. You knew what he wanted because you wanted it too. 

Flashes of Eren played on a loop in your head: the last time you saw him, the first time, him smiling at you in that cocky way of his, his body on top of yours, his under yours… it was insanity.

“Why’d you leave?” Hitch shouted in your ear. You jumped, a guilty look on your face that you hoped she and Annie wouldn’t notice. 

“I feel sick. I think I might go home,” You cringed at how the words came out of your mouth. 

And when Annie side-eyed Hitch, you knew they knew you were lying. 

“I’ll just get an Uber,” You unlocked your phone and clicked on the app, receiving a text from Eren simultaneously. 

How convenient. 

Typing in 843 Campanula Street, CS Apartments, you knew you should stop, but you couldn’t. A car popped up: 5 minutes away. 

Getting up to leave, you knew they would follow you outside. So, you held Hitch’s hand and pulled her, who pulled Annie out of the crowd and out of the entrance. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and stepped out into the warm night air. 

“You should probably not see Eren tonight. You’re not in the right headspace,” Hitch said behind you. She knew you were lying about feeling sick, so you may as well play into it.

“Can’t two people reconnect?” You teased, glancing over your shoulder. 

“Bullshit,” Annie stated boredly. 

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren…

“Listen, I only see him as a friend,” You rolled your eyes. “We’re done, we’re through, we’re never ever getting back together, okay?” 

Hitch and Annie shared a look. You’d just told the biggest lie you’ve ever said. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked down the road for your Uber.

Then Hitch choked out a laugh and Annie sighed. You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“We just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Hitch said softly after she finished coughing. 

You shook your head. “I won’t. Besides, I’m going straight home. I’ll ask him what’s up in the morning.” 

Hitch nodded knowingly. “Yeah, okay. Have fun at home. Text us when you get there.” 

Your Uber pulled up next to the curb. You smiled at Hitch and wrapped your arms around her neck. “See you.”

Turning toward Annie, you only grinned, making her look more bored. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

You threw your hands up in defence. “I’m not. I’m going home.”

“Bye then,” Annie waved and turned to reenter the club. Hitch stayed a little longer to ensure the Uber left, waving enthusiastically after it. 

You knew you should stop, but you couldn’t. 

Fuck it, it’s fine. 

—

When the elevator dinged, you stepped out onto the second floor. It was a nice complex with white walls, gold door handles, and dark, clean carpet, an upgrade from his previous apartment complex just off-campus. 

The floor was quiet for a Saturday night, except for the bass from party music coming from the lower floor. The carpet was plush under your feet, and the hanging lights were gold too. Maybe you were more tipsy than you thought as you picked out details you would’ve before. 

You saw nobody as you passed the first apartments. But, as you turned the corner of the hallway, Eren was standing in the doorway of the last apartment with a cocky grin. 

“Hey,” he called. You looked around and hushed him. It was 1am, after all. “Pish, they’re probably all out anyway.”

You felt your face heat up when you got closer, feeling self-conscious in your party dress and shoeless feet. But you couldn’t stop looking at him. Somehow, in the last 2 months, Eren had gotten more attractive. His black t-shirt was taut against his chest and biceps. His hair was pulled back into its usual half-bun, but the pieces in the front made him look prettier. You swore you’d seen someone much hotter for your sanity, but nobody came to mind. God, he really encapsulated everything you’d ever want and need. 

“Seeing you tonight… It’s a bad idea, right?” You giggled, swinging your heels in your hand. 

“I’d say it’s the best idea ever, but depends on who you ask,” His eyes raked up your body as you walked toward him. “Besides, just friends, right?”

The dimple you’d missed appeared on his cheek as he smirked, and your confidence grew. 

“We’re the best of friends,” At the sound of your voice so low and sultry, Eren blinked. 

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when you reached him, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your cheek flush against his chest. The action didn’t surprise you because you would do the same. 

“Hi,” He whispered before pushing you away, his hands still on your shoulders.

You were going to speak, but your brain short-circuited. The rational side of your brain continuously asked you why, why, why, while the other side screamed at you to kiss him. It was a jumble of static and blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

All you could think about was him. 

Fuck it, it’s fine!

“Wanna show me,” You paused, flickering your eyes to his. The usual bright green of his eyes turned darker, and his grip on your shoulders tightened—his hands were burning your skin. “The apartment?” 

This seemed to snap Eren out of his daze because he shook his head to rid his thoughts, then nodded, stepping back and widening the door to welcome you. 

“Uh, yeah, so…” Eren stumbled, closing the door behind him. “This is the apartment.” 

You walked inside, placing your purse on the granite kitchen counter and your heels on the floor. 

“It’s lovely,” You muttered. From the couch to the posters and photos on the walls, it was so Eren, but it was mature. And it was lovely, different, attractive, but your attention wasn’t on the decor. It was on the owner of said decor, but you weren’t going to make that obvious yet. 

Eren rubbed the back of his neck as he watched you look around the space: into the open-plan living room, down the small hallway to the bathroom and the spare bedroom, and then back into the kitchen and to the lone door on the other side of the living room. 

“Your bedroom?” You asked, your voice light. You weren’t giving anything away yet. It was risky being here in the first place. There were reasons why you broke up, but you didn’t care at that moment. This was more fun than ignoring each other. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eren teased, breaking out of his frozen state to meet you at the door. 

The air was charged like it used to be, but you dismissed it, making a beeline for the couch—a large L-shaped black leather lounge. As soon as you sat down, all the aching in your back dissipated as you sunk deeper into the throw cushions. You groaned in relaxation, propping your feet up.

“Why do you always get the comfiest couches?” You closed your eyes. “S’not fair.” 

Eren didn’t say anything as you shuffled around to get comfortable, pulling the hem of your dress down your legs. He looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. 01:47.

“You tired, hm?” He asked, and you nodded, pretending to yawn. Eren narrowed his eyes when you did so. He’d seen that action before, the lesser version of your actual yawn—he’d seen the real one too many times to know when you were faking. 

“Guess I’ll take you home then.” 

Your eyes snapped open, and you shook your head. But when you saw Eren, a cocky smirk rested on his face, much like when you arrived. 

“I knew you were faking,” He laughed, stalking toward you. You pouted and looked up at him, your gaze catching his for a second before you looked away. 

“A more detailed tour, please,” You reached out your hand, and Eren pulled you up. 

The momentary touch of skin on skin was enough to fry your brain for a few minutes as you mechanically followed him into the bathroom, where you washed your face with his face wash, then into the spare bedroom to look at the view from the window, and finally, into Eren’s bedroom off the living room. 

Nothing was said as you entered, but the smell of his room was the same as it had always been—it was just in a different space without you to experience it. Cedar, geranium, bergamot, apple. It was the scent you bought him for his 19th birthday 4 years ago when you first started dating. You were stepping into a time machine, and all the emotions that came with it hit you in the face. 

You willed yourself not to cry as you turned your back to him to look over his desk. You ignored the few extra things he’d gathered without you in the two months you’d be apart, but it was all the same. It was Eren. 

“You like it?” He mumbled, the heat on your back making sense. You didn’t realise how close he was standing until he spoke, his hands on the desk beside you, caging you in. 

“It’s very you, Ren. The whole thing,” You spun around, your hips against his. “I really like it.” 

He smiled in relief and let his eyes wander your expression, recounting every mark, pore, scar on your face that he had memorised. It was all the same. You were still you. 

“I’m glad,” He breathed. “Thanks, bestie.” 

But you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were focused on his mouth. The realisation made Eren lick his lips again, but you noticed they twitched with anticipation this time. 

“This okay?” You whispered, slowly wounding your arms around his neck and pushing your hips harder against his. 

“You’re kidding, right?” He smirked, gaining his confidence back. His hands slid from the desk to your hips, and he leaned closer, breaths mixing, lips lingering. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

Eren’s lips brushed yours as he spoke. And you almost caved. Your fingers played with the loose hairs of his half-bun, and the action reminded you that you’d done this before, more than you could count—but never in the situation you were in right then. 

“Fuck it.” 

You don’t know who made the first move, but soon Eren was swiping everything off his desk and onto the floor so he could lift you onto his desk. You spread your legs apart and locked your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer. The kisses were sloppy and hasty, making up for lost time. You smiled when he began pushing the hem of your dress higher, his teeth tapping yours as he grinned too. 

Panting into each other’s mouths, you slid your hands down his chest and into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“I want these off,” You mumbled, getting your nails under his briefs and pulling them down with his pants.

“Well, I want this off,” Eren laughed, reaching behind you to fiddle with the zipper on the back. The sudden exposure of your back to the hot air of his bedroom sent goosebumps over your skin. 

The front of your dress began to loosen, and soon, Eren pulled away from you, his hands carefully dragging the straps of your dress down your arms. His sweats were halfway down his legs, and his briefs sat awkwardly over his ass, but he couldn’t care less, not when you looked the way you did. 

The more you reflect on that night, the more you disagree. The thought of being in a club not an hour ago left you feeling gross and probably smelling gross too. But at that moment, you didn’t care because you were with him, in his new room and apartment, and all you could think about was him.

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

Eren laughed breathlessly at the sight of your tits, and when your dress was at your waist, he cupped them with his palms. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren… 

When Eren leaned down to press kisses to your neck, you reached your hands to play with his hair again. “I… missed you… too.”

“Tell me what you want,” He breathed heavily into the space under your ear when he heard you struggle around the words. 

You whined in response, tilting your head back.

He laughed lowly. “I know you know how to use your words, pretty girl.” 

The pet name caused a moan to escape your throat, and soon you were clenching around nothing. Your mind was far away, head in the clouds, from being with him like this again. “You…” 

“Where?” He pulled away from your neck, his lips plump. “Where do you want me?” 

“Eren…” You frowned, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him. Eren’s eyes retraced your expression, his hands brushing stray strands from your face. 

A cheeky grin spread across his cheeks. “You’re so damn cute.” 

“Everywhere,” You finalised, leaning up to capture his lips with yours. 

Eren got the message and wrapped his large hands under your thighs to pick you up. Your legs remained around him as he expertly approached the bed without looking. 

“Gotten a lot of practice at that?” You joked, breathless. 

But, Eren shook his head and kissed your cheek. “There’s only ever been you.” 

The thought brought heat to your ears, cheeks, and body, and soon, you were burning. “Me too.” 

“Fuck,” He half-laughed, half-groaned, laying you on the bed. Eren gave you a crazy grin before he opened his mouth, biting your shoulder. You tried to push him away, giggling, but you never forgot his strength. He went down your body, pulling your dress down your legs as he went, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your stomach. Gripping the sheets, you arched, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the feverish marks they leave. But before he reached your underwear, he sat back his heels and pulled his shirt over his head by the back collar—like he always did. 

There was nothing to be shy about, you’d done this a thousand times with him, but you placed a hand on your torso nonetheless. When Eren noticed this, he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Nuh, uh, no being shy around me,” he whispered and picked your hand up, holding it as he leaned over you. You quickly spread your legs to make room for him between them, and he wasted no time filling the space, tucking his other arm underneath your shoulders and lifting you up so your chests were flush. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and will ever see, understand? Us not being together doesn’t change that.” 

You sighed, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the moment or the weeks of not speaking to the one man you trusted with your life, but you couldn’t help the words that tumbled out next. 

“I love you,” You mumbled, lifting your free hand up to fun through his hair, pulling the rest out of the bun. 

Eren smiled a tender smile you knew all too well, which he reserved for you during moments like this. “And I love you. I’m gonna show you how much, okay? Will you let me do that?” Eren’s voice was soft and warm, your skin ablaze, and your heart grew tenfold. 

You nodded, searching his eyes with your own. All you saw was tenderness, infatuation, and everything you had grown accustomed to in the last 4 years. You pressed your lips against him in a quick peck in response to his original question. 

Eren laid your body back onto the bed, trailing his hand down your side and into your underwear. You gasped at the coldness of his fingers as they dragged through your slit. 

“So wet, baby,” Two of his fingers started rubbing circles around your clit, making you arch into him. “Miss me?” 

“I thought we’d already established that, Jaeger… shit,” You squeezed your eyes shut when he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Don’t get sassy with me. You know how that goes,” Eren smirked, watching you fall apart from just his fingers. 

“Eren, don’t—oh fuck,” You moaned as soon as you felt his fingers go precisely where they needed to, his thumb on your clit. He knew you inside out, and you knew he was getting off on that thought. 

Pure white pleasure set fire to your insides as you climaxed, though the embarrassment of cumming so hard on just his fingers never came. Because it always ended like this. 

You looked down at your hips, where his hand was inside your underwear, and nearly blacked out from the sheer familiarity of your first time with him. “Take those off right now. We are not repeating our first time.” 

Eren barked a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled them down your legs. “I thought it’d be cute,” He mumbled. 

“Get up here,” You scolded, but the demand was lazy and playful, making Eren want you more (if possible).

He climbed up your body again, his pants and briefs on the floor, as his cock rested against your stomach when he kissed you. There was no time to be wasted, not when you’d waited months for this to feel him again. You always knew you would hold him again. 

Eren sat up, and you wrapped your hand around his cock, lazily pumping him a few times. He was hot and heavy in your fist, and the feeling was delicious. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” You giggled. 

His eyes found your core, where you were dripping onto his dark sheets and clenching nothing, and the sight made Eren moan and screw his eyes closed. “It’s just you… fuck Y/n.” 

And then you took your hand off him, and Eren’s jaw fell open, looking down at you.

“C’mon,” He whined, and you shook your head, laying back on his bed. 

“Fuck me, Eren.” 

At your crude words, Eren bit his bottom lip to stop his smile. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He hovered over you, his hair brushing your cheeks as he looked down to guide himself into you. He ran his cock through your folds a few times, causing you to jolt, before he sunk the tip into you. 

The stretch was like coming home after a long time away, burning with slight pain before the pleasure took over. You welcomed him back into you. Circling your arms around his neck, you buried your hands in his dark locks, pulling the way you knew he loved. 

“Jesus,” Eren cursed lowly when he bottomed out; the sensation of you around him was one he’d never forget. “You good?” 

“Yeah, baby,” You squeezed his sides with your knees, dragging your nails softly along his scalp. He didn’t move for a beat, eyes trained on your nose's scrunch and relieved smile. 

“Good girl,” He whispered, pecking your lips as he rocked in and out of you. Your hands pulled at his hair harder than before, and he groaned into your lips, your mouths touching but not kissing. “You’re so tight, fuck.”

And when he picked up his pace, you cried out into his mouth, the feeling and sound of his body on top of yours familiar and obscene. Above you, Eren made the pretty sounds you’d once begged to hear again. And soon, perhaps too soon, your stomach twisted into a coil again, his thrusts becoming too much when he continually hit that one spot like he always did. His voice became rough and desperate, panting your name before the volume increased. 

Words tumbled out of his mouth sloppily, curses and jumbled questions, and your name. His usual deep groans turned to whimpers, and the sound made you reach your high faster. 

“Close?’” Eren asked, running a hand down your body to find your clit, fingers slippery as they circled quick. 

“Mmhm, yeah,” You mumbled, nodding sporadically and arching your body to mould to his, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

And then, the coil in your stomach snapped, and the white-hot flash that burned you from inside set you ablaze. Your body opened up for him, and Eren chased to meet you at the top, his movements becoming sloppy as he fucked you through your high. You’re too sensitive, warm, and wet, but Eren came inside, filling you fully.

He groaned deep into your ear, shuddering, and at that moment, you vowed to never let him go again.

—

After your activities last night, Eren gave you his favourite t-shirt and wrapped you up nice and tight in his sheets. You kissed him repeatedly, making promises under the blanket of night, the moon your witness. Never again would you leave, not when you knew him like you did, when you’d spent four years of your life moulding to each other. You cried, Eren cried, you laughed, he held you, you flicked his forehead, he tickled you. It was like you’d never said the words that caused the downward spiral of your life in the first place. 

Reaching over to grab your phone off the bedside table, your notifications were filled with messages on messages from your group chat with Hitch and Annie, and… Reiner?

07:24 Hitch: Where are you?????? Answer pls!!!!

07:59 Annie: Y/n istg 

08:50 You: Sorry I was asleep

08:50 Hitch: Thank god 

08:51 Hitch: We’re gonna facetime rn 

You groaned and turned your head toward a sleeping Eren. His hair was all over the place, his face innocent and soft, his skin golden and back bare. He was all you could ever want and more.

You slowly lifted the charcoal grey duvet to swing your legs out and sat up. Your entire body ached, and your legs shook as you stood up. Stifling a laugh of embarrassment, you tiptoed out of his room, careful of the one creaking floorboard he’d warned you about the night before.

It wasn’t until you got to the living room that your phone vibrated with an incoming group Facetime. 

“Hi,” You said tiredly, trying to block as much background as possible; they knew your apartment better than you did. 

“Good morning,” Hitch glared through the screen. Annie said nothing. 

“What happened to your neck? Hm?” The brunette asked, her voice accusatory. 

You moved toward the couch, sitting on the lush black leather, tucking a pillow behind your back. “Oh, I tripped and fell—”

“Yeah, into Eren’s bed,” Annie cut you off. 

Hitch muffled a laugh, and you stared at her in disbelief. 

Your mouth opened and closed with no sound. “No?” You visibly cringed when the usual statement came out as a question. 

“Y/n!” Hitch yelled, a smile taking over her false scold. Annie rolled her eyes with a hint of a smirk. Then, all that could be heard was laughter. 

“Well, at least you’re okay. I mean, it’s just Eren,” Hitch giggled. You smiled at her, grateful for your friends. 

“Oh! Reiner texted me too,” You suddenly remembered seeing his name on your lock screen. 

“Reiner?” The confusion in Hitch’s voice matched the thoughts in your mind. Why would Reiner text you privately?

You clicked around your phone until you opened Reiner’s message. 

02:49 Reiner: i’m happy for u and all, but pls stfu

But you couldn't find it in yourself to care, even after the realisation that all your friends knew you'd slept together washed over you. Because all you cared about was him.

Blah, blah, blah… Eren, Eren, Eren…

a/n: prologue

[miryum]

"Halloween"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I- I don’t like Halloween.” Tim manoeuvred around a packed, crazed precinct. “Especially in Gotham. So many people in weird costumes doing weird shit that we have to fix.”

“The holding cell’s completely full,” Jason called from where he was pushing a Raggedy Ann into the folds of costume. Raggedy Ann blew him a kiss and Jason stalked over to his desk opposite Y/n’s. “So many people have slipped me their phone numbers or thought I was a stripper.”

“Seems like you should follow your true calling then, Jaybird,” Y/n said. “You’d make an excellent stripper.” She winked dramatically at him and said, “I’d be first in line to see you.” 

Before Jason could cuss Y/n out, Steph said, “Seriously, we need to do something about the prisoners. We’ve already had to separate Kim Jong-Un and Hillary Clinton.”

Y/n was walking past the holding cell when she noticed a Hillary Cilton practically in the lap of a Kim Jong-Un, sucking his face off. “Hey! Hey!” She barged through the door and attempted to pull Hillary off. “Come on, now! What would Bill think? I mean,” she paused and muttered, “he kind of deserves it, but you could do so much better than Kim Jong-Un.”

“And… who are you supposed to be?” Jason squinted at Cass. 

“Dude, it’s kinda obvious.” Y/n said, “The entire precinct’s got a theme going on. It was decided in the group chat.”

Cass was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, a pillow shoved in for her stomach. She wore large, comical glasses that looked like she’d bought them for three dollars at a convenience store. Y/n, on the other hand, was in a yellow shirt with thick denim overalls, as were Tim, Steph, and Damian. Tim seemed disgruntled about it, while Damian sat reclined in his chair, taking it with pride. 

“Minions!” Dick called out loudly, silencing the precinct. He was in black jeans and a sweater. Around his neck, he wore an iconic scarf and a bald cap was thrown haphazardly over his hair. “Tonight, we steal… ze moon!” He threw his arms up and Y/n jumped up, cheering. 

“Ze moon! Ze moon!” Steph clapped along and Damian pumped his fist lazily. Tim just sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I was blackmailed into this,” he whispered.

“Oh my gosh, I work with idiots.” Jason sat back in his chair. 

“Attention,” Wayne strode into the bullpen. “I need two detectives to go undercover at a Halloween party where we suspect there will be a transition of drugs and illegal behaviour.”

“It’s like he was born on a thesaurus,” Y/n whispered. 

“Brown and Drake, you’re already in costume. I’m assigning you two to the case.” Tim groaned at his Captain's words, but nodded anyway. He couldn’t disobey his superior. 

“Drake,” Steph looped her arm through his, dragging him to the elevator. “I know you hate Halloween, even though it’s one of the greatest holidays, but I’ll make it the best.” 

“Can you make everyone kind, sober, and fully clothed? Tim asked desperately. 

“Kind, sober, and fully clothed!” Y/n shouted out. “Title of Jason’s sex tape!” 

Jason gawaffed. “I wasn’t even in this conversation!” 

Y/n exhaled and said, “Yeah, but I already tease Timmy-boy enough. He needs a break. However, I haven’t filled my quota for bugging you today.”

“I feel like your quota for teasing me is much higher than anyone else’s.” 

“Yes,” Y/n nodded. “Yes, it is.” 

“Listen up, dorks!” Y/n paraded into the bullpen, wearing a GCPD jacket over her costume. “I just arrested my first Halloween idiot! He was trying to rob a bank but had a… heh. Little bit of trouble getting away.” 

A man dressed in a large banana suit was stuck in the doorframe of the bank. Y/n couldn’t hold back her laughter as she tried to arrest him. “Trying to ‘split,’ huh? But I’m sure you’ll get out on ‘a peel.’ You have the ‘ripe’ to remain silent.” She snickered before saying, “I’m so glad you’re stuck! I’ve got a million of these! Wait, no, no! Don’t touch the money!”

“I swear, some of these perps are so stupid. I’d make a better criminal than any of them. And the best part is, none of you would be able to catch me!” 

Jason scoffed as Captain Wayne said, “That’s unrealistic. I’m one hundred percent sure you’d get caught.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Chall-enge accep-ted.” She sounded the words out slowly, placing her hands on her hips accusingly.

“I didn’t issue a challenge. There was no challenge. Where did you hear a challenge?” Wayne shrugged, his arms crossed.

Y/n hummed, thinking. “What’s the most valuable thing in your office?”

“My medal of valour,” Wayne replied instantly.

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. Fine. Okay. I bet that by midnight tonight, I can steal it from your office.”

“And why would I possibly agree to that?”

Y/n sang out, “because if I lose, I'll work the next five weekends, no overtime. And I won't tell anyone about the time I saw you wearing shorts outside of work. But if I win…” She rocked back on her heels, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“You won't,” Wayne cut her off.

“You have to do all my paperwork tonight, the busiest and spoooookiest night of the year. Oh! And you must publicly state that I am an amazing detective-slash-genius.”

Wayne raised a brow, intrigued. ”And this won't interfere with you doing your job?”

“You mean my job as an amazing detective-slash-genius? No, it will not.”

Wayne hummed and his eyebrows lifted by half a centimetre. “I'm considering it... I'm interested. I agree to participate.” He held out a hand and Y/n giddily shook it.

“Hey, Damian? Dami? We don’t talk much anymore. How are you? Did you get a haircut? How’s Titus? What’s the Captain's schedule? I love you, bestie!”

Damian glanced up at her, unaffected. “I’m not going to assist you with your scheme. I am Captain Wayne’s assistant; a job I take incredibly seriously.”

“You’re literally making paper knives out of police reports.”

“How else am I to stab someone?”

“More like give them a harsh paper cut.” Y/n whined, “come on, Dami! Please, help me out here!”

His gaze was piercing. Quietly, he finally muttered, “he has a meeting downstairs in ten minutes.”

“I love you! I love you! Thank you so much!”

A while later, Captain Wayne was in his office and suddenly spoke to the air, “Are you in my ceiling, L/n?

There was a pregnant pause before a voice filtered through the vents. “No?”

Wayne seemed unimpressed. “So what's the plan? You wait for me to leave my office, lower yourself down, take my medal, and win the bet?”

“Die Hard meets Mission Impossible,” Y/n snickered before remembering her place and tutting, “who are you talking to? There's no one up here!”

“L/n, just so you know, right now, I am taking my medal off the wall and placing it in a locked safe whose combination is known only to me. The safe, in turn, is locked in the cabinet. The only key to that cabinet is on my person.” True to his words, Wayne did as he was saying. ”I'm off to my meeting. Good luck with your plan.”

Y/n cried out, “you think that scares me, fool? I laugh in the face of adversity!” She waited a moment before asking timidly, ”Are you still there? Captain, are you still there? I can't hear... Ack!” Suddenly, the ceiling fell from beneath her and in a crumble of dust and plaster, she collapsed on the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, geez, what happened to you guys?” Jason asked Steph and Tim, the latter who was covered in runny eggs. Steph seemed to be unharmed. Dick stood up in surprise.

“We got egged,” Tim said flatly. “Some pieces of shell got in my contacts and my underwear.”

“Ooh, very hot,” Y/n snickered, swaying where she stood. Jason held a hand out to steady her. 

“I wish I was dead,” Tim grumbled.

“I’m doing great!” Steph squealed. “I’ve made four new friends. How’s the unwinnable bet going?”

“So little faith, Stephanie,” Y/n sighed. “On one hand, I fell through a ceiling. On the other hand, I think I bruised my brain.” She cupped her face in her hands, muttering nonsense about how brains look like loofahs.

“Look, Y/n,” Dick said carefully. “I love you like one of my daughters.”

“Aww, you do?” Y/n cooed.

“Yes, and I need to look out for you like them. You’re all irresponsible and need constant supervision. But this bet isn’t about you. It’s about Captain Wayne. That man is a genius. He’s had your number at every turn.”

“Well, not this day... Turn... time,” she stuttered. ”Sorry, I'm pretty sure I had a concussion back there! Jason, please catch me.” Jason leapt forward and cradled Y/n to his chest when she started falling backward. “Ooh, strong one,” she mumbled incoherently as he gently set her down in her chair.

“Damian.” Wayne walked up to his assistant and asked, “could you please decipher L/n’s handwriting? I believe the concussion is affecting her. She and Cain arrested a group of Royal Babies, but I’m unsure of what for.”

Damian took the paper and inspected it. “The Royal Babies were attempting to rob a small bakery. Being able to read Y/n’s handwriting is a gift. A useless gift, but still one nonetheless.”

“Pardon me, Damian.” Captain Wayne turned to a nearby janitor who was emptying Jason’s trash. “Nice costume, L/n.” 

The janitor cleared their throat and said in a deep, faux voice, “no L/n here. Just a random janitor pushing trash around.”

“L/n.”

Y/n spun around, a sheepish smile on her face. Jason hid a snicker as Y/n awkwardly said, “hey, Captain! What’s up?”

“You thought this was going to work?” Bruce hummed. 

“It did work!” Y/n scoffed. “This… was supposed to fail. It’s like chess. Sometimes, in order to win, you have to sacrifice your king.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s how you lose chess. Have you ever played?”

“Uh, yeah!” she put a hand on her hip. “My Uncle Dave taught me!”

“Come on, lass! Even girls need to know how to shoot!”

“You’re slightly misogynistic, Uncle Davey, but I love you anyway!” A much younger Y/n propped up a handgun and carefully shot a number of chess pieces lined up on a faraway bench.

“Atta girl!”

“I expected better of you, L/n.” Captain Wayne shook his head. “You could’ve created a diversion to distract me from your terrible costume.”

“I had a diversion!” Y/n stomped her foot. “There was just a slight timing issue…” Just then, a nearby trash can lit up in a brilliant fire. “Whoops?” Y/n shrugged.

“Come on, Tim!” Steph threw her hands up in the midst of a party. “You look like such a cop! Have some fun, you know? It'll help you blend in!”

Tim stood stoically on the dance floor, not moving a muscle. “Stop trying to get me to love Halloween. It'll never work. Hey, heads up!” He noticed a man swap drugs for money with someone else. “I'll cut 'em off at the exit!”

Steph whirled around, instantly forgetting about the party. “Move! Move, move!”

The pair raced after the culprits and Tim cursed when he found the pack of drugs abandoned on the floor. “He ditched the drugs. I'm on it.” Tim shifted through partygoers and spilled drinks. “Ew… it’s sticking to me. Ugh! What is that? How is it hot and cold? Stephanie, help!”

“Hey, Cap-i-tan?” Y/n called from the bullpen. “Can you come out here for just one teeny weeny second?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples, but did as his detective requested. “Do you need something, L/n?”

“Why yes, yes I do. Hit it, Royal Babies!” Y/n shouted out and at her command, all the Royal Babies marched into the bullpen. They began walking around randomly, swarming Captain Wayne, and throwing key chains around. Wayne just rolled his eyes and returned to his office. He found Y/n hunched over the cabinet drawer, attempting to copy Wayne’s keys. “Wha…. no!” Y/n groaned in frustration, slamming her fist down on the desk. “Ow…” She shook her hand out.

“Give me my keys, please.”

“Can you just stop catching me?” Y/n whined, “do you know how much I spent on key chains?”

“Probably around twenty-three dollars,” Captain Wayne said instantly. 

“That is unbelievably close and scary,” Y/n admitted. “Twenty-two dollars and seventy six cents.”

“Keys,” Wayne demanded.

“Okay, okay, look.” Y/n stood up, an embarrassed smile plastered on her face. “Tonight has been a tiny bit humiliating. Things aren’t going well, so what do you say we call off this silly little bet and pretend this whole thing never happened?”

“Oh, no no no,” Wayne let out an unusual chuckle. “I’m not letting you off the hook.” 

“What? Pffft. No… I’m giving you an out so you can save face.”

Wayne shook his head. “This is getting sad.” 

Y/n scoffed and tossed him his keys, sauntering out the door. “Uh, yeah. For you.”

“Captain,” Tim knocked on Wayne’s opened door. “Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, some officers just arrested L/n.

Bruce blinked. “What?”

“They caught her scaling the side of the building with a blowtorch.” Tim shook his head, still not understanding how Y/n managed to find a blowtorch and climb the building in the first place. Wayne just sighed in response. 

In the interrogation room, Wayne found Y/n handcuffed to the table. Knowing her, she had probably asked for the handcuffs.

“Welcome to the endgame.” Y/n tried to spread her hands ominously, but the handcuffs harshly pulled her back. “Ohh, that hurt. Forgot I was wearing those.”

“What the hell were you thinking, L/n?” Wayne shook his head, sitting down opposite Y/n.

Y/n inhaled through her teeth, trying to look ashamed. “I was thinking I had better core strength. I got winded, like, ten feet up.”

“I have to admit,” Wayne said. “I expected better of you. You have five minutes until your deadline, and yet, here you are, handcuffed to a table, in a locked room.”

“Which is precisely where I planned on being.” Y/n smiled sinisterly. “You remember when I pretended to be Herman, the janitor?”

“Yes, it was mere hours ago. And I caught you as Herman.”

Y/n wagged her finger. “But you didn't catch Cass! As it turns out, she’s great at picking locks!”

Cass crouched by Captain Wayne’s desk, carefully and quickly picking the lock as Y/n distracted him.

“Of course, I needed a way to get her out of your office without you noticing. Y/n explained, “so I created a diversion. Not a mistimed one… a perfectly timed one so Cass could escape.”

A fire burned in the trash can that caught Captain Wayne’s attention. Cass somersaulted out of his office.

“But you needed a way into the safe,” Wayne reminded her.

“And I got it. You were so concerned with getting your keys back, you didn't even notice the sergeant stealing your phone. That's right, even Dick is on my side! Then, Jason dusted your screen cover for prints. The greasiest smudges revealed the four numbers you use the most…” Y/n leaned back in her chair. “Based on your advanced age, I assumed that you use the same passcode for everything.”

Wayne conceded, “that would be a fair assumption.”

“It was at that point that I made fun of Jason for reading some sappy romance book.”

Wayne raised a brow. “And how is that a part of your masterplan?”

Y/n shrugged. “It wasn't. It just ruled. And that brings us to five minutes ago, when Tim barged into your office and told you I’d been arrested. I knew he’s the only one you’d believe because, frankly, he’s too lame to partake in these things.” Y/n grinned sharply and continued, “And as you walked over here, Stephanie crawled into the ceiling, using the hole I so cleverly left behind to enter your office. We had the four numbers for your code, which meant there were twenty-four possible combinations for Steph to try. That would take up to four minutes, which is why I really dragged out this explanation.” Wayne shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. Y/n chuckled and kept rambling, “I mean, really stretched it. I don't know if you noticed, but there were times where I was like, what am I even talking about? I could make a career out of this! Professional monologuer.” The beeping of a timer interrupted her. “Oh! But now, four minutes is up. Which means Stephanie is either on the other side of that door holding your medal, or I've lost.” She pointed towards the interrogation door and simply smiled.

Captain Wayne stared at her a moment longer with a look somewhere in between wonder and frustration. Slowly, he stood up and opened the door. Stephanie proudly grinned from the opposite side, holding up his medal of valour. “Just one question,” Wayne started, not bothering to sit back down. “How’d you convince them to help you?”

Y/n chortled. “You think so little of me. Of course, I appealed to their sense of teamwork and camaraderie with a rousing speech that would have Shakespeare begging for my talent.”

Y/n stood atop a chair in the middle of the bullpen and announced in a terrible Scottish accent, “For too long, we thee have been ridiculed, pushed around, and put down. But I say no more! For today, thee shall defeat the mad king and win our thine country back!”

“How did you actually do it?” Bruce gave Y/n a knowing glare.

“Unfortunately, my speech did not work.” Y/n sighed and continued speaking as if she hadn’t heard the Captain. “The sixty-sixth precinct has no sense of honour and solidarity. Maybe we should start doing team-building activities… Anyway, I bribed them. Told them I would do their paperwork.” She gave her superior a shit-eating grin. “And cause you’re doing my paperwork,” she sang, letting him come to the same conclusion.

Wayne huffed a laugh. “Well played L/n. Well played.” 

He slowly exited the room, leaving Y/n to cry out, “Captain? Hey, Captain? Are you gonna unlock me?” She rattled the handcuffs. “Captain?!” Eventually, Jason came in to help her (not before taking many pictures).

Later that night, Wayne gathered everyone in the briefing room and swallowed his pride. “Y/n L/n is an amazing detective-slash-genius.” Y/n mouthed along to the words. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to do.”

Captain Wayne sat in his office, surrounded by paperwork. However, instead of beginning, he opened a pad of paper and wrote: Halloween 2

[sourpatchys]

what are your opinions on Daryl's dick size

Never in my life did I think I’d have the absolute honor to be asked for dick headcannons, but here we are!!

This honestly kinda threw me for a loop because I’ve never thought about it independently, I’ve just agreed with everyone else lmaooo

So, I hope you still enjoy— even if I’m not adding anything super substantial to the table

NSFW below the cut 18+ MDNI

A/n: please ignore how weird the columns look I have no idea why they did that, I’m on mobile rn so the interface is a little different than I’m used too when posting haha

—

Daryl isn’t a super hairy guy, especially not down below. He’s never bothered to shave though, not before the world went under and definitely not after. If his body is going to grow hair then who is he to say otherwise?? It was bad enough shaving his face when he was a teen, why the hell would be put his genitals through that torture??

Realistically, Daryl’s probably supporting a good 6 inch dick maybe 6.5, with a pretty average girth at around 4.59. He’s not self conscious of his size— he never really understood why anyone would be in the first place. (That didn’t stop him from laughing at the jokes and making a few of his own in his youth through)

He’s definitely circumcised, a religious family from the south made sure of that. He has a couple distinct veins going along the sides, not aggressive looking but they’re definitely visible, and he has a slight indentation on the underside leading a beautiful stripe right up from base to tip

I don’t take Daryl as the Masturbation type, at least not often. You could definitely find soft spots and pleasure spikes that he’s never found on his own before

The head of his dick has a slightly pink hue, perfectly mushroom shaped, and his urethra is one hole (there’s no slot in the middle)

He’s always a mess after cumming, he doesn’t get off much (at least not on his own) so when he finishes he finishes hard. He’s completely pent up.

Obviously with no showers available (and Daryl in general just hating showers for some reason) he can (and usually does) have a smell of some kind, though I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily overpowering. He’d likely wash off a little before letting you anywhere near his crotch though.

He’s a grower— not a shower. Flaccid, his sick isn’t much to write home about, which isn’t something he minds— running around in the hot Georgia sun isn’t exactly fun. Least of all of you have a huge dick swinging between your legs.

He’s got a pretty tight sack— not too big or too small— which could be considered odd for his age, but given his lackluster sexual desires without a partner, they don’t really get much use. (And he’s not complaining)

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin)

(You breathe in, and out. In, and out. In. . . Out. . . . . . In. . . . . . . . . Out. . .)

(Last night, Isabeau brought something up to you.)

("So, you know Vixul? Tall? Silver hair? Me and Ramos have been training with her together, a-anyway! I, got to talking, and, well, she's like you. I asked if SOMEONE I know could talk to her about it and, she said, well, yeah!")

(You were standing in front of the door to her room. You had been standing there for about five minutes. Your heart was pounding. Your head hurt. Your mouth dry. Why did this feel scarier than anything else you had ever done? You raise a fist.)

("Just knock on her door and say Isa sent you, okay?")

(You pause, take your hand back, breathe, then try again. And. . . You knock.)

(. . . Step, step, step, door unlock, twist of the handle, and, it was open. That tall girl, Vixul, stood there. Silver hair in a ponytail, bandage over one eye, winter clothing. She blinks seeing you, surprised.)

"O-oh! Hey, uh, Siffrin right? Caaaaan I help you with something."

". . . I, uh. . ." (You paused for a second, wishing you grabbed your hat to hide. You look away.) ". . . . Isa sent me."

". . . Oooooh, right, okay. C'mon in, bud." (She opened the door and stepped back into her room. You follow. It was like before, but a little more organized. And like before, it was chilly.)

(Vixul went over to the desk and sat down.) "Close the door, take a seat on the bed."

"Okay." (Door closed, locked, you get on the bed and sit legs crossed. Looking away.) ". . . ."

". . . . .So." (She's looking away, too.) ". . . It's. . it's alright. Hard to talk to someone about it, isn't it."

"Y-yeah. ." (You hang your head.) "Like, just, it doesn't sound. ."

"Doesn't sound real?" (You look up, Vixul continues.) "Like maybe you're making this all up or something?"

". . . Uh, y-yeah."

"And then a few seconds later there's someone screaming in your head that you're not?"

". . . Heh, yeah, that too."

"And then you wake up a few days later and suddenly oops, you just missed a whole week."

"Or being bullied for making a simple mistake?"

"GODS all the TIME." (Vixul threw her hands up dramatically.) "Please, I'm the host how about one of you take over for a bit."

". . . Huh?" (You tilt your head.) "Host? Like, the one in charge?"

". . . . Oh luna you don't know anything about this do you."

"N-not, not really. Kinda. . ." (You scratched your head.) "There's, there's four. Some of us are, a-are better at things than others. Separate memories, b-but we can share some of them. Having a kind of, mind, space, getting dizzy, it's, all so much."

"Well, you're halfway there already." (She rubs the side of her head.) "Alright, one thing at a time. What're their names? What're they like?"

"Oh, well, there's me, Loop, Mal du Pays, and Null. I'm, well, I guess the one in charge? Host?"

"Host is right, the person who deals with the day-to-day stuff."

"O-okay, then, Loop. Loop helps remember stuff, and takes over a bunch too. Mal Du Pays is, is very introverted, protective, a bit self destructive. Null is. . . Rash? Just, he just wants to get things done. Doesn't care about anything else, I think."

(Vixul nods at each name.) "Sif, Mal, Loop, Null. I nice round four, but don't feel bad if you get more, okay?"

"I-I could, get more?!?" (You tugged at your cloak.)

"More likely you will then wont." (Vixul turned to the desk and began going through it while she talked.) "There's four here, too. Me, Vixul, host. Major, takes care of the body and not here to make friends. Addeline, very carefree, makes sure we don't burn out. And Orcane, who, uh, does things that need to be done. Here" (She turned and tossed a notebook to you.)

(You caught it and opened it. Blank.) "Huh?"

"Keep a journal, it'll help." (She picked up her own.) "Put a message on the first page that anyone new can read. Try and make sure it's updated every day, ask your friends for that, it'll help. A lot."

"R-right. . ." (Odile had suggested before you keep a journal. Well, you had an excuse now at least.)

"Oh yeah, and you can write down things that get certain headmates in control." (She sees your blank expression, and sighs.) "If I hear some upbeat music, Addeline will show up. Some triggers are good, some bad. Make sure to list them down.

"Rrrrrriiiighhht. . ." (Your rub your temple, that was, a lot.)

". . ." (She looks away again.) ". . . Sorry, I know that's, a lot."

"I-it's fine!" (You say, half-true.)

"Sure, buddy." (She shakes her head and takes a breath.) "Right, sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself a bit."

(Vixul turned back to her own journal and began flicking through it.) "The term for what you and I are is 'Plural', the other people in our heads are called 'Headmates', y'know, head-roomates. And as a collective you're called a 'system.'"

(She turns back around, now holding her book of notes.) "We're like this 'cause as kids, our personality is still getting itself together. If something traumatic happens to us, it'll stop that from happening. Skip forward a few years and suddenly your head's fractured into anywhere from a couple, to a dozen, to hundreds of personalities."

(You blink at that.) ". . . Hundreds?"

"Yeah, I know. Not common, but it happens." (She continued.) "Usually each part has their own job; Hosts, you and me, take care of the day to day, memory holders are- well you can guess. Caretakers make sure basic needs are met, protectors step in when the body or mind needs defending."

(Memory holder sounds like Loop, Protector. . . Kinda like Mal? Not really though, Vixul continues.)

"Littles are, well, repressed childhood emotion. Persecutors are personifications of, uh, abuse." (She looks to the side.) "Not inherently evil, it's complicated. O-OH! And if someone doesn't know if any of these fit that's okay!"

"R-right. . ."

". . . You should write this down."

"O-OH!" (Vixul tosses you a pen and you open your new journal. You choose a page near the back and start writing. She waits for you to catch up.)

"Then there's Introjects" (She taps her chin.) "Sometimes when a new headmate is trying to form, they latch onto a personality you already know. Fictive is based on a fictional personality, factive is from, well, real life. They might have phantom memories from their 'source', and, other stuff."

<You pause for a second. That's, that's you.>

(Null?!?)

<Quiet. You look up at Vixul.> ". . . introject."

"Yep." <She tilts her head.> "Everything alright?"

". . . No, not exactly." <You look down at what you had wrote, you had been in the background, but that shook you in controll- Siffrin. . . ? Stars, great.> ". . . I'm sorry, I think I just kicked Siffrin out. I'm Null"

"That's fine, sometimes you just get forced to the front. Good to meet you!" <She wasn't phased for a second.> "Need catching up on anything?"

<You shook your head.> "No. Although I wanted to ask, what about that place in our head? That's not normal, apparently."

"No it isn't, some non-systems have them, but for us it's just, there." <She started messing with her coat sleeve.> "It's how the mind organizes itself I think. It, can feel very real sometimes."

<You nod.> "So I've gathered."

"Oh yeah! Do you get headaches? Or dizzy spells where you can't think? Dissociating?"

"Yes. We do." <You remember multiple times when looping a few days ago that caused that.> "When it happens, we have a breathing exercise. And for me, listening to music helps.

"Good grounding techniques, try and find out what else can help, oh and write it down!"

<You roll your eye, but write it down. You had already filled up a page with notes, stars.> "This is quite a lot."

"It, it is." <She gets up, walking over and sits next to you on the bed.> "It's, it's complicated, confusing, and there's a lot to take in. That's because nothing is universal."

<She continues.> "It's like. . . Well it's like trying to compare those little Change God statues. None of them repeat, but they do rhyme. Right?"

"Right." <You nod.> "So, something we experience another may not?"

"Exactly! Actually, I might have an example. Can you see your headspace right now?"

"One moment." <You breathe in, and out. You're still see the bed. But in flickers you can also see the lightless sky.> "Yes, I can."

"Alright, lets try. . ." <She taps her foot for a moment.> "I know, I'm dropping an apple at your feet."

<?!??!?!!?!?!?!!?>

<You reach out, there's an apple on the ground. It's flickering like the rest of your headspace, but, it's, there?> "How did you do that?"

"Phantom touch." <She smiles.> "I don't get that, but you do. If someone phrases something just right when you're in the right mindset, it'll trick your head into thinking it's happening in your headspace."

<You blink a few times. You still had the apple. You look up at Vixul.> "This seems more unreal the more you talk."

"It does, doesn't it." <She reaches over to pat your back, but notices you wince, and stops.> "W-well, it's, real. Even if it sounds crazy, or people call you crazy, it's real and we gotta live with it."

"Mhm." <You look back down at the journal.> ". . . Any more words of wisdom?"

"Lets see- oh! You could name your little system, too!" <She points a thumb at herself> "We're called Snowflower system."

"Heh, cute." <Your mouth twitches into a smile. A funny little collective name, that could be fun.> "Oh, I did have a question to do with combat; I can't use the others crafts."

"Right." <She nods.> "Well, it's about personality and just, your own skills. Major is good at holding his ground, Addeline is fast, Orcane is sneaky. Just like how you might want to tag out so someone else can deal with something better than you can, you can do it in a fight too. Craft types change too."

<Like how Mal wasn't scissors type. Like how you didn't know any craft skills at all. Like how you could loop on demand, unlike the others.> "It also helps resist mind control."

"Learned that the hard way." <Another nod.> "Thanks again for helping with that, by the way."

"No problem." <Like you helped much in the end.> ". . . Anything else?"

"Just a few notes; make sure to communicate problems with your headmates. Don't get worried if there's times where you don't hear from any headmates. And if someone new does show up, try not to deny their existence." <She looks away.> "That one is mostly for the host."

". . ." <You look directly at Vixul. She coughs.> ". . . Do as I say, not as I do?"

"Well I don't anymore." <She grumbles.> "U-uh, any last questions?

<You shake your head.> "None come to mind. Do you have any last words of advice?"

". . . Just, just one." <Vixul turned to look directly at you.> "Look at me."

<You turn.>

"I want you to listen to me, I need you to remember this and write it down in big letters, okay?"

<You nod.>

"Okay, listen. Above everything else, I need you to do one thing. And that's to give yourself grace. Don't be hard on yourself. Don't try and fit some definition or other peoples idea of what your experience should be."

"Talk to your family, talk to your headmates, figure things out. Experiment with your headspace and see what's possible. See who's better at what. See if there's other headmates hiding in there. But, above all, I need you to remember to just, go easy on yourself, please."

<. . . You nod.>

"Do you promise?!?"

<Another nod.> "I promise."

"Write it down-"

"I'm going to!" <You turn back to the journal. And just like she asked, big letters, underlined three times. "Give yourself grace." You get the feeling this is something she learned the hard way.> ". . . And, that's it?"

"By Luna I think it is." <She's rubbing her temples again.> "Tell ya what, you're still here for a few days, I'll get to writing a booklet or something you can flip through if you're confused about anything."

". . . You don't need to do that." <You stand up.>

"Don't be an idiot." <She stands up too.> "It's not like I have anything else to do. Plus it's the Vaugardian thing to do."

<You chuckle at that.> "When in Vaugarde. . ."

"Do as the Vaugardians do." <She, laughing, then cuts herself.> "Oh craaaab wait, relationship stuff."

"What?" <You turn, confused.>

"Well, you're dating Isa, right?" <She crosses her arms.> "And, well, do you all like him?"

". . ." <Siffrin without a doubt. Mal, you had learned recently, does. Loop kissed him a few days ago so you have no idea. And you. . .> "Everyone bar me. I'm still figuring it out. Although. . ."

<You sigh, rubbing your head.> "We learned a few days ago another of our companions, Ramos, has feelings for us. Siffrin is the only one who may having feelings back." <You pause.> ". . The rest of us neither like nor trust Ramos."

". . . Yikes." <She bit her lip.> "Well, first off, congrats on hitting the lottery; most of you like Isabeau, that is not the norm. Second, uh, well. . . You're, you're doing the right thing already by, talking about this. But you all should be clear with eachother and Ramos. If, Sif and Ramos become a thing it should be only if you guys are okay with it too."

<. . . You nod, and sigh.> "Thank you."

"Can I ask why you don't like Ramos?"

"We were enemies for a time." <You say flatly.> "They were controlled by those who did the same here, yes, but I don't trust them."

"Right. . . Gooooood luck with that?"

"Mhm." <You rub your neck.> ". . . Thank you, Vixul, Snowflower?"

"Vixul's fine." <She goes to sit back at her desk, back to work.> "It's snowflower if you're talking to us all, but, you're welcome."

<You wave, and go to leave. That went well, you weren't sure where Siffrin went, but. . . Actually. . .>

<You stop.> ". . . How did you know Polaris' name?"

<Vixul pauses for just a moment.> ". . Pardon?"

"Polaris." <Your voice was flat. You felt something was off.> "How did you know his name"

"Because. . . That's his name- wait when did you talk to Pol about that?" <She turns to look at you again, her eyes changing from kind to suspicious.>

"His name is from an island that has been wished out of existence." <You press on.> "You're not from there, your accent is unplaceable, and you're using the moon as an expletive. Why?"

<She stares at you in disbelief. You've clearly caught her off guard. She's hiding something more. What was it, Vixul? What did you do?>

<There's a cold, long silence, before she sighs, and turns back to her desk.> ". . . I can't tell you, It's a secret."

"Can't, or won't."

"Won't." <Vixul held up a hand, it was empty.> I won't tell you for the same reason you wouldn't tell me about your time craft."

<She snapped her fingers, and a pair of coins fell from thin air into her hand.>

<There's a second of silence, then she tosses the coins to you. You catch them, and hold them up to the light- No. . .> "How."

"It's not hard to spot a paradox if you know what to look for." <She's still not looking at you.> "Relax, I'm good at keeping secrets."

<You huff, and tuck YOUR two coins back in the pocket they were in a few moments ago. Space manipulation? This explained one thing, at least. When you first broke into her room, she snuck up on you without open the door or making any sound. Hm.> "The people we're chasing used some transportation craft, do you-"

"No clue." <She interrupts.> "Pretty amateur stuff, though, I've met children that could do better."

<You squint.> ". . . Have you?"

<She simply hums in response.>

<You stare at the back of Vixuls head, as if looking hard enough might decipher the enigma of her existence. Nothing about her made sense. What kind of journey has she been on? What can she do that's as dangerous as your time craft? Do you even want to know?>

". . . Fine, if whatever your doing is comparable to what we're doing, I'll leave you to it."

"Same to you." <She turns back to you, finally.> "This world's gone through enough broken time, I do not want to know how it's done."

"Good. It sucks." <You reply flatly.> ". . . Thank you, Vixul. And good luck."

"Right back 'atchya" <She does a half wave.> "And kick that 'Perci' assholes butt for me."

[ladylooch]

A request of the reader riding Nico hischier after they win the series on Monday??

A/N: Oh sweet anon, your request is making lots of us happy tonight! Congrats Devils! And of course, extra love to our fav captain.

Word Count:1.1k

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT!!!

You couldn’t hold back when you saw him. You knew it was a bit extra- but you had to. So you sprinted down the tunnel at the Prudential Center, throwing yourself into Nico’s arms recklessly. He barely catches you, having to grip your thighs tight to keep your momentum from bringing you both to the ground.

“I knew you could do it, babe.” You murmur into his ear, squeezing yourself so tight to his upper body, not even a penny could fit through.

“My biggest fan.” He murmurs, grin disappearing into your hair. “You smell like beer.”

“Yeah I kinda threw mine in the air when Tatar scored.” You admit, cringing slightly. “Don’t drink and watch playoff hockey… would be my motto but I’m not mentally strong enough.” Nico’s laughter mixes with yours. He lowers you back to the ground.

“You ready to pay up?” He asks, stroking the leather opening of your WAG jacket.

“Don’t I always?”

“Usually.” He confirms, letting his finger trail down to one of your belt loops, tugging you closer. You can already feel him getting hard. The publicness of it, the desire for you he can’t hide, has your breasts getting heavy.

Nico makes the drive home as quick as he can. His fingers wander, teasing and dangerous, as you move through the congested streets. You bite your bottom lip when a relieved moan slides out as the garage door for your apartment building rides up. Finally home.

In the elevator, you’re bold enough to stroke his full, hard length. He gives you a look, glancing at the corner camera as you shrug.

“Let em watch.” You whisper, not caring who is or isn’t peeking behind that lens. “Let them know who you belong to.” You continue, stroking your fingers a bit faster, watching as his brown eyes disappear behind his lids. 

“Fuck.” His head falls back, a heavy breath pushing his abdomen out. He reaches a hand around your back, pulling you tight to him again so he can use the friction of your bodies to build the tension. His other hand comes up to your face, bringing his lips down onto yours. The door to the elevator opens. Neither of you walk out. Instead, you assault each other with your tongues, wet and needy, celebrating the game 7 exhilaration with some of your own.

He pulls away from you, sliding his thumb into your mouth, moving it in and out slowly. He presses down on your tongue, drinking in the way your cheeks collapse deeper. You reach up to his wrist, pushing his appendage deeper into your mouth. Nico can’t contain the groan bubbling in his chest.

Everything is rapid after that. 

Heavy footsteps run down the hall. Keys jingle. A jacket falls here, then another there. Every piece of clothing flies onto the hallway floor leading to your bedroom. Nico tosses you carelessly onto the bed, too hot to bother with manners. He spreads your legs, moving your panties aside and burying his face between your folds. 

“Holy fuck.” You’re already whining, clenching around his thick fingers as he works you over.

“Exactly what I pictured.” 

“What?” You moan as he works his tongue deeper. 

“When the final horn sounded. This is what I saw. You spread open like this for me. Although you begged a little more.”

“Not my fault. You’re the desperate one tonight, cap.” You quip back to him, shoving his face deeper into you. He doesn’t like your sass, trying to shut you up with heavy strokes on your clit while his fingers curl up. Your eyes roll back, no sound coming out as you come so quickly against his face.

“Am I?” He asks, kissing his way up your stomach then over to your breast. You’re still quivering, unsure of how you’re going to recover from that. But then he sucks his cheeks in on your nipple and you know you need another… and another. You’ll never have Nico enough.

“You’ve worked hard enough tonight.” You say as you shove at his shoulders. He drops his back to the bed with a heavy thud, guiding your hips over as you straddle him. His naked cock seeps against your wet folds. You stroke him through, watching as the control changes to you when he softens into the sheets. His large hands palm your ass, finger prints digging in as you guide him into you. His abs tighten calling your fingers to their ridged lines. As you work yourself down then back up his dick, you rub at his skin. Goosebumps dash along his skin while he helps you adjusts to his size. Small little thrusts flex his hips up into you. Your fingers come to your breasts, holding them as he encouraged you to make yourself feel good.

“Just like that, pretty girl.” He groans as you glide your own fingers along the taut peaks.

He bounces your body almost completely up and off of him, just to bottom out again. It’s intense, exactly how you want him tonight after such a stressful game. Your hair falls down your back as you curve your chest, giving him the perfect view of your cleavage bouncing.

He loves it, telling you so as he makes eye contact with you.

“Kiss me.” He demands.

You lean over him, letting your chest squish together. His hands move to the back of your thighs to help lift you with each pump. It feels so fucking good. Deep and inviting, dropping your lips open to let out heavy moans. Nico catches them in his mouth with rough, wet kisses.

Both your hips snap together greedily. He guides yours with his hands, squeezing as he gets closer and closer to coming. His head knocks back, separating from your mouth. You feel his breathing sputter, becoming long and then short. He begins to speak but can’t, licking his lips as you feel your orgasm pulse inside. The intensity knocks you into his chest. He finishes himself off, rapidly pumping into you as you ride wave after intoxicating wave of his thrusts. One hand pulls off your hips to grip your hair, fisting it as he shouts your name.

Your little flutters work more from his tip as your sweaty skins ticks together. Your lips press against his collar bone. His hand ghosts over your ass cheek, giving it an appreciative love tap. His face turns into your hair, working his lips through so he can kiss your cheek.

“Playoff worthy performance.” He chuckles, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle too.

“Damn right.” You turn your face to meet his lips with little nibbles and smooches.

“What are you going to do to me if we get passed round 2?” He asks, smoothing your hair back from your face. 

“Guess you’ll just have to make it to find out.”

[qqueenofhades]

Hello! I have a question that may be a tad uncomfortable but I don't know who could answer honestly. How do you get over class with a professor who self identifies as your mentor/father? He spilled his guts to me after class and told me how happy he was he connected to a young girl like me(Im 19 he's 59). He will be my prof for the ENTIRE year. I don't know how to feel, it wasn't flirty at all, and I actually think he sees himself in me. He's odd and off putting and stand offish. I am too, kinda. He said if shouldn't feel lonely because Im different, because I have my family, and now him (also Implied i should find god).

He's a conservative catholic with a wife and kids, I can tell he doesn't mean it in a weird way. He probably means well. But it's odd that he's acting like a mentor when I've only known him for a month.

Now, I thought this chat wouldn't affect me but he psychoanalysed me and it felt like he saw right through me while treating me like his therapist. I also think he's a lonely man who is projecting, seeing my potential and "what could've been" for himself.

How do I cope? I don't want this to affect me, but it pushed me terribly off axis. I felt pigeonholed, more than anything, and also feel bad for him.

WELP. Okay, first of all, I want to reinforce that this is NOT your fault and that it clearly creeped you out to the point where you decided to ask someone for help, all of which means that the situation is not okay and he does NOT have the right to do any of this -- whether forcing emotional intimacy on you after a very short time, suggesting that you Find Jesus and/or convert, hinting that he wants to "mentor" you, or whatever. Just because he's a conservative Catholic is no guarantee that it won't get creepier (indeed, often the total opposite) and even if it wasn't sexual or didn't feel sexual at the moment, that is... wrong. He should not have done it. He does not have the right to decide He Is Now Your Mentor and to push that connection on you. Even if it was not conscious or intentional grooming behavior, it is... squicky to say the least, showed that he was willing to push boundaries with you right away, and is certainly something that should make you cautious of any more uncontrolled or one-on-one interaction with him. So yeah. Gross. "Now you have me so you won't be lonely"??? Sorry, there is no scenario in which I can imagine that being an okay thing for a professor to say to a student. No. It may be that he just doesn't have a good sense of social boundaries or appropriate behavior, but that also doesn't mean you need to excuse it.

Next, if you can switch to another section or class so you don't have to spend the year with him, that might be worth looking into. If you can't, then obviously minimize the time you spend one-on-one (if there are office hours or if you need help with the class, maybe ask your peers or the TA if there is one, rather than him) and remember that you can tell people at your university if it continues to creep you out, not just me. There are procedures in place at most institutions to document this kind of interaction if it continues to cross a line (I don't know where you are in the world, but in the university where I work in the US, there's an office of Title IX, which deals with these kinds of issues). Older male academics smarming up to young female students and telling them they're "special" happens a lot, unfortunately, and while it doesn't always end terribly, it is something that you deservedly flagged as weird and which you should keep an eye on going forward. I'm sorry that you've experienced this and once again offer my support in navigating this year in as un-icky a way as possible. Please remember that you do not have to apologize for or excuse yourself for making choices to get out of a weird situation that clearly threw you for a loop, and you do not have to put up with this behavior if it continues or gets worse. Good luck.

[gaylordscooter]

Log of the Multiverse: Fresh

I've done some research lately on that parasite. In order to help someone.

Y'see Fresh is an interesting outcode to say the least. No one knows what his original universe was like. No one knows where he came from.

Not even Ink! Or at least, every time I ask him he conveniently forgets the answer even though he swears he knew a second ago.

Well, I can't blame him for having a faulty memory when mine's pretty shabby too.

But I digress.

He also kidnaps people. that's probably the first thing i should state.

So yeah, someone was kidnapped. Specifically Cross's best bud, Epic. A shame too, he was just rescued from the cusp of death in his universe. He didn't get to spend much time at the hub (see entry on Cross and XChara) before he went missing.

We don't know HOW Fresh weaseled his way into the hub, the code of the universe is set up in a way that repels him like a magnet of the same charge as him. The only ones that could've tampered with that code would be Cross himself (unlikely), Error (who doesn't even know where or what the hub is), and...

i'm getting off topic again!

So however he got in, he did, and then he found Epic and none of us had the time to warn him about who Fresh is and what he does. I'd assume they hit it off pretty well. They'd probably be great friends if it wasn't for the fact Fresh's entire personality is fabricated to lure people in.

As for Where monsters (mainly of the skeleton kind. mainly of the sans kind.) end up after Fresh nabs them, well i shouldn't leave you in suspense should i?

yeah that would be mean.

who would do that in their own log? i mean, i'm the only one reading it.

so really i'm not keeping anyone in suspense because i already know.

[there is a stupidly wide margin here]

yup.

That was stupid.

Anyway, he takes you to some warehouse in the antivoid where he holds this endless rave. How do I know this? Ink told me during one of his fights with Error they somehow strayed so far away from Error's place in the antivoid that they found Fresh's territory. Ink said the fight ended there because the sight and sound of it made Error crash. Ink took a peak through one of the windows and saw the place PACKED with sanses all of them wearing shades just like Fresh. The music and strobe lights could be heard from miles away you'd think it was a GREAT party.

you'd probably notice all the dust after it's too late.

Wowzers so dramatic.

I Havent Said Or Written That Word in Sooo Long

that almost felt weird to write. whatever

So anyway, recap. no one knows where fresh comes from, he kidnaps people and takes them to an endless rave where you dance until you literally drop and epic is currently at said rave.

yeahhhh.

AS FOR MY RESEARCH! "no one knows where fresh comes from" TOSS THAT OUT THE WINDOW. ME!! I KNOW!!

He's actually

from a completely generic undertale universe

You might think "what? that doesn't sound right."

Which Yeah I Guess So If You're A Party Pooper Sure. Technically He's From An Alternate Timeline. Asshole.

"ok so how did a sans become that 90's freak?" Wrong. Incorrect. The sans of that universe is fine and dandy we had coffee together last week (true) (real).

Actually Fresh is

DRAMATIC PAUSE!

I'm killing you aren't i? absolutely annoying you?

you probably already know actually. SIGH

He's a memoryhead. I know! It threw me for a loop too. And it only made things MORE confusing considering. well no one knows the deal with memoryheads. not even alphyses.

They're. amalgamates? but. What monsters did they come from? They didn't come from Any recognizable monsters.

Now as for what's up with the flowers Fresh uses—Which I Totally Forgot To Mention In This Entry. ehhh whatever you probably already read that one. .. Did i include the flowers part. i forgot how much i explained there i was kinda occupied watering my flower. s. my flowers my potted flowers that i Keep In my room. and water with Water and not any other liquid.

the flowers are different from fresh's flowers unrelated. unrelated flowers to any s. keletons

I'm still trying to figure out what is up with the flowers but my guessFOR NO REASON IN PARTICULAR is that said memoryhead managed to mmmmmerge?? melt? how do i phrase this. merge. with a flowey. maybe. potentially

i mean ive never seen a rafflesia flowey ever but hey the multiverse is huge. (not endless though. ink's told me he's seen the edge of the multiverse he looked very perturbed at the revelation)

not that ive seen many floweys.

AUDIBLE COUGH WRITTEN ON PAPER

Man i totally just dropped the "fresh is a memoryhead from an undertale alternate timeline actually" bomb on you and didn't let you sit with it huh.

I'm sorry to say that's as far as my research got. He's a memoryhead. Potentially merged with some sort of flowey. So what now?

well i have a lot of questions. like you do probably

How did the memoryhead escape their universe in the first place? Who in that amalgamate is in control? the flowey? the memoryhead (what monsters are in the memoryhead anyway?) how did that happen? Why the hell does it pretend to be from the 90's.

why does it need so many hosts. what IS the main host's body and why is it so tall? SIX feet really? compensating much? what the hell would an amalgamate need to compensate for. nevermind.

Hang on pause. the song that just came on goes hard i need to save it to my playlist.

...

Yes?? I listen to music while writing these sometimes? Duh? Get off my back?

"you're being sassier than normal" am i? (am i.) well maybe i just learned something

about myself. learned more about myself

I might loop this song actually. it's that good. do you do that? do you find a song that's so good you just loop it and wrench every note out of it until it sounds awful to you?

[jerseyshoresy]

Something where someone (your pick from shoresy or LK) ask to meet up by text but you say you have a man in your bed, they're confused af but turns out you rescued a cat?

STOOOOPPP IM OBSESSED WITH THIS LMAO!!! Thank you so much for sending this request in, it's so perfect and I had tons of fun writing it! I decided to do little blurbs with everyone I've written for in both the LK and Shoresy universe so I hope you enjoy <3

Fatal AttraC(A)Tion

Fluff

Shoresy, Wayne, Daryl, Coach x gn!reader

Warnings: cussing, suggestive language

Shoresy:

"I know I'm like, always confused, but I am extra confused right now."

Shoresy had just finished hockey practice when he texted you, asking if he could come to your place to hang out for the rest of the night. He certainly wasn't expecting your response of: "Please don't come over !! I have a man in my bed rn!!"

"Oh, that's no good, mah boy! You best get yourself o'er there and send the unlucky bastard scramblin' out tha door!"

"You're right, Hitch, you have a point. I'm not letting another man come between me and my partner and I mean that in both entendres."

"Settle down," said Goody, taking a sip of water.

Shoresy was quick to leave the barn and head to your place, nervous to see who he was going to find lying next to you. As he entered the bedroom door, he pushed up his sleeves, getting ready for a fist fight. To his surprise, there was no human man to be seen anywhere. Instead, he was greeted with you and an unfamiliar orange cat lying on his side of the bed.

"Look baby, Shoresy's home! My favorite two men in this whole world," you cooed, the cat purring as it cuddled up to you. Shoresy relaxed, happy you were just messing around with him, and looking forward to cuddling two very cute creatures all night.

Wayne:

You felt bad joking like this to Wayne, knowing he had been cheated on in the past, but you couldn’t help yourself as you sent the text message: “can’t meet rn. me and my other man are in bed.”

When Wayne received said text message, he sped over to your place in a flash, his stoic expression turning the slightest bit more sour than usual. After he slammed his truck door closed, he rolled up his sleeves, readying himself for a brawl. However, when he entered your bedroom, he just stood there very confused.

“Here’s the man I was talking about.” You held up a black cat with white paws. “I just rescued him! Isn’t he cute?”

Wayne stood in silence for a few moments before speaking. “Okay, y/n. Y/n, okay. That is a very cute cat.”

He took several big strides and abducted the cat from you, cuddling it close to his chest.

“You can have him back after I get an apology for making me worry.” He scratched the cat under its chin, making it purr. “And after I get an apology for not adopting two of these.”

Daryl:

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

Daryl was at MoDean’s trying to decipher the text you had just sent him. It was a picture of you lying in bed with a mass of blonde hair on your chest, captioned “don’t come over, my man and I are having alone time.”

“I knows y/n, we all do, and that doesn’t seem like their types of behaviors,” said Squirrely Dan.

Katy then spoke up, “But it is weird. I think you should go check it out. Let us know if you need backup.”

Daryl agreed and drove his van over to your house in a hurry, confused as ever. He walked into your bedroom, fully expecting to see you with another man, but what he actually saw couldn’t have been further from what he assumed.

“I got us a cat!” you exclaimed, holding up the cream colored cat. “Isn’t he just adorable?”

“You really threw me for a loop with that text,” Daryl said, frowning, but perking up when the cat ran over to his leg and started nuzzling him. “He is really cute though. This is the only other man I’d ever want in my bed.”

“Me too, Daryl, don’t worry,” you said, pulling him in for a kiss.

Coach:

“I’m kinda busy rn, me and my man are lying in bed.”

“What the fuck are they talking about?!”

Coach was ready to crush his phone in anger. What did you mean, your man? HE was your man, your only man! He furiously typed back a response, telling you he’d be over at your place in no time, and he spent the whole trip muttering to himself about how he was going to kick that guy’s ass for laying next to his partner. He practically busted your door down, huffing and puffing as he stared you down. You were completely unbothered by Coach’s abrasive entrance, even laughing about it, as you lounged with a cat running in circles on your bed.

“Coach! Glad to see you made it to meet our newest roommate.”

“Don’t scare me like that, y/n, I was seriously pissed off!” He was pointing an accusatory finger at you until the cat pounced on it, clawing lightly at his skin. Coach immediately broke into a smile, cooing and giving the cat scratches on its ears. It looked like your two favorite men got along swimmingly!