#at least until his shrimp ramen is out

[lesboylycan]

this just in, how to make your store-bought ramen (not the instant cupped noodle kind, the 3-minute kind) actually fill you up instead of just leaving you vaguely satisfied for an hour before you end up feeling hungrier than you were before eating it:

add 3 - 4 pieces of roast beef and/or 1 egg (put the egg in while the noodles are cooking just so it'll also cook thoroughly)

[faeriekit]

I’m writing this only to excise this from my body.

TIM (& DICK) ACCIDENTALLY START THE BATFAM AU!!!

So. Recently dropped out from college, kicked out of Wayne Manor, and fast tracked through police training Officer Grayson is having a real fucking shit time at the precinct. No one respects him or his deductions or his opinions. Everything sucks ass. His most familiar and longest-living support structure was ripped out from underneath him, he’s broken up and no-contact with anyone he’s ever dated, his Blüdhaven apartment is awful and full of black mold and there’s never enough food to sustain him, his creation of his Nightwing persona is slow-going and the public is reluctant to catch on, there’s a kid hiding under his bed, his partner thinks he’s a total nepo baby even though he has no money and no contacts, and—

There’s a what.

Dick double checks under his bed. Yerp. Sure enough, just hanging out, is a black-haired kid with a raggedy coat and a backpack, just peering back out at him with his big ‘ol eyes.

“What the fuck,” says Dick, before remembering not to swear in front of kids. “...freak.”

The kid scrunches his nose.

Dick doesn’t kick the kid out because, fuck, it’s cold out in November and at least his shitty apartment has heating, but he does tell the kid that this ain’t cool and that if he wasn’t literally in the cops to take most of them down, he wouldn’t let this fly at all. In the morning, the kid skedaddles, and Dick assumes that is that.

Except he’s here the next day.

“What the fuck,” Dick repeats, and commits to the swearing this time.

In the mean time, Tim already knows what swearing is and Is On The Fucking Lamb.

His parents were murdered in their bed on their one week in Gotham for the season, and escaping the same fate had been a lot of sneaking out of the house and hitching a ride on the Gotham city bus and laying low on the streets for the week, keeping only his most important photos, his camera, and a spare set of clothes on him at all times. There had been warnings of upset in the company that Tim had overheard, but he hadn’t expected this. With no safety in Gotham, no money, no food, and no one he knew personally, Tim was Very content with his plan of hiding out under Robin’s (ex-Robin’s?) bed until the murderers are appropriately found. The company can’t be bought, traded, or sold until Tim’s found dead, after all.

So. With a motivation to avoid getting murdered, Tim very rudely ignores Dick Grayson’s attempts to keep him out of his apartment with strategic uses of puppy eyes, lockpicks, and general knowledge of exploits in electronic locks.

“Little monster,” Dick warns, even as he has a plate for Tim in the hand opposite his own, “You can’t hide under my bed forever.”

Tim ducks back further under the frame. Yes he can!!!

It devolves into day-to-day shenanigans from there. Tim never speaks since he knows his Bristol accent is recognizable. Dick suddenly has to juggle his day job, Nightwing, and stopping this little kid with a camera from crawling around this crusty and crime-riddled city all night, just so the squirt can dart into the precinct in the morning with entirely inadmissible evidence of wrongdoing?? JUST managing the baby is part-time job. Fuck. Dick is buying double groceries now. He might actually learn how to cook more than ramen-with-egg.

It’s good that Dick has mastered some kind of weird almost-parent bullshit with the little monster, because overnight one kid under his bed turns into two.

“What the fuck,” says Dick. He tries to reach under his bed, and the new kid tries to get him with a knife. “What?? The fuck??”

“Back off! The shrimp was here first!!” the new kid growls, his street accent thickly prominent.

“This is literally my apartment?!”

“So what? What’re you going to do, call the cops to this shithole?”

“…I’m a cop?!”

Anyway. This new kid is deeply protective of the little monster, and his name is Jay something-something, mind your own fucking business, and Dick’s a little bit grateful because now at least the ten-year-old-monster has backup when he starts darting around town and also is wondering why it’s suddenly his fucking problem that he has to feed two kids he is not related to, and also apparently bailing them out at work when two not-even-pubescent kids get caught breaking and entering at seemingly random places in Bludhaven.

“Fuck off,” says Jay, to a cop, while the more silent kid is busy trying to get a look at evidence on cop desks. Dick watches from his own desk in silent horror.

“Is this yours?” asks Dick’s haggard partner.

“…Sure,” says Dick, to Jay’s clear surprise and suspicion. The monster beams with all of his adorable and also entirely fake innocence, the little shit. Dick bails them out, and then they all have lima beans for dinner as punishment for getting caught. I mean doing illegal things. (I mean getting caught.)

And then Bruce asks if Dick is coming home for Hanukkah.

Dick does not want to come back for Hanukkah.

…But the leftovers would feed the kids, actually. And it’s good food. And free. Maybe he can go for one night and not kill Bruce.

Spoiler: Dick cannot go for one night and not kill Bruce. Dick stomps to the other end of the house, texts Alfred an apology, and makes it all the way back to his car in order to drive home. Dick is on the parkway and on his way back to Bludhaven by the time that the tiny assassin in his car tries to Get Him.

They tussle. Dick only wins because he is An Adult and the assassin is, like, four foot nine.

Anyway. Cass is driven home in an improvised belt-and-dress-shirt restraint and cannot live under the bed, as she has to receive lice treatment. She stays because there is food and also other kids her age.

“Where are you getting all these kids?” Dick’s work partner asks, which is a fair question.

“…Cousins,” Dick lies.

“They live at your place.”

“Until their moms get sober again, yeah, probably,” Dick says, banking on the fact that he looks ethnic enough that no one will question the blatant reference to substance abuse or the basically-still-a-kid raising kids.

No one questions him.

He’s kind of disappointed in them about that.

Jay drops a reference to Crime Alley about this point. “You’re from Gotham?” Dick asks, perplexed. “Then why are you here?? This place sucks ass.”

“I’m in hiding. Duh.”

“From who??” Dick is fully prepared to go Nightwing on someone’s ass.

“Batman,” Jay says, severely. “I stole his tires. And then I hit him with a tire iron.”

Dick gapes. Monster gasps. Cass doesn’t get it, and takes a good heaping of spaghetti off the monster’s plate while he freaks out.

Much cute domestic shenanigans, and then it all goes to shit when the party is crashed by an assassin, who has been paid reasonable amounts of money to kill Timothy Jackson Drake.

Fighting ensues. Jay, who had known everything But the fact that Dick was Nightwing, freaks the fuck out.

"YOU?!"

"Yeah," Dick says, sheepishly, putting the escrima stick back in his pocket. "Uh. Whoops?"

"BUT YOU'RE A COP?!"

"I'm harboring you all, aren't I?" Dick points out, and rightfully so. "Cops do illegal stuff all the time. I literally got you out of trouble for your little B&E adventure in the inner city warehouses last week. If you weren’t fake related to a cop, you’d be in juvie right now for repeat offenses."

Jay, who was pretending that didn't happen and whose face is a bright scarlet, changes the topic. "Why didn't you tell us you were a fucking vigilante, then?? You should have said something?"

Dick points to the under-the-bed monster who has been squatting in his apartment since last year for that exact reason and the mostly mute mini assassin, both of whom had already known this information and said nothing. “I assumed they told you tbh.”

Jay stomps away.

Unfortunately, Tim's plan of hiding in Dick's apartment is no longer safe, and now everyone has to haul ass to move somewhere more secure.

This means needing more money.

This means needing somewhere to hide until a new place can be secured.

…Shit. This means playing nice with Bruce and asking for favors.

Dick does not want to play nice and ask for favors.

…Dick looks at the kid who’s depending on him to protect him from assassination, another orphan with nowhere else to go, and a girl who underwent abusive training and who’s never known a safe space apart from them.

Dick is going to have to get his shit together.

And he will hate it the whole fucking time.

Everyone piles into his early 2000s toyota something and off they drive, one bag each, to the house with the guy who never quite adopted Dick into his family and probably never wants to see him again, based on how literally every time Dick tries to spend time with him, Bruce can’t help but push on every one of his fucking buttons.

From there it’s a slow-churning reconciliation arc, baby! Bruce learns how to actually communicate with his kid, finds out that having the kids around improves his quality of life by 200%, and Alfred gets an early plural grandkid arc. Dick struggles not to take shit personally while they solve the deaths of the Drakes, Tim breaks his leg falling off of a place he Should Not have been, and Jason continues to learn that protecting others isn’t the same as genuine vulnerability and intimacy, and that he has value, and Cass learns that although she hates killing, she loves fighting, and using that for good isn’t bad.

Reasons I will never write this fic:

Too long!! I would never get it done in a reasonable time frame, and I can’t commit right now.

I actually…writing mysteries bores me. Sometimes actual mysteries bore me. I couldn’t execute this the way I would want it to be read. I’d give up. (Or, you know, I technically already have?)

In-betweens between the action scenes are too vague. They’re not solid in my head in the way I would want them to be if I was writing this.

This entire fic was premised under the basis of Dick looking under his bed and finding a twelve year old Tim Drake. I wanted some good old fashioned Tim & Dick bonding that wasn’t Red Hood based, since it’s still one of the most prominent tropes in their ‘&’ relationship tag.

Want to use any of this…? Go nuts. Or don’t. This has been exorcised from my body. I am now free.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 43]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

"Hey, wanna swap?" You came over to where San and Yunho were grilling the meat. Yunho smiled when he saw you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No, we're good. Let us cook for all of you now." San chuckled, turning you around and gently pushing you back in the direction of the table. You went to help Seonghwa make the ramen for the table. There were two pots going from the sheer amount.

"Taste test." Wooyoung called. You went over to help him taste the bean paste soup.

"Good." You nodded in approval. Wooyoung grinned and leaned in to give you a peck on the cheek but you dodged it.

"Hey! You knowing dodging it is only going to make it worse." He frowned, trapping you in his arms to forcefully try and peck your cheek. You squealed amidst your laughter, trying to escape.

"Stop, I need to make the tamagoyaki." You slapped his arms. He laughed and let you go, stealing a peck on your cheek first.

"What tamagoyaki are you making?" He asked as you stood in front of the fridge.

"I'll do a mentaiko one and a cheese one... I think. With the amount of people, we'll definitely need at least two." You said, looking at the ingredients you bought.

"Two should be sufficient." Wooyoung hummed. You cracked the eggs and began to make the tamagoyaki with the different fillings, cooking the delicate sheets of egg layer by layer. Yeosang came to help wash the lettuce, perilla leaves and chili peppers that you all would eat with the meat.

"What's next?" Jongho came over.

"Spring onion salad. Red pepper flakes are in the cupboard with the soy sauce." You informed. He saluted and started on that. Wooyoung prepared the garlic and set aside some to be marinated.

"Can that be marinated in time?" Jongho asked, seeing Wooyoung mix the soy sauce mixture with the garlic and onions.

"We'll see. I'll heat it up a little to hopefully speed up the process." The older shrugged.

"The first portion of meat is cooked. When you guys are ready, we can eat." Yunho entered the house, going to the fridge to grab a beer and a soda, presumably, for San.

"Okay. I'll go set up and the grill for the seafood then." You grabbed the tray of prepped seafood and box of rock salt.

"Can I use this part of the grill? Before we put the marinated meats on." You asked. San nodded, stepping aside and dramatically gesturing for you to take over. First, you laid down the aluminium foil then built a salt bed.

"Is it hot, love? Want help?" Yunho asked.

"I'm good, Yun. Thanks." You said, laying the layer of rock salt down on the tin foil. It only took 5 minutes before the salt started popping and sizzling.

"Be careful. It may jump." You cautioned Yunho and San. Once the salt was hot, you laid the shrimp down first.

"That looks good." San said in awe, him and Yunho flinching slightly when the salt popped.

"Ramen's ready. I'm going to get the rice now. We're all having rice right?" Mingi asked. The 3 of you nodded in confirmation. The taller went into the house to grab the rice.

"Hongjoong hyung, I need help to carry everything!" He yelled from inside. Hongjoong stood up and quickly went over.

Everyone was busy their own thing, running around and preparing or cooking. Finally, everything was done. All 9 of you sat at the long table on the deck to begin eating. Jongho gave out glasses to everyone, him and Wooyoung making sure that everyone's glasses were filled with alcohol.

"Woohoo! Cheers!" All of you clinked glasses and began digging into the delicious food. This reminded you of the first time you went out for dinner together.

"This reminds me of the first dinner we had together as a team. To celebrate one week of the restaurant being open." You smiled.

"And now we're celebrating one year." Seonghwa said. You nodded, clinking glasses with him again.

"Mmm, so good." Yunho groaned happily, falling onto your shoulder in pure bliss. A happy smile on his face as he chewed his food. You snorted at his reaction.

"Drama queen." You couldn't help but laugh, patting his cheek. You made a wrap to eat.

"I asked you to make a wrap for me when we ate at the barbeque restaurant." Yunho remembered, watching you make the wrap.

"Exactly. Thinking about it, I don't know if you genuinely enjoyed it or you were just trying to flirt." You raised an eyebrow. Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong winced at your words, loudly 'ooooooh'ing, while Yunho pouted at you.

"It was actually good! I wouldn't lie about that!" He whined. You smiled and grabbed his chin in your hand, leaning forward to give him a peck, earning jeers from the rest of the table.

"Come here!" Wooyoung tried to kiss Jongho, who in retaliation, jagged Wooyoung hard.

"Oww! Yah!" He howled, grabbing his ribs. You knew that was going to leave a bruise for sure. Hongjoong refilled everyone's drinks.

At the end of the night, the food was finished and everyone helped to clean up the area before moving into the living room to continue drinking.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!" The boys cheered on Yunho and Jongho, who were racing each other.

"I win!" Yunho slammed his empty glass down, throwing his arms up victoriously as the others cheered for him.

"Did you see me win?" He cuddled up against you. You nodded, too busy laughing at how drunk Yunho was already. You had stopped drinking a while ago, already feeling the buzz but you wanted to be somewhat sober. Yunho leaned on you and threw his head back, laughing as Mingi tripped over something.

"Be careful, Mingi!" Yeosang went over to help the taller male, sitting him back down on the couch. Mingi blinked with a dazed look in his eyes, confused at what was going on.

"You aren't drinking anymore?" You asked San, who was sitting on the floor with Wooyoung laying in his lap.

"Nope, not after what happened last time. Two drinks are more than enough." He chuckled.

"Just leave him there later. He can sleep anywhere when he's drunk." You said, nodding over to Wooyoung. San laughed and nodded his head, stroking Wooyoung's hair.

"Baby, pay attention to me." Yunho frowned, grabbing your cheeks to make you face him.

"I am paying attention to you, Yun." You said.

"Good." He gave you a big smile, which was adorable with his red cheeks and red ears, giving you another kiss. You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. He leaned against your chest and you put your arm around his head.

"I miss Whiskey... He hates me but I love him~" Yunho sniffled, a sad pout on his face.

"Aww, I miss him too. And he doesn't hate you, Yun. He just shows love differently, you buy him snacks and toys. I'm sure he misses you too." You comforted.

"Whiskey is our first son... Our very cute son." He smiled up at you. His words made you choke, you felt your own cheeks heat up.

"I'm sleepy." Seonghwa groaned.

"Let's get you to bed." You stood up, leaving Yunho momentarily. You put Seonghwa's arm around your shoulders and tried to keep him steady, guiding him to his room.

"There we go, Hwa. Goodnight." You said, tucking him in. Seonghwa hugged you down to his chest.

"Goodnight." He whispered in your ear before letting you go. You chuckled and made sure he was fine before leaving the room.

"I've put Wooyoung in his room. He's out like a light. Didn't even notice me carry him." San said, coming out of Wooyoung and Jongho's shared room. When the two of you returned, Hongjoong was shakily topping up everyone's glass, squinting his eyes to focus on getting the alcohol into the glass.

"Come on!" Hongjoong pulled Yeosang over. Poor Yeosang was tipsy too, staring into space and not really saying much. He looked dazed, it was cute.

"Baby, where did you go? You left me." Yunho frowned when you returned to your spot.

"I went to put Hwa in bed, Yun." You replied patiently.

"Come on, Mingi. Don't sleep out here." San couldn't carry Mingi like he did with Wooyoung so it was amusing to see the tall giant's body slumped onto San's.

"Yah. We're going to fall. Wake up for a bit." San stumbled from Mingi putting his entire weight on him.

"Let me help." You stood up but Yunho grasped the end of your shirt to stop you.

"No. Don't go." He stopped you, the frown still on his face.

"I got it, (y/n). Don't worry!" San waved you off and brought Mingi to his room. You sighed and sat back down. Yunho grinned, happy he managed to 'persuade' you to stay with him. Considering San didn't come back out, you assumed he slept in Mingi's room.

"Oh... There's no more." Hongjoong pouted when there was only a measly drop that came out of the soju bottle.

"Good. Let's get all of you to bed." You patted Yunho's head before going to help them. Jongho, although drunk, seemed to comprehend instructions the most out of all of them.

"Alright, this way." You guided Jongho to the room and helped him get into his bed.

"Goodnight." Jongho yawned. You smiled and patted his hand then went to check on Wooyoung before coming back out.

"Yeosang~" You waved a hand in front of his face. He just stared at you, his eyes glazed over as he swayed a little. With some encouragement, you managed to get him to stand up.

"Where... are... we... going...?" Yeosang blinked in confusion.

"Going to your bed to sleep." You replied. You carefully helped him into his bed but he just sat there. So you laid him down on his pillow, on his side, and covered him with his blanket. Whether he will actually sleep or continue to stare at the wall in a drunken daze was not something you could change.

"Last one, Hongjoong. Let's go." You patted his shoulder.

"No!" Hongjoong turned his chin up in defiance, crossing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Joong, there's no more alcohol anyway. If you don't go to bed now, I'm going to leave you here all by yourself. You can sleep here." You raised an eyebrow.

"No~" He whined. You held your hand out to him. He sighed, shoulder slumping in disappointment.

"Fine." He had a look of disappointement on his face but still slipped his hand into yours. You put your arm around his waist to support him.

"There we go." You pulled the blanket up to his chest.

"We'll get more tomorrow, alright? If you're up for it." You coaxed not sure why you were giving in when he's drunk and wouldn't even remember his tomorrow.

"Promise?" He held his pinky up. You nodded and laced pinkies with him, making him smile in satisfaction. Before leaving to go back to Yunho in the living room, you went to check on Seonghwa again, being Hongjoong's roommate.

"That leaves us, Yun." You yawned. Yunho reached out to hold your hand quickly, grasping it with two hands.

"Don't leave me again." He commanded.

"Okay, I won't." You patted the back of his hand. By some sort of luck, you managed to get Yunho up the stairs unharmed. He leaned against the wall.

"Come." You led him to the bathroom. You gave him mouthwash to rinse and spit since he can't brush his teeth.

"Go to bed. I'm going to shower." You ushered him to bed.

"Okay." He nodded and yawned, falling onto the pillow. You quickly showered and brushed your teeth, that helped you sober right up. You climbed into bed with Yunho after drying your hair.

"Still awake?" You asked. He hummed and turned around to face you but made not effort to close the gap between the two of you. Even when he was flat out drunk, Yunho wouldn't miss any chance to cuddle you and have you as physically close to his body as he could. You shot him a questioning look.

"I'm mad at you. So no cuddles." He declared, reminding you of a child like how Hongjoong was earlier.

"And why are you mad?"

"Because... I saw you... You put your arm... around Hongjoong hyung's... waist. You... cheated... on me..." He accused, squinting his eyes at you.

"I didn't cheat on you. I was just helping him to the room. He's drunk, like you are." You pointed out.

"I'm not drunk. And that is cheating." He corrected.

"Fine. Be that way, stay mad." You shrugged, turning off the light on your nightstand and laying on your pillow to sleep. You missed the way Yunho's jaw dropped, not expecting that.

"You're lucky I love you." He mumbled as he pressed himself to your back, wrapping his long arms around you.

"I know, I am very lucky. And I love you too." You lifted to his hand to kiss to back of it. Yunho let out a little snicker to show his happiness, snuggling his face into the back of your head to show you affection like a puppy.

"Go to sleep, Yun." You murmured. Soon enough, you heard his little snores by your ear, signifying that he had really fallen asleep. It lulled you to sleep too.

"Ugh my head." You were woken up by Yunho's groan as he rolled away from you.

"Come here..." You sleepily called out to him, turning around. He turned back to you, resting his head against your chest.

"You need to drink a lot of water, you're dehydrated." You said, massaging the back of his neck to help him relieve some of the pain in the back of his neck. He melted at your touch.

"I'm never drinking so much again." He groaned.

"You always say that... Feel better?" You yawned. You felt him nod as you continued your actions.

"We should get up soon. You need a warm shower, have some food and water in your stomach. It'll make you feel better before going back to sleep." You said, stroking his hair. He shook his head in refusal, tightening his grip on you, bunching the material of your shirt in his hands on your back.

"Come on. After that you can spend the whole day in bed." You patted his shoulder to persuade him. Yunho reluctantly got up, sitting up and yawning.

"You go first, love." He nodded over to the bathroom. You hummed, going to shower and brush your teeth.

"Yunho, I'm done." You came out to see him sleeping faced down.

"Yun~ Wake up." You shook him lightly. He nodded and sat up, sliding out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. Once you heard the water running, you left the room to go downstairs.

"Oh, everyone's here." You blinked. Jongho was at the stove, cooking a big pot of rice porridge.

"(y/n), sorry for disappearing on you last night. I must have passed out because I woke up cuddling Mingi." San apologised.

"No worries, San. Thanks for helping me with getting everyone to bed." You giggled. Everyone else was strewn around the living room, too hungover for a conversation right now. You poured yourself and Yunho a cold coffee.

"You were the one that helped us to our rooms?" Yeosang asked. You nodded your head.

"San carried Wooyoung and moved Mingi. I moved everyone else, one by one. Safe to say, it was very interesting and rather eventful." You laughed.

"Stop right there, I don't want to know how bad it was." Seonghwa winced, laying his head in your lap as you drank your coffee.

"You were all very adorable." You giggled. In response, there were multiple jeers and protests from the room.

"Ugh." Yunho trudged down my stairs.

"There's my golden retriever." You teasingly cooed. He glared at you, going to get the coffee that you left on the counter for him. He sat beside Mingi since Seonghwa's legs occupied the couch you were on.

"But for real, (y/n). Since you were sober, who is the cutest drunk? Me, right?" Wooyoung snuggled to your other side from the arm rest, making you and Seonghwa groan, having to scoot down slightly to accommodate him squeezing onto the couch. You raised an eyebrow at him, shaking your head.

"Cutest is Yeosang. He's so dazed, it was absolutely adorable. Then he would sway from side to side like this with his head." You mimicked Yeosang last night while giggling.

"Y-Yah (y/n). Don't go exposing people like that." Yeosang called out, his cheeks turning red.

"I'm not the cutest?" Yunho said in disbelief.

"You and Hongjoong were the whiniest. Gosh, like trying to put 5 year olds to bed. Had to pinky promise Hongjoong to give him more alcohol today." You raised an eyebrow.

"Hahaha that's so funny, hyung! You're legit a little kid." Mingi and San burst out laughing, keeling over.

"Stop it, (y/n)~" Hongjoong shook his head with despair, covering his ears, not wanting to listen to your exposé anymore.

"And Yunho wouldn't cuddle me because he was mad and throwing a tantrum. Said he saw me cheating on him with Hongjoong." You rolled your eyes. Hongjoong and Yunho both choked on their coffees, coughing violently.

"What?" Yunho squeaked.

"You kept whining about me leaving your side to help the others to bed. And you said the way I support Hongjoong to his room was basically me cheating on you." You scoffed.

"Please no more..." Yunho cried out. Jongho saved everyone by announcing that the food was done.

"I wasn't mad the whole night, right?" Yunho leaned over to ask you in a hushed voice.

"No. You weren't happy that I accepted you being mad and came to cuddle me right away. I would say you gave up in about 20 seconds?" You chuckled.

"Good. Because I would hate my drunk self for giving up any opportunity to cuddle with you." He laughed.

"Oh, Yun..." You melted, shaking your head and reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"Thanks for cooking, Jongho." Everyone chimed. You and Yunho decided to sit outside at the deck table with your bowls of hot porridge. The others didn't join you, to give you two some space as a couple and because the glare of the sun was not helping the hangover headaches.

"This is relaxing. How's the hangover?" You asked him.

"It's good. I bounce back a little better than the rest. And I have a great nurse to take care of me." He teased. You scoffed and nudged him.

"I know you've been stressing about your employee contract ending, haven't you?" He suddenly spoke. Your hand paused in mixing your food as you slowly turned to look at him.

"I know you well. And I've been thinking about it too." He smiled softly, eyes leaving yours to look at the shore in front of you.

~

Series masterlist

[flannel-cladpika]

Where - Oikawa Toru x GN! Reader

A/N: This is a part of my new series “The Big Questions”. As a side note, they are all stand-alone fics, not related to each other, just connected through the idea of them each being based off of the prompts “Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How”

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Slight swearing

The convenience store 2 blocks from your house had always been a special place to you. Especially since that was where you’d always meet your best friend.

Who was also your biggest annoyance.

You’d known Oikawa Toru since the two of you were in elementary. Your mom and his were friends with each other and both your older sisters became best friends when they were little. 

Which meant that your families hung out together a lot, whether it was your sister babysitting you two so Oikawa’s sister could come over too, or visa verse, it resulted in you two coming into contact a lot. 

Eventually, the two of you got older and would get tired of the older siblings and adults, and would wonder off. In the beginning, you two were only allowed out a half-block past the house. But as you both grew, that distance got wider, until eventually, in your 2nd year of middle school, you were allowed as far as the convenience store.

You two would hang out there all the time. It was where you would get every celebratory ice-cream after Oikawa’s victories, and where you would go whenever you needed a cheap bowl of ramen after failing a test.

The store employees all knew you and Oikawa by name, and would ask where the other was if only one of you came in.

It was your store. Yours and his. It would always be that way.

-

“I said one ice-cream, not ten!” you exclaimed, seeing the setter with his arms full of assorted frozen desserts.

“But I couldn’t choose! I’ll share some with you if you like!” he said, trying his best to sound like a little kid.

You shook your head. “Nope. I will get you...” 

You stop to grab a random treat from his arms, 

“This one. There, I made the decision for you, now put the rest back.” 

The brunette pouted again, but you were having none of it.

“No. That’s not working on me, ToTo.” you stated firmly.

“Hey! Don’t call me that!”

“Then stop acting like a child and put the rest of that back before it melts and I have to pay for all of it!” you shot back.

Begrudgingly, the teen put back all the sweets he’d procured, walking back to you with a huff.

“You could’ve at least gotten 2 or 3 of them...” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Hell no. If I let you eat that many sweets before a game, Iwa will have my head.” you stated, shivering at the thought of gaining Iwaizumi’s ire.

Iwaizumi Hajime had become your friend soon after you met him. He was able to put up with Toru’s bullshit and help keep him in line, and you respected the hell out of him for it. Was he sometimes a bit too harsh? Sure, but Oikawa kind of deserved it, seeing as he could be a real ass when he wanted to be.

The brunette beside you seemed to get a chill up his spine at the thought of Iwa getting upset with him.

“Nevermind! One is plenty!” the tall male stated, having changed his tune after being remind of his teammate’s temper.

“Good.” you said, glad to have him on the same page.

After getting your drink and Oikawa’s ice-cream, you made your way to school. Toru had a match the next day against Karasuno, and it was a big one.

“I am going to destroy that stupid little prodigy and his shrimp.” Oikawa seethed, suddenly looking serious.

“Him and that dumb little shorty are not getting in my way. I’m going to win against Ushiwaka, if it’s the last thing I do.” 

You snorted, breaking Toru out of his focus.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, offended by your laughter.

“It’s just you. I’m not used to seeing you so serious off the court. It’s a bit funny, especially when you’re holding a strawberry ice-cream in your hands while giving a death glare to the sidewalk.” you chuckled.

“I can be serious!” Oikawa shouted, sounding like a petulant child.

You laughed again. “Yeah, and pigs have wings.”

Toru huffed, turning and walking away from you like the drama queen he was.

He would never admit it, but Toru liked how you never gave into his shit. You never fell for his tricks or charms, and it was refreshing. He could be himself with you. You and Iwaizumi were the only people he didn’t have to worry about letting down or disappointing. Sure, he loved the praise and the limelight, but the rest of the world just liked his face, skill, and fell for his charisma (though he couldn’t blame them).

Which was why he loved going to the convenience store with you, occasionally having Iwa tag along. It was like a second home. The shelves of snacks that you and he had tried all of; the smell of freshly made food for the hot case; even the chill that always came from the freezer section, it was all so familiar and comfortable. He knew he could always rely on lifting his spirits there, especially if you were beside him.

That was...until he lost to Karasuno and lost his chance to go up against Shiratorizawa.

You were there for the game with your big sister who was in town. You’d seen the whole thing. 

Your first instinct had been to rush to Toru and Hajime and hug them as tight as you could until the tears came down... but you held back.

You knew that trying to console them now would be hard. Oikawa hadn’t seen you there, and you had planned to surprise him and Iwa after they won, like saying ‘I say the whole thing! You guys were amazing!’

But you knew if they found out that, on top of losing, you were also there and saw the whole game, it would likely just hurt their prides.

So, you stayed back, waiting until they were out of the double doors of the gymnasium. Slowly, you and your sister made your way back to her car. You caught a glimpse of the Aoba Josei team, but quickly pulled your sibling further into the crowd before any of the team could spot you.

You went home that night, tired and teary eyed as you laid on your bed. 

You knew how much Toru and Iwa had practiced and worked for the chance to play against Ushiwaka again, and how much beating Karasuno meant to them, especially Oikawa. You were heartbroken for them.

Knock Knock Knock

That was weird. Who would be visiting your house at this hour? Your parents were out on a date night and your sister was staying at a hotel. 

You grabbed a heavy flashlight and your phone before carefully walking down the stairs to the front door.

Knock Knock

There came the same sound again. You slowly peeked outside the door only to see...

“Hey.”

It was Toru. 

He looked awful

He was dressed in black jogging pants, a plain white t-shirt with a blue hoodie jacket, and his favorite pair of adidas sandals. His eyes were a bit red and puffy, as was his nose.

“Hey, you don’t look great. You wanna come in?” you asked hesitantly, knowing he was still upset about the match but not wanting to let on that you knew, but also not wanting to remind him of it by making him say why he was upset.

“Actually, you mind walking with me to the store? It’s kind of late and I don’t want to get stabbed.” Oikawa says, letting out a half-hearted laugh and a forced smile. He was trying to hide the pain.

You gave a half-smile in return. 

“Sure.”

You quickly wrote a note for your parents about where you were going, and walked outside, sliding the front door closed.

After a few minutes of unusually awkward silence, you finally speak up just as the convenience store comes into view.

"So... did you wanna talk or someth-”

“I saw you.” the brunette says. There’s no doubt or hesitance. It’s not a question, it’s a stating of a fact. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to play dumb.

“I saw you dragging your sister through the crowd after the match. I’d know you both anywhere.” he stated.

You sighed, knowing that the jig was up.

“How much of the game did you see?” he asked, not looking at you.

“All of it.” you say plainly. There was no point trying to deny it.

By the time the words leave your mouth, you both are at the entrance. Oikawa opens the door for you silently, which you step through and quietly thank him.

“So you saw everything?” he asked once inside and after nodding at the lone employee behind the counter who had looked up only to see you two and wave kindly before returning to their book.

“Yeah. I did.” you reply.

Oikawa then makes his way to the back of the store, over to his favourite corner which held his precious milk bread and was close to the freezer section filled with ice-cream.

You eye Toru as he remains quiet. His uncharacteristic sullenness being so foreign to you.

Without a sound, you come from behind and hug him.

You feel him freeze before his muscles relax and he turns around bend down and hug you properly.

You feel small drops of liquid soak into the fabric of your clothed shoulder, but don’t say anything. You just keep holding tightly to the boy before you. Eventually, his body gave in, and you both slowly descended to the floor, still embracing the other.

You hear his almost inaudible whimpers and you begin to pat his head gently, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s ok. You did everything you could. You gave it everything you had. You did so well out there.” you said softly, hoping that you could bring the brown-eyed male some comfort.

It took a few minutes for the boy’s quiet sobs to die down. When they did, he pulled away, only to nuzzle back into your embrace as he re-encircled your form in his arms.

“You mind if we just stay here?” he asked, though it sounded more like a plea.

You chuckled a bit. “As in on the floor of the convenience store?”

Toru nodded. “Just for a bit longer. I like it here.” he stated in a gentle tone.

You smiled softly as you held him closer. “Me too.”

-THE END-

A/N: I was working on this on and off for a few months, and I swear, this gave me so much trouble at first, and now I’m finishing it, even though I have work first thing in the morning!! Anyway, hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading this!

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

02/18/2024 – 02/24/2024

Sunday

Week 2 of missing Cipher Academy. Yes I’m going to do this for at least a year.

Girl Meets Rock is fine.

Undead Unluck is pretty good, it’ll be interesting to see how the group gets out of this one. Loved the parallel between the Gods searching for the Greatest Life while Fuuko and Andy search for the Greatest Death.

Oshi no Ko is fairly intense, but I appreciate the creators still including comedic moments; I guess they don’t want the story to get too harrowing. But Hikaru and his relationship with Ai is really fascinating, as the two of them bond over being perpetual actors/liars in order to hide their pain.

Dandadan fine. At least Momo and Zuma have a fun dynamic.

I guess Chainsaw Man’s been demoted to Manga Sundays rather than Tuesdays when it comes out, as I don’t really get spoilers for it anymore. It does feel a bit hard to see where Part 2 is going after Part 1 was just strength after strength, but I’ll still keep the faith.

One Piece good. As always, I feel like I don’t know enough to be able to say much about it.

Finally watched the second Kizumonogatari movie, Nekketsu. I loved the distinct Monogatari atmosphere, the action scenes were beautiful and fluid and odd, and lowkey this movie series has me kind of shipping Araragi and Hanekawa… I know Senjougahara’s his true love and all, but the vibe of two people sharing a unique experience is unmatched. Also that wheat field where they talked was absolutely gorgeous and extremely up my alley.

A new chapter of Yuria-sensei! It’s fun that she and Riku once shared a hobby, and it hammers home just how much Goro had a type lol

I’ve fallen off of reading non-Shounen Jump manga extremely hard, and I can’t pretend that some part of that isn’t because of this Week in Review thing lol It’s just a bit boring when I read a single chapter and have no thoughts on it but I have to log it here anyway, so I’ve been putting off reading a lot of series I follow. But also, it’s true that I feel like when I binge-read a manga, get caught up, and then have to survive off infrequent releases, everything I read just gets deleted from my memory and I spend the next few months confused with every new chapter – I want to strive to wait until a manga’s finished before reading it now, unless it’s something I know I would really like.

With that out of the way, Shiroyama to Mita-san ended recently, so it’s time for me to catch back up with this endearingly strange couple. As a whole, it’s fairly one-note, with the same dry sense of humor throughout all of its gags, but the premise itself is engaging enough on its own and there’s moments of sincerity scattered throughout that keep it a fun read.

Monday

Ah

Tuesday

Oh no

Wednesday

Okay I had some errands to run today and then I just passed out

Thursday

Okay!!! This week was a bit of a crapshoot but I’ll never miss DunMesh Thursdays. Today’s meal was (instant) ramen, and I wish I had some shrimp or fish tofu to put in it, but we used all of those for the fried rice the other day (and I don’t like eggs in ramen…I don’t like how it makes the broth all gloopy). We get a cute flashback scene to the origin of Falin and Marcille’s friendship, and a further examination of the themes of the show – that being the delicate balance that all ecosystems must maintain in order to thrive, and the folly of humans who try to enact their own visions on it without understanding its structure or how they themselves fit into it. The fight afterwards was also fun and dynamic, with a cute gag to end off the episode.

Also read the latest chapter of Takatora-kun, but there’s not much for me to say about it. I’m interested in this new adult character who looks just like Takatora but with glasses, but I’m more curious about the pharmaceutical advancements that he seems to hint at.

Friday

Busy again today…couldn’t even watch Drag Race before passing out in bed lol

Saturday

Alright, it’s Drag Race time, but I’ve been kind of dreading it since I heard that Nymphia doesn’t do well and Snatch Game is such an all-or-nothing sort of challenge to watch anyway (in the sense that on the rare occasions where there’s a genuinely stand-out performance, it’s a blast to watch, but usually it’s middling at best and absolutely agonizing). The reading challenge at the top of the episode didn’t bolster my confidence too much, and I had to skip the Snatch Game entirely because the second-hand embarrassment made me want to die. Once again, I don’t give a shit about Plane Jane’s storyline this season, but they’re definitely pushing her as a frontrunner and finalist so we’re going to have to contend with her for a while yet. (Currently, my prediction is that the final four will be Nymphia, Sapphira, Plasma, and Plane Jane.) The runway was super cute, though – I loved how everyone had a different approach, and the theme lent itself to interesting runway walks and a lot of fun interactions with the judges. Sapphira and Nymphia were the highlights for me, but it was fun seeing Plasma weaponize her BFA again. I’ve never been happier to see the judges’ favouritism allowing Nymphia to be safe, and I think it lent itself to a bittersweet and meaningful lip sync. Xunami and Morphine dancing together and singing to each other really embodied the song and heightened the emotions.

Undead Unluck…I’ve been nervously anticipating this arc because I love Anno Un, and I’m happy to report that his voice actor does not disappoint. Yumi Uchiyama really handily plays off both his cuteness and his coolness, and sets him apart as the enigmatic character that he is. The cold open had some great animation, with Sean’s bloodied silhouette and eye being a particular highlight. I hope this is a sign of better animation to come when the Autumn fight actually starts in earnest, and that this will be the last episode where they have to cut corners as the cour reaches its end. But before that, CANADA MENTION!!!!!!!!! This absolutely blew my mind when I first read it, and it’s so special to see it in animation – I love that they got the seawall and the weird seahorse head looking shape of the peninsula, and the poutine was so cute. I love how Anno unsettles Andy and Fuuko, and his G-Liner ability is cool to see animated…but of course, the elephant in the room is the CG again. And once again, I can’t really fault them, and they did hand draw the spiders when they got executed by the guillotine, but I wish they could’ve done something more to integrate the models into the look of the show better. But again, I have my fingers crossed that the finale run will be more stable. The main Autumn UMA is done well so far, with that light bit of body horror with the poor guy’s head and the mechanical movements of Autumn’s eyes. And then Anno and Juiz’s conversation had a fun terseness to it, as two characters who know more about the world than most other characters but with opposing philosophies and approaches. I wish they didn’t have that long flashback scene in the middle of the episode, because the episode could’ve ended with Fuuko diving into Andy’s past and been stronger for it, I think. But regardless, I’m once again nervously anticipating the next Undead Unluck episode.

[lavenderslemonade]

hey ! how are you? i saw that your requests were open and wanted to just slide on in, so I’ve got finals coming up life of a college student🤪 and was wondering if i could request a hc format w/ rindou and inui with a g/n reader who just lost all motivation? like just tired and drained b/c of school? thank you!

I'm doing well! Actually one of the reasons I really wanted to work on this one is because I actually graduated from college today, so I understand staying up late and writing/studying for classes to the point of just wanting to be done both mentally and physically. So as it's exams season I wish everyone good luck <3

Requests: Open! Please specify if you want a HC or Fic! If you fail to do so you will have a higher chance of being skipped

Warnings: SFW

Rindou and Inui with a G/N Reader Who's Lost Motivation to Study

Rindou:

- Honestly, Rindou could care less about school, thus, he usually skips it. However, he understands how important it is to you, and actually enjoyed picking you up from cram school back when you were in high school together.

- You'd walk to the nearest convenience store and get a container of cheap ramen, eating outside together while talking about your day. Meanwhile, when the weather would turn cold he'd hand off a warm drink to you stating he didn't want the rest, thought you'd enjoy it, meanwhile the cup is full.

- You miss those days.

- Now that you're in college you feel like your very soul is being sucked out of you. You enjoy your major, however, some of the courses honestly proved to be more difficult than you'd expected.

- Your parent's praise of how well you were doing only did so much. You were grateful, yes, however as your eyes skimmed the book before you rereading the passage over and over again, your brain began taking a negative turn.

- It was about seven at night when Rindou found out that your parents were gone for the weekend to visit family, leaving you alone. He had honestly expected you to text him, asking for him to come over however he'd heard nothing over the past few days.

- He understands you have exams, you'd mentioned so a few weeks prior, but this was steadily becoming concerning.

- Thus, he stopped by your regular convenience store and bought your favorite ramen from back in high school and something sweet to surprise you with.

- His old brother likes to poke fun at him for doing such a thing, however, Rin simply scoffs and rolls his eyes. The amount of times you've patched him up, tried to help him study when he did have to take tests, etc. This was the least he could do.

- When he gets to your house, using the key under the mat, he thinks you're asleep.

- He sees the light under your door and peeks inside. You're hunched over your desk like a shrimp and at first, he thinks you're asleep. Walks over to try and take you to bed until he realizes that your eyes are open and staring down at the book before you.

- Rindou takes in the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes are from staring at books all day, and honestly it hurts him to see you this way.

- Doesn't snap out of it till he hears you sniffle, eyes swelling with tears before looking at him. You sob that you just don't get it anymore. You've reread the passage over and over but the words are just slowly molding together. Nothing makes sense anymore.

- He asks when the last time you ate was, and honestly you can't remember. You think you ate some onigiri that morning? Or was it the day before that?

- Everything is melding together. Time, studying materials, everything, and you just want to crawl into your bed, dragging Rin with you, and sleep.

- However, this is one of your hardest classes and you just can't bring yourself to do bad. Thus, you keep pushing.

- You tear your eyes away from the pages once more when Rin tells you that he's going to run you a bath and that he'd brought you food. He closes the book in front of you, and he's waiting for you to try and reach for it as he pulls it away.

- He knew it used to make you mad when he did such a thing, pulling you away from your studies so you'd give him attention. However, he watched as you just stare at the desk full of notes, before silently giving him an okay and standing up.

- He runs you a bath, allowing you to soak while he warms up your ramen. When you're out you're in a fresh pair of pajamas and flop into his waiting arms.

- Leads you both over to the couch so you can each and wraps you both in a large blanket while you watch your favorite show. He doesn't really care for it, but you really need to rest, so he pushes through.

- Stays with you the rest of the weekend to make sure you take breaks, eat properly, and don't overw

Inui:

- Another one that didn't really care about school honestly, but he admires how seriously you take it. During school when you'd stay behind to get a little extra studying done he wouldn't study with you, but he would watch you from over his phone.

- Loves how relaxed your facial expressions are when you're studying. Also loves when you get irritated with a question, furrowing your brows and biting at the bottom of your lip.

- Honestly makes him want to kiss them so bad.

- Doesn't pick you up from cram school like Rindou since he usually has to stay late to help Draken close up the shop, but he does stop by your apartment to spend time with you or to pick you up and take you on a date.

- However, ever since you started college it feels like he sees you less and less, which is understandable. You'll call him when you're getting off the train and walking home or while laying in bed discussing projects you have to do, papers you have to write, etc.

- Sounds like too much work in his opinion, but he's proud of you.

- You mentioned on your last date that you'd be studying for exams over the next few weeks, which he understood, however, he didn't really expect you to go quiet.

- He checks his phone on his breaks to see if you've messaged him to which on rare occasions you will, but on others, it'll be about two-three days since he hears back from you.

- He'll call you on the weekends to try and ask how studying is going but he can hear just how tired you are. Asks why you're up at nearly midnight to which it takes you a minute to respond, "It's already midnight? I thought it was only seven?"

- Wants to do something for you but he doesn't exactly make a killing at his job as he and Draken are still figuring everything out.

- However, he misses you and wants to see you at least for a couple hours.

- Randomly shows up at your apartment to see if you'd like to go out on a surprise date. Your parents are out for the evening on their own date and let him know that they'd leave the apartment door unlocked for him so he could surprise you.

- Gets concerned when they mention that they've been worried since you keep yourself holed up in your room.

- When he opens your door he's surprised to find you sitting on the floor, multiple books laid out and notes scattered around. You look exhausted, weakly reaching out for another sheet of paper to scribble on, but you're stopped when someone pulls the paper away from you.

- You think it's your mother getting ready to tell you for the fourth time that day to take a break and eat something, but you're even more surprised when your eyes connect with your boyfriend's emerald ones.

- Instead of pouting that he took your study material away he watches as you tiredly reach for another book to study. Even though it's your first semester in college he remembers you stating that your goal was to make top scores on all your assignments and exams but is it really worth this?

- Your eyes are red from crying and lack of sleep, the area under your eyes is darker, and the large hoodie you wear concerns him, knowing that if he were to look under it there's a chance you've probably lost a bit of weight from the neglect you're putting yourself through.

- You state that you just need a few more minutes and then you'll join your parents for dinner and take a break. He lets you know that they left about an hour ago and it's nearly nine at night.

- A silence lingers between the two of you as you realize that the day is gone and you're still trying to figure out this one section you have in class. It just won't stick no matter how many times you write it, no matter how many times you read the materials, it's not clicking and to make matters worse nobody including the teacher is responding to your emails asking for help.

- Your brain finally snaps back to reality when you feel Inui drape his work jacket over you. It smells like grease and sweat, but that's okay because it smells like him.

- He leads you out of your apartment and to his motorcycle. You don't even question where you're going, you just let him drive you around as you grasp onto him tightly.

- You finally end up at the beach nearly an hour later. Leaves you with his bike as he rushes to the convenience store across the street. Comes back with two bentos, premade onigiri, your favorite drink and some poki for dessert.

- He remembers when his dad would take him and Akane out when she had exams in high school, buying the same treats and sitting outside at the park near their home for a small picnic so she could get some fresh air and rest.

- Inui feels that the beach would help you relax with the crashing waves and keep you away from your books for a while.

- He sits in the sand with you in his lap, the two of you eating away, and at random points, he gently pokes at your bottom lip with his chopsticks trying to feed you.

- The two of you end up spending most of the night there, at least till you're about to fall asleep.

- Takes you back to your apartment telling you to pack some clothes and takes you back to his place for the weekend. Let's you bring one book to review that you're really struggling with and some notes, nothing excessive.

- Helps you study, and makes you take breaks outside.

[etherrreal]

“an ode to kenma’s cheeks”

Pairing: kenma x reader Genre: fluff, borderline crack tbh Summary: kenma’s the captain of the itty bitty booty committee WC: 1,158 Warning: I do mention pegging once and make allusions to spanking, so, 🔴hey minors, skip over this one, please🔴 And if you're just gonna ignore that demand, just don't be dumb enough to interact with it :) A/N: This is deadass the best fic I've ever written. Pun intended. -Luna

Kenma's ass has seen a lot of action.

He's fallen on it—hard—in volleyball practice and matches throughout high school, sat it on hard plastic chairs throughout university lectures and during meetings as he built up his business, and treated it very terribly with cheap fabrics and bouts of swamp ass from sweating so much.

And, despite him denying it, there have been periods of time where it remained unwashed as he got sucked into a new release of a long-awaited game.

Yet, somehow, despite its grueling history and present-day which consists of sitting on it for over 12 hours a day in a chair definitely not meant for comfort, his cheeks manage to stay nice and perky.

You've complimented Kenma's behind many times before, each resulting in him brushing off the sometimes sweet, and other times vulgar, comment with a face so red he tries to hide it with his long hair—and eventually, farther into your relationship, simply ignoring you. It's hard to count how many times you've approached him from behind with grabby hands as he frantically finds a place to sit down or lean against a wall so you don't squeeze his bum. Or how you'll wait until the last second before he sits down next to you before your hand jets out to rest under his butt, getting a nice handful of his ass—although, lately you've pulled back on that move ever since he caught onto your devious tricks.

And every year, around your birthday, when he asks you what you want him to get you, you simply tell him "the chance to peg you, please." And every year, you go to sleep without the feeling of what's between his cheeks, yearning for what could've been. Maybe next year, you tell yourself.

All things considered, he has a nice butt for his stature and his current lack of a real exercise regime, and as long as it stays firm, there won't be a day that goes by where you're not itching for a touch of that tuchus.

It's around midday when you decide to take a break from your own work to have a quick snack and refill your water bottle. Your slippers loudly scrape the floor as you lazily make your way towards the already lit-up kitchen. When you turn the corner, you find Kenma at the stove for once.

He's standing by his boiling ramen noodles, hair falling into his eyes while he scrolls on his phone. He resembles a shrimp with how hunched over he is, his back forming a lovely and not at all uncomfortable looking c-shape.

You've reprimanded him time and time again about his bad posture—sometimes with a gentle comment and shoulder squeeze and other times with a chop to the back of the neck—and him sitting in a gaming chair all day definitely doesn't help the bad habit. And watching him simply standing there but still maintaining the awkward stance is irritating, to say the least.

When he switches his weight to his other foot, cocking his hip towards you, you take the opportunity to aggressively poke one of his cheeks through his sweatpants. He yelps like a Chihuahua, dropping his phone on the counter so he can soothe the area you practically stabbed with your finger. The glare he sends your way may look threatening to most, but just like a Chihuahua, he's all bark and no bite.

"Fix your posture. If you end up like Quasimodo, I'll dump you for Hinata," you joke, pouring some water into your bottle.

He's still rubbing his bum when he whines, "Did you have to poke me so hard to get my attention?"

"What? You should be used to pain on your ass." Despite you actually alluding to him complaining about how his butt hurts after sitting all day, his face being bright enough to light up a room means that his mind must've wandered somewhere towards the bedroom. To spare his dignity, you decided to glaze over his reaction. "You should know by now that I'll take any excuse to get my hands on that booty of yours."

"I know. Trust me, you've asked me enough times about where I'm going 'double cheeked up,' or how it 'must be jelly because jam don't shake like that'—which I still don't know the meaning of—or how it looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket in my pants," he complains, rolling his eyes as if he's hearing your jokes real-time.

"Oh come oooon. Like you don't love the attention."

"Absolutely hate it." You can’t see his face since he’s decided now is the best time to pay attention to his boiling noodles again, but you can tell from the way he says it that he’s hiding a growing smile.

"Oh really?" You tease, arching an eyebrow. "So, when we were cuddling two nights ago and you were laying on top of me, you /didn't/ put one of my hands on your head and the other on your butt?"

"Nope. You're losing it. I don't remember that happening."

Your mouth opens in fake bewilderment, staring at his messy bun while he shakes the package of ramen seasoning to put in his noodles. How dare this girlboss try to gaslight you and gatekeep his ass? This will not stand.

A loud slap echoes in the kitchen as you slap his ass and Kenma nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping his whole flavor packet into the pot and whipping his head around quickly to glare at you. Before he can begin his scolding, he quickly turns back around to grab his chopsticks so he can fish out the packet from the boiling water, whining your name as he's pinching the soggy thing between his chopsticks.

"That's what you get for being a little liar," you joke. As he's grabbing a bowl from the cabinets up above, you hear him grumbling under his breath, no doubt cursing you with each word. You slide in next to him, wrapping an arm around his hips, hand dangerously hovering near his butt. "Honey, you have to give in to butt touches. It's inevitable. I will not stop until I am satiated."

"That's never going to happen."

"Exactly. Ya see, we're on the same page after all!" You look over your shoulder at the wall clock, finding that you've spent quite a bit of time shooting the shit with Kenma instead of grabbing a snack and drink like you were supposed to. You reach into the cupboard, nabbing a snack and grabbing your water bottle to make your retreat. "I'm going to get back to work. Good luck with your stream!"

As you're walking away, you feel the sting on your ass first before the same loud slap as earlier registers in your ears, followed by Kenma's snickers. You turn slowly and see his smug face, smirking at you with pride. 

"What can I say? It was inevitable."

Written by: Luna

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[trashytummiez]

The Worst Heartburn

I wrote yesterday's fic before seeing those last two pics @fungusfangs drew of Shiggy puking and chugging milk. So I decided to make a followup fic to cover the ending :3

Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps emeto hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs vomiting

Fallen pride was a bitch. Shigaraki just ate a massive bucket of Wumbo Extra Spicy Shrimp Ramen just to prove to Dabi he could. It left him with a big pooching tummy and a momentary high of smug satisfaction that quick went crashing down when his stomach began gurgling the worst gurgles Shigaraki had felt in ages. The immensely bloated young villain cradled his belly in a sickly manner burping heavily while Dabi watched with a smug grin on his scarred face.

But then Shigaraki gave a really deep and rumbling burp that started getting really wet at the end making Shigaraki cover his mouth and muffle the rest. His eyes widened like he felt something come up with that burp.

"...Unnf...ohh fuck I don't feel good..." Shigaraki grumbled until he gave an incredibly rich and gross closed mouth burp that got so wet at the end something else came up with the gas. When he tried to burp in his mouth again something even wetter rushed up and his eyes practically bugged out of his young but wrinkled face.

Dabi's grin dropped as fast as Shigaraki's did.

"...Oh shit..." Dabi uttered when he saw Shigaraki's body tense up. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Aim for the cup! Dude aim for the cup! Aim for the-"

Too late.

Because Shigaraki lurched forward with a large sloppy burp that brought with it a surge of vomit that splattered onto the ground...right next to the big noodle cup funnily enough. Shigaraki grabbed his bare stomach and held it firmly as he violently threw up those painfully spicy noodles.

"...Goddammit Tomura..." Dabi groaned and looked away with a shade of green on the patches of pale flesh he had across his face.

Dabi possessing the weak stomach that he did turned away and clamped his pierced nose shut. For as stoic and cheeky as he was the sight of anyone throwing up was enough to make him sick.

Shigaraki panted with his mouth hanging open as strands of drool seeped from his fangs.

"Unnngh...unf...mruhhh..." Shigaraki croaked weakly with tears streaming down his face. He thought it was over until another lurching feeling made his eyes and his mouth widen in time for another surge of bile to expel from his system. He puked heavily into the sick practically puking up the majority of noodles he ate which made his incredibly bloated tummy shrink down to the point where it was only bulging out in a normal bloat the way it had very early into his spiteful binge.

Dabi looked as miserable as Shigaraki did by the time he finally stopped throwing up.

"...Better?" he asked while looking away.

Shigaraki spat and panted giving a lifeless "uh-huh" as a response to his often antagonistic underling.

Shortly after some time had passed Dabi looked aside grouchily while using his cremation quirk to light the sick ablaze. The smell alone would've made Dabi puke his guts out as violently as Shigaraki did but because his flames were strong enough to burn someone's bones down to ash it made quick work of the mess Shigaraki left behind in no time flat and almost completely incinerated it to the point where even the smell was burned away.

While Dabi burned the ground a really wet burp caught his attention. He turned to the source which was Shigaraki all cleaned up and sitting on the couch ahead of Dabi chugging a gallon of milk. After showering himself clean Shigaraki changed into more casual wares that Twice was kind enough to get him. He was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt with sweatpants. His bare toes curled into the carpet while he brought the gallon back to his lips and greedily guzzled it down. Milk dribbled down his chin sloppily and spilled onto his chest while he kept one arm wrapped protectively around his still bloated stomach.

"...We might need to move y'know," Dabi uttered in a dry not remotely amused way while he watched Shigaraki cool his burning his mouth with the richness of heavy weighty and cold milk.

After pulling the gallon away Shigaraki gave another really deep burp and groaned.

"GruuuhblUurhp!!! Ungh...I have the worst heartburn right now..." he mumbled.

"...I can't imagine why..." Dabi replied and continued burning the spot where Shigaraki threw up until the spot itself was nothing but heavy smoldering soot on the ground.

Shigaraki was too miserable to pay Dabi's snark any mind. Instead he tried to take another swig of milk. But he had to stop before the bottle could reach his lips so he could burp again. He looked unsatisfied so he pounded his chest and gave a much bigger burp that left him moaning with relief. Satisfied he brought the bottle up to chug more milk and burped into it when he did so.

He just kept chugging more and more milk to cool his mouth and throat while also settling his aching tummy. It was definitely helping but again Shigaraki's belly swelled out from all the milk he was guzzling. Milk weighed so much more than water and gave his pooching tummy a more bottom heavy quality than it did when he was stuffed with noodles.

That cool creamy liquid felt so good going down. Usually too much cold at once was painful for Shigaraki but because everything burned it struck a perfectly cooling balance helping to settle everything instead of giving him brain and tummy freeze. But shigaraki's belly was getting so bloated that even his oversized shirt looked like it was barely containing his tummy after a while.

He got about halfway into his gallon then pulled the bottle away from his lips. Shigaraki panted breathlessly while milk continued dribbling down his chin and then he let out a really long burp. After wiping his mouth and chin clean Shigaraki set the bottle down and dropped his hands down on his big rounded belly. It jiggled heavily beneath his hands and made Shigaraki burp so loud that Dabi almost flinched at its harsh sound.

"Shit you weren't kidding about the heartburn were ya," Dabi complained as he rang his ear out.

Shigaraki huffed and pulled his shirt up. Straight away his big pale belly practically flopped out and spilled heavily against his crotch pushing his sweatpants down just a bit. It looked incredibly soft and jiggly from just how much milk Shigaraki had chugged. When he gave the side of it a pat the whole thing rippled under his hand and made all the liquids in his tummy slosh heavily and noisily.

"...Fuck I'm so goddamn bloated..." Shigaraki mumbled while he rubbed his smooth ample ball of a stomach tenderly. His fingers sank into his flesh while they ran up and down his tummy. Shigaraki ran his hands down until he was cupping his underbelly in both hands. The villain bit his lip and leaned back to scoop his belly up in his hands and lift it. He was kind of surprised at how good it felt and just marveled at the size of his tummy.

He gave his belly a little jiggle which made it sway heavily in his hands from all the milk sloshing around which made Shigaraki hiccup loudly. Then Shigaraki released his belly and let it bounce down over his pelvis then slapped his hands onto his belly to stabilize it with a satisfyingly fleshy thump. Doing so caused a massive burp to escape Shigaraki's mouth. The force was so strong that the flesh on his tummy quivered slightly.

Shigaraki's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he moaned and arched his back with relief curling his bare toes even more. "Fffffuck that was a good one..." Shigaraki groaned like he was in an almost sexual euphoria. That could've just been because Shigaraki was shameless and had no barriers to speak of.

Though the honest truth is the feeling of his stomach this full and feeling it up had an odd appeal to it for Shigaraki. Especially when one of his fingers began to fondle his deepened belly button. That feeling made shigaraki's spine tingle in a way he couldn't quite explain.

Dabi happened by when Shigaraki was playing with his navel and whistled as best as he could with his limited lower lip function. "Jeez when's the lil bastard due anyway?" He teased and patted Shigaraki's round pooching tummy.

The pat dislodged a gas bubble and caused Shigaraki to burp ferociously in Dabi's direction which made the scarred villains face sour.

Rather than look embarrassed or apologetic Shigaraki grinned a shameless almost drunken grin back at his subordinate. "It's due around the time someone finally gifts you a less thotty personality."

Dabi glared at Shigaraki and lightly punched Shigaraki's big jiggly belly. "I resemble that remark motherfuck-"

The cremator couldn't even finish his sentence before a giant burp erupted out of Shigaraki from the punch. Dabi could feel Shigaraki's belly reverberate and jostle from the pressure being released and immediately closed his eyes with a stoically murderous look. Shigaraki looked insufferably satisfied with how that played out.

"...Right well...fuck you very much," Dabi simply said and started to walk away.

"You're not going anywhere," Shigaraki said before Dabi could exit the room.

"Come again?" Dabi asked with a bemused look on his face.

Shigaraki held up a finger and grabbed his thick churning tummy with one hand. Then he balled his finger into a fist and brought it to his mouth in time to give a huge closed mouth burp that rumbled so hard in his mouth that his lips could barely hold it back. He carelessly blew the gas out of his mouth and gave Dabi a shiteating grin. "You hear this thing?" He asked and shook his engorged tummy around which made it jiggle and slosh while he hiccuped and burped afterwards. "Unf...I'm gonna be burping for at least an hour straight. And I'm definitely gonna want an audience for that..."

To prove his point Shigaraki slapped his glutted belly and gave a giant burp that crescendoed into a relieved sigh that had Shigaraki's tongue sticking out lewdly.

Dabi's facial expressions fell completely flat. His only response was to very slowly raise both of his middle fingers in Shigaraki's direction and point them as hard as he could at his villainous boss to really drive home the big "f u" he was getting at.

Shigaraki cackled which made his tummy jiggle heavily with his evil giggles.

Maybe riding this out wasn't going to suck as much as he thought.

Misery loves company after all.

[jeongi]

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.  

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…  

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.  

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest. 

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps. 

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious. 

all rights reserved © jeongi

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

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Chapter 5/?: Housewarming

Sasuke spars with Naruto for the better portion of the afternoon into evening, until they are both sufficiently exhausted and slightly sunburned, on the condition that he will eat anywhere but Ichiraku’s and anything but ramen for the dinner his friend is trying to goad him into after. Naruto agrees all too quickly, grinning too much for his liking, and saying a little duplicitously, “That so? Happens that I know a place!”

The blond refuses to tell him where he’s leading him after their fight finally concludes in a draw, weaving tiredly through village streets around six at night with bruised ribs. Sasuke begins to suspect it’s an elaborate ruse to lure him to his house to eat. Sure enough, eventually they turn a corner and marigold, cobalt, and fuchsia invade his line of vision.

“You’re so stupid. I’m not eating anything you’ve put your hands on.”

Naruto laughs, evidently not the slightest bit offended. “Don’t worry, Hinata-chan made me a bunch of food for the next few days! There’s more than enough to share, and I haven’t touched any of it.”

Sasuke grumbles, but his friend assures him that at least some of it’s not ramen, so he acquiesces cautiously and follows him through the threshold of his home.

It is pretty nice, as Sakura said, though he’s sure that’s because of the dobe’s wife and not him, and what he’s comparing it to - Naruto’s old apartment, littered with trash and expired food items in the fridge - doesn’t set a very high bar in the first place. The house has wood floors, and a spacious kitchen with plenty of storage, at least from what he discerns when he first walks in. He assumes he’s going to be forced on the tour shortly to view the rest of it.

There is an absolute mountain of pre-prepared food in clear containers when his friend opens the fridge. Sasuke will admit pretty much everything looks good, though he’s not sure what specifically the dobe plans on them eating. He’s not sure Naruto knows, either; he stares at the contents of the fridge for a long minute, squinting as if making a life-changing decision.

“...Does she think you can’t feed yourself or something?” Sasuke deadpans.

Naruto laughs nervously, in a way that gives Sasuke the impression that Hinata Uzumaki might not be as quiet and reserved as most people assume, at least behind closed doors. His friend almost sounds fearful, as if there may be consequences for him if he doesn’t eat what his wife has prepared for him in her absence in its entirety.

“...Or she just knows you’d eat instant ramen the whole time she was gone, otherwise.” This time it’s not a question.

Naruto has the grace to at least feign embarrassment. “Well, uh, you know what they say… Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his food, or whatever!” Sasuke wonders for a short few seconds what kind of repercussion Hinata could possibly be holding over him, but then remembers Kakashi’s warning earlier in the day, and decides abruptly that he doesn’t care to further pursue that train of thought.

Eventually they decide on vegetable and shrimp tempura with plain onigiri, all premade. Sasuke is hungry, and tempura has a high caloric intake. Naruto dumps the tempura in a mysterious device called an air fryer to warm, and while they wait, the blond shows him around.

It’s commodious, with extra bedrooms as Sakura said. Most of the furniture is rich dark wood, accented with slightly vibrant colors, inclusive of the walls, that are perhaps a little intense for his own preferences. It is obvious that Naruto helped pick the paint colors, but he assumes Hinata must like them, too. The Hyuga are an old clan, deeply rooted in tradition as the Uchiha had been; Sasuke imagines that many of the interiors at the Hyuga residences are varying shades of white, gray, or brown, also with darker wood, as many of the Uchiha households had been; a more colorful interior would have been a change for her. He supposes a proclivity for brightness makes sense, given that she’d married Naruto. Their house overall smells vaguely like jasmine blossom and nectarine, though not overbearingly so. Naruto’s apartment had never smelled like that, so it must be Hinata’s doing. Sasuke spies a candle the color of honey that might be the source, perched on a corner table.

It sits next to a framed copy of their original Team Seven group portrait. Sasuke eyes it as they pass through the living room again to the back door.

It opens up to a sizable backyard situated on the north side of the house, framed with a fence for privacy and a number of lush trees, dangling greenery swaying in the breeze. A small garden sits in the far back left corner, the area with the least tree cover; it’s been recently tilled and sowed, small sprouts beginning to poke through the soil.

“We get lots of fireflies back here in the summer. Hinata-chan loves them, so we sit back here all the time! She’s thinking of getting a birdbath, too,” Naruto mentions fondly, a bit more hushed than his usual timbre; he must have some good memories back here already.

“It’s nice.” Sasuke remarks at the end when they go back inside, because it is, and his friend grins from ear to ear, stupidly proud. Then the timer dings from the other room, and they eat.

Hinata’s cooking is good. Sasuke sorts out all of the sweet potato chunks to shove onto Naruto’s plate, but eats the rest: squash, bell peppers, eggplant, broccoli, and shrimp, coated in spiced breading that tastes slightly of rosemary, along with the onigiri, more simple but also filling.

Naruto prattles throughout as always, but chews his food before launching into each new topic; it really must be a habit by now. Sasuke doesn’t hold the scroll over his head just yet; he figures Saturday night will be enough opportunity for that. Instead, he solidifies plans for another spar, this time late Saturday morning, because through the nearly endless chatter he has learned that Naruto’s schedule includes normal weekend days off, unless assigned a mission.

The dobe asks him to go drinking with him afterwards; he declines, but thanks him for dinner. Eventually, he departs, after his best friend reminds him for the fourth time today to meet up at Ichiraku’s on Saturday night at six.

As he walks home, lone hand in his pocket, Sasuke finds himself pondering once again what Sakura’s living space will be like. She doesn’t strike him as someone who would like darker wood, for some reason. It’s an apartment, so it will be smaller than Naruto’s house for sure. He assumes it’s probably one bedroom, like his own.

The cadence of crickets creeps in again as he leaves the more lively area of town, buoyed into something quieter by the swishing of leaves through the trees. It’s a sound he craved on his travels often. There are similar sounds elsewhere - insects and trees are not uncommon - but something about Konoha’s particular lilt sticks out in his memories. A clement wind from the north carries an aroma tinged with flowers and loam. When he turns the corner, the breeze blows just right to shift his hair away from his left eye, and his neck heats as he thinks of Sakura’s words from this morning, not for the first time today.

Once he gets back to his apartment, he strips, then tosses his clothing directly into the washing machine, before enjoying a long, near-boiling shower; after the workout he’s had, he needs it. He thinks as he scrubs that this way he won’t need another one until after he gets back from seeing Sakura tomorrow. He contemplates whether they will eat somewhere, since he’s meeting her at the hospital at four. He’d liked the tea shop; she probably knows of other places worth trying.

He is so exhausted that he saves washing his dishes for tomorrow and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. His last thoughts are of gentle jade eyes and kind words murmured in an exam room.

Sasuke is thankful that he doesn’t have another nightmare, but his brain decides to fill the time in other demiurgic ways involving soft fingertips, and when morning comes, he does need another shower, after all; this time, a cold one.

He pinches his nose guiltily as frigid water engulfs him, until his teeth are near chattering. Once that’s done, he throws on a black shirt and pants before grabbing a book. He huddles up under his comforter to chase away the chill, drowning his thoughts in icy history ripe with distraction rather than lasciviousness.

He finishes it eventually, convinced towards the end that he needs to acquire a small lamp; he doesn't like overhead lighting in general, but he especially doesn’t like it for reading. His teeth have stopped clacking together, so he gets out of bed and spends the first portion of the day washing dishes, sharpening his chokuto, and then making lunch, seared beef with green tea noodles and miso dressing. It’s simple, but good, and filling. His throat hurts less than yesterday, but he has another cough drop after, because it helps.

He washes and dries the dishes from today, putting them away before he leaves his apartment to pick up a few more groceries to fill the time. The market he visits is sold out of loose leaf sencha tea; the one he’d visited the first day in his apartment hadn’t had any, either. He settles for a small box of single-serve packets for the time being, and has a cup upon his return to his apartment. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste quite as fresh. He reads more of his other book for a bit, until it’s time to leave to meet Sakura at the hospital.

He leaves a little early again, because he’s eager to see her.

Sakura greets him cheerily, lovely with a tote bag on her shoulder that is starting to become familiar. She tells him that she dropped off his paperwork earlier today, and that his bloodwork has all come back normal. He thanks her, and they spend a nice late afternoon together, roaming around while she points out areas of interest, most of it new development on the more southern part of the village. Wandering with her is much preferable to solivagant ambling on his own, he is coming to find.

He learns that Sunday and Monday are indeed her days off, unless there is an emergency; she mentions that she has a standing date with Ino every Monday morning for training and lunch, but other than that, she keeps her free time pretty open.

“Would you… like to do something on Sunday, then?” He asks carefully, hand twitching a little in his pocket and stomach churning a little in nervousness, though she has given him no reason to be. He hopes he’s not being avaricious by asking for too much of her time. She might prefer to spend some time alone on her days off.

Glittering green eyes beam up at him in response. “Of course,” she answers, and the storm brewing in his belly settles while the vines reach upwards into his chest cavity, because she says it with an inflection that implies there’s nothing she would rather do.

“I think it’s supposed to rain,” Sakura tells him as they walk further southwest; they’re nearing the edge of the village now. “So we probably don’t want to walk around too much. I usually…” Her eyes flick to him, and then away, as if self-conscious. “I usually curl up inside with a book on rainy days. Or... watch documentaries. Sometimes I play go or chess.”

A ghost of a smile overtakes him, because reading on a rainy day is very characteristic of her, but so are the other two things, which he hadn’t known.

Then she’s asking, somewhat shyly, “What do you like to do, on a rainy day?”

It’s a good question; he hasn’t been home for a rainy day in a long time. When he was traveling, he would find shelter - an inn, or the inside of a tree or a cave - and do various tasks that needed doing, like sharpening weapons or writing a letter to her. On those days, he would also often read her old correspondence to him, too, but he’d be embarrassed to admit that to her.

When he was younger, though, he would complete any neglected chores in the morning, and then spend the rest of the day reading, though he did it mainly for productivity to the point of distraction. Sasuke did not like being cooped up in his house for long periods of time, for obvious reasons. Occasionally he would venture to a training ground anyway, if the rain was more light drizzle than downpour, but most of the time he opted not to, because getting sick would delay his progress more than sitting out a day; he could advance in other ways, look into new techniques and practice taijutsu forms inside, if he really focused.

If it rained heavily for more than a day or two consecutively, though, trapping him in the house, he tended to struggle more with it. Sometimes he would stare at a kunai or shuriken left behind in Itachi’s room for too long, and end up sticking his wrist out a back window to watch the water cleanse the wound he’d carved into his skin until it coagulated. It wasn't something he did often, because he knew it was stupid and weak despite the small semblance of control it afforded. It also wasn’t something he only did when it was raining, but being entombed in that house due to inclement weather poured salt into his baser self-destructive tendencies, irritation burning until it was too much and it had to escape his skin to go somewhere. When it rained, it felt like it was an opportunity to rinse it out of him, a tiny increment of relief, rivulets reaching down to turn him over in the grave of dark wood and dull paint colors it felt like he was suffocating in.

Sasuke would go get groceries most of the time, before it got to that point, even if he didn't need them, just to get out of the house for a bit and away from the temptation. He’d come back soaked, tracking water everywhere before curling up in his bed to try to chase away the chill with more distraction, books or scrolls or trying to watch something. Eventually he’d warm up on the outside, but his insides still felt icy for a long time, most days.

He's in an apartment now, though, a long way from what used to be the Uchiha District. He takes a grounding breath that he hopes is subtle, trying to emerge from the glaucous recollection and subsequent smothering feeling lining his lungs. “...I do any chores that need doing, and then I like to read, too,” he finally answers. It's the truth, now. Keen but soft eyes hold his for a moment, and he worries maybe he didn’t fully succeed at the subtlety, but she doesn’t press. He’s thankful for it; he doesn’t want to think about that when he’s with her.

They make plans to have lunch and spend the afternoon reading their respective books at her apartment. He might finish his other book by Sunday’s end; maybe she would go to the library with him again Monday afternoon, if she’s not too busy. He wouldn’t mind playing go or chess, either, if she asks him. It would be a challenge; he hasn’t played either in years. He’ll save it for Sunday, though.

“I can cook,” she offers, looking very pleased, which makes his heart flutter in his chest. “Maybe soup and something to go with it, if it’s chillier? I have a slow cooker I can start it in, the morning of.”

He agrees immediately; he likes soup, and it’s been a while since he’s had a good bowl. Most of the soup he made on the road was limited to whatever ingredients were readily available, with simple water as stock. The result was usually something bland, warming but not hearty by even the barest standards; soup made in a kitchen is much better. He’ll eat any kind, really, especially if it’s cold out. He wonders what Sakura’s cooking is like; she excels at most everything she does, so he imagines it must be good.

By just after five, they’ve ended up at a fairly new and distinctive quadrant of training grounds a little beyond the southwest edge of the village, sharp quartz rock jutting up from uneven ground in several spots and a small creek running down its center. Parts of it sit at a raised elevation, offering a unique vantage point of Konoha. Sasuke realizes as he eyes the surroundings that he would like to train here sometime; the craggy terrain could prove an interesting element to contend with, an exercise of both the mind and body. He’s glad she showed him; he wouldn’t have ventured to this side of town for a long time, on his own.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, thinking he could buy her dinner if she knows any places nearby. It’ll be busier now that it’s dinner time, once they get back into the village, but he doesn’t mind.

Sakura doesn’t answer at first, and instead starts to fiddle inside her bag. His brows knit in confusion, but then she pulls out two bottles of water, two bento boxes, and two pairs of chopsticks.

They’re in reusable containers, not takeout ones, which means she must have made them herself. Sasuke stares at the one she gives him, dumbfounded; it’s filled to the brim with cooked rice topped with black sesame seeds, tonkatsu with sauce, shredded cabbage, green beans goma-ae, and a large number of tomato wedges. Her own has less tomato; a few grapes round it out instead. He also notices the tonkatsu sauce is already poured over hers, but his is in a small sealed container, so he can eat the pork plain if he decides he doesn’t care for the tangy but also slightly sweet dressing.

“I thought we could eat these here... if you want. We could avoid the dinner rush that way. I made the sauce a little less sweet than usual, but I still wasn’t sure, so I thought I’d let you decide,” Sakura offers, soft and kind. He’s too stunned to say anything right away, so she adds somewhat sheepishly, “If... you’d rather get something else, though, that’d be fine, too.”

He thanks her very quietly, then, a little dazed and throat closing up, because he would not rather get something else; he hasn’t had a bento in a long time, let alone one that was prepared specifically for him. The training ground is empty, so they hop up one of the small cliffs and eat it there as she suggests, in view of Hokage Rock framed by trees. It is very good, clearly made with fresh ingredients; the pork is juicy on the inside and texturally crunchy on the outside. The sauce is good, too; not too sweet. He makes sure to eat all of it, as well as to tell her he enjoyed it at the end. She flushes at the compliment; she is very pretty, pink hair and pink cheeks to match.

"How long do you think it'll be before Naruto's up there?" She asks him after they’ve been sitting there for the better part of an hour, food long finished and eerily echoing his thoughts from a few nights ago.

Sasuke regards the mountain, empty space next to Kakashi's likeness. He recalls dinner yesterday at his friend’s home, Naruto sharing food with him made by his wife, and Ichiraku’s the day before that, how he no longer talks with his mouth full, and how he has not pressured him to share about Sakura. Sasuke is sure his rare tact won't last forever, and that he'll be hounded about his relationship with her eventually, but he has appreciated the space gifted to him. For all of their teammate’s fatuousness, he really has grown. If he can get an increment better at deciphering scrolls...

"Not long," he responds eventually. "Five years. Maybe six, with the sculpting."

Sakura nods in agreement, an evocative smile playing at her lips; she must suppose the same.

He speculates, then, tearing his gaze away from her mouth, who else they will see on the mountain in their lifetimes, in the empty space extending to the right. He thinks Naruto is the type to live to be pretty old, especially if Hinata is coercing him into eating balanced nutritional meals now; he might make it to a point where he actually retires from being Hokage, like Tsunade, or Kakashi, eventually.

The next Hokage could be in the village already, maybe in the Academy still, or a Genin. Sasuke remembers a scrawny kid with atrocious camouflage techniques who used to follow Naruto around and challenge him to battles over the position; it may have been the Third's grandson. He hadn’t seemed particularly talented at the time, but then again, neither was Naruto at that age. It’s possible that the kid has progressed since then. It’s also possible, though, that the next Hokage has not even been born yet.

Sasuke walks Sakura home a couple of hours later, dark violet light of dusk cast on her through diamonds on her doorstep. Her expression is the same as the other night, eyes sparking with gold affection, so he kisses her again, hesitantly hoping it’s okay, because he really wants to. Apparently it is, because she rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him back without an ounce of uncertainty. His hand is free this time, so he rests it on her waist carefully, and enjoys a sweet breath of spring.

XXX

Sasuke arrives at Ichiraku’s at six on the dot to find both of his teammates already there, with an empty seat left between them and three glasses of water on familiar currant red counters. He is unsurprised to see that Kakashi’s not here yet. There’s an empty seat to Naruto’s left that is clearly being saved for their old sensei using one of Naruto’s sandals, off his foot; it’s pretty busy, being a Saturday night. He also notes Sakura’s tote bag situated beneath the counter, underneath the stool she’s sitting on; perhaps her afternoon with Ino went longer than anticipated, and she hasn’t had time to go home yet.

Both of them turn their heads as he approaches, brightening and greeting him in unison beneath fluorescent lighting.

“Teme!”

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.”

It is terribly nostalgic. He takes the place between them, responding, “Sakura. Dobe.” The streets themselves are busy, but within the actual enclosure of Ichiraku’s, it’s not as loud.

“We haven’t ordered yet,” Sakura tells him good-naturedly, smiling and pushing him a menu. His gaze lingers on her for a second before looking down at it. She’s pretty beneath fluorescent lighting, too.

“We’re not fucking waiting for Kakashi-sensei, though. I’m hungry , and who knows when he’ll turn up? He’s probably reading one of his stupid books and lost track of time again,” Naruto grumbles, peckish, from his other side. His friend’s stomach growls, as if on cue.

Sakura laughs, then sighs from his right. “He’s probably lost in a pile of paperwork. At least this time it might be true.”

“...He might be trying to finish breaking the cipher on that scroll you can’t seem to solve,” Sasuke quips smugly towards his left, eyeing the menu, though he doesn’t really need to; he knows his order already.

He is way too satisfied by Naruto’s huff. “Ugh, I’m fucking sick of staring at that thing. It makes me feel like my brain is melting. I wish he’d just give me a mission. I want to fight something.”

“I’m sure you’ll both get one eventually,” Sakura remarks with confidence. “Try to enjoy the peacetime a little. It’s a good thing. Besides, if you really want to, you can just go battle it out at the training grounds...” She eyes them both with a critical and calculating scrutiny now, a single pink brow arched and something in her tone shifting. “...Though by the bruising, I’m sure that’s already happened.”

There is a fist shaped smear of violet he knows is on his forearm, clearly visible from her vantage point. At least his ribs are hidden; there are nasty bruises on three of them from the first spar, and another two developing from this morning. Naruto looks a little scared, when he glances over at him; despite the fact that the blond is laughing nervously, his hand is held awkwardly, obviously trying to shield the bruise he has on his chin, turning purplish-blue by now.

It was another draw. Sasuke expects he’ll be able to beat him, next time. He’s found he’s a bit rusty, not having too many excuses to use his more advanced techniques in a long while.

Sakura rolls her eyes after a tense moment, and the spell is broken. “If either of you break anything, just don’t be stupid; come to the hospital or my place so I can fix it.”

“Sure, sure, anything you say, Sakura-chan!” The dobe responds next to him, hesitant laughter still tinged a little with fear. Sasuke nods, then thinks for about the fifth time today that he’s going to see her apartment tonight.

Once Sasuke slides the menu back, Naruto catches Teuchi’s attention; the blond orders garlic tonkotsu, Sasuke orders hakata tonkotsu, and Sakura orders shoyu ramen. It’s the same as what they used to get when they were kids.

It’s a nice evening for this, he thinks.

“So what’s new at the hospital, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks conversationally. “Anything exciting?”

Sasuke shifts his gaze to his right, where Sakura looks as if she’s giving it a lot of thought, lips shifted to the side; he forces his eyes upward. “Eh, nothing too exciting, yet. Just appointments and research, for the most part. I’ve got some long-term projects I’m working on, but I’m just kind of waiting to see how the data pans out at this point while I monitor. It’ll be another month or so yet for anything concrete there, I think.” She cocks her head to the side a little. “I’ve got a transplant patient we’re waiting on an organ for, so we’ve been trying to prep her so she’s ready; different medicinal cocktails, testing, and such.” She pauses. “Tsunade-shishou sent over some things that arrived this morning, though, and one of them was a sample of a new poison found in a few Shinobi in Wind. I guess that’s… interesting. She’s going to work on it, too, so hopefully we get an antidote quickly, but I started some tests on it today.”

Sasuke’s lips turn downwards. That doesn’t sound good.

“Ehhh, between you and Granny Tsunade, I’m sure you’ll find an antidote soon!” Naruto chirps positively from his left. Then he quiets, in a manner that suggests he’s cogitative. “How bad?”

“Well, it’s slow enough progression-wise that they’ll live if we find an antidote in time; they’ve got at least a month, we think. Maybe more, if Tsunade-shishou keeps siphoning it out via the Delicate Illness Extraction Technique. It’s not... pleasant for the patient, obviously, but it works. She’s already run most of the preliminary tests; calcium chloride, pyridoxine, sodium bicarbonate, so we at least have some stuff ruled out.,, There might be others eventually, though, so it would be best to nip it in the bud and have an antidote readily available, really.”

“...What do you know about it so far?” Sasuke asks. “In terms of the type of toxin.” Having been dosed numerous times with poisons to build up resistance, he knows he is essentially immune to many of them, but a new one popping up is never something one should disregard in their line of work.

Jade shifts to him. “We suspect it might be a mixture of several venoms, plus a heavy neurotoxin. Epinephrine doesn’t work at all, though; that’s why we’re leaning towards it being a combo. Something has to be continuing the effects while that cycles through the system.”

Neurotoxins are troublesome; a mixture with it is nothing to scoff at. “It causes paralysis?” He questions.

Sakura inclines her head in a nod. “Immediately after Tsunade-shishou uses the Extraction Technique, though, they gain some movement back, so if we can find an antidote, it won’t be permanent.”

There is a contemplative silence.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re gonna kill a lot of rats,” Naruto finally jokes from his left, gauche as ever and clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“They’re mice, not rats,” Sakura responds, rolling her eyes. “But yes. We probably will. Necessary sacrifice, I suppose.”

There is a substantial length of time that feels heavy, even with the distant background noise of people going about their evening.

Sakura is the one to break it. “What about you, Naruto? Anything new? Hinata’s on a mission, I heard. What have you been doing to fill the time?”

Sasuke glances back to his left, where Naruto is grinning suspiciously.

“You mean other than kicking the shit out of teme?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. “As I recall, both spars were draws, dead last .”

Naruto laughs, unbothered and waving his hand jokingly. “Eh, really I dunno. Mostly just helping Kakashi-sensei at the office. He’s torturing me with homework , since Hinata-chan’s gone.”

Suddenly their food is being placed in front of them. His smells good, charred pork belly swimming in spring onion, nori, mushrooms, noodles, and ginger. Sakura says thank you to Teuchi, and then he hears her break her chopsticks. She doesn’t miss a beat. “Hypothetical mission assemblages again?”

Naruto groans as he snaps his own chopsticks. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare. I know most of the people our age fine enough, but you basically have to memorize everyone’s abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, or you spend hours doing it because you have to refer to The Binder.” The way the dobe articulates The Binder makes it sound ominous.

“Huh. Now that I know it’s a nightmare, I’ll make sure to give you even more of it,” a familiar voice lilts behind them.

The three of them turn, and Kakashi is behind them, clad in simple Jonin dress instead of Hokage robes, for all appearances completely unbothered by the fact that he’s nearly twenty minutes late.

All three of them give him a withering look, slightly tinged with nostalgia, and say nothing.

“Sorry. Got lost in a pile of paperwork.”

Their old sensei removes Naruto’s shoe from his saved seat, and places it directly on the blond’s head. It promptly falls off and nearly lands in the idiot’s bowl of ramen as he splutters to catch it. Kakashi orders hakata tonkotsu without even glancing at the menu, same as Sasuke.

“So. Isn’t this nice,” The Hokage drawls. “How are we all? Enjoying the springtime?”

“It’s good! Hinata-chan planted a garden! We’re gonna have broccoli, and sweet potatoes, and maybe even pumpkin!” Naruto responds as he shoves his shoe unceremoniously back onto his foot before reaching for his chopsticks again.

“The weather has been nice," Sakura pipes up from behind him, though her tone of voice makes it sound as though more than that has been nice. Something in him twists pleasantly.

“...It’s good,” Sasuke comments last, before taking another bite of his food. It’s an understatement.

Kakashi looks content, head nodding in agreement. “Everything’s really greening up. I think it’s going to be a good year. No wars on the horizon, either, at least that I know of; that’s always preferable. Gets one into a reflective headspace.”

“About what, having time to read porn in your office?” Naruto quips sarcastically in between inhaling bites of bean sprouts and noodles, though Kakashi doesn’t seem at all fazed. Sasuke hasn’t seen any orange books in the times he’s visited the Hokage’s office so far, but he’d been sure they were stowed somewhere within easy access.

“Can’t a Hokage take a break to enjoy fine literature once in a while?” Their old sensei asks good-naturedly, but Naruto rolls his eyes as Sasuke, and he assumes Sakura, continue to eat their food at a normal pace.

“Fine literature? As if ! You forget I’ve read all those books. They’re full of good ideas, sure, but they’re still fucking porn ! And anyways, no, you can’t take a break. Not when you’re piling homework on me like I’m in the Academy still. I know , by the way.”

Now Kakashi’s smile turns a little nervous. To most people, the change would be imperceptible, but it’s there for those that know him well. “Know what, exactly?”

The blond’s eyes narrow accusingly. “That you’re actually using my homework to put together squads for real fucking missions! I shouldn’t have to find out from Shikamaru. In the Academy, they expel kids for that shit.”

Judging by the caught expression on Kakashi’s face, there is at least some element of truth to this, which means Naruto must be doing an okay job, at the very least. Interesting .

“So a sensei isn’t allowed to appreciate and value the advice of a cherished student?”

“Whatever. Just keep giving me days off when Hinata-chan’s home and maybe I won’t tattle to the other kages.”

Kakashi smiles. “I can do that.”

There is a beat where everyone besides their sensei is quiet, taking a few bites of their food. Sasuke’s is good; he’s hungry. Going near all out against Naruto has given him a little more of an appetite, the past few days. He’s been trying to eat more, as Sakura suggested.

“Sakura, I received an interesting letter from Tsunade today.” their old sensei drawls after a bit. Sasuke shifts slightly. She’s swallowing a bite, and looking curious.

“About the poison?”

Sasuke glances back to his left in time to see Kakashi nod. “The poison, and also other worthwhile projects. Let me know if you need any funding for such things, and I’ll find a way to take care of it.”

Sasuke wonders what kinds of projects, but assumes it might be rather confidential when Sakura blinks, then nods, answering simply, “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei; it’s greatly appreciated.” Perhaps it has to do with her research.

Naruto finishes off his first bowl, and orders another. Now that he’s not inhaling food, he begins chattering again.

“So anyways, when are you gonna send us all on a mission together again?! I feel like I’ve been trapped in that office with you like an old croney for eighty-four years.”

Suddenly Kakashi appears very tired, eyes narrowing in exhaustion. “If you feel trapped now, I’d hate to see how you feel in five years or so.” He pauses, as Naruto narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms. “I have a lost cat mission you could complete, I suppose. Or would you rather clean up the river? It’s good weather for it. Water’s warming up.”

Naruto looks at him indignantly. “As if. I want a real mission!! One that suits our strengths.”

The way Kakashi considers Naruto then is fond. Sasuke vaguely recollects a time where Naruto begged the Third for a ‘real’ mission a long time ago; that must be what he’s remembering.

“Well, the problem with that is that Sakura formally outranks you,” he finally retorts. His food shows up a second after he finishes talking.

Naruto groans. “This shit again?” Sasuke assumes this must be a running thing Kakashi likes to hold over his friend’s head. Technically it’s correct; Sakura had told him she’d made Jonin at the exams in Earth Country a while back, in one of her earlier letters. He’s sure she could have made Jonin sooner, but she’d been occupied with things at the hospital, he thinks. Naruto and himself, meanwhile, had never taken the exams, though it hadn’t affected their ability to take A and S-rank missions, given their role in ending the war; they held honorary Jonin positioning in all but the actual title itself, and weren’t held back from missions because of it in any way, but still, Sakura is the only one of their team that has taken them officially and passed. Naruto had told him that Tsunade didn’t want to promote Sakura like that, despite her contribution in ending the war, too; he’d assumed it was because the Fifth didn’t care for Sakura’s promotion to be in any way weighed down by assumptions of nepotism, especially with her taking over the hospital. Kakashi hadn't, either; he'd assumed for the same reason. Naruto and Sasuke getting special treatment regarding what missions they can accept is fine, because currently they hold no official titles, but with Sakura heading the hospital, it’s a different matter.

“How many times are you gonna hold that over my head?! Quit fucking around already. It’s not my fault Granny Tsunade wanted to show Sakura-chan off to all five nations, and besides, I was literally there, so it’s not like I don’t know.”

Sasuke blinks in sudden interest, as Kakashi quips, “If you were there, why didn’t you take the exams yourself? I seem to remember someone getting banned from the Kage’s seating area. That looks great for a future Hokage candidate, by the way, and was fun to try to de-escalate with the elders of Earth Country. Maybe you could have set a better example if you had also been taking the exams… Though I suppose it would have been embarrassing for you when Sakura beat you in three seconds flat.”

Sakura laughs a little to his right as if she is amused as Naruto complains some more, while Sasuke considers that he has never been given a detailed account of her performance at those exams, though he’s sure it was excellent. He’ll have to ask her or Naruto about it.

Naruto’s still whining. “Come ooooon. Just ONE teensy little mission. No bullshit. We’re all back; you basically have to, it’d be illegal NOT to. It can even be a B-rank.”

Kakashi doesn’t miss a beat. “I have a nice C-rank you two could probably handle.” Sasuke twitches a little, because he knows that’s directed at him, too, now. “Simple escort to Sand. Don’t want to take a prestigious Jonin away from her important work at the hospital, though, for such a measly thing.”

Sakura’s laugh twinkles. “Send Shikamaru. I’m sure he’d love to go.”

Kakashi grins, as if he is in on a joke. “Yes, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru. That would be an interesting team, to say the least, though perhaps a little overpowered. I’ll think it over… If nothing comes up that we desperately need Shikamaru for, that is.”

Naruto grumbles and turns to finish emptying his second bowl of ramen as Sasuke surmises inwardly, finishing off his own, that it would be an interesting team, even if it was just an escort. From what he knows, Nara is a capable leader and excellent strategist. He’s sure Shikamaru doesn’t like him very much, which is more than fair, but watching Naruto annoy someone else for a change would make the heated trek to Sand bearable. He wonders what Sakura’s comment was about, though. Maybe it was sarcasm, regarding most peoples’ general disdain for the sweltering weather there.

Sasuke notices, as he pushes his bowl forward, now empty, that Kakashi still hasn’t touched his food. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on that. When he glances to his right, he sees that Sakura has finished hers, too.

The restaurant is starting to clear out a little, it being closer to seven now. Naruto finally stops mumbling insults towards Kakashi, and instead peers at him as if he’s waiting for something. Maybe he wants to go home; his friend might have plans after this, though he’s not sure what they would be, given his wife is away.

“...Sorry to disappoint you, Sasuke, but we’ve been less than honest about dinner tonight,” Kakashi begins after meeting Naruto’s gaze. Sasuke’s brow furrows in puzzlement, and the dobe starts grinning smugly. When he glances the other way towards Sakura, she smiles, too, and looks a little guilty.

“It is also… a housewarming party.” The Hokage grins. “Though we thought we’d just have it here, and you could take your gifts home with you tonight.”

Sasuke frowns. “You didn’t need to-”

Naruto butts in, indignant and cutting him off accusingly with a pointed finger, “And don’t even TRY to say no, because I got you the best gift.” Sasuke has a brief premonition of his sparse kitchen cabinets suddenly filled with a month’s supply of instant ramen, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. The dobe motions to Teuchi, gesturing towards the inner portion of the ramen stand, just below the counter. Sasuke then recalls the bag beneath Sakura’s chair, and frowns deeper, turning to her; though he’s sure the shoe box was free, she’s already given him the drying rack, which he’s sure was not. She didn’t need to get him anything else.

She just grins at him, eyes flashing with mirth as if she finds this amusing. He’s about to say something - he’s not sure what - when Naruto taps him on the shoulder. He turns, and the most poorly wrapped gift he has ever seen in his life comes into focus, a long thin mess of too much tape and intensely colorful paper, scrunched together haphazardly as if put together by a child with little motor control, and shoved directly into his face.

“...Why did you wrap it?”

His best friend rolls his eyes. “Because it’s a PRESENT, jackass. Besides, you guys wrapped yours too, right?!”

When Naruto looks from their old sensei to their teammate, Kakashi wears a jovial smile that tells him he didn’t, and Sakura doesn’t say anything behind him, but Naruto narrows his eyes, and that’s enough to tell him that she didn’t, either. “What the fuck, you guys are the worst! This is supposed to be a party!!”

Naruto sets the gift down on the counter in front of him, and Sasuke frowns at it stubbornly for a short while. The three of them are staring at him expectantly, though, so he sighs and reluctantly starts to peel the shoddy wrapping job away, curious as to where the idiot got instant ramen that comes in a long skinny box. He’s careful as he peels, so the paper doesn’t fly away in little chunks and litter the restaurant or the ground around them.

His brow creases as he peels away the final bit of paper and tape, because it’s not ramen, after all. Naruto’s gift is a paring board of a unique design, new from the store in an unopened box. The picture shows a maple wood finish, but with small skewers jutting vertically from it on the bottom center, on which one can spear vegetables or fruit to help hold it in place while slicing. It also has a corner guard on the upper left with an edge sealer to help keep other things one wants to slice, like bread or sushi, secure. In addition, it says it has silicone feet, so it doesn’t move around when you use it.

He didn’t know anything like this even existed. It is a surprisingly thoughtful and helpful gift, one that he’s sure comes from a deep understanding of the challenges that come with living with one arm, though Naruto has had the prosthetic, now, for a while.

Sasuke studies it for a long moment, genuinely touched. “...It’s nice. Thank you.” Truth be told, it’s more than nice, and will be incredibly useful. He won’t have to summon a clone anymore to cut things.

Naruto laughs and slaps him on the back, prompting Sasuke to glare at him. “Beat that, losers!” Kakashi smiles and casts his eye towards Sakura behind him, so Sasuke turns, brows furrowed again. She’s pulling a white container out of her bag, now in her lap, and then sliding it on the countertop next to Naruto’s gift.

He can see now that it’s a first aid kit. He looks back to her, meeting green eyes and slightly tinged cheeks. “I thought there might be some things you didn’t have, after traveling for so long.”

This is odd, because all ninja travel with a rudimentary first aid kit at the bare minimum, and Sakura of all people knows this; it’s an occupational hazard and frankly foolish not to. He stares at it as if it is a riddle, trying to figure out what could possibly be inside. Perhaps medicine or painkillers? Even those come in standard first aid kits for ninja, though. A hefty stock of food pills? He supposes he could take those on missions with him, if needed.

He’s sure both Kakashi and Naruto are thinking the same thing, but they don’t comment on it.

Finally, he responds, meeting her eyes, “Thank you.” He’ll open it later, when he’s alone, to see what’s actually in it. She really didn’t need to get him anything.

Her smile grows wider, and her eyes catch the light, gilded fervor that he thinks he could drown in. “You’re welcome.” After a beat, she glances at Kakashi, so Sasuke tears his irises away from flashing jade iridescent with metallic lambency and turns, too. When he does, he sees that Kakashi’s bowl is now empty. He tries to resist an annoyed twitch; he doesn’t know how he keeps pulling this off, after so many years.

Then his old sensei reaches into his vest and pulls out what appears to be a frame; it must have been tucked there this whole time, for safekeeping, out of sight.

When he reaches past Naruto to gift it to him, Sasuke realizes it’s their original Team Seven picture, in the frame he saw sitting on Kakashi’s desk the other day.

His eyes sting as it’s pressed into his hand, thoughts of mask hypervigilance forgotten in an instant in favor of an overwhelming sense of plenary peace and belonging. There is a small inner voice emanating from a house lined with dark wood and darker penchants, gnawing and protesting that he is deeply undeserving, but he extinguishes it for now, just for tonight; the world is not going to end because Kakashi gave him a picture rife with memories. Fighting to remain detached is what got him into trouble in the first place.

Sasuke blinks a few times, and a paper-thin layer of sediment peels away, messy and getting everywhere, like the wrapping paper he tried to collect earlier to avoid a similar problem. Then he utters, “Thank you,” quietly, but loud enough for all three of them to hear.

“No problem. I can get another copy developed from the village archives for my desk,” Kakashi replies, smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”

Time passes somehow both quickly and slowly. The four of them sit there for well over another hour, visiting casually about topics that aren’t as heavy as perplexing poisons. Sasuke moreso listens than genuinely communicates, but he comments every now and then.

Naruto chatters about an elaborate date he’s going to take Hinata on when she gets back to the village, involving feeding ducks at her favorite pond. Sakura mentions that he should bring cinnamon rolls, because that is Hinata’s favorite treat, and Naruto exclaims that he knows, but he also asks Teuchi for a pen to write a reminder on his hand, so he doesn’t forget to pick them up the day after tomorrow when she’s supposed to get back.

Kakashi mentions how he’s supposed to be getting some new mission requests in on Monday morning, so he might have something for Sasuke by then; the dobe is indignant when it doesn’t also include him, and launches into another five minute whining session.

Sakura tells a story about Sai and a misunderstanding involving an order of art supplies that she heard from Ino that morning; apparently, Ino works at the hospital on occasion, both to do some part-time medic duties and to help Sakura, which Sasuke was unaware of. Naruto shudders when Sakura brings up Sai, Ino, and art supplies; Sasuke gets the distinct impression that there is a story there, but doesn’t ask.

It is a little after eight when Kakashi mentions quite astutely that everyone is probably tired and should get going. Naruto laughs mischievously, then, meeting Sasuke’s eyes.

“Teme, what do ya say to all of us going out for a drink or two after this? There’s a fun place just down the road from here.”

Sasuke blinks, because that sounds objectively terrible on any night, let alone a Saturday, and it is not the first time since his return to the village that Naruto has mentioned going to drink; he really wants to get him drunk for some reason. Even though Kakashi has just said they should wrap it up, he looks at Sasuke as if waiting for a response anyways, as though he would actually go with them if they all chose to.

“Can’t. I have plans.”

Naruto huffs and grumbles under his breath about the plans probably involving training or reading or watching his laundry air dry. “Alright, alright. But you can’t escape it forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to accept.”

Sasuke smirks, then. “If you can beat me in a spar, I’ll go. Dobe.”

A fire has been lit in blue eyes. “You’re ON.”

Kakashi then sets enough money on the counter for all four of them, at which point they all begin to stand. Sasuke and Sakura both say thank you, but Naruto begins protesting that if he knew he was buying, he would have eaten more. Kakashi smiles cryptically. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. The Hokage position pays lucratively, but I know from experience you’ll eat me out of house and home.”

Naruto and Kakashi wave goodbye and set out to the west, in the general direction of their respective residences. Sasuke and Sakura both watch them go with something like amusement; he can hear Naruto complaining until he’s halfway down the street, which is a feat, because this area of town is still quite busy.

He turns to the gifts and stacks them carefully in preparation to leave, finally; they are all flat, so they’ll be easy enough to carry. They really didn’t need to get him anything... but he is appreciative, gaze lingering on them for a little longer than an instant.

Sakura is smiling at him when he turns to her, weight shifted to the side casually. “Do you want to drop those off first, or bring them with you?”

Sasuke thinks of the time; he still doesn’t know when she usually goes to sleep. “...I can bring them with.”

Her lips quirk upwards more, and she nods. They start walking east, him gripping the gifts carefully.

The moon has risen a bit higher in the sky by now; the streets appear much like a desaturated dreamscape, cloaking everything in a layer of alleviation. They pass under street lights casting flaxen ambiance, as well as other smaller hints of glow from various lit-up signage, tinctorial flashes washing over them both occasionally, only to be rinsed clean as they pass into astronomical dusk again. Sakura’s hair is surprisingly reflectant, brief notes of neons catching atop pale pink: electric blue, candy red, apple green.

“Naruto’s going to hold you to that bet, you know,” Sakura pipes up to his right once they’ve made it a block away, tilting her head upwards, expression soaked with mirth.

“Tch. Don’t remind me.” She laughs a little in response. It’s a lovely sound, dulcet in his ears.

They’re coming up on a bar that appears to be pretty crowded, people spilling out onto the street outside. Wordlessly, they both change course to cross to the other side of the street, avoiding the gathering of people, for which he is appreciative; he’s still not much one for crowds. They’re almost to the main stretch of road where they’ll turn south to go to Sakura’s; just two more blocks and the people should disperse a bit.

As they cross, Sakura informs him, “I’m pretty sure that’s the one he was talking about, by the way.”

“...Great,” He murmurs, frowning. He really doesn’t drink often. A place like that wouldn’t do much to encourage him to.

“It’s not so bad, if you go on a weeknight. Less people.”

He considers, then questions, “...Have you gone drinking with him?”

She averts her eyes, as if she’s a little embarrassed. “A few times... Usually it’s for celebrations, though, not just us. Birthdays, that sort of thing. I’ve gone with Ino more.” She ponders for a bit longer, as if shuffling through memories. “I guess I’ve gone with him and Kakashi-sensei a couple of times, though we don’t always go to that one. Once we went with Tsunade-shishou to that casino.”

Sasuke is pretty sure he knows the answer to his next question, but he asks it anyway. “...Is he any good at gambling?”

A short but rich giggle blooms from her throat that makes his lip twitch upwards. “No. His betting history is just as bad as shishou. He’s worse at baccarat than she is, actually, which is quite an accomplishment. She hadn’t won in a long time, before she beat him.”

It stands to reason that Naruto would be bad at table games, but the fact that he’s bad at arguably one of the easiest ones to learn amuses him more than it should. “...Will probably be awhile before I get dragged with him, then.”

“Probably,” Sakura agrees.

They turn south towards her apartment, and sure enough, the people milling about in the streets begin to thin. Being a Saturday night, there are more lights on than usual around this time, but they’ve arrived into an area of town that doesn’t really cater to a night crowd like bars do; the lit windows here are mostly residential.

Plants are continuing to unfurl everywhere in Konoha, though the rain tomorrow will probably be good for them. It stands to reason that it will get even more lush, after; perennials are starting to bud back to life, soon to join the annuals already adorning most buildings’ exteriors and windowsills. There’s a breeze picking up tonight, too, slightly shuffling leaves and the fabric of awnings attached to the buildings they walk past, a quiescent whispering that seemingly drowns out the usual sound of crickets. It might be cold enough for soup tomorrow; he’s looking forward to it.

Sakura notices, too. “Kakashi was right; everything is greening up. The rain will do some good tomorrow; we haven’t had some in a bit.”

“...Probably,” he echoes her words from earlier. Her hair is fluttering a little in the wind, too, eye-catching and gossamery. Sasuke wonders if it’s still soft like silk. He had accidentally felt it several times, on various missions when they were younger.

They reach her building, and she noiselessly opens the glass door for him. Sasuke steps aside so she can pass after she shuts it behind them. Then he’s following her up the stairway, something like anticipation unfurling in him, much like the greenery he noticed on the way here.

Sakura unlocks her door, glancing back at him for a moment with her hand lingering on the doorknob. Then she turns to push it open, and he trails behind her carefully.

He follows her into a small enclosed area - a dedicated entryway - with a threshold straight ahead leading into the rest of the space. It is dim until Sakura flips on the light of a compact but surprisingly luminous lamp to their right, and he sees that the entryway area itself is painted the color of pale cream. The floor beneath them is aged wood, light in color, that appears to extend into the rest of the dwelling. A single wall-mounted shelf floats to the left that holds several multifarious storage containers: one woven, one white, one that looks like an antiquated rice basket. Out of the top of the last one peeks the well-worn handle of a spade; it must be gardening supplies. Beneath the shelf are hooks studded to the wall; Sakura is stepping towards them to shrug off her bag and hang it from one of them, next to a green jacket and a red and pink coat with fur trim.

There is a console table made of aged wood that near matches the shelf - white oak, he thinks, because it’s not as richly colored as normal oak - to the right. It might be an antique; it is close in color and stain to the flooring, though not an exact match. Her fiction book from the other day sits atop it, a bookmark protruding from around halfway through its pages; he assumes she must keep any non-work-related library books there, when she’s not reading them. Beneath the table is a patterned rug in neutral tones, on which rest a small collection of sandals that are not entirely lined up straight, as well as a pair of green rainboots. It is the only part of the entryway that does not appear overly organized.

Sasuke begins to toe off his sandals as Sakura does, too. She crosses over to the table and opens up one of the drawers, placing her lanyard of keys inside. “You can set your gifts here, if you’d like,” she offers helpfully, gesturing to the table and sounding almost shy, so he does. He turns to grab his sandals and sets them neatly on the rug beneath the table.

She reaches beyond the enclosing wall to the other side, flipping what must be a lightswitch; the rest of the overhead lights in the next area of space flood on. She angles her head back towards him, shifting her weight to the side a little. “I’m afraid it won’t be as long of a tour as Naruto’s.”

It’s small, but cozy. They step into an open space with a wall trailing to the right and openness extending to the left, which houses her living room. The ceilings are high for an apartment this size; it makes it feel bigger. Two towering bookshelves line the west and south walls, and a small dining table sits in front of the window on the north end, over which hangs a simple but worn pendant light, sap green in color; it is reminiscent of the kinds one usually sees at indoor markets. Between the two spaces lies a comfortable-looking sage green couch, classic but also well-worn, placed in front of a small entertainment center. He notices that the furniture pieces are all of slightly different construction, not a matching set, though the colors of everything are very similar to the flooring. On top of the surfaces are various decorative knick knacks: little glass jars in varied colors with dried flowers, another lamp, a candle. The entire open area is painted a pale, pale desaturated viridian; Sasuke likes the color. From what he can see of the room past the expanse of wall to their right, it is painted a different color - linen white.

“Sai and Ino helped me with the paint colors when I moved in.” She pauses. “Well, Sai helped. Ino mostly just helped narrow down color selection. It needed painting anyways; my landlady said I could do pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t black or something.” She walks over to the lamp on the end table by the sofa, and switches it on. Then she wanders over to switch the pendant light over the table on, too.

Sasuke nods, still absorbing. There is an expanse of framed photos to his right, on the space leading up to what must be the kitchen. There are many, leading all the way down the wall, arranged in more of a collage fashion than straight across. He scans them quickly, and is surprised to see that their original Team Seven photo isn't among them. He knows it must be elsewhere in her apartment; she is too sentimental to not have it displayed somewhere. It makes him consider where he’s going to put the one Kakashi has given him.

“The layout is kind of unique,” Sakura continues, walking back towards him through the living room area. “There’s not really room for a dining table in the kitchen, so that table over there-” She motions towards where she just was, in front of the north window, “-is used for that. It’s kind of nice, that way; you can look out the window when you eat.” Sasuke notes upon further inspection that there are a few small plants sitting in the window there, similar coloring to the ones on her doorstep. A thriving jasmine plant is hung higher up, against the glass, fronds twisting downwards. He finds he can picture Sakura eating there easily.

Sakura crosses over into what he assumes is the kitchen; he follows, and notes as he does so that there is a faint aroma of tea, though it is a challenge to place the flavor. It’s simple, but with nice floor to ceiling white cabinetry, aside from a single area in the corner where there is open shelving of the same wood finish, as well as a window on the east wall, over the sink. This one appears to be lined with a small herb garden, more mismatched terracotta pots perched in the windowsill. The countertops here are also wood, in a similar colorway as the rest of the wood he’s seen so far. Most of what’s stored on the open shelving appears to be general dry goods, flour and sugar and oatmeal in clear containers. There is also a fern-colored teapot, decorated with a white floral design, sitting on the end of the shelf for easiest access; she must make tea often. There is a knife set on the counter, as well as a few ceramic containers holding various utensils such as whisks and wooden spoons. Nothing appears out of place, and there are no dishes in the sink; she must keep it pretty tidy. In the only empty corner, there is what he assumes is a pantry door, as well as a small wooden stool. He realizes then that she must not be tall enough to reach the top of the cupboards.

“Sai said keeping it a lighter color would make it look bigger. I think it helps. It’s pretty nice, otherwise.” She glances at him, then away, slightly flushed as if she’s nervous. He realizes, reciprocally, that he is kind of nervous, too, being in her space with her alone.

“Not much left but the hallway,” she adds after a moment, leading him out of the kitchen and further, to a hallway leading east. There are three doors towards the end of it; one to the left, one in the middle, and one to the right. Two of the three are sitting open; the small room straight ahead holds a stacked washer and dryer, as well as cabinets that match the ones in the kitchen. Once he follows her a few more steps, he sees a hamper, as well. The walls appear to be painted a lilac color in the laundry room, slightly darker in hue than the rest of her space thus far. The flooring is different, too, in the laundry room; a white tile, inlaid with a touch of black sparingly in a symmetrical pattern. The style of it is very in tune with the age of the building, reminiscent of an older time.

“Left door is the bedroom.” She gestures towards the closed door, then points to the next one. “Middle is the laundry room; that’s also where I keep any cleaning stuff, like the broom or mop.” She nods then towards the bathroom, so he steps closer to peer inside; it is painted a light sand color, with the same white tile accented with black, only here it also goes halfway up the wall. “And that’s the bathroom.” The same white cabinets appear here, too. It has a tub/shower combination, and a plain white shower curtain. It appears spotlessly clean. A window lies above the sink on the east wall, with another hanging plant dangling in front of it, towards the corner so it’s not in full light all of the time; it looks like a satin pothos. There is also a small wicker stool, on which are folded powder-white towels, and a small glass tabletop lamp, an interesting statement in a bathroom.

He remembers that there are three lamps she’s turned on already. She must not like hard lighting. He tries to resist the urge to smile, because neither does he.

“It’s nice,” he compliments as they make their way back to the living room area. It’s more than nice; he really likes it. Everything about it is as her as he expected it to be, more of a home than an apartment, eclectic combinations painting a picture very indicative of the life she lives here. Sasuke muses that it is especially characteristic of her that she would like different colors throughout the rooms, and that the colors fit their respective spaces well. He finds himself wondering what color she selected for her room, what color she deemed the most calming, though obviously he would never ask.

A deep blush inks it way onto her skin, and she smiles, seeming very pleased. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” Her gaze flits away, then back again. “Would you want to maybe watch something? I could make some tea, decaf, if you’d like.”

He nods.

“Okay; I can show you what I have.”

They go back into the kitchen. She opens one of the cabinets, the one nearest the teapot; the entire bottom shelf is filled with packaged tea, labeled jars of loose leaf, sugar, and a container of honey. The shelf above it contains teacups that match the teapot, and more jars of loose leaf, though these ones are labeled caffeine free. There are a few small boxes of packaged tea there, too; she must sort them separately based on caffeine content. The third shelf contains a few miscellaneous mugs and glasses. It’s quite a collection; he understands the mixed aromatics of different tea flavors he noticed earlier. It’s unique, enjoyable without being overwhelming, small hints of sweet spice and citrus drifting into the kitchen space more now that the cabinet door is ajar.

“Most of my packaged teas have more specific flavors, desserts and things like that,” Sakura mentions. “For loose leaf, I’ve got quite a few; caffeine-free ones are oolong, chamomile, lemon ginger, jasmine…” She shifts some of the jars to the side of the middle cabinet to reveal the ones behind it. “Silver needle, white coconut creme, Earl Grey, caramelized pear…”

“...Earl Grey sounds good,” Sasuke murmurs, moving slightly out of the way. She tips her head in acknowledgment before pulling that jar down, then reaching for the teapot.

“I’ll make some; I like Earl Grey at night. Do you want any cream or lemon or anything like that in yours? I have some in the fridge.” She moves to start the water boiling, removing the strainer from the teapot before she fills it. After it’s on the stove, she begins sifting loose leaf from the jar into the strainer so it’s ready.

“...Lemon would be good.” He likes adding lemon to Earl Grey; it makes it more tart. He feels like he should help, so he adds, “I’ll get it. Do you want cream in yours?”

Jade eyes flick to his, and her cheeks color a little. “...Yes. It’s on the top shelf of the door. There’s…” She pauses, as if embarrassed. “There’s normal creamer there too, but I have a coconut milk sweet cream that I like with mine. Just a little bit. It’s… meant for coffee, but…” When he smiles knowingly back, she looks away, back towards the teapot.

He opens the fridge; it’s extremely well-stocked. He doesn’t hover too long before he reaches to grab a lemon and the creamer she mentioned from the door’s upper shelf, but he notes there is a large container of strawberry topping on the top shelf towards the front, as well as a clear container with what may be banana nut muffins. She really does have a sweet tooth, he thinks, amused.

He shuts the door, and she procures a small cutting board from another cupboard and a knife to slice the lemon into wedges. She’s also grabbed two teacups, the ones that match the teapot.

“Thank you.” She’s smiling as he sets down the lemon and the creamer. “I can finish making this, if you want to maybe pick what we watch?”

“...What would you like to watch?”

Sakura blinks. “I’m honestly fine with anything. I’ve got some movies in the cabinet of the entertainment center… Otherwise I have cable to flip through, too.”

She must not go to bed too early, since she mentioned movies. He decides to ask. “...When do you usually go to bed?”

Something in her eyes softens. “Usually ten or eleven. It’s my weekend now, though, so I can stay up late, if you pick something longer.”

He nods, and she turns to slice the lemon halves into quarters, so he pads back to her living room. When he opens the cabinet below the television, he finds it nearly filled to the brim with movies. He settles down to siphon through them, skimming through various synopses. He comes across five or six shoved to the corner of one side haphazardly; those must be the ‘bad’ movies she watches with Ino. The rest of them that he finds sound fairly interesting. He ultimately picks one called A Tale of Archery; the summary makes it sound like a period drama with a twist. As he sits there, he tries to remember the last time he watched a movie; it was probably after he returned to Konoha but before he left for his journey, a rather stupid one with Naruto in his old apartment.

This one should be better. He hopes, brows furrowed, that it’s one she likes; he assumes she must like most of them, given that she owns them.

Sasuke stands with it as Sakura comes out with the tea, cups placed on small plates with dainty teaspoons. “Oh, that’s a good one,” she mentions. His heart flutters, and he feels a little less nervous. He puts it into the player on the next shelf before standing as she sets her plate and cup on her coffee table.

“Thank you,” he says softly when she hands him his, two slices of lemon perched on the side.

She smiles at him, dimple appearing, before grabbing the remote and flicking on the television so it starts setting up. “Do you mind if I shut off the overhead lights? I’m... not much one for hard lighting.”

“Not at all.” The space will be well-lit without it, with the lamps.

He takes a seat on the sofa while she walks over near the entryway. Sasuke realizes now that the couch isn’t terribly big; probably just enough for one person to lie down on, if they wanted to. It’s comfortable, as he’d anticipated. He sets his plate and cup on her coffee table so he can squeeze the lemon wedge into it, grabbing the spoon to stir as the overhead lights go out.

With the lights off, it is very cozy.

Sakura takes a seat next to him, not too close, but not the furthest away she could be, either. She fast forwards through the opening portion of advertisements as he stirs.

By the time he brings the cup to his lips to take a sip, the opening credits are playing. She sets down the remote and stirs her own cup once more, before also taking a sip.

It’s good; flavorful but not too intense, with a hint of bergamot orange rind and maltiness. The lemon gives it a slightly more acidic twist. He’s not much one for creamer, unless he’s in a rare mood on a cold fall or winter day, but he can see how the coconut milk sweet cream would compliment the taste, if one liked sweet things.

“It’s good,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes for a moment.

She glows at the compliment; he can make out a blush in the dim lighting. He feels his own neck heat up.

The movie is pretty good. It tells the story of a bygone feudal era a long time ago, peasants and samurai and daimyos with estates sprawling across countrysides lined with rice paddies. An archer passes away, and his son follows in his footsteps and becomes respected competitively. The twist is that the father actually went into hiding, and returns at the end of the movie.

It’s close to eleven when it’s over. Their teacups sit on her coffee table, long emptied.

Sasuke feels very content, and a little loath to leave, if he’s being honest. She seems slightly tired when she meets his eyes, though, so he slowly stands and reaches for his plate and cup. She does the same, and he trails after her to the kitchen, following her lead; she empties the lemon rinds into the garbage, so he does too. She then rinses her cup clean in the sink, extending her hand for his after.

“...What time should I come over tomorrow?” He asks in a hushed tone, when she turns to him. He’s not sure if the walls are thin or not, and they’re in the kitchen, so it’s not against her neighbors’ unit or anything, but he still somehow feels he should speak quietly; it’s somewhat dark, dimly lit only by cast light from the lamp in the other room.

Her countenance changes to one of consideration. “I was thinking maybe around eleven? I should have lunch ready around then.” Her eyes flicker to his, and her lips curve upwards; he tries not to look at them too long. “If that’s okay.”

He nods. “I’ll be here, then.”

Her lips curve upwards more. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she offers softly. He turns, and she follows.

“Do you like avocado?” She asks him as they shuffle into her entryway, where he stoops to retrieve his shoes. “I was… thinking about making avocado grilled cheese, to go with the soup.”

He glances upwards. “...I do.” He’s never had a grilled cheese sandwich with avocado before, but it sounds like it would taste good. He wonders again what kind of soup she’ll make; she knows his food preferences well, and she hasn’t asked, so it must be something she knows he’ll like. It makes his heart flip behind his ribcage a little.

“Oh, good. I’ll make that, then.” Her eyes drop down to her feet for a second as he rises back to his full height, sandals situated; it’s hard to tell in the lack of light, just the one lamp turned on in here, but he’s pretty sure she’s blushing again.

Her next words are near a whisper. “Thank you for… hanging out.” Multi-faceted jade seeps into him again, seafoam ebbing around dark pupils. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, after yearning for it for so long. “I had a nice time.”

He takes a quiet step closer to her, heart suddenly twisting in his chest as he tries to swallow his nerves, because she looks so happy, and it’s making his breath get stuck inside his lungs.

“...Me, too,” he whispers, barely audible before his lips brush hers gently.

It feels different, kissing her in the privacy of her apartment rather than on her doorstep. It’s like they can finally take their time, no real chance of interruption. His mind comes up with the word intimate, and his neck warms. Her mouth is all plush affection, bergamot and lemon and a subtle sweetness, stirred, that isn’t too much, accented by berry. It makes him want to try all of the varieties she has in her cabinet, even the sweet ones, just to see what they taste like on her lips in the hours that follow.

Delicate hands brush his shoulders, fingertips skimming the lower part of his neck, subtle beckoning but also gentle, respectful of boundaries, so he decides to corrode, give in and do something that he has wanted to do for a very long time. He cups her cheek with his hand, careful and barely there, gingerly sweeping a thumb over flushed skin, gliding atop a freckle that rests further back on her cheekbone. He’s had it memorized since they were kids.

The strands of pink he inadvertently touches are as soft as he remembers.

Her face is ablaze when they draw back from each other, tender smile and viridescent eyes laced with ardency just for him. Warmth pools in his belly as he studies her, decay long soothed and forgotten as he carefully strokes her cheek once more before he pulls away.

“...Good night, Sakura.”

The dimple makes one last appearance for the evening. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

XXX

Sasuke opens the first aid kit upon his return to his apartment, having been curious about what was in it all evening. Vines grasp his heartstrings as he discovers what’s inside.

There are two jars of loose leaf sencha tea that he’s sure came from the tea place they’d visited together a few days ago; one is labeled caffeinated, the other decaffeinated. Along with it is a basic tea infuser, new in its package. There are also three blue packages of cough drops, mentho-lyptus flavor, so they won’t be sweet.

Jade irises, he thinks, are also mollifying, for when the corrosion is done, an aether easily risen into, floating to the top.

Sasuke brews a mug of the jar labeled decaffeinated to enjoy before he goes to bed, a helpful succedaneum with which to conclude an evening well spent. It's not exactly the same shade of green, he thinks, before taking it to his living room so he can look out his window as he savors it, but it's close.

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

~

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

~

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

[keichanz]

Neighbors | ch. 3

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

@lavendertwilight89 @born-for-eachother @mandirox89 @arcprz @bluejay785 @malditamigs @xfangheartx @bluehawaiicat @zelink-inukag @clearwillow @wenchster @anabananaxq @superpixie42 @midnightsilver16830 @heathersmusings @theinuyashareader @danycontreras90 @liz8080 @blairex @lordofthechips @itzatakahashi @sailorbabydoll92 @raisinraven @sticky-llama-perfection @dangerouspompadour @digital-art-monster @joaniemae @boostyourmind-blog @anxietyaardvark @simply-zerah @nsr0716 @caribmiko @witchygirl99 @mamabearcat @redflamesofpassion @tuxedochevaleresse @umacaking @hnn-wnchstr @juliatheanimelover7 @lemonlushff @eringobroke @youarenotmyhomelandanymore @hikaruwrites @horriblehowl @lady-dark-69 @sssuperbartola @eternalnight8806-3 @morganashimi83 @shnuggletea @pinkpigeonstudio @memusicmuse @cyncyn981 @yurawiththegoodhair @kagometaishostory @chickpow @ladyphoenix0711 @the-rebel-alchemist @nartista @soliska @cammysansstuff @karina-inuphantom​

Inuyasha walked into his apartment a lot later than what he’d originally planned and he hoped Kagome wouldn’t be too upset that he’d left her alone for nearly four hours. To make it up to her, he’d bought them both some lunch at his favorite ramen shop and swung by a Starbucks to get one of those frothy, sweet drinks that women tend to favor.

Kicking the door shut, he set the diabetes in a cup, their lunch, and a white paper bag onto the counter before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door. He glanced toward the couch and his eyebrows rose at the sight that greeted him. Despite himself, the felt the corner of his lips flicker with the beginnings of an amused grin and unbeknownst to him, his eyes softened with fond admiration.

Ponytail askew on her head and one half of her face red, Kagome blinked blearily at him for a moment before a wide yawn escaped her mouth. She stretched, raising her arms above her head as she arched her back and it was obvious she’d just woken up from a nap.

God, but she looked cute and Inuyasha’s gut tightened with the beginnings of…something he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge. So he didn’t and shook his head, turning to grab their lunch and the paper bag before striding over to her.

“Hi,” Kagome greeted, her voice pleasantly raspy as she rubbed her eyes.

“Nice nap?” he asked and swapped out the empty dishes on the coffee table for their lunch and her drink.

“Mm.” Kagome settled back against the armrest and stretched out her legs, wincing slightly when her angle twinged. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Inuyasha frowned, eyed her ankle, then left to dump the dirty dishes into the sink to worry about later. He grabbed a soda for himself and came back to find Kagome had taken possession of the Starbucks monstrosity with an impish grin and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s yours,” he supplied, a little needlessly as she’d already started sipping from the straw. “Sorry I was gone for so long. Had to stop by work and got caught up there before making a few more stops. Figured I’d make up for it with lunch and that diabetes in a cup.”

“Tasty diabetes in a cup,” Kagome cheerfully corrected as Inuyasha nudged her legs, a silent hint to let him sit. She wrinkled her nose but obliged, slowly swinging her legs down so he could plop down beside her with a grunt. She wasn’t expecting him to lean back and then gesture for her stretch them out again and with a happy grin Kagome did, propping her feet onto his lap. It was amazing how comfortable she already felt around him given that she’d only known him a short time.

She wasn’t about to question it though; she’d left behind her old life, her old friends, and having Inuyasha as a friend? Well, she definitely wasn’t about to complain. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it either, calm as you please as he handed her some chopsticks and ramen before digging into his own with relish. Granted, he probably just wanted to make sure her ankle was being elevated, but still…

It was nice, knowing that she wasn’t alone.

With a secret smile, Kagome dug in, hiding her red face behind her takeout ramen as she quietly slurped her noodles. She could get used to this.

I could get used to this, Inuyasha mused, casting a sidelong glance at the woman at his side.

Maybe he was being a bit too forward and nonchalant given that they’d just officially met the night before, but thankfully – and a little surprisingly – Kagome didn’t seem to mind. She was acting like they’d been friends for years, and if Inuyasha were being honest, it felt like he had known her for just as long. He couldn’t explain it, and in fact didn’t even want to, but there was something about this woman that just…put him at ease.

It was like she exuded a quiet peacefulness that soothed him in such a way that, with no effort at all, she was able to sneak past his defenses and catch glimpses of the real him. The one that didn’t hide behind a tough façade, the one that didn’t use biting insults and crude comments to disguise his true emotions.

Somehow this little slip of a woman with dark eyes, a fear of needles, and an infectious smile had managed to accomplish a feat that no one but his mother had been able to do in the entire thirty-two years he’d been alive. Even more astonishing, she’d done it in just a little over fifteen hours, and that should have had alarm bells ringing. That should make him want to back off, to put some space between them so he could breathe properly without her intoxicating scent wreaking havoc on his mind and clouding his judgement.

Curiously, however – or maybe a more accurate term would be frighteningly – as Kagome turned her head and caught him staring sat her, he realized that he wanted to do the complete opposite. Her soft blush made him want to say things to see if he could make her blush harder. Her bemused smile as she tilted her head had his fingers twitching with the urge to tangle in her hair and taste that smile, steal it for his own.

And the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue, the gentle lilt to the single word hinting at curious concern, made him want to drop to his knees and swear his fealty, his protection, his very soul if it meant she would always look at him like that.

Ah…fuck, Inuyasha inwardly lamented as Kagome took advantage of his distraction to reach over and snag a shrimp from his ramen takeout container.

“Earth to Inuyashaaaa.” Kagome waved her chopsticks in front of his face, stolen piece of shrimp sandwiched between the ends. “You in there? Are you—hey!”

Releasing Kagome’s wrist, Inuyasha chewed the shrimp that he’d just stolen right back from her chopsticks. She pouted at him and he snorted, unaffected.

“Wave food in my face and suffer the consequences.”

“No fair, yours has more shrimp than mine!”

“Not my problem.”

Kagome pouted again, fluttering her lashes for extra effect. It was embarrassing how quick Inuyasha gave in after that.

“Manipulative wench,” Inuyasha muttered but his glare lacked any real censure.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kagome chirped and then sighed in bliss as she popped another (pilfered) shrimp into her mouth.

“My ass.”

Kagome stuck her tongue out at him and gave a cheeky grin. Shaking his head, Inuyasha sighed then carefully removed her legs from his lap, frowning when Kagome hissed as he set them back on the couch.

“How’s your hand, by the way?” he asked and went to retrieve the paper bag still sitting on the counter.

“Hurts,” Kagome answered honestly, shrugging, and flexed the hand in question. “Right now it’s doing kind of a…burning throb? But it’s tolerable so I should be good until I can get those prescriptions—what’s this?”

Blinking down at the white paper bag Inuyasha had just wordlessly dropped into her lap, Kagome set aside her lunch and peered inside. Her mouth parted on a soft gasp and her eyes widened as a soft, pleased flush stole across her cheeks. She looked up as Inuyasha sat onto the coffee table before her and gingerly took her bandaged hand into his own to inspect it himself.

“You picked up my medicine for me?” Kagome asked, her soft tone reflecting her awe and her eyes bright with barely concealed pleasure.

“I’ll change this tomorrow,” he said, deliberately ignoring her question because who else could have gotten her meds. “Doc said to leave it on for at least twenty-four hours before changing it and you’ll probably be asleep by the time I get home tonight.”

Inuyasha got up to throw away their empty takeout boxes but then paused, his brow knitting as a thought occurred to him.

“You work tomorrow?”

Narrowing her eyes at him to silently telegraph that his evading her question did not go unnoticed, Kagome sighed when he merely raised his brows at her and shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “I mean, yes I work, but I work from home and I have the rest of the week off to finish unpacking and get settled.”

Inuyasha nodded, appeased. Good, now he wouldn’t be distracted worrying about her at work tomorrow since he had a morning shift. He could just imagine her doing something foolish and breaking her damn ankle instead of merely spraining it.

Checking the time on his phone while Kagome idly sipped her Starbucks and openly stared at him, Inuyasha reluctantly decided that he needed to stop procrastinating and leave for the shop soon. Miroku was only working half a day today and he didn’t trust the runt to be there by himself since the old man wasn’t in today, either.

Grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha crossed the room to shrug into his jacket and jam his ball cap back onto his head before grabbing his keys. Kagome, gathering that he was getting ready to leave for work, set down her drink – she was sucking up nothing but whipped cream now anyway – and pushed to her feet, favoring her ankle. Before she could take a single step, however, Inuyasha was there and he lifted her up into his arms with no warning.

At her blushingly surprised look, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and remarked, “You didn’t actually think I was gonna make you walk up those stairs, did you?”

Her sheepish smile was answer enough. Inuyasha snorted quietly before leaving his apartment with her in his arms, her bag of meds resting on her stomach.

“I could have scooted again,” Kagome murmured, slightly indignant, but Inuyasha merely snorted again and started up the stairs. “What? It’s a perfectly acceptable mode of transportation.”

“Yeah, for toddlers and—”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Inuyasha smirked but remained silent. He got a swat to the chest for his troubles anyway and had to swallow the snicker that welled up.

He had Kagome open the door for him when he reached the second floor, carrying her into the living room and setting her on the giant L-shaped sectional couch. There was no way in hell she carried that up here by herself so it must have been left over from the previous tenant. He briefly left her to retrieve the crutches he’d bought and came back to prop them against the couch, conveniently ignoring her jaw-dropped expression.

“Where the hell—”

“Use ‘em,” he said, cutting her off. “And stay off your feet. Understood?”

She blinked. “But—”

Inuyasha crossed his arms with a no-nonsense glare and Kagome huffed, wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, Mom,” she muttered, folding her own arms across her chest and looking every bit the petulant child as she sunk back against the cushions.

His lips twitched at how cute she looked pouting like that.

“You want it to heal or don’t you?” he asked, arching a brow, and he took Kagome’s defeated sigh as his answer. “Two weeks. You’ll live, I promise.”

“Says you,” Kagome murmured, making a face, and Inuyasha had grin that time.

“Take your meds,” he said, nodding to the paper bag beside her. He hesitated a little before adding on, “Text me if anything happens. I’ll do my best to swing by.”

Kagome’s face positively lit up and she smiled at him. “Really? You’ll leave work just to check on me?”

His face grew warm and he mentally cursed.

“Obviously. You’re like a child. Can’t leave you unsupervised for long or you’ll burn the house down.”

Kagome’s smile abruptly vanished and she scowled at him.

“Jerk. Get out of my apartment. Shoo.”

Bestowing upon her a very fangy smirk, Inuyasha’s amber eyes glinted with mischievous delight as he fired off a two-fingered salute, spun on his heal, and headed for the front door. Before he disappeared out of sight, however, he stopped, half-turned, and pinned her with a hard stare.

“And for the love of god, woman, lock your fucking door, will ya?”

That said, he ducked out of view. Seconds later Kagome heard the sound of her apartment door closing with a soft click and then heavy footsteps descending the stairs.

“‘Lock your fucking door,’” Kagome mocked him under her breath but nevertheless got up to do as he bade.

She adjusted the crutches to a desirable height and awkwardly shuffled her way into the kitchen. It had been years since the last time she’d used these things – if she recalled correctly, when she’d dislocated her knee in middle school – and it would take some time getting used to them again. She also remembered they were torture on the pits, so she made a mental note to grab some rubber bands and dish towels for extra cushion.

Kagome had to admit, however, that as much as she despised the things, she was also eternally grateful that Inuyasha had actually taken the time to buy her some. Her expression softened as she hobbled over to the counter where her phone still sat. Part of her still couldn’t believe he’d actually purchased a pair of crutches or her on top of retrieving her medicine as well, and abruptly all irritation toward the half-demon vanished. Would she ever stop being grateful for that man?

Sighing, Kagome leaned against the counter and allowed a fond smile to curl her lips upward as she swiped her finger across the dark screen. Nothing happened, and she wrinkled her nose. It must have died while she was downstairs. Ah, well. Her only charger was in her bedroom at the moment so she’d just plug it in and check it later.

She tucked the device into her bra since her leggings didn’t have pockets, slowly limped her way to her bedroom, and plugged it into charge before retreating to the kitchen. She deliberated for a moment on how to do this without falling or dropping everything and she ended up shoving the very cold soda can into her bra – yelping as the chilled aluminum made contact with her skin – and carrying a bag of chips in her mouth as she gimped back into the living room.

Hey, if she was being banished to her couch all day because of a bum ankle, she needed snacks, dammit.

Then, reclining back into the couch and kicking up the footrest, Kagome settled in for a relaxing day of Netflix and a whole lot of nothing else.

Oh joy.

When Inuyasha walked through the apartment house’s front door a little after 10 pm, instead of going straight to his door he turned and climbed the stairs instead. He hadn’t received any texts from her, SOS related or otherwise, and the one he’d sent her to check in had gone unanswered so he was just a little on edge as he stalked to her front door. He realized her phone might be on vibrate or something and she hadn’t heard it, or was in another room, or countless other possibilities, but still, he’d feel better knowing she was alright and knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep without making sure.

He turned the knob and a colorful string of curses left his mouth. Unlocked. Because of course.

“Goddammit, woman,” he hissed and opened the door, peeking inside. It was dark, save for the glow of the television from the other room. Heaving a sigh, he walked in and headed toward the living room, unsurprised to find her sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

He shook his head, crossing the room and kneeling by the couch where she slept. Her mouth was open as little snores escaped past her lips and a trail of drool was leaking from the corner of her mouth. Inuyasha snorted quietly but had to grin, unthinkingly reaching forward to gently wipe it away with his thumb.

Kagome stirred and emitted a soft sigh. His ears flicked at the sound and he watched as blearily brown eyes cracked open just a smidge, blinking rapidly.

“N’yasha?” she breathed and sighed, eyes falling closed once again.

His heart clenched and he swallowed hard. Instead of answering, he wordlessly slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her up into his arms. Kagome curled against him and his stomach did that swooping sensation again as he headed down the hallway to put her to bed.

“Wench,” he murmured, carefully depositing her onto her bed and covering her with a blanket. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You know that?”

Kagome murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and then stilled, her breaths even and deep. Watching her, Inuyasha had the random thought that her eyelashes were thick and dark resting against the gentle swell of her cheeks. His eyes dropped to her mouth and he recalled how earlier, right before he’d left to run errands, the urge to kiss her had slammed into him so hard he’d had to walk away before he gave in and kissed her senseless.

Now the urge was back and Inuyasha growled to himself, shaking his head. Goddammit, what was wrong with him? He’d never been affected by a woman this much before, let alone one he barely even knew. True, he felt comfortable with her more than anyone he’d ever met, could easily admit that he was attracted to her physically, but none of that explained any of the other, more instinctive urges that were sweeping over him. Like protect her, provide for her, take care of her on a level that was way more than just platonic.

Staring down at her now as she slept, Inuyasha was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu and he barely refrained from groaning aloud as he dragged a hand down his face. Were all his nights with her living above him going to end like this?

Kagome grunted, made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and then emitted a loud, unattractive snore as she flopped onto her back.

Inuyasha covered his mouth to muffle his rumbling laugh, abruptly deciding that…yeah.

He could definitely live with that.

“Goodnight, Kagome,” he whispered and brushed some hair away from her face before quietly leaving her bedroom. He turned off her TV and made sure her door was locked before closing it behind him, wondering at the mild ache he felt in his chest as he descended the stairs to get some shuteye in his own apartment. 

[fandom-necromancer]

Fond memories

This was prompted on the Cyberpunk discord by Inquisitive! Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 | Ship: V/Johnny

When V arrived at the narrow street the client had specified to meet up at, they were a little over an hour early. They had planned in more time for scouting the place first as usual, but that had taken them less time than first anticipated. The street was almost deserted, the whole area around it filled with apartments that were inhabited by those who could afford the city – neither poor nor rich but also the part of the population with the lowest crime rate. The small market next to it made it the perfect place to have an undisturbed talk while still keeping a low profile to any onlookers.

All in all, it meant waiting for V. Not one of their favourite activities, but also not the worst that could have happened here. They found a crate on the ground that looked at least mostly clean and  sat down, leaning back and absent-mindedly keeping an eye out for any person approaching or looking their way. They were sitting there for about ten minutes, when suddenly a familiar feeling smell wafted over. They couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from, but they felt their stomach grumble as it was definitely the smell of freshly cooked food. They had smelled it before, but couldn’t remember in what context, only that it must have been a happy occasion as the memory of it was fond and V smiled faintly.

As if to interrupt that momentary happiness, Johnny appeared out of nowhere. V had been ready to sink back in on themselves, sigh and wait for the cocky bastard to disappear again, but something threw them off. Johnny wasn’t looking at them for once but towards the market with a similarly fond smile. V shook their head and groaned. ‘Is that one of your memories again?’ ‘Could be’, the engram answered absent-mindedly. ‘You may not know it, but not far from here there was a snack stall once that smelled just like that. Best food in Night city.’ V took in the scent more intentionally and frowned. ‘No, actually I think I do. Used to crash there a few times as a kid’ ‘We should go see if it’s still the same’, Johnny suggested, and V could feel his excitement.

V thought about it but shrugged and stood up in the end. They still had time until the client would be here and for once Johnny didn’t curse left and right. So, V followed the construct to the little shop, really not more than a snack bar with a few small tables. It was far from cosy but promised a refuge if you stumbled through the city drunk at 3 AM. And the food smelled heavenly.

V sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and Johnny joined them on the empty one besides them. Looking at the menu, V smiled as their eyes fell on the mid-prized ramen they used to eat as a teenager running the streets unknowing their dangers and feeling like the world belonged to them. As they still had dreams and completely confident, they would reach them. ‘Sounds like a good time.’ V looked at the ghost next to them disbelievingly. Something genuinely nice coming from him of all persons? ‘Yeah, I know. Shocking’, he huffed and pointed over the counter. ‘Someone wants to take your order, V.’

They looked up and threw the woman an apologetic smile, ordering their food and watching how it was freshly made. Well as fresh as it was possible with mass produced noodles of unclear origin and scop-paste mixed into the soup to give it at least some nutritional value. But it was far better than the kibble from their childhood and that might be mostly why they remembered the smell so intensely. ‘I used to come here too. When I was still alive.’ V didn’t really indulge him with an answer, but at the same time didn’t show him where to stick those words, so quiet listening was already better than most of their talks. ‘Back when Samurai was still just a small band begging to play in some shady bar. We only just started and used to crash here after a gig. Good times.’ V received their bowl and plucked some chopsticks to start eating. It wasn’t good by any means objective, but nostalgia and the memories it brought up from two lives did their part making it the best goddamn ramen they had ever eaten. ‘Hard to think you consider something “good times” when you didn’t get to blow up something’, V commented while hastily eating only pausing to chew. ‘Music is…’ Johnny shook his head and looked away to the street. ‘Ah, fuck, why am I even bothering explaining it to some braindead merc, literally a living corpse…’

V sighed. They knew Johnny was just a program, the remnants of a person invading their brain and killing them slowly but surely. But it was easy to forget when the Rockstar-slash-terrorist sat next to them, his memories sometimes as vivid to them as if they were their own. V felt the way Johnny thought of his music: A desperate attempt at venting what the corporations had done to him? Maybe, but also a means of rebellion in a world that didn’t care, that crushed a single person and their needs like an ant on their path to money, fame and power. Johnny was an asshole. Someone who – ironically similar to the corpos – put himself first, the rest of the world second. He was someone who was blinded by their rage and vengeance and narcistic worldview. But somewhere, on a deeper level, V understood him. ‘Must feel like I’m fucking with your head if you come to that conclusion.’ It was spoken drily, but his tone had changed to something a tidbit more friendly. Or tired? ‘Well, no one knows how this shit works’, V commented. ‘Could be you already overwrote my mind. Could be that even a bad person can have logical reasons for their actions.’ ‘Talking philosophy, V? Looks bad on you. People that do so usually have a brain and use it.’ ‘Shut up.’

And there they were again. Shoved into a dead end of silence, left to their own thoughts that were automatically broadcasted to the other with only their unwillingness to speak about it as a fake façade of privacy. And worse, V felt bad about it for some reason. Neither of them were here on their own volition. Silverhand was dead, killed fifty years ago, soul pulled out of his body to waste an eternity in an endless incorporate cold. And V? V should have been just another body washed up in the see of mercenaries trying to make a name for themselves in a city that forgot them in a second. And maybe, just maybe, now it could be their chance to change something. If not in the world, then at least for the one of them that survived. V almost expected the construct to speak up at that thought, but Johnny stayed silent.

‘What did you eat when you were here?’, they tentatively asked, ready to regret the question immediately. ‘Thought I should shut up.’ ‘I have fifteen minutes until I have to meet up with the client. Either we talk or spend the time in silence.’ They lifted the bowl up and downed the water to get back to pick out the remnants of the noodles on the bottom. ‘The Pad Thai here is amazing. The way the shrimp taste you can almost forget they aren’t real.’ ‘Sounds good’, V mumbled, downing the rest of the soup and paying for their food.

‘I think I’ll try that next.’

[pickalilywrites]

happy halloween! i wrote this lil thing after watching this trailer for this show called Zombie Detective! I haven’t actually watched it so idk much about it beyond the premise, but i worked parts of it into this lil au ^^ hopefully you guys think it’s fun! the idea is that it’ll be a series but idk when i’ll get back to it, haha, but i do have future plans for it! also, can you believe this is my second erejean? crazy! i thought i would have written for them more haha

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How To Disguise Yourself As a Human Being

EreJean. Zombie Detective AU. 

How to Be a Zombie series. 

10108 words. 

Read on AO3!

I’m alive. 

It doesn’t occur to Eren, after digging through six feet of dirt, that this isn’t entirely true. While it’s true that he’s alive, it would be more accurate to say that he’s alive again. Then again, it doesn’t quite hit him - as he breathes in his first breath of fresh air in what feels like months - that he had died in the first place. 

To be fair, this isn’t how Eren had pictured himself going out: knocked out in the middle of a midnight stroll through the forested hills that occupied the south of the small town he'd grown up in only to be choked to death, his strangled breaths unheard by the slumbering town. He had pictured himself going out with a bang, something like a gunshot and not snuffed out so easily like a candle. Preferably, it would be in his thirties (forties, if he were lucky), giving him enough time to make a noticeable mark on the world. But, of course, the universe is unpredictable, unjust, and, above all, a huge bitch. 

All Eren can think when he first crawls out of the earth is that the sunlight is so bright it’s practically blinding. He holds out a hand to shade his eyes only to realize something strange - his hand is frighteningly thin and pale and veiny. His tanned skin is now a sickening shade of gray and Eren can easily see the veins of purple and blue running underneath the thin layer of skin. He looks down at himself - his torn up clothing covered in dirt, his bare feet the same color as the rest of his sickly skin, and the dry brittle hair hanging from his head. Dried blood stains his clothing, the only bit of color on him. He realizes then, sitting next to the six-foot hole that was meant to be his grave, that he hadn’t just been attacked that night. He had been killed. Murdered. He was dead. And now he’s alive again. 

Nobody tells you how to deal with being a zombie. They tell you how to deal with a zombie but never what to do if you become one yourself. It turns out that humans are far more equipped to handle zombies than post-apocalyptic media would have you think. You could probably even make it if you were a senior citizen as long as you were able to raise your cane above your head. It’s only occasionally that a person gets eaten by a zombie now because fighting one off isn’t actually all that difficult. Eren knows the basics: aim for the head because the brain is what controls a zombie and their skulls are as soft as eggshells, zombies are slow creatures but you should still think fast, and never ever let a zombie bite you. 

The last rule has Eren salivating as he realizes that it’s been a while since he’s eaten anything. He lays down on the ground, hand on his stomach as it rumbles. He tries to will away the cannibalistic urge that’s eating away at him by thinking of anything except his desire to feast on human flesh. He wants to be hungry for human food: miso ramen with its rich, salty broth and succulent slices of char siu pork with sweet kernels of corn and a soft-boiled egg on the side, okonomiyaki batter sizzling on the grill and topped with shrimp and green onions, or even crispy karaage with a squeeze of lemon and dipped in mayo. But Eren doesn’t crave any of it. His stomach growls in dissatisfaction, banishing his thoughts of food and replacing them with more horrifying alternatives: human skin breaking between his teeth and salty on his tongue, soft tissue melting in his mouth, taut muscle chewed up and swallowed hungrily. Eren craves sustenance in a way he never has before. 

A bush rustles nearby and his eyes flicker over to it. Eren doesn’t move; staying still as a zombie is much easier than it ever was when he was a human. There is nothing but the wind sweeping up leaves in little gusts for a moment, and then, Eren sees it: a rabbit timidly making its way out of the bush. Its wide brown eyes stare at Eren, ready to scurry away at any sign of movement. The rabbit’s little pink nose twitches as it hops ever closer to the reanimated corpse that is Eren Jaeger. It’s such a tiny thing. This might even be its first time experiencing the fall - crisp autumn leaves underfoot, chilly morning air as the temperature cooled from summer to fall, and the sun setting earlier and earlier each night. It hasn’t lived nearly as long as it should, and yet Eren can’t help but salivate as the rabbit approaches him, imagining how satisfying it would be to plunge his teeth in its tender flesh. 

The rabbit stops where Eren sits, leaning down to sniff at the hole in the knee of his jeans. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. 

Before he can even think, Eren grabs the animal in his grimy hands and bites into its neck. The sound of teeth digging into raw flesh is disgusting, but Eren can’t find it in himself to stop, taking bite after bite, moaning hungrily even as the rabbit struggles in his grasp and blood dribbles down his chin and onto his hand. Eren takes a bite from the rabbit's neck, blood spurting as his teeth tear at a vein, and feels the creature struggle uselessly until finally growing limp in his hands. He eats the rest of it - fur and flesh and blood and all - and feels it fill him like no meal ever has before. He doesn’t know how he had ever eaten before. In his previous life, he couldn’t imagine anything better than well-cooked meat: grilled, fried, roasted. He loved it marinated, covered in spices so that the different flavors could blend together and bring out the umami of the meat. Now, he realizes those extra flavors only masked the true taste of meat - gamey with a slightly sweet aftertaste - and cooking it destroyed its integrity. There’s something invigorating about eating raw meat, chewing through tender tissue and tough tendons, breaking flesh down, grinding it between his teeth. He’s had a taste and now he can’t imagine it any other way. 

The rabbit was a small meal, one that did well to satisfy his hunger for the time being but fed his desire to search for more flesh. Rabbits are lean - small creatures with soft tissue, its only tough muscle in its legs. Eren can only imagine what other animals would taste like. He wants the taste of deer on his tongue, its meat smooth and firm as he bites down into its flesh, its rich and earthy flavor melting in his mouth. Raw pork would be meatier, fattier, sweet and savory at the same time. Chicken should be lighter, not nearly as rich or pork or venison, but nice and juicy as Eren tears his teeth into it. Beef should be tender, thick and meaty and earthy all at once. And human flesh … 

Eren licks his lips at the thought of sinking his teeth into a human’s shoulder but quickly shakes his head as if that would be enough to banish the horrific thought. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the smear of blood across his skin until he falls on his back with a heavy thud. Eren wants to feel disgusted at himself, to be ashamed at the monster he’s become, but his stomach grumbles. Even as he clutches at it in a helpless attempt to muffle the sounds of his hunger, all Eren can think about is how terribly dissatisfying his meal was and how he longs for something more. 

A moan escapes his lip, frustrated and lonely, and Eren wonders how he’ll ever be able to survive his second life. 

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Swapping from a traditional zombie diet to a vegetarian alternative, Eren discovers, is actually very easy if you’re able to distance yourself from humans. Well, it’s not really vegetarian if he’s still eating meat, but at least it’s not human meat. That has to count for something, right?

Eren had never really appreciated living in a small town until now. When he was in college, he had jumped at the chance to attend a college in the big city. It was fun; he got to have class with hundreds of kids instead of the normal ten or twenty and met a lot of new people. There were clubs and the chance to have an actual nightlife instead of just having a drink at the convenience store down the block because that was the only place that was open at night. Eren even enjoyed sharing an apartment with four other guys even if they could all barely pay rent and there was never a single clean spot in their shared space. Moving back home was a disappointment, but there really wasn't much else he could do when renting a place in the city was ridiculously expensive and, despite receiving his bachelor’s degree, he couldn’t land a decent job. His hometown was so quiet and dull in comparison, and some houses on the outskirts are so far apart that it takes fifteen minutes to get to the next one, but those are things that are actually very ideal for zombie life. 

In all of his time as a zombie, Eren has only encountered a handful of humans and only from a distance. He doesn’t dare go near the town. He doesn’t think he’s ready for it, at least not yet. He wants to go through more training - learn how to keep space between him and his desires while learning how to satisfy himself with the meals he can get. Camping in the hills at the side of town is helpful, Eren finds. Having grown up here, he knows exactly what places to keep clear of so that he doesn’t run into any innocent townspeople or tourists that have come for a leisurely stroll on the trail. Being at the edge of town also means that Eren’s close to the farm at the foot of the hills, which means he always has a source of alternative meat to feed on when he feels peckish. 

He used to hate the old farm. Even if he was on the other side of town, Eren swore he could still smell the stench of manure even if his mother told him it was ridiculous. Sometimes he would even hear the roosters crowing at the crack of dawn, which didn’t even make sense because Eren didn’t live anywhere near the farm or at least he lived far enough away that he shouldn’t hear roosters shrieking at an ungodly hour every single morning. The other townspeople adored the farm because it was a source of locally-sourced meat that they could trust, nothing like the imported beef and poultry from outside the town. Eren, not understanding the ethics in the meat industry, didn’t care for any of that at the time. He just knew that everything about the farm - its stench, its noises, its entire presence - annoyed him, so he once suggested that he and his friends go cow-tipping. All but one of his friends agreed and so they all sneaked out only to be stopped when they reached Armin, the only person who didn’t want to go. 

“You know you can’t actually go cow-tipping, right?” Armin yawned sleepily when they had snuck into his room to drag him out with them. 

“Why? ‘Cause it’s ‘bad’?” Eren asked, putting the word in quotes to show that he didn’t care and rolling his eyes for good measure. 

“Well, yeah. Not to mention we’d be trespassing,” Armin explained. “And, like, cows don’t even sleep standing up. Horses do that.” 

“Oh.” 

Needless to say, Eren’s plans for that night were thwarted and he had another reason to hate the farm. Now, Eren can’t imagine what he would do without it. 

Eren doesn’t eat at the farm, at least not at first. He keeps an eye on it, noting when the farmer’s truck is in, when it tends to disappear, and when the lights are on at night. When he dares to sneak into the farm, he takes a mental count of all the animals - cows, goats, pigs, chickens. Eren is certain he can get away with eating the chickens as long as he does so sparingly. Maybe he could eat one a day, but the dwindling population of poultry would be noticeable within a number of days. He takes a mental note of the days where the farmer lets the animals out to graze, especially the cows and the goats. The pigs, Eren thinks, are probably the easiest for him to eat. They’re far from hairless, but they’re not as annoyingly furry as cows and goats. Of course, they’re not nearly as tasty, too fatty and rich to Eren’s taste. He likes things with more muscle, something with a bit of chew to it, but disposing of bones is a hassle too. In the meantime, Eren feeds on rabbits and birds he manages to catch in the forest, all the while dreaming of something more satisfying to fill his belly. 

The first time Eren sneaks in to eat a chicken, the sight of the poultry in front of him is so horribly enticing that he devours it on sight. He doesn’t even think, just lunges for the nearest feathered fowl and bites into it even as it flaps its wings and tries to scratch at his face with its claws. One good bite to the neck - punctuated with a large crunch! - and the chicken was lifeless in his hands and he ate away, occasionally spitting out the feathers between bites, while the other chickens clucked noisily around him. It’s only when he’s finished off his meal, polished the meat off its bones, that Eren realizes the ruckus he’s made and, upon hearing footsteps approaching, flees from the scene and disappears into the forest. 

It’s the first time Eren makes that mistake, but it’s far from the last. Although he only makes the trips to the farmhouse only once or twice a week at most, he has too many close calls to count. There are traps the farmer begins to set up to catch the culprit. They’re harmless at first, just traps that set off an alarm when tripped to alert the farmer, but they grow more and more violent - little mouse traps that snap at Eren’s toes, vicious bear traps with jagged metal teeth, steel conibear traps meant to break his body in two - and yet Eren manages to evade every one. Being a zombie makes him slower, but it also makes him more careful, more perceptive of the things around him. Human Eren wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

He still dreams of being able to return to society and live like a normal human being, but it has a slim chance of becoming reality, Eren thinks mournfully as he chomps down on the leg of a goat he had mercilessly bitten into just moments ago. Sure, he hasn’t eaten a human since he had awakened from the dead, but who’s to say that he couldn’t if given the chance? His craving to bite into human flesh, to feel it melt on his tongue, to have it fill his belly, is still one that burns in the pit of his stomach every night, but he’s learned to ignore it so far. As much as he wanted to chase after every stray hiker that had happened to wander into his line of sight, Eren has never allowed the desire to consume him, instead running away and biting into the meat of his arm because he wanted something - anything - to sink his teeth into and the taste of his rotting flesh helped to banish any want for human meat. 

A sudden thump pulls Eren away from his train of thought and he realizes with horror that the farmer is pulling open the barn door. There’s no way to escape, so he has no choice but to hide. 

Cursing under his breath, Eren discards the rest of the goat, leaving its carcass behind as he scuttled to the pile of hay in the corner of the barn. It smelled of dried grass and the stench of the farm. He hoped it would be enough to mask his own putrid scent. 

The clomp, clomp, clomp of the farmer’s boots against the wooden floor grow closer as he comes to inspect the abandoned carcass of his half-eaten goat. Eren watches through the hay as the farmer kneels, pulling what’s left of the goat into his lap and mourns the loss of the poor creature. 

“Those goddamn wolves,” the farmer moans, his voice filled with grief. It’s not unlike the sound of an animal as it cries for mercy. It’s the same sad tone, desperate and confused. The thought of the farmer, his throat in Eren’s hands as he holds the farmer beneath him and bites into the man’s face, with a lonely cry of anguish escaping his lips as he breathes his last makes Eren salivate. 

“Pull yourself together, Jaeger,” Eren mutters under his breath, but his teeth continue to grind as he imagines the taste of the farmer on his tongue - a good mix of tender tissue and tough muscle, like beef but so much better. A hungry growl escapes his mouth before he can stop himself and he hastily shoves a fist inside his mouth, biting down hard until he tastes old rusted metal on his tongue and his tears sting at the taste of his bitter flesh. 

The sound is just enough to catch the farmer’s attention and the man looks up to where Eren is. He stares at the corner where Eren is hiding, eyes unknowingly gazing over the hay bale that conceals the zombie. He continues to look but, finding no other disturbance, returns to look mournfully at the goat in his lap. 

“We’re going to have to lock this place up better if they’re eating the damn goats too,” the farmer says with a shake of his head. With a sigh, he stands up, hoisting the goat’s remains over his shoulder and walking out of the barn. 

Eren breathes more easily when the door of the barn shuts with a hard thud. He crawls out of the hay bale, brushing off the bits of dried grass that stick to his clothing and hair. A little wistfully, his eyes rest on the bloody stain in the stall that had once housed the goat. He had gotten a good taste of it, but he was unable to finish his meal. Hunting for a rabbit in the dark to satisfy his hunger is going to be a pain in the ass. Still, it’s not all a loss. 

In all his time as a zombie, Eren has never been in such close proximity with a human, had never stayed that still in front of a human and not given in to his urge to run away lest he does the unfathomable. He had never trusted himself to not give in to his nature, but tonight is proof that he’s not a monster, at least not completely. At the very least, he’s capable of staying close to a human without eating them. 

Eren rubs at his mouth, wiping at the blood leftover from his last meal. He’s starting to think that reintegrating himself into society isn’t completely impossible but if he’s going to do this, he’s going to need a little help. 

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After careful deliberation, Eren realizes that there are really only a handful of people that are equipped to deal with his reanimation. His first thought was to return home because any mother would be overjoyed to discover that her son who had gone missing has suddenly reappeared, but the same cannot be said for a mother who discovers that her missing son has returned as a zombie. If anything, the shock of finding out her son is still alive - alive again, actually - might kill his mother, and that’s something that Eren wants to avoid. 

There are plenty of people in town who knew who Eren was when he was alive, but not very many people that Eren would consider close enough to turn to even if he were in dire need of help. He’s never been the most popular guy in town and he doubts showing up as a zombie will win over any hearts. Out of his friends, he’s probably closest to Armin, who he’s known since they were in kindergarten. Going to Armin for help wouldn’t actually be a bad idea. He’s hands down the most intelligent person Eren has ever met and the town pride for attending Sina University, one of the most difficult universities to be admitted to. He’s also the most loyal, surprising everyone except Eren when he eventually returned to their hometown to work as a civil service worker because he wanted to help improve their town. At first glance, Armin would be the most obvious choice to seek help from, but there’s also a very big issue with Armin: he’d probably faint at the sight of his best friend as a zombie and, well, Eren’s not sure he’d be able to handle himself if an unconscious body dropped in front of him just waiting to be feasted on. 

He goes down the rest of his list: Annie would be more equipped to handle a zombie. There’s no doubt that she’d easily kick Eren’s ass whether or not he was a zombie, but that in itself was an issue too. She’s the type of person to kick ass and ask questions later, and he doesn’t think he’d get too far if she smashed his head to pieces. Eren thinks he’d be able to negotiate with Reiner better, but he’s not sure his friend would be able to help him. Reiner would probably laugh his ass off after finding out Eren had somehow been turned into a zombie and, frankly, Eren isn’t in the mood to deal with that. Thus, after a month of careful planning, Eren finds himself at the front of Jean’s door praying that his friend still lives in this sorry excuse of an apartment. 

He reaches out and knocks on the door with a tentative rap of his knuckles, stepping back and swallowing nervously as he listens to the heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. Keeping his head down, he pulls his hood closer over his face, hoping to shield himself from any curious eyes that might notice him visiting Jean at four in the morning. 

“Who the fuck-?” Jean mumbles as he pulls open the door. A bat dangles from his hand, but he just scowls when he looks at Eren in the face. “Even if you aren’t a goddamn zombie, I will bash your head in.” He starts to lift the bat but Eren hurriedly lifts his hands to shield his face. 

“Wait, Jean!” Eren says. His voice is a lot more hoarse than it used to be. He doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t used it in god knows how long or if it’s because zombies don’t have the same vocal cords as humans. He clears his throat. “It’s me. It’s Eren.” 

“Eren?” Jean lowers his bat as he squints and takes a good look at Eren in his tattered hoodie, scraggly hair covering most of his face. He relaxes and then makes room for Eren to squeeze by. “Jesus, you look like hell.” 

Jean’s probably right, but it doesn’t mean Eren likes hearing it. It’s not as if Jean looks any better in his rumpled Yoda pajamas and bedhead. 

“Were you going to hit me over the head with that?” Eren asks, still eyeing the bat warily. 

“Yeah, I mean, zombies and everything,” Jean says with a shrug. He shuts the door behind Eren and gestures for him to take a seat at the dining table. The brunette takes a seat himself and yawns, not even bothering to cover his mouth. “But what about you? Nobody’s seen you in over, what, a year? Your mom cried about you the entire time, calling up everyone she knew every night just to see if anyone had seen or heard from you. Everyone thought you died.” 

“Oh, well …,” Eren says sitting there awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, if he should put them on the table or fold them or what. They end up in his lap so he can stare at them and avoid making eye contact with Jean. “They wouldn’t be wrong. Er, at least not exactly.” 

Jean freezes and then his eyes widen, fully awake now. Slowly, he leans across the table and reaches out until his hand is on the hood of Eren’s sweatshirt. They stay there like that, staring at each other while Jean’s hand rests on Eren’s hood until Jean finally pulls it back and reveals Eren’s true appearance. 

“Fucking hell, Eren,” Jean says exasperatedly, burying his face in his hands. 

It’s not how Eren had imagined telling Jean, but it’s not like people made pamphlets for this stuff.

“It’s not like I planned this!” Eren whines, slumping down in his chair and pulling the hoodie over his head again. It’s kind of embarrassing to come out as a zombie. “I just … woke up one day like this.” 

“And you just decided to walk up to my door and let me know then? And then what? Eat me?” Jean hisses. 

Although Eren is grateful that Jean is keeping his voice down, he wishes his friend would stop rubbing his face in exasperation. He finds it so … distracting the way Jean rubs his rosy red cheeks, soft and squishy under his palms. If Eren could just take a bite out of them …

He shakes his head violently. “Stop!” Eren says more to himself than to Jean. He startles himself with his own voice, so he proceeds more calmly, his voice lowered. “I mean … no, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m kind of like a vegetarian anyway.”

“Oh, so if I plop a salad down in front of you you'll be happy eating that instead?” Jean sits back with a snort, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps flex, muscles bulging. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean was ever that toned before, but turning into a zombie has made him a lot more perceptive to these types of things. 

Eren sucks his cheeks in to keep from drooling. “No, I said kind of like a vegetarian. I still eat meat just not, you know, human meat.” It’s supposed to be a good thing, but he still winces as he says it. Not eating humans isn’t really an accomplishment. 

“Good for you,” Jean says dryly. He raises an eyebrow. “So what are you here for? Don’t tell me you want me to … to mercy kill you.” They’ve never been the best of friends but Jean still shudders at the thought of having to do such a thing. 

“No, no, nothing like that!” Eren says hastily. He wonders why those have to be his only options: killing people or being killed himself. Under his breath, he mumbles, “If I wanted someone to kill me, I probably would have asked Annie.” 

“Yeah, she probably would have done it without batting an eyelash. Maybe even without you having to ask,” Jean says and chuckles in spite of the situation. The sound of his laugh makes the atmosphere less tense and Eren relaxes in his chair. Across from him, Jean looks at him with an expression of curiosity rather than one of suspicion. “So if you’re not here to eat me and you don’t want me to kill you, then what are you here for, Jaeger?” 

Eren purses his lips and looks at Jean, wondering exactly how close they are. He would never put him at the top of his friend list although there have been occasions where Jean has been the first name on his hit list. They’ve gone through far too many fights over everything and nothing over the course of their friendship - over copying homework back in middle and high school, over whether or not the other owed them money, over who accidentally left Armin behind, and things that are too trivial to remember now. Asking to disguise your zombie friend as a normal human being is probably the ultimate test of friendship. 

“I want you to help me.” 

Jean sighs but, Eren notes, it’s not a rejection. He gets up from the table and runs his hand through his hair. “It’s way too early for this. I need coffee.” He opens a cupboard and pulls out a pack of instant coffee. Pausing, he looks over at Eren. “Do zombies drink coffee?” 

Eren was never a fan of coffee even when he was alive. Now, the idea of drinking something so bitter makes him want to gag even more. Still, Eren shrugs. “Sure.” 

----------

After a conversation over some (very disgusting coffee), Eren and Jean have agreed to a couple of things. 

First is that, while they shouldn’t openly disclose the fact that Eren is a zombie, they should most definitely let a few people in the know because there’s only so much Eren and Jean can do on their own. Eren can’t have his mother knowing. It would probably break her poor heart to know. But they should at least let Armin know. Out of their friend group, he’s undeniable the smartest one. They’d have to break the news to him in a way that doesn’t frighten him, but Eren thinks that it’ll be manageable. They were debating on whether or not they should let Annie know - Jean was heavily against it but Eren was all for it - and agreed to let her know after consulting Armin for his opinion. They didn’t even want to think about Reiner and Bertholdt right now. 

Second is that Eren can no longer feed on wild animals, but Jean will provide him with a supply of raw meat. The idea of eating meat that’s gone through some processing isn’t ideal, but Eren will take what he can get. At least Jean promised to get him some pig blood to douse the meat in too or else it would be even less appealing. 

(“How do you even eat with those teeth of yours?” Jean asks, trying to peer into Eren’s mouth as the zombie scowls at him. “I mean, you have incisors and stuff, but your molars aren’t really ideal for tearing up food.” 

“Oh, well, it kind of just … gets everywhere,” Eren admits unhappily. 

“Disgusting.”) 

Third is that Eren has to have a makeover. 

“I can’t believe you still have that shitty job at the hair salon,” Eren mutters, referencing the hair salon in the center of town where everyone gets their hair cut. He stopped going there in middle school because he was tired of only having to choose between a buzz cut and a bowl cut, the only hairstyles that were offered to boys below the age of fifteen. 

“Yeah, well, be glad because you’re in desperate need of a haircut,” Jean replies. He pulls a sheet over Eren’s shoulders, holding it in back with a safety pin. He threads his fingers through Eren’s limp hair and frowns. “You can’t make a prolific career as a makeup artist here unless you’re super passionate about high school girls going to prom or brides and their bridesmaids coming in for the occasional wedding. At least cosmetology school covered how to hold scissors.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles, suddenly feeling guilty. He’s felt unhappy and unfulfilled living in this small town, but he’s never really thought about how his friends have felt. Armin and Annie seemed more than content and Reiner enjoyed having his family nearby. Jean would complain every once in a while, but he never seemed too serious about it until now. He must feel as if his potential is wasted after getting a degree in cosmetology only to spend his days cutting hair for his neighbors down the street. 

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s really not that big of a deal just working here.” Jean takes out his water bottle and spritzes Eren’s hair before running a brush through it. He takes out a pair of clippers, opening and closing them with a few clicks as he approaches Eren. “Do you mind how much I hack off? It’s been a while since you had it cut short and it probably wouldn’t look as … greasy.” 

“Hack away.” 

Eren’s hair flutters to the floor with a few quick snips, the only sound that fills the room. 

“But you’re not like the other zombies,” Jean observes. After snipping most of Eren’s hair off, he trades his scissors for electric clippers that buzz to life with a monotone whir. 

“I hope you’re not going to ask me about it,” Eren murmurs, eyes closed as he feels the clippers shear off the hair at the back of his neck. The feeling of Jean’s finger running through his hair, fingers brushing against the newly stubbled hair, feels so pleasant that Eren can’t help but lean back into it a little bit. It’s been so long since he’s interacted with another human. He hadn’t realized how much he’s been longing for a simple conversation, a simple touch, until now. 

“Why not? You’re a zombie now, aren’t you?” Jean ruffles the top of Eren’s head, the part he hadn’t trimmed short, and retrieves his scissors again. He leans in front of Eren, brushing the hair forward. He’s meticulous about cutting hair, studying the way it falls in Eren’s face before making the first careful cut. 

“I’m a zombie now,” Eren repeats with a snort, “but that doesn’t make me an expert on this. I’m completely new to this, in case you forgot.” 

Jean’s right, though. Eren isn’t anything like the zombies they’ve seen before. Most of them are just sluggish monsters, feet trailing as they moan and groan out incomprehensible noises before they get their brains smashed in by whoever they managed to run into first - maybe the second-grader down the street or even the mailman going about their rounds. Eren, however, is completely coherent and his existence is very close to that of a normal human being aside from his decayed appearance. He’s not sure if he got lucky and rose up before the worms had gotten to him. 

“You’re not, like, actively rotting, right?” Jean asks suddenly after finishing up on Eren’s bangs. 

“What? No!” Eren says, mortified and offended at the same time. Is he really that disgusting? He wouldn’t dare consider himself handsome now - he probably wouldn’t have considered it even if he were alive - but he feels suddenly self-conscious at Jean’s question. Aside from his sickly gray skin and his slight loss of muscle, he hasn’t decayed much and he hadn’t noticed any further deterioration following his resurrection. And even if he were rotting, it’s not like he could control it. 

“I was just asking,” Jean mutters. 

“Whatever.” 

Eren watches as Jean does some fancy thing with his scissors, cutting away at Eren’s hair. It’s taking far longer than Eren had expected. He probably would have shaved his entire head and been done with it, but Jean has always been more patient when it comes to taking care of appearances. 

“Do I really look that bad?” Eren asks. He kind of wishes he hadn’t, but the words have already left his mouth. Jean can be brutal with his opinion at times. 

Jean pauses for a moment, taking a second to look at Eren. He doesn’t scrutinize Eren the way he sometimes scrutinizes celebrities and models on magazine covers, but the intensity of his gaze still makes the zombie squirm uncomfortably as he makes his analysis. “You’ve looked better,” Jean finally replies, “but you don’t look terrible.” 

“Oh.” It’s not the answer that Eren was expecting (although he’s not sure what kind of answer he wanted in the first place), but he’s content with it. 

His friend goes back to attending to Eren’s hair. “Believe it or not, you might actually look better than when you were dating Historia by the time we’re done.” 

“Historia?” At the mention of his girlfriend, Eren straightens his back, the movement startling Jean. The zombie grimaces apologetically when Jean shoots him a glare. He settles back to his original position and clears his throat, trying not to look too eager as he asks, “How is Historia?” 

“Oh, um,” Jean says. It’s difficult to tell if his delayed answer is because he’s reluctant to respond or if it’s because he’s currently trying to figure out what to do with this stray lock of hair that’s sticking up on Eren��s head. “She’s, ah, dating someone else now.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Stop moving or I’ll buzz off the rest of your hair and give you a mohawk,” Jean scowls, forcibly shoving Eren back into the chair. He cuts a little more hair but stops after seeing the frown on his friend’s face. He reaches out to brush off the hair on Eren’s shoulder and says with a sigh, “I mean, you can’t really blame her. You disappeared without a trace.” 

“Well, sorry for not leaving a message. If I knew I was getting murdered, I probably would have let someone know that I wasn’t coming home!” Eren sniffs. He sits back in his chair with a thud, arms folded across his chest. Historia dating someone else is the least of his problems right now, but he can’t help feeling a little miffed about the whole thing. 

It’s not like he loved Historia or anything super romantic like that, but he did like her a lot and he was certain she reciprocated those feelings. They met during their junior year of college through mutual friends and started dating towards the end of their senior year. Unlike Eren, she came from the bustling city of Sina, so it surprised him that someone from such a big city would take a liking to someone like him. She enjoyed photography, majored in it, and managed to find a job at a news company in the city. After failing to secure a job in the same city, Eren had thought that was the end of the relationship, but she had offered to try long-distance for a while. It worked a lot better than Eren thought it would. The distance between Shiganshina and Sina was too far for them to commute to each other every day, but they settled on seeing each other every other week. Sometimes Eren would come visit Historia, but more often than not she would come and visit him, claiming that the quaint little town had a charming and relaxing atmosphere that she could never find in the city. 

The last time he had seen Historia was a week before he had died. They went for a long walk around the town and he had taken her to the noodle shop he often frequented as a high schooler. She liked the broth and sent her compliments to the chef, an act that charmed the shop owner so much that a complimentary plate of dumplings was sent out to Historia and Eren. 

The last time Eren had spoken to Historia was the night before he died. They were speaking on the phone about the next visit - if Eren should travel to Sina or Historia to Shiganshina - before Eren excused himself to go on a nightly walk in the forest. He promised her he would call her later that night. And then he never did. Shit. 

“It’s not like she wasn’t worried about you,” Jean says. “I mean, she was pissed at first, but she looked for you when we all realized you were missing. We never found you, obviously, and it wasn’t like she was going to stay hung up on you forever. So she started dating someone else.” 

It’s true, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“How long before she started dating someone else?” Eren asks. He probably shouldn’t ask - the answer will most likely make him feel worse than he’s already feeling - but he’s morbidly curious. 

Jean finishes cutting Eren’s hair and ruffles the top of the zombie’s head one last time. “I’m not sure. Maybe half a year? A little longer? It’s not like I saw her regularly after you were gone.” 

“I guess,” Eren mutters a little forlornly. He doesn’t even want to look at his reflection when Jean holds up a mirror, but his eyes flicker up anyway. He takes the mirror in his hand and looks unhappily at his reflection. A hand reaches up to play with his hair, still the same chestnut brown but a little more brittle than it used to be. The sides and back of his hair are shorn short in a neat undercut but the top of his hair is still long, long enough to be swept towards the front and hang in the way of his water, green eyes. Looking at his reflection, his hair is really the only nice-looking thing about him. The rest of him still looks sad and ugly and pale. 

“Let me do your makeup now,” Jean tells him, already opening up his makeup kit. 

“Fine,” Eren sighs. He sets the mirror facedown on the nearby table and frowns as Jean wipes off the dust and grime on his skin with a wet wipe. He doesn’t like how cold and damp it is as Jean cleans his face - as a zombie, Eren finds the cold to be unbearable - and shudders as the wet wipe brushes against his cheek. As Jean finishes up cleaning his face, Eren asks, “Is the person she’s dating … nice?” 

“I guess.” Jean inspects the tiny bottles of moisturizer in his kit before deciding on a small white container with a brand name in neat black print that Eren doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t smell like anything, but it’s cool as Jean gently pats the moisturizer into Eren’s skin. “Historia’s girlfriend actually lives here. She moved here after you disappeared though. Came here after getting a job for our local newspaper. They must have met during one of the searches we did for you and, well.” 

He’s thankful that Jean leaves the sentence unfinished. Eren’s imagination can fill in the blank. He should probably be happy that Historia hasn’t spent the last year worrying about him, but he isn’t thrilled to hear that she’s moved on either. 

“Hey, can you stop frowning?” Jean asks. He waves his hand in front of his face, imitating Eren’s expression in an exaggerated manner. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles and your skin is hard enough to work with already.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles.

“‘s fine,” Jean assures. He screws the cap back onto the jar of moisturizers and plucks a makeup sponge, a brush, and a tube of primer. He squirts a little of the primer - a light yellow gel that comes out the size of a dime - before dabbing at it with his makeup sponge and begins to rub it across Eren’s face. “I’ve never had a zombie as a client. If you end up looking good, it means that all those years at cosmetology school weren’t a waste.” 

Even if Jean doesn’t do well and Eren ends up looking like a zombie in clown makeup, Eren doubts that it’ll be a full representation of his friend’s full talents. Jean had a knack for art when they were kids; he knew exactly how to blend colors and shade. He even won a few art contests here and there back in middle school and high school. His talents seemed to transfer naturally when he decided to become a makeup artist, not that he’s had the chance to display them after finishing cosmetology school. Jean’s gifts go pretty much unused now (except for on the few occasions that Annie decides she wants to go out with a little more intricate makeup), but those types of skills just don’t go away. Of course, Eren would never say any of these things to Jean’s face. He had never complimented Jean and he wasn’t going to start now just because he started a new life. 

Instead, Eren says, “You’re painting me yellow.” 

Jean clicks his tongue as he begins to smooth out the primer over Eren’s skin. He’s gentle as he does it and Eren has to wonder if he’s this careful with his other clients or if he’s just cautious because Eren’s zombie skin is more delicate than normal human skin. “It’s just to help with your complexion. It’s really pale now, so this is to help cover up all those veins that we can see and hide the dark circles under your eyes. I probably would have used a pink primer if you were normal. Or something to help moisturize and lighten your skin.” 

Eren hums. He always knew makeup was complicated, but it’s another thing to actually sit down and experience it for himself. He’d never be able to do this on his own. 

“I’m gonna look fresh to death,” Eren murmurs as Jean moves in to apply some foundation. “Drop dead gorgeous.” 

Jean rolls his eyes, pausing to say, “I’m very good at making people look amazing, but I can also make you look even worse if I wanted to.” 

“No, thank you,” Eren squeaks, shutting up immediately. 

Normally, Eren wouldn’t bother making these types of jokes. Puns and play on words is the kind of humor that Reiner usually resorts to. If anything, Eren and the rest of his friends try to avoid it lest they annoy Annie with such nonsensically stupid humor, but Eren feels as if he doesn’t have a choice but to resort to such simple jokes if only to distract himself from everything that’s happening in front of him. 

The thing about being a zombie is that everyone, no matter who they are, looks like an attractive piece of meat. This includes the drunk hikers that stumbled into the woods at night that Eren sometimes saw from a distance, the farmer that Eren never liked as a child because he always smelled of manure, and Jean, the very same Jean that Eren had once called horse-face back when they were kids. Jean has since grown into his exceptionally long face and is, at least what the mothers in town would call, handsome, an adjective that Eren and his zombified brain would heartily agree with. 

Jean is inches away from Eren’s face as he dabs in foundation and concealer - both far too dark to match Eren’s current skin tone but are very close to his original color - and Eren can get a good look at his brown eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. People often said that Jean and Eren had similar eyes when they were children, something Eren didn’t really understand because his eyes were much bigger than Jean and also a completely different color. People would probably have a different opinion now because Eren’s eyes are now wet and watery all the time, but Jean’s brown eyes are bright, shining with intensity despite the dark bags under his eyes. Eren just wants to pluck them out and plop them in his mouth, crunch them between his teeth. They’d probably be as plump and juicy as an octopus ball. 

Up close, everything about Jean looks perfect. Even if Eren has never eaten a human in his life, Jean would probably be his ideal prey. He’s a decent size, tall with some lean muscle and not a lot of fat. Eren could probably feast on him for days. He can’t imagine Jean tasting like beef - he’s not muscular or meaty enough. He’d probably be more similar to the taste of venison: rich and earthy with a slightly sweet aftertaste. The texture would probably be the same too, Eren thinks hungrily, smooth and firm but juicier and more succulent than beef or even pork. 

Even Jean’s skin looks enticing. Eren had never been one to notice people’s skin. He didn’t care about blemishes or acne or anything like that. He still doesn’t care even though he’s sitting so close he can see every mole, every acne scar, every single pore on Jean’s skin. Those little imperfections hardly bother him. Those things won’t affect taste and texture, Eren is sure. He does, upon his close inspection of Jean’s skin, have a newfound appreciation for healthy skin. Jean’s is so shiny and clean that he’s practically glowing. It’s nice and tight pulled over smooth bone and firm muscle, keeping all this flesh nice and juicy. His lips look especially plump and pink, probably treated with some sort of lip care routine that Eren could never be bothered to make into a habit. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean’s lips were always that nice or if he’s just noticing it now. He kind of wants to lean over and have a taste, see if they’re as sweet as they look before he nibbles on them and rips them off, swallowing them whole. 

“You’re drooling,” Jean tells him, snapping Eren out of his ravenous reverie. 

“Sorry,” Eren mutters. He’d probably blush if zombies were capable of blushing. He reaches up to wipe the drool from his mouth but Jean hastily smacks his zombie hand away and wipes at the corner of Eren’s mouth with a wet wipe. 

He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Jean. For one thing, he just promised Jean that he wouldn’t eat any people. As much as Eren wants to chomp on Jean’s face right now, eating his childhood friend would be very traumatic. He knows way too many things about Jean to eat him like he’s some poor rabbit right now. In fact, knowing so much about Jean should be a huge turn-off for Eren. Jean chews on the end of his writing utensils. He has terrible morning breath especially after he’s drunk coffee. He lets his dishes soak overnight before actually washing them. Why would Eren want to eat someone like that? Of course, it’s hard to remember all of that when Jean is sitting in front of Eren the way he is, his back hunched slightly and his brow furrowed in concentration while he nibbles on his bottom lip as he carefully applies some mascara to Eren’s eyelashes to make them look less sparse. 

Looking at Jean is definitely making Eren hungrier, so he squeezes his eyes shut hoping that not seeing Jean will make Eren forget just how delicious-looking his friend is. Unfortunately, that seems to make everything worse. Living by himself and hunting for his own food, becoming a predator to so many unsuspecting prey, has only heightened Eren’s other senses like smell and touch. 

Eren breathes in and his lungs are flooded with Jean’s scent. He smells sweet and earthy, like a mix of a freshly mowed lawn or rain-soaked soil. It overpowers the cold, sterile smell of makeup, all of them claiming to smell like flowers but really just smell like they’ve come out of a factory. Eren wants to bury his face in Jean’s scent, get lost in it as he presses his nose into Jean’s neck. It would probably be even better when he cuts Jean open, his fragrance mixing with the metallic smell of blood. 

God, Eren can just feel the saliva pooling at the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to get scolded for ruining his makeup again, so he tries to swallow it down only to choke on it. 

“You alright?” Jean asks. 

Eren chances a glance at his friend, cracking open an eye carefully. “I’m fine,” Eren manages even though he’s the complete opposite. 

“Okay, let me finish you up then.” Jean sets Eren’s makeup with a mist of some sort. (“It’s to help your makeup stay on,” the makeup artist explains. “I’ll probably have to redo some of it in the afternoon, but we’ll think about that later.”) He finishes it up by applying a nude lipstick to help cover up the cracks and the color of blue-gray lips. 

It’s difficult not to be fixated on Jean’s fingers, especially when they’re so close to Eren’s mouth. They’re long and slender, the type of fingers an artist has. Eren wants to wrap his lips around them and taste the salt on Jean’s skin. If he sucks hard enough, the fingers will probably detach with a deliciously clean pop! Jean’s hands actually remind Eren of the chicken feet he and his friends used to get at the dim sum place near their university whenever they felt like treating themselves at the end of the term. Chicken feet didn’t taste nearly as good when Eren was a zombie. They were all skin and bone, not to mention the claws that nearly cut Eren’s tongue every time he ate them. Jean’s hands look like a more elegant version of chicken feet, his skin smooth and fingers meatier than the bony digits of a chicken. 

“Purse your lips for me,” Jean says. 

Eyes still fixed on Jean’s hands, the zombie obeys, frowning at the waxy feeling on his lips. It turns him off to the idea of eating Jean a little bit. He’d probably ruin his makeup and all of Jean’s hard work would go to waste. 

Jean studies Eren for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “Good. Try not to touch your face when you go outside or else you’ll smudge everything.” He caps the lipstick and begins to pack everything away in his kit before he notices a hand mirror he’s placed face down beside the kit. Taking it, he hands it to Eren. “Here, take a look.” 

Hesitantly, Eren takes the mirror and gazes on his reflection. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. When he was a zombie, he only saw his reflection a handful of times in pools of water and in the sideview mirrors of the farmer’s truck whenever he passed by. Despite knowing his true form, seeing himself with such lifeless gray skin and scraggly hair hanging in his face, the light that was always in his eyes when he was alive absent, was such a shock that he vowed to never look at himself again. Eren’s done his best to avoid looking at his reflection since then, only catching a glimpse every now and then and flinching in horror every time. But looking at his reflection now…

His skin is no longer a dull, sickly gray but a healthy tan. It’s not the exact same shade he was back when he was alive - it’s probably a few shades lighter - but it’s definitely an improvement. His makeup isn’t too apparent, which he appreciates. It’s one thing to disguise himself as alive and another thing entirely to show up in town a year later looking like a model. He just has some light blush in his cheeks and his lipstick hides how ugly and chapped his lips were before he came to Jean. Eren’s hair looks more socially acceptable now that it’s not hanging in greasy strands around his face. The undercut on the sides makes him look younger, a little livelier, and his hair is long enough on top to cover some of his eyes. It’s not enough to obscure his sight but enough to distract anyone from seeing how watery and tired his eyes look. As long as people aren’t looking too closely at him, they might just think he hasn’t slept in a while. He looks good. Great even. Jean was probably joking, but he really did make Eren look better than he did when he was alive. 

“I think you might have done too good of a job,” Eren mumbles. He’s about to reach up and touch his face, but Jean latches onto his wrist and shakes his head. Ah, right. No touching. 

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Jaeger.” 

Eren wonders if that’s supposed to be a compliment. He’s about to ask Jean, but Jean is already disappearing into his room. 

“It took longer than I thought it would to do your makeup,” says Jean. There are sounds of him shuffling through his closet for something to wear. He pops out and throws Eren an old oversized hoodie and some dark jeans. “Wear those. Keep your hood up while we’re out. I don’t know if we should tell people you’re back, at least not yet. Let’s meet Armin first.” 

“Alright.” 

He stares at the hoodie in his hands, wondering if he should put it on. Should he strip? It feels weird to undress in Jean’s living room, but it’s not like Jean hasn’t seen him in a locker room before. Then again, that was back when Eren’s body wasn’t all … gross. Still, Jean was actually pretty considerate about Eren’s current appearance aside from the question about decomposing. Ah, fuck it. 

Eren begins to take off his worn-out shirt and jeans, leaving them discarded on the floor. He pulls on the sweater first, careful not to mess up his makeup in the process. As soon as he puts his head through the hoodie, he immediately regrets it. He’s met with Jean’s overwhelming scent - warm and comforting and absolutely delicious. He breathes it in a little too hard before realizing that it’ll be awkward explaining to Jean if he’s caught in the act. Hurriedly, he pulls the hoodie over his head and wiggles his arms through the holes. He’s in the process of pulling the jeans over his legs when Jean steps out of his room. 

“Do you need help?” Jean is changed out of his pajamas and into casual outerwear - khaki pants and an overcoat thrown over a button-up. He has a knitted scarf wrapped around his neck, probably something Armin made when he was stressed out the night before a council meeting. On his head rests a matching knitted beanie. He looks so nicely put together that Eren feels embarrassed standing in his living room half-dressed. 

“N-no,” Eren stammers as he tugs the jeans over his calves and then his thighs. He wasn’t sure they would fit. He and Jean weren’t exactly the same size; Jean was always long and lanky even before he had his growth spurt, but Eren must have lost a lot of muscle mass during the zombification process because the jeans are a little roomy around his thighs. At least the cuffs are too short, ending an inch above his ankles, so Eren hasn’t grown shorter while he was buried under the ground. He straightens out his clothes and pulls his hood up, looking at Jean expectantly. “Where are we going?” 

“To talk to Armin,” Jean replies. He glances at his phone and nods at a text message before tucking the phone back in his pocket. Plucking his keys and wallet from the drawer, he walks to the door and opens it, beckoning for Eren to follow him. “Come on. Let’s figure out what to do with you before you accidentally eat someone.” 

“Right,” Eren chuckles nervously, thankful that Jean isn’t able to see the nervous sweat that’s currently breaking out on the back of the zombie’s neck. He wants to keep his promise of not eating people to Jean, he really does. More than anything, he wants to keep it to at least prove that he’s nothing like the other mindless zombies that have been roaming around and getting their heads smashed in. There has to be some difference between him and them, Eren thinks, but it’s hard to believe when he’s busy staring at Jean’s backside and his long, long legs that seem to stretch on for days. It’s even more difficult when his eyes settle on Jean’s ass because his khakis hug his curves too well and it’s impossible for Eren to not look. Eren wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into Jean’s ass and taste that sweet, peachy flesh on his tongue. 

God, Eren thinks with a whimper as he pulls the hoodie over his face and forces himself to look at the ground so that he’s no longer tempted to eat his friend alive. This is going to be the death of me. 

[itshardcandy]

The Ramen-Noodle Incident

Min Yoongi x Reader 

1870 Words

Genre: Fluff, Crack 

Warnings: Friendship, Clumsiness, Swearing, Reader is dumb, Yoongi is equally dumb and also a sweetheart, Hospitals

Summary:  You were meant to spend a chill evening with Hobi at his place when Yoongi kinda burns your plans to the ground.

Preview:

“No one, except us and the reception lady, knows what happened, so keep cooling your skin and let me finish this, ok?”

You pouted but didn’t talk back until he had given the registration form back to the lady and led you to the waiting area to sit. He sighed heavily when his butt met the chair and pulled his beanie off to ruffle his hair, before putting it back on,

“that sounds awfully strained, considering you’re not the one cooling her ramen-burned-boobs right now”

You said, annoyance definitely obvious in your voice,

“Don’t remind me of my ramen… I still haven’t eaten anything”,

You had to bite your lip as to not laugh, he was unbelievable,

"I'm on my way, I'll be there in 20 minutes, ok?"

You sent the quick voice message Hobi's way before you clicked the door shut behind you.   Apparently, he didn't live that far away. You'd never been to his place before, so you didn't know if taking the car was the best idea, but it was certainly the most comfortable. Hopefully parking wouldn’t be a problem, wherever he lived.

Turns out parking wasn't a problem at all, since the building had its own underground lot. You asked Hobi just to be sure it was the right one. It seemed more like a business complex with lots of office space, than a housing unit. He was waiting for you down by the elevator, dangling a set of keys in his hand. He greeted you with a big smile and a quick hug,

"How are you? Did you have any trouble finding the place? Are you hungry?"

Hobi asked and swiped a card against a pad next to the elevator to call it,

"Good, no and not yet"

You answered with a smile and when the elevator announced its arrival and opened its doors Hobi ushered you inside,

"I'm sorry to spring this on you but I've got to quickly take care of something and then I'll be back, ok? This is the key, it's the first door on the left. No one's home, so just get comfortable. I'll get take out on the way back"

He explained and before you could even say 'what the fuck' the doors closed. Well, you thought, at least he's getting you dinner. And then the elevator transported you to Hobi's floor.

_____

After getting the key stuck in the wrong door and profusely apologizing to the people, who live in the apartment and opened the door on you to try and find out who was trying to break into their apartment, you found the right door and let yourself inside. You left your shoes and coat by the entryway and then walked further inside to find a big, open living space and kitchen combination. It wasn't really what you expected, since it was way bigger than the bachelor's place you imagined Hobi living in. You realised it was way bigger, when you explored around the corner and found 3 locked doors and the bathroom down the corridor. Of course, you didn't mean to be rude and snoop around but... He did leave you alone, so... There was even a staircase leading upstairs. How much space does one man really need?  You decided to just take a quick look upstairs and you discovered more locked rooms and another bathroom. Nothing spectacular here. You heard the sound of a door clicking open and shut. Must be Hobi. You climbed down the stairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen and living room only to bump right into Yoongi and the bowl of hot ramen he was carrying,

“Oh sorry!”

You exclaimed and Yoongi stumbled backwards a little, a bit of the soup dribbling over the edge of the bowl and onto his hand,

“Fuck that’s hot!”,

“Let me help y- oh fuck that’s really hot!”,

“Oh no, I’m so sorry”

You tried to help him stabilise the bowl but ended up rocking it again and scalding your own hand in the process. Yoongi tried to pull the bowl away from you, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself again but you didn’t realise it and when he pulled, your hands snapped the bowl back and its contents spilled all over you,

“Shit, shit, shit”

The empty bowl clattered to the floor and Yoongi stared at you with wide eyes,

“Fuck, I’m sorry, YN, are you ok??”

Before you could answer, he pulled you to the sink and let cold water run over your hands and arms,

“Why do I have to be so fucking clumsy…”

You muttered to yourself,

“Don’t say that, it’s not your fault, I was the one with a craving for ramen…”

You chuckled and looked at Yoongi from an awkward angle,

“I ran into you! I should have been more careful…”

He ignored what you said and gently lifted your hands out of the sink to examine the damage. You winced and he pulled his hands away immediately,

“Ok, this looks bad, and it got all over you… we should get someone to look at it, I don’t think cold water is gonna do much more to help”,

“I don’t know, it’s not that bad…”,

“I can literally see you biting your lip and holding back tears, YN, I’ll get you a new shirt and then we’re leaving”

He was already zooming to his room before you could protest. Ok, maybe letting someone have a look at the burns was not a bad idea. They kinda hurt. A lot.

_________

“I thought you meant a normal doctor, not the fucking ER!”

You were agitated when you whispered in Yoongi’s ear, while he filled out some form to get you registered. You had already received some cooling packs after you showed the nice lady at the reception your reddened skin,

“Well, this is the easiest and fastest way to get someone to have a look at you”

He was stating calmly, the sound of his voice muffled by a face mask. He’d given you one, too, after you had changed out of your soiled clothes agonizingly slowly, as to not irritate your skin even more,

“I guess you’re right but I feel so exposed in here, this is super embarrassing…”

You could probably still find some cooked noodles in your hair if you tried hard enough. Yoongi chuckled and looked away from the form in front of him,

“No one, except us and the reception lady, knows what happened, so keep cooling your skin and let me finish this, ok?”

You pouted but didn’t talk back until he had given the registration form back to the lady and led you to the waiting area to sit. He sighed heavily when his butt met the chair and pulled his beanie off to ruffle his hair, before putting it back on,

“that sounds awfully strained, considering you’re not the one cooling her ramen-burned-boobs right now”

You said, annoyance definitely obvious in your voice,

“Don’t remind me of my ramen… I still haven’t eaten anything”,

You had to bite your lip as to not laugh, he was unbelievable,

“Sorry, next time I’ll try and not get scalded by your soup, so you can enjoy it”,

“Ah thank you… but it’s no use… I can feel myself growing weaker… maybe I should register, too, for malnutrition”

He made his voice sound gruff and held a hand to his chest to look more dramatic. You didn’t hold your laughter this time and smacked his arm with the area of your palm, that was not burned,

“You’re unbelievable! Get a snack from the vending machine if you’re hungry”

He snickered next to you, the evil fucker.

You let out a long breath and relaxed as much as possible. With boredom slowly settling over you, you let your gaze travel over the other patients waiting in the area and that’s when you noticed a group of two girls and a boy checking you and Yoongi out. You looked over to Yoongi, who had pulled out his phone held it close to his face, like he wanted to hide behind it. Then you looked back to the group; they couldn’t be older than 16-17, they were still teenagers. Still, how they looked at you and started giggling and whispering made you feel uncomfortable. Sure, it didn’t help that you were wearing a shirt, that didn’t fit you, and some noodles or vegetable pieces showed it your hair but that didn’t mean you appreciated being made fun of. You wiggled in your seat and then got up, deciding to go to the restroom for a break. Yoongi’s head shot up when you stood,

“What are you doing? Do you need something? You know I was just joking about the food, right? I didn’t mean any—”,

“Relax, I was just going to the bathroom”,

“Oh, sorry, don’t mind me, then…”,

“…”,

“…”,

“You want something from the vending machine?”,

“Yes, please, get me those shrimp chips, pleeease”

You rolled your eyes and smiled at his pleading. Sure, you’d get him the chips on the way back.

_________

It didn’t take long for your name to be called after that and the doctor who examined you, didn’t comment on your ramen-accident, although you could see, he desperately wanted to. He put some lotion on your arms and hands and gave you a tube to take home and apply to the rest of the burns and then he discharged you.

Yoongi was waiting for you in front of the main entrance, ready to take you home and probably more ready to prepare a new serving of ramen, not minding that you were now experiencing PTSD-symptoms just thinking about them.

You walked back to the car and after you settled inside and fastened your seat-belt Yoongi spoke up again,

“I just wanted to say, I’m sorry, again”

He was pouting a little and drumming his hands on the steering wheel,

“Don’t worry about it, I burned myself at home more times than I can count”

You tried to laugh it off but he looked a little serious all of a sudden,

“I’ll make it up to you, ok? Give me your number, I’ll send you the money for your clothes, or the cleaner, if they’re salvageable…”

He had pulled his phone out already and you blinked at him in confusion,

“Ah… ok”

You pulled yours out carefully, as well and went to look up your own number when you spotted the missed calls and messages from Hobi,

“Oh shit, I completely forgot to text Hobi and tell him what happened…”

You made an expression that said yikes in Yoongi’s direction and he copied it,

“Better let him know now, I’ll text him while you look for your number”

He said and was engrossed in his texts a second later, so you did as you were told. Quite frankly, you didn’t need him to send you any money, since the shirt had been an old one and your pants were barely even hit by the soup but you figured he felt a little guilty still and so you didn’t object. And also, judging from the things Hobi told you about all his friends, they were loaded and you weren’t, so there was that,

“Ok, he said he’s waiting for us with food”

He probably said a little more than that, knowing Hobi and his dramatic ass,

“Alright, sounds good. I could really use some food now, too…”

Yoongi smiled at you expectantly,

“Not ramen!”

You added with an even bigger smile and he held up his hands in defense,

“Fine, fine, I won’t be coming at you with ramen for a while. Now, gimme your phone”

He snatched the phone out of your hands and typed your number in his before he called yours and saved his number in it,

“Now let’s get back and not keep Hobi waiting”  

[insporaelynn]

📲 raelynn & amani

WHEN: february 15th

DESCRIPTION: just chatting

TRIGGER WARNINGS: n/a

@amanihq

Amani

Raeeeeee

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

hey beauty

Amani

hi. how are you?

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

i'm ok, hanging out with roman until it's time for me to go work

Amani

not thrilled about work today?

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

monday shifts are always the worst ones.

Amani

any way to make it better?

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

magically force everyone who does come in to give me bigger tips?

Amani

if only I were that powerful.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

I believe in you

Amani

i’ll try to manifest some amazing tips for you babydoll

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

u the best

Amani

xoxo

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

what're u up to tonight?

Amani

nothin lol. just in bed watching netflix. gonna make dinner soon.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

what's for dinner?

Amani

I’m making shrimp alfredo.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

oof that sounds so good.

if i could cook i'd be unstoppable.

Amani

hahaha, have you ever tried to learn?

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

Not recently. My gran used to try but I truly never stopped moving around and getting distracted.

Amani

oh yeah, if you can’t stand still long enough, cooking can be difficult lol. that’s fine, just find a man, woman, or nonbinary babe who will cook all your meals for you.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

sometimes lucky makes me dinner bc i think she's worried that i'll only eat ramen forever if she doesn't

Amani

lucky’s a smart woman

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

but she's wrong, bc you see, i don't just eat ramen. i also eat easy mac.

Amani

...i’d judge you but I love me some easy mac too

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

it HITS

Amani

at least you can make easy mac and ramen. some people are too hopeless to even do that.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

my brother and i were on our own a lot so we had to learn to at least do the bare minimum

Amani

damn, I feel that.

that sucks though.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

Nah, it's just a part of our history.

Amani

I’m glad you had siblings at least. I always wanted a brother or sister. Being an only child was pretty lame.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

yeah, at least it wasn't lonely. i'm sorry it was for you, though.

Amani

oh, it’s okay. taught me how to be independent and okay with being alone. at least for the most part.

plus my parents were very present and I’m lucky in that way.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

damn, yeah, i wouldn't know anything about the latter part.

Amani

i’m sorry baby.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

I mean, again, it's just kind of a part of me?

Amani

yeah. everything happens for a reason and all that.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

damn right

Amani

what we go through in life makes us who we are.

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

you should embroider that onto a pillow or somethin

Amani

oh god, that’d be so corny lol

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

*cry laugh emoji*

Amani

giving very much live laugh love energy

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

hashtag girlboss can i speak to the manager head-ass

Amani

exactly

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

godddd

Amani

hahaha yeah couldn’t be farther from my vibe

𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

thank fuck for that omg

Amani

absolutely