#barely comprehensible but you guys get it

[lovelynim]

Fight the champion

Zenless Zone Zero - Lighter x Wise

A/N: If anything, you guys should thank @/ticklystuff for being the brain behind this fic even tho he doesn't play the game. Thanks for the idea, friend, tho I'm not sure if it was properly executed ehe

Also, I apologize in advance for how OOC Lighter may sound here, I'm still getting a grip at his character

Summary: After winning a "fight" against Wise, Lighter tries to make up for his doings

Word count: 2356 words

[Read it on Ao3]

“L-LIHIGHTEHER– AHAHAHAH, STOHOHOP IT!!”

Wise couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like this. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he was this loud. All he could feel was his head spinning, his heart beating and Lighter’s hands wreaking havoc on his skin. It tickled - it tickled as if each and every single one of his nerves were on fire, sparkling like fireworks under his skin. 

Wise felt his cheeks, his stomach and even his ribs - to which Lighter’s fingers seemed to be particularly fond of  - hurting from the laughter. How long has it been? Five, ten minutes? He couldn’t tell.

A tickle fight. All of this mess started with the stupid idea of starting a tickle fight against the Sons of Calydon’s champion. Wise knew he was going to lose - that was the whole point of it!

Playfully wrestling Lighter, being overpowered, tickled a little, surrendering and done. He would have Lighter on top of him, heartstruck and ready for him to act cute and pull all sorts of impure acts later… it seemed like the perfect plan, so how could it all end so wrong?

Wise pressed his head back, laughing his soul to heaven and back when Lighter’s hand moved down to his hips again. “LIGHTER, PLEHEHEASE!! I’M DYIHIHING HERE!!”

“That’s no way for a fighter to speak, manager, you shouldn’t yield just after a couple hits,” Lighter chuckled, his grip around Wise’s wrists tightening while the tickled moved back up to the proxy’s sides.

Wise’s feet had already kicked all the cushions off the couch in their aimless flailing and his throat was as dry as the soil near Blazewood. Wise lost count of how many times he asked ‘please’, tried to yield or to call uncle, but it was clear that none of those mattered for Lighter. He was a champion defending his title, after all, how could Wise expect any mercy from him?

Calling it “hysteria” wouldn’t make justice to the noises Lighter was drawing out of the proxy when his gloved hand decided to sneak under Wise’s shirt and tickle his bare skin. 

Lighter raised his eyebrows at the reaction, catching a few glimpses of that forced, desperate smile on Wise’s face while he prodded between each bone of Wise’s ribcage. “It sure looks like it tickles, huh? Should’ve thought twice before picking up this fight, manager ~” He teased again, trying to get some comprehensible speech out of the other, but Wise seemed just too busy to think of anything else.

Saying he wasn’t fond of Wise’s laughter, smile and blushing cheeks would be a blatant lie. A ugly, nasty lie. And could one really blame Lighter for taking the chance when Wise started to poke his sides and stomach in the middle of their movie? If that wasn’t an invitation to ‘fight’ back, then what else would it be?

“P-PLEHEHEASE!!” Wise laughed, arching his back off the couch when Lighter shoved his hand all the way up to tickle the proxy’s armpit. “J-JUST STOHOHOP!!”

“But you’re no-” Lighter stopped, snapping back from his daydreaming and spotting the last thing he wanted to see on Wise’s face: tears. “D-damn it,” he gasped, quickly letting go of Wise’s wrists, “are you ok, manager?”

This was bad, really, really bad. He got carried away, forgetting this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Now that he thought about it, what if Wise wasn’t actually smiling just now? All that laughter was a forced reaction? One that Lighter carelessly exploited for his own amusement… My, what has he done?!

“...w-whahat?” Wise asked, taking some deep, needed breaths and letting the air back into his lungs for the first time in a while. He still had that dazzled, drunk-like look on his face, barely aware of his surroundings.

“Manager, does-” Lighter hesitated, freezing the hand that was about to reach for Wise midair. Damn it, damn it, damn it! “D-does it hurt? I didn’t- I didn’t mean to…” Of course, but what was a brute like him expecting, he thought.

This should’ve been a cute, romantic moment between couples - just like in the movie they were watching - but he ruined it and now Wise was crying!

“H-hurt?” Wise asked, slowly sitting back up and wiping the small tears of mirth off his lashes. “No, it just- just tickled. A lot, in fact, hahah,” Wise giggled, running a hand through his hair, unaware of the concern concealed behind Lighter’s glasses.

“Do sugarcoat it, manager,” Lighter furrowed his brows, taking one of Wise’s hands into his. His skin was probably sore after all the abuse from his rough hands - or, even worse, what if he broke one of Wise’s ribs while tickling him? What if all those squeezes and prods left bruises?” “I-I can help you- no, better, I can call for hel-”

“L-Lighter,” Wise giggled, stopping the other from getting up from the couch. He still found this whole situation way too amusing, even kind of cute - despite not really understanding it. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Wise scoffed, cocking his head to the side. 

“Your body,” Lighter’s lips quivered slightly. He settled his hands down on the couch, lowering his gaze, “did I hurt you?”

“...huh?”

“You can be honest,” Lighter sighed, his fingers clenching into a fist. “When- when we were playing now and, well, I was tickling you, was I too rough? Did it hurt?”

“What? No! Lighter, I’m fine,” Wise chuckled, reaching to cup Lighter’s cheek. He removed the other’s glasses, meeting his gaze full of worry and guilt. While this seemed like the silliest of concerns for Wise, he could tell Lighter was serious about it. Dead serious.

The man sighed, his shoulders slouching as he finally relaxed a little. “...right,” Lighter reached for one of Wise’s hands, gently holding his wrist before nuzzling into his palm. “I just got carried away and thought I… I overdid it when I saw you crying.”

Wise blushed a little, taken aback by the explanation. How should he take it? Did he look so frail that Lighter thought he could hurt him with tickling? Or was it that Lighter cared so much that even tears of laughter made him worry?

“Don’t be stupid,” Wise hissed shyly, weakly pulling at his hand only to find it stuck in Lighter’s grip - again.

“Are you mad at me?” Lighter asked and, for a moment, Wise could see dripping doggy ears on top of his head. “Let me at least make it up for you, manager!”

“L-Lighter!” Wise gasped, even more flustered at the whole scene. “I-it was just tickling, a play fight. T-there’s nothing for you to make up to… I was the one who started it anyway and-”

“Then,” Lighter interrupted, leaning a little forward and bringing Wise’s hand close to his chest, “tickle me back. We would be even then, right? I promise I won’t fight you off this time!”

Wise went silent, blinking a few times while processing Lighter’s words. He, in fact, was the one who started the said fight by tickling Lighter first, but he never really planned to win it. In fact, he knew from the start it would be a losing battle - he just didn’t expect it to be that bad of a defeat.

“T-tickle you?”

“Yes, isn’t it what you wanted? Like in the movie we were watching,” Lighter nodded, with at least a part of his usual attitude seemingly recovered. “Please, manager? You are not going to leave me hanging, right?” Lighter stared at Wise with pleading eyes, bringing his hand up to his lips and planting a kiss on his knuckles. “It’s the least I can do, no?”

Wise cringed slightly, unable to take his hand away from Lighter this time. It was a cute attitude, yes, but so uncalled for… Still, how could say no when Lighter had that look on his face? “...A-alright, I’ll do it, then.”

Nearly sparkling at the mere sound of those words, Lighter reached for Wise’s with his free hand and pulled the other back down with him. The proxy couldn’t help but let out a small gasp, his hands resting on top of Lighter’s chest as he tried to support himself.

“Don’t hold back, manager. I’m a toughie, I can take it,” Lighter nodded, watching Wise steady himself on top of his lap. He crossed both arms behind his head, rolling his shirt up and bit and exposing some of his lower stomach in the process.

It was hard for Wise to not get distracted from the main task at hand. With one hand on each side of Lighter’s chest, the proxy couldn’t help but give the muscles a gentle squeeze - feeling them with just a skin tight shirt on the way felt much better than with a heavy biker jacket.

“Oi, manager,” Lighter chuckled, “that doesn’t tickle, you know?” He joked, not that he would really mind having Wise fondling with his chest, but he wouldn’t lose the chance to tease him for that either.

“Right, tickling,” Wise muttered out loud, stopping his fingers from committing any other inappropriate act. “Where are you ticklish, Lighter?”

Of all the things that just happened, this was what seemed to puzzle Lighter the most. “Dunno,” the man sighed, looking up to the ceiling as he tried to recall the last time he felt someone touching him so lightly. “On… my neck?”

Wise frowned, unsatisfied. “Just that won’t do,” he scoffed, tracing a finger down Lighter’s torso, feeling each and every one of his muscles. His eyes shifted back and forth between the other’s body and face, carefully watching him in an attempt to capture any reaction. “Do you feel anything if I do this?”

“Not sure,” Lighter said while closing his eyes, his position barely shifting if it wasn’t for his chest waving with each breath, “try a little harder, manager.”

Those words made Wise flinch, almost as if waking something inside him. Lighter still had his eyes closed, his body open to Wise, almost as if he was just about to drift to sleep. Did he trust him that much?

Still, he was already way too into it to turn down such an opportunity. “Alright,” he said, bringing his other hand into action and getting a hold onto Lighter’s waist. Wise pinched the spot, pressing his thumbs down on the soft meat and rubbing circles into the-

“Ah!”

Wise’s head shot up, looking up from Lighter’s lower stomach to his face with widened eyes. Funny enough, Lighter seemed just as surprised, almost startled by the sudden sensation. Wise smirked.

“What about now?” He said, repeating the motion and even skittering his other fingers around Lighter’s lower sides. Wise felt that massive body shift under him and his heart skip a bit at the sound he heard next.

“I-it tihihickles,” Lighter giggled, furrowing his brows and scrunching up his nose while a restrained smile took place over his lips. Lighter pressed his chin down at his chest, his elbows faltering as his instincts yelled at him to lower his arms and stop whatever was causing this.

But he listened neither to his instincts, nor to his better judgement. “It dehehefinitely does!”

“Good,” Wise nodded, moving his hands towards each other and tickling Lighter’s stomach, watching it tremble as more and more giggles spilled from his lips. “You’re quite sensitive, Lighter.”

Yes, he was. Lighter pressed his knees together, crossed one ankle over the other behind Wise’s back and even clenched his hand around his hair. One of these things had to make that growing urge to laugh more bearable, he thought. “I knohohow!”

Wise chuckled, continuing to tickle around those toned abs while deciding where he should try next. “And not only on your neck,” he teased, poking Lighter’s ribs on each side and making the man jolt with surprise before dissolving into that soft, but held-back laughter again.

“D-do yohohou lihihike it, manahahager?” He didn’t know why he insisted on speaking - maybe it was just another attempt to distract himself. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t exactly hate that feeling - maybe because Wise was the one providing it.

“Why does it matter? You won’t become less ticklish if I say I don’t, right?”

“I cohohould try!”

The proxy rolled his eyes, drilling his fingers in the spaces between each bone of Lighter’s ribcage. Exploring a Hollow seemed easier than making this man crack up. At that point, Wise would be breathless, with his heart pumping blood at the same rate as the motor in Lighter’s motorcycle.

“It’s not fair, you’re holding back,” Wise whined, pushing one of Lighter’s elbows back to claw at the exposed armpit with the other, tickling it as best as he could, “there’s no way you are just this ticklish.”

“B-buhuhut- ahAhaha, it stihill tihihickles, mahahanager!” Lighter laughed, turning his face away to avoid Wise’s gaze upon him. He felt hot around the collar and airheaded, making it even harder to think about the right words to say. Was there anything for him to say, though? Should he even say anything?

While these thoughts spiraled inside his head, the tickling slowed down, eventually coming to a total halt. Missing that swirling sensation that came from it inside his stomach, Lighter slowly opened his eyes, turning his head back to face the proxy.

“S-satisfied already, manager?”

Wise smiled, shaking his head. “It’s no use - I can’t beat the champion, even in a tickle fight,” he said with a giggle, leaning forward until he could nuzzle his nose against Lighter’s, brushing his lips over the other man’s before giving them a small peck.

“So,” Lighter sighed, finally lowering his arms and wrapping one of them around Wise’s neck. “Does this mean you forgive me? For making you cry and all?”

“Not yet,” Wise muttered, making Lighter widen his eyes. “We have to finish this movie first”, he winked and Lighter nodded, letting out a small, shaky sigh of relief. He laid his head back, turning his attention to the TV while feeling Wise rest on top of his chest.

“Of course, manager.”

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

imagine after troy and abed start dating they add a kiss to their handshake so it’s just *clap clap* 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

and the study group are all standing there like 🧍🏼… really. do you have to do that Every Time. and troy and abed are like yeah duh it’s part of the handshake you don’t just Leave A Handshake Unfinished. duh doy ✋🏻🙄

[rosebridal]

narrative foil antagonism at its best

[soundlessdragon]

All the conversation in the last couple years about birth control being disruptive to the natural hormone cycles our bodies need as women, having detrimental effects -> makes me wonder about younger women getting hysterectomies. I fully support 18+ women having access to elective hysterectomies since that will prevent some abortions (a considerable number of women who abort are convinced they never want kids, are unwilling to choose abstinence, and are capable of taking extreme actions to end a pregnancy), but now I wonder about the effects it has on the long term health of the woman. Obviously it's still a much better road than abortion, for the woman's health too, and I definitely support adults making choices about their own bodies especially when those choices will prevent them hurting other people in the future.

[puhpandas]

thinking abt the ggy easter eggs rn

[periprose]

Bitch get ur head together and stop maladaptive daydreaming. Ur life is ltierally gonna fall apart if u keep this up

Anon do you know what maladaptive daydreaming is?

It’s not writing fanfiction. It’s not even regular daydreaming. We know those things are fake. Maladaptive daydreaming is an extreme response to trauma in which you imagine a very well-developed, fake world/life, and you prefer it greatly to real life. You stop going out and hanging out with people just to live in the fake narrative because to you, it’s more comfortable and perfect and easy in comparison to how difficult your life is.

Of course, maladaptive daydreaming and daydreaming have similarities (nothing is black and white with this, it’s kind of a spectrum) but daydreaming is generally a very human thing. People fantasize about what the future may hold or what an alternative, fictional version of events could be. It doesn’t mean everyone is delusional and convinced this is really happening. JRR Tolkien considered escapism to be a huge part of real life and that it’s necessary to fiction in some aspects. There’s a middle ground where you can write things for comfort or fun, take enjoyment in them, and still be aware that they’re fake.

Daydreaming on its own even isn’t bad. Daydreaming can help you maintain a goal in your head (a doable, realistic one) and it can be beneficial for creativity and stress relief. Everyone has daydreamed for several centuries at one point or another. Maybe read up on it before you assume it’s entirely bad. And again I know this sounds like MD but it isn’t, because MD is when you start becoming delusional and ignoring real life. There’s a difference.

And of course, with any psychological concept, the internet runs it into the ground until it doesn’t really mean anything anymore, or they misdiagnose people and spread misinformation. All so you can feel special because you think you know more, and you can dunk on others for not being as superior or mentally healthy as you, and you “mean well” but in actuality you dilute these terms so much that the people who really need help get drowned out.

There’s almost a pseudo-religious take here where you think it’s like a mental illness/the devil and you’re telling me to repent before I ruin my life. Thanks but no thanks, I know my life and I feel that I have my priorities in order to correctly determine whether or not my daydreaming is at a detriment to me.

[hussyknee]

@verycoolguy1917 the actual fuck are you talking about about. "The capitalists"— capitalism is a fucking system. I know Tankies think social justice is an MCU movie where you just gotta get rid of the Bad People, but also, that had nothing whatsoever to do with the post in the first place.

[captorcorp]

i started playing tokyo debunker bc it was recommended on the app store. it's ok. why are the gatcha/battle/diamond systems so ass though

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[iid-smile]

handsy , itadori yuji

x gn!reader ! cuddling in the cold, itadori touches your buttocks, he calls you hot, that's it really...

author's note: um i had this idea in my head but i didnt know who to write for also kinda rushed because i cba

"baby..." itadori's voice is severely muffled from his lips being pressed against your neck. "it's cold."

you're both facing each other in bed, his arms securely wrapped around your waist and yours just resting on his chest. though it's september, it's not usual for the temperature to drop in such a sudden way.

it's a weird contrast, the way it's so cold outside while it's so warm under the blanket. it makes you want to shrink further into it, but your boyfriend's presence just makes you a tad more reluctant to even move at all.

with only a small hum coming from you, your fingers fiddle with his hoodie strings. it only takes a short time for him to get sulky when you don't respond with words, so you mumble back. "i know, that's why we're cuddling."

he wiggles his legs a bit, which are already tangled with yours. you were half bracing yourself for him to be cold to the touch, but he's just warm. he's always so warm.. how? "it's colddd..." he complains again.

his arms around you tighten a bit, making it slightly harder to breathe, but you know that he just does it subconsciously. "i want hot chocolate.." he murmurs.

by chance, you manage to pick up on his words, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. "you already had some, yuji." shifting closer, you rest your head close to his. not to close that your cheeks are touching, not too far that you can see each other.

itadori remains silent, a small huff coming from him, like he knows better than to argue with you. he's so clingy. and a baby, sometimes. he's acting like you didn't feed him the most filling dinner ever. his favourite too! and hot chocolate on top of that? he should know that's enough. but that pouting expression gets to your weak heart, so you shift around a bit.

you could hear him softly groan, likely from the way your legs move to intertwine with his more, and the way your body heat is now pushed directly up against his. with ease, he nuzzles his face further into your shoulder, hiding it completely. "mhm..." he hums, and you can feel the vibrations of it against your skin.

your fingers curl around his messy locks, and you admire the seemingly natural pink colour as best you can with the minimal light. "mhm what?" you inquire, confused since you didn't ask him a question.

"nevermind the hot chocolate..." his voice is barely comprehensible. "i got something hot right here."

"...you need to specify."

"i mean it both ways. you're hot, and you're hot."

you can only sigh, rolling your eyes. if you didn't find his stupid comments so adorable, and charming, you would've thrown a pillow at him. but unfortunately since you're cuddling, you just allow the cheesy comments to slip by. like usual.

"i hate you." you mutter.

he only responds with a chuckle. "no, you love me."

"i do..." you sigh again. his arms around you loosen up slightly, and one of his hands starts roaming a little.

it's quiet for a while, after itadori's giddy chuckles of course. despite how dark it is, you struggle to keep your eyes closed, feeling your eyelids shake whenever you try, as if you're tense. the only view you really have is his hair shoved in your face, but either way, you don't mind.

being the handsy guy he is, there's not a single spot where he hasn't touched you. shoulder, back, hips, waist, thighs, everywhere. a little thought in your head was telling you they were destined to end up elsewhere, and you're surprised it hasn't happened yet.

or maybe you spoke too soon.

you can feel both of his hands move down to your behind, holding them there like he would if he was carrying you. in feigned annoyance, your lips purse a bit, not that he'd be able to see it anyway. "that's my butt."

itadori giggles, almost sounding snarky in nature. "mhm. your butt." he gives it a light squeeze in emphasis, before starting to rub it with his thumbs. the action is so simple, yet to you it feels so... intimate, loving. in a way that sends a little heat to your cheeks with a red hue that would definitely be visible.

but of course, you let it slide.

there's a few moments of silence that pass, and you're left almost thinking he fell asleep. but his gentle words soon break it, and his one of his hands finds yours, gripping lightly. "i love you... a lot..." he mumbles again, but the words are a lot more clearer this time, and a lot more sincere. a common practice of his that he does right before he drifts off to sleep.

"i love you too. a lot." you whisper back, shuffling as close as you can get to him.

[cometwritesshit]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yunho x f!reader - miniskirt

A/N : Yunho fic because I'm sick and tired of pretending that this outfit doesn't do things to me.This was supposed to be a quick drabble, but I went a little bit overboard oops. Also, this is not proofread, so please bare with if the horny grammar leaks through.

Pairing: idol!Yunho x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: minors dni! risky, semi-public(they don't get caught during the act dw ), implied mirror sex,breeding kink , implied size kink , manhandling(kind of) , big dick yunho, kind of rough, degradation (whore , slut), pet names (hun ,baby,darling,sweetheart etc.), implied dumbification.

If I forgot anything lmk.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After performing at the KGMAs , yunho storms back stage, still brimming with the insatiable adrenaline that performing bestowed upon him , all of his thoughts being transferred directly to his growing bulge and not even moments after you attempt greet and praise him on his stage presence , he grips onto your arm with great force , his veiny and slender hands enveloping your wrist.

"Yun what are yo-", he pushed you up against his dressing room wall, knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.Your hands and face laid flat against the wall ,rendering you helpless as his hands lustfully explored your body.

"couldn't get the image of you in this slutty skirt out of my head" he growled in your ears as he tugged on the hem of your miniskirt that rested just above your thighs, leaving little to the imagination.

"W-wait yun what if we get caught" , You whisper , holding back multiple whines and moans that were threatening to leave you're throat at any moment as your boyfriend planted greedy kisses all over your neck and whimpered in your ears , grinding his bulge against your newly bought pink panties (because a certain someone ruined your other pair).

"I don't give a fuck, that just means everyone here will know who you belong to after I'm done with you sweetheart".

It doesn't take long before he's pulling your panties to the side and trying to align his cock to your entrance, calculating the perfect angle to make sure he hits all of your sweet spots.He pushes the tip in , as if he was trying to brace you for what was coming next but nothing in the world could prepare you for what was next , a sharp sting along with a loud smack! As his hips collided with yours.No matter how many times you guys fucked nothing could ever make you get used to how huge yunho is.

"Yun s'too big! it hurts!" , You desperately cried out , but your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he began thrusting up into you. Sounds of wet slaps and panting pollute the air as moans, that are so pornographic they make you both re-evaluate your careers, spill out of your mouths.

"Look at yourself, you're such a whore for my dick aren't you hun?" he smirks as he grabs your chin and lifts your head up , forcing you to look into the mirror besides you.Your brain is unable to form a comprehensive response to his statement instead resorting to responding in incoherent mumbles and whines.

"Aww poor baby's been fucked so dumb she can't think hm? How cute".

Sweat trickled down your foreheads and the mirror steamed up as you both neared your high.

"Yunho!" , you chanted his name like a mantra as you clenched around him , hot ,creamy liquid spurting out of your holes as he continued to pound into you.

"Fuck, baby I'm coming , m'gonna plant my seed in you and breed you s'full, you'll carry my babies won't you darling?" ,he barely managed to choke out before spilling his warm seed inside of you with a groan you had never heard out of him before, leaving you feeling full and bloated as he cleaned up the mess you both made.

His hand engulfed your waist as you and the other boys made your way to the van, and you leaned your head against his shoulder ."Seems like you two had fun in there, hm?" Mingi smirked and nudged his friends as you buried your face in yunhos shoulder in embarrassment whilst the other boys poked fun at him, and prideful grind grew across his face.

[ckret2]

What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD

(Love him anyways obvs)

I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*

*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**

(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)

His biggest sins in the show:

After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.

Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.

Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.

??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.

He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.

When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.

When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.

When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.

When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.

When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.

When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.

When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.

You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power���he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.

Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.

Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.

And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.

He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!

When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.

When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).

He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.

As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.

When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.

And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.

And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.

And then he tries to kill Bill again.

And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.

Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.

But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."

And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.

Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.

[citrusotakutea]

Didn't read half of this shit as Grandma here blacked out while spouting ship nonsense as if that was even close to my point lmao. I guess I could have made "I am the ship police" more sarcastic. Also, you're sooo late bro someone sent me an ask like a milisecond after the OG post pointing my age out and I said I was also, in fact, being sarcastic about being a fandom elder because it's funny. Nowhere did I frame Integra and Rip being (they are completely indistinguishable from any other character, male or female, of their style, regardless of Hirano's kinks lmao) androgynous with "authorial intent". You probably cited me supposedly not knowing facts for being the reason for your anger and "not claiming me" when that's literally the main issue I had with new fans ijbol.

I am the Sir Integra Hellsing fangirl, I am claiming her. The future is now, old man.

Hey op just curious what makes you hate the new Hellsing fanbase. As a fellow Hellsing fan I was wondering if I’ve completely missed something strange going on lately.

The new Hellsing fandom honestly irks me because of the surface level probing of the source material*. Yes, to most it's a hard core, dark, violent, mad and bad-ass anime but, like I've said so often, for so long on this dumb blog, it has the BEST female characters I've ever seen, recently rivaled by Arcane. Incredible depiction of platonic relationships and morally grey characters. To me, it's primarily a found family story, among other things.

The side characters are incredible, Yumi and Heinkel are the most underrated of the show. I mean come on priest and nun lesbians (lesbian used liberally). Heinkel is confirmed by the author to be an INTERSEX HUMAN. Alucard shapeshifts into a female (which, looking at the Devilman fandom, everyone took for an obvious trans metaphor, why not here?). The source material is as homoerotic as it can get between a lot of the characters (the tension between Sir Integra and Seras during the blood scene). Let's not forget Rip van Winkle, Pip, Walter, and Alexander. Alucard's teasing, Seras' naivety and subsequent maturity, Pip's endurance and playful wittiness. These characters and relationships are stuck in my head forever, they're all incredibly unique, fleshed out and worth remembering, no matter how short a time they spent on screen. And the character designs? As a long-time vampyr and catholic guilt fan, can I just say. Rawr. This show shaped how I dress like irl and my own shitty characters, as well.

Sir Integra is my favorite character of the show and one of all time. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Like, an actually good depiction of a no-nonsense, androgynous as hell, unabashedly commanding (dare I say) woman? And it's played completely straight? No "Whaaa that's a woman?" every 2 seconds or "heh, you will listen to me despite my womanhood" from her. Powerful in her own right despite being the few "magic"-less humans of the series. 0 sexualized Ultimate scenes (sorry Seras and the "hot down there" comment doesn't count, that was banter). She was fucking knighted by the Queen of England before she was even 25, hence Sir Integra. Canonically bi-racial and South-Asian. I'm not even going to go into her character's willpower and values but. Hellloooo??? 

Not to mention, something noteworthy about the series, but Hellsing works because Hirano made time for silly moments. I mean, hell, one of the scenes I remember most vivdly was the gag of Heinkel lighting Sir Integra's cigar and being mega-pissed about it during the final battle, it's funny yet in character, despite many fans saying the humor throws you out of the "reality" of the show.

Oh no, but what do the new fandom gremlins talk about? "Alufart rails Y/A" "OMG VLADCARD'S BARA HAIRY TIDDIES I WANNA RUB MY FACE AGAINST THEM" (you know who you are) “I drew the most fucked up version of Alucard I could think of in my twisted mind”

and my personal "favorite":

"omg 🥺 what if intewa and alucard kisswdd", it's almost as bad as Seras x Alucard.

Unfortunately, I am a part of the ship police, so I'm gonna say right now that these two are my most hated ships:

1) Sir Integra and Alucard's relationship goes beyond romance to me. Since none of the new fans know the lore, Sir Integra is and will die a virgin (canon), it's literally plot relevant because by having sex, if she gets bit she will become a zombie slave (obvious but apparently needed to be said) and, taking a note from the 2001 anime, gone is any chance to continue the Hellsing mission. If she was bitten, plot armor aside, she'd have to off herself instead of becoming a vampire. (and for you freaks out there/pos, dare I say… ace representation? you can argue about desire and subtext later)

2) Seras and Alucard's relationship was specifically noted by the author to be a father/daughter dynamic, which is kind of obvious in the show. Like I said, fundamentally a found family series. Yeah, you don't need to treat found family like family family but I gen can't stand this ship.

I know that people will ship characters who've never been in a room together before. I can't stop people from shipping them and these two ships have ALWAYS been popular in the fandom. I typically ignore this and, yes, "don't like, don't interact" is my main rule. However, new fans ONLY talk about this stuff. None of the rest of the show seems to matter, just Alucard's hairy mustached tig bitties and him fucking one of the two women in the main cast. Or someone's self insert.

((tangent but personally my favorite ships are Alexander x Alucard (obviously in an enemies to enemies way), Heinkel x Yumi, and a romance only Seras x s.Integra. Like, you want old women yuri??? There ya go! They were in a mansion for like 30 years (I forgot) together, probably going missions alone and sharing their grief over Alucard and their unique experience/history. Like I said, I can't help who people ship, I'm not trying to say the source material is in favor of my ships or "how dare people interpret these obviously gay characters as straight". like no, that's not why I'm upset and ik alucard and alexander weren't yaoi-ing it up but like. alucard and s.integra shippers dni /j))

Not to mention, I couldn't help but notice, despite this information being readily available to my middle school self, no one knows the fckn lore or background of this show?? I honest to god saw someone comment that Hellsing Ultimate™ was a bad “remake” because it diverged from the original anime.

Here's SOME fun facts:

-the 2001 version of the show has a different ending than the manga because it wasn't finished yet (duh). Hellsing Ultimate is "soooo short" because production took almost a decade and it was trying to be a faithful, well-animated (that takes time bruv) adaptation. Oh, and a bunch of directional changes that I won't get into.

-there are multiple OVAs following Walter's youth in WW2 (Hellsing: The Dawn). Young Walter's design honestly was one of my favorites from the series so. Walter enjoyers. Check it out.

-there is a bonus book explaining a lot about the characters and process of creating Hellsing written by Hirano himself. whenever I got a hold of it, though (8+ years ago) there was no English translation.

-Alucard didn't just transform into a girl that one time, he was in his girl form the entire time during WW2 (hence why when people mention his possible affair with the Queen it might've been a sapphic thing but I think that mostly stems from the abridged series. the queen thing not the girl thing)

-Hirano used to be a Hentai mangaka and actually designed many of Hellsing's characters in said hentai or in short stories (such as Crossfire, it's basically extra, non-canonical Hellsing content) beforehand. Which, this used to be the most popular "fun fact" but has been lost to the sands of time now, so prepare for a lot of people rediscovering this.

-personal lore is I almost named myself Rip van Winkle bc of this show (quirked up Portal, Grell Sutcliff, queer-coded, rifle-wielding shawty)

Anyway, to sum it up, I hate when people don't interpret characters in the same way I do. Yes, I am a bad “fandom elder”, idgaf I am fundamentally a hater.

*I keep seeing this happen with old shows that resurface. Unlike newer or more popular shows where every scene gets scoured, characters who showed up for one scene get analyzed, and endless cafe AUs are made- older shows mostly get fan art of the main charas and the ships of the two hottest characters and that's it. Discussion of lore and themes are completely off the table. So I'm not surprised, just disappointed.

[muntitled]

heyyyy!! my brain gave me a half-assed thought in the nighttime starring best friend/perv!Lee Minho and bimbo!Reader. Minho's ALWAYS flirting with and staring at you, but you just (somehow) never notice. he likes seeing you wear those little outfits that barely cover you up and always mentions that you should only wear that stuff for him. one day he was just at his limit after another failed attempt at flirting. so, he just pushes you against the wall. you can feel how hard he is behind you, but you didn't see this coming so you're freaking out. and he just tells you "i'm gonna have what i want. so you might as well take what i give you."

-💌 (p.s. i hope this was coherent) ((p.p.s. make sure you take time for yourself to rest and just breathe bc that beautiful mind of yours is so so important!! <3))

𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Insecurities, Jealousy, Possessive!Minho, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dub/con, Bratty!reader, Brat Tamer!Minho, Perv!Minho, Dom/Sub Themes, Mean Dom!Minho, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, CNC, Overstimulation

Fueling the Dom!Minho agenda

You did not particularly deal well with being unliked. Everybody has to like you all the time and there is no concrete way to tell your best friend this. Especially while he's driving down the highway, with rain pellets beating down the windshield.

You did not look at Minho when you initially slipped into the car. So completely and utterly suffocated by embarrassment.

The call prior to being picked up had been less than savoury.

"Isn't it too early to be calling me to come save you from your date?" His voice was completely drenched in his ususual smug sarcasm, "Or was he just that fucking boring?"

"I've been stood up and I'm not exactly sure where I am."

Almost immediately, Minho forced you to send your location until he was speeding over to where you sat, in your little dress all alone under the awning of a Michelin star restaurant.

You had thought the worst of the evening was behind you…

The car is completely drenched in silence with neither you, nor Minho knowing exactly how the broach such a sensitive topic. You're embarrassed. He knows this. The only thing evading his understanding is why… Why are you embarrassed when you shouldn't be?

"At least give me a name or an address or something," Minho's voice is dangerously low and you peer up at him with wide eyes from the passenger seat. Seeing him so put together is wholly off putting. Dressed in nothing but his sweats and a polo shirt- all black, all Tom Ford- Minho's gaze is fucking deadly as he glares at the road ahead. His frustration manifests in the form of whitened knuckles gripping a steering wheel for dear life.

"Minho, I'm not giving you his address just so you can go and harass him." The fact that you even had to reiterate this is beyond your comprehension.

"I honest-to-God, just wanna have a word with the guy..." Minho says, swinging his head towards you, completely paralysing you with the depths of his endless dark eyes. Instead of waging a war with Minho (one you knew you couldn't possibly win,) you choose to accept defeat. It consumes your entire countenance as you sink down into the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact.

"Why can't anyone love me?" The rain droplets rattling Minho's vehicle only amplifies the question and for the umpteenth time tonight, Minho is overcome with mass frustration. Again, you should not be the one feeling unwanted. You should not be letting scum of the very earth dictate the trajectory of your self worth. To make matters impossibly worse, another car swerves into his lane, completely cutting him off from a seamless drive.

"Jesus, Fuck!" While Minho curses out the driver, you keep your head against the window.

"I think I'm cursed to stay single and bitchless for the rest of my life."

You didn't get it.

You were a fairly good girl, never once stepping out of bounds. Not at work: where you worked so diligently for a boss who didn't always deserve it.

Not in your adolescence: Where you never rebelled, not even once. You lovingly spared your parents all the heartache even after you matured enough to go to college.

Perhaps the reason all your dates ended with a certified ghosting was because you simply weren't cut out for relationships. That is the most harrowing thought of them all...

Minho's voice pipes up from beside you, effectively saving you from slipping into self pity, "I think you're overlooking one major factor when it comes to staying single and bitchless for the rest of your life," You're already rolling your eyes, "And what's that?"

You can practically hear the pompous smirk as Minho says, "I'm right here. I'm always right here."

Instead of responding, your tone remains wistful and airy.

"The guy took one look at me and gassed the fuck out of the restaurant." Your blood pressure is being shot to hell at just the very thought of the man (who had contacted you first, thank you very much).

"It's like he decided reality didn't match what he saw on tinder and took it all back..." you conclude your rant with a heavy and listless exhale.

Minho, who continued to glare at the wet tar road ahead, allows his mind to conjure up every possible way your 'date' might've died on his way home. Instead of voicing these homicidal thoughts, Minho instead, cleverly and cooly asks, "What kind of weirdos are you going on dates with?"

Your reply comes sickeningly quick. "The kind of weirdos that give me the time of day," and to make matters impossibly worse, you attach a pitiful and dry chuckle to the end of your sentence. "Not everyone is like you, Minho. Not everyone has the luxury of being the object of everyone's desires." His stomach sinks deeper and deeper with the sadness that coats your voice. Anything that might save him from this suffocating feeling at the bottom of his stomach brought on by the sadness in your tone.

"I just don't get it?" Your sad eyes watch as Minho pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

"I didn't smell bad ‘cus I made sure to wear Chanel number five-" Minho can do nothing except clench his jaw. His grip on the steering wheel is deadly as he eases his car into the vacant spot… “and this dress Lix bought me for graduation- I mean he assured me I don't look fucking bloated in it so I assume I looked fine." He tries to make it through your pity party, really, he does. Whenever you found yourself in this state, slipping deeper and deeper into your insecurities, Minho found it terribly difficult to pull you out.

Difficult but not impossible

"I'm telling you," he chooses to say instead, righting his shoulders and cutting off the engine as he forces that confident smirk back onto his face, "If you wanna get laid so badly I'm always a phone call away...."

Instead of entertaining Minho's words, your mind wanders, “Maybe I'm just not hardwired for a relationship. Maybe all I'll have until I reach my deathbed is my rose toy and 5000 cats-”

“False. You have my fingers any time. Or my mouth-”

And for some reason, that statement alone… that one little flirt becomes the undoing of your sanity. “MINHO BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS JESUS CHRIST!” You do not know, nor do you care if your voice is loud enough to bleed outside, enough to disrupt any passerbys. You've fucking had it.

With men who disappoint you.

With men who say they'll show up but choose not to.

“I'm telling you I fucking failed this evening! I failed and you're not listening-

In what appears to be a snarky remark to the side, Minho mumbles, “I'm not the one that's not listening-”

“I don't need your teasing right now, Jesus! The fact that I have to spell that out-” you release a sigh “Fucking never mind,” you feel utterly defeated, and before you brain catches up to the movement of your hands, you're already typing frantically for a ride assistance app.

Minho scoffs incredulously. That sunshine smile bleeds quickly into a dangerous glare and he watches as you type frantically across your screen. “Say what you gotta say.”

“I didn't ask you to come pick me up, just so you could interrogate me-” before your sentence could become another uphill screaming match you shake your head in a way that has Minho's knuckles whitening across the inactive steering wheel. His patience was dwindling dismally and he had the vaguest suspicion that you know this.

In fact, you might have always known this: Which buttons to push to get which reaction.

He's noticed it for a while since the peroration of your ‘friendship’. Something that blossomed into a friendship when he so very clearly tried to make it everything but.

“I'm gonna take an Uber home,” you say in a tone he can only describe as bratty.

“I swear to fucking God.” he says, manic eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile of disablief, his tongue jutting against the inside of his cheek.

Minho's not sure what he wants to do but he's damn sure you're not going to like it. “If you set foot out of this car-” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index. Quietly muttering Korean expletives while you sit meekly, taking your scolding. “If you set foot out this car-”

“You're not my father, Minho,” he flinches. “I'm getting my uber-”

“Try it, see what happens.”

“Minho, goodnight.”

The last thing you expect to feel as your hand touches the car handle, is Minho’s larger hand covering your wrist in a calloused grip. His hand is firm, almost concrete and before you're able to process this, he's already dragging your face towards him.

“W-What the f-fuck, Minho, let me go!” the words come out mangled and squashed because Minho has his hands squishing your cheeks in an equally iron grip. Enough to have your teeth pushing against the inside of your cheeks. Enough to have tears stinging your eyes.

“Why the fuck do you never listen?” He whispers, almost to himself. As if he's completely forgotten about the girl, leaning over the centre console because he's squishing her cheeks for dear life. You anticipate the bruises. You can almost feel them coming on.

“It's like you purposely want to piss me off-”

Despite the aircon pouring warm hair to combat the Korean chill you feel very much icy all over. It's as if the chill has seeped into your very bones and it's not long until you're completely wracked in a series of violent shivers. You have never experienced anything like this.

Minho watches in apparent awe at the way your pupils, dark as they, dilate into even darker slits. His hand shifts silently from your cheeks, to your jaw, and lower until his hand is wrapping around your neck.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

The question hurtles through your foggy brain like a runaway train until you're forced to bore your eyes into his, “What?”

“Which pair are you wearing right now?” He asks, despite the hand already drifting from your neck, all the way down your body. He swipes his hand against your slightly damp skin, prying your thighs apart with his hand as if it were nothing. “I wanna see which you were planning to have on for him,” he knew he wouldn't like, whatever the outcome may be, but he's only just begun this game and he's not ready to stop.

“Minho.” Your hand shoots out to cradle his bicep, which proves to be a deeply harrowing mistake for someone as inexperienced as you are because his arms are so firm, so taut. You instinctively find your thighs opening just a fraction wider, even as you say, “I don't think we should do this.” You begin oh so slowly. Hoping to convey with your eyes, that which you refused to say with your lips. “I want you to stop.” Minho is absolutely breathless at the sight of the stars sparkling in your dazed eyes.

He knows exactly what you want and he's damn well going to give it to you. An escape.

“I've never known a bigger slut than you, you know that?” So casual. So forward. His words nearly have you whimpering into the quiet air.

“I can see how badly you want this,” Never ever letting his gaze stray from your helpless expression, Minho pushes his hand further into the apex of your thighs and you wait. You wait with bated breath for the euphoria to trickle in by the cold tips of his fingers touching the lace of your underwear. “You want it so bad, don't you?”

“I-I- don't,” you force the words out with your hands unknowingly wrapping themselves around Minho's forearm. “This whole time, you knew,” he laughs dryly as he lets the pad of his fingers finally reach your clothed cunt. Your legs are trembling. “You fucking knew I wanted you and yet you still went on your little date anyways,”

That has you momentarily slipping out of your subspace, but before he lets that happen, he's rubbing slow circles against your cunt, with his right hand, a hand closest to the console, easier to reach the most intimate parts of you.

“didn't know, Minho,” the whimpers leaving your mouth are soft, so intimate, like the colour pink personified and it has Minho squeezing his eyes shut for all of a few tense seconds.

When his eyes flutter open again, the old Minho is nowhere to be found. Gone is the overly flirty best friend. Gone is the unnecessary jokester. Gone is the dry humour. The only thing in its place is a stone whisper of a smirk as he says, “Ride my hand.”

“W-What-”

“You don't talk,” he says, before sliding your panties to the side, “Useless little girls don't get to talk.” He says, racking a moan from straight out your throat as his hand presses against your drenched heat. “Useless little girls don't even get to speak.”

“Minho-”

“All you think about is getting to cum, right?” There's so much of a condescending nature in its tone, it almost has you instinctively tightening your grip on the forearm between your legs and pushing your heat against his fingers. The sight of you so worked up by his bad words have Minho cursing under his breath.

You're watching him as if he invented the stars, as if to say ‘What else’, and it drives him to complete madness.

“F-Fuck,”

“She knows how to say bad words,” he cackles as you squish your soaked cunt against his calloused palm. His knuckles are pressed firmly into the seat and his wrist is giving out but his horny brain fog is far too powerful.

“That's it, Petal,” he says, watching almost as if slipping into his own trance, “fuck my hand, I wanna see how bad you want it-”

“P-Please-” You whisper, “I need your cock-”

“You don’t get to make demands when you're being punished,” he mumbles, before leaning his head back against his seat, watching you desperately try to bring yourself to orgasm by rutting your hips against his hand. “Unless, you don't need my help and you'd rather just make yourself cum-”

“NO!” you keep a firm grip on his forearm, bottom lip quivering as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I'm s-so close, please.”

Minho can't help it. The very act of you asking him for something as sacred as an orgasm… It has him trying to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpants.

“You're close, yeah?” He asks, now entering his own pleasure. He slips his left hand into his boxers while he watches you ride his hand.

“You’re close from humping that wet pussy against my hand?”

“Oh god, yes,”

“You’re such a good fucking girl you know that?” His breathing is heavy now because he's jerking himself off to the same pace as your cunt rubbing itself against his hand.

“You're such a good whore,” he whispers.

“Call me that again- p-please I’m gonna cum!”

“I've always wanted to treat you like the whore I know you are,” he whispers, watching as your eyes slip to the back of your skull, “I hated watching you go on those dates.”

“M-Minho-”

“Kill them,” he whispers silently, “I’ve fucking wanted to kill every single one of them.” he squeezes his cock, feeling his own ripples of pleasure shoot down your spine.

“Y-Yours,” you whisper, “I'm yours-”

“F-Fuck baby-” Sensing Minho slipping into his own prgasm, you grind your cunt harder against his hand. It doesn't take much for you to make a complete mess all over his seats. You're both wracked with a wave of shivers and Minho tries to keep his eyes open as he milks his cock for all it's got. He wants to watch your hips stutter. He wants to see how you look when you cum and he wants to commit it to memory.

He decides it's the most addictive thing he's ever seen.

“No fucking way you made me cum all over myself like some fuckcing teenager,” he grumbles, staring down at the mess he's made all over his shirt.

You're still a panting shivering mess and you yelp when Minho squeezes your sensitive, overstimulated clit.

“Hey,” he says, gaining your attention immediately, “No more dates yeah?”

You do nothing but nod.

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[dumpywrites]

So What if We - Kim Namjoon / RM

Prompt: “This wouldn’t change our friendship, right?”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Slight angst, friends to lovers, minor mentions of smut

Pairing: Namjoon x she/her reader

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: I've been into friends to lovers trope lately and keep prioritizing the stories w/ this theme. I'm not neglecting the other requests I swear! haha this also turns out more sweet rather than angsty, it seems like I'm quite a bad angst writer T_T

“This wouldn’t change our friendship, right?”

That was what the guy said to you, the morning after waking up next to you in your very own bed. His eyes were a bit droopy but he had a smile smeared on his lips. His two layers of top were tossed somewhere on the bedroom floor, messily, and his jeans were hanging loosely on the edge of the bed. You thanked the heavens that he somehow had his boxers on with him.

Both of you were drunk the night before. You knew it was a bad idea to bring alcohol to the mix when you vent to your best friend. Nevertheless, you did it anyway and the damage had been done.

Being friends with Namjoon came because of the convenient at first. While it was true that both of you came from the same circle of friends, you were never that close at the beginning. After switching job and finding out his apartment was actually near your new workplace, he would often ask you to eat dinner together after work, knowing your tendencies to forget and skip meals after work.

And that was how you grew closer. Noticing how cute his dimples were and how caring he was towards you came naturally after that. He was a gentleman. The small things he did when you were with your friends suddenly felt a little more special. Before, you would never bat an eye when he helped you on the most basic things, like pulling Taehyung’s dinner chair, just because of how heavy they were. He would always do that before, but lately, your heart did a little flip when he did the gesture. 

It started to worry you as day by day you began to see him romantically rather than how you’d view the rest of your friends. Safe to say getting pissed drunk with just the two of you comprehensibly was a bad idea. 

It started when both of you were on your fifth can of sparkling rum, the tv was playing baby shark, you could not care less of what was playing at that point, alongside the scattered conversation cards on the floor. 

You could barely read the question card in your hand, but Namjoon was quick to read his. 

“Why did you break up with your most recent ex?”

You frowned. “That’s not fair, how come your last question was about what do you miss in your childhood but I got this?!”

“Just answer it!” He laughed. 

“I don’t know. It’s been a year I don’t even wanna remember.” You shrugged.

“It’s been that long?” 

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “Can’t believe it’s been a year since last time I got laid.” 

He looked at you with widened eyes due to the unbelievable sentence that just came out from your mouth. The alcohol truly was making you lose your filter. 

“You haven’t got laid in a year???” 

“Stop, don’t say it like that!” You whined. “So what if I don’t do casual hookups?”

“True but…” He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at you. “I just can’t believe it cause you’re hot.”

You eyed him questioningly, squinting in a cartoonish behavior. 

“I have eyes.”

“So do I, duh.” 

“Just take a compliment, please.” He rolled his eyes.

Both of you were sitting on the sofa with shoulders touching each other. Your head was getting heavy and his voice started to sound like honey, buttering your ears, making your mind dizzy. Furthermore, you did not know since when did he has his hand over your left thigh, just sitting there doing nothing. 

“Don’t you get horny sometimes?” He asked again, followed by a light grin. 

“Obviously.” You laughed bitterly. “Why? You’re offering help or something?” 

It was a bold thing to say, but before you knew it, somehow you were manhandled into his lap and your lips met in a rough and hungry kiss. Honestly you did not know how many minutes passed of both you just tongue dancing with each other. He broke the kiss only to ask you a question. 

“Do you mind if I touch your boobs?”

You almost laughed, but quickly nodded anyway. The rest was history, which brought you to the first problem. Your best friend waking up almost fully naked next to you, asking you a question that sounded so vile in your ears. 

“This wouldn’t change our friendship, right?”

“Yeah… I guess so.” 

“I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable or anything—“

“No! I swear I’m not…” You quickly interrupted. 

“I did wear…”

“You did.” You chuckled. “It was a good thing I had some in my bedside.” 

“Okay.” He laughed nervously. “You sure you’re alright, though?”

“I mean… shit happens, I guess?” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

You were in fact a big fat liar. Things quickly went downhill right after. If it wasn’t that obvious to you then, it was now. You had feelings for Namjoon and it was even harder when he would still ask you to eat dinner with him after work. He acted like nothing had ever happened between you, and so did you. You endured and buried whatever feelings you had, for the sake of not wanting to lose him. 

Watching him acting normally when your friends were around while here you were, trying your best not to break your character. 

**

“Jin!” You exclaimed, hugging the guy. 

“Come on, everyone’s drinking already!”

Of course you were late, you were considering the option of not even showing up at all. It was getting harder trying to compose yourself while Namjoon was right there with all of your friends. 

“Why is Yoongi dancing?” You looked at the chaos in front of you. 

“I told you, they’re already drinking.” Jin laughed. “Here, take this.” The guy handed you a cup. 

You cringed upon bringing the cup closer to your nose. “Is this Jungkook’s whiskey cola?! That guy mixes like one percent of cola to his whiskey. I’m not drinking this.”

“You could always spend the night.” The older guy replied as he shrugged at you with a grin on his handsome face. 

“I’m not sleeping on your couch.” You laughed, bringing the untouched cup with you anyway. 

“You’re here!”

You gulped. Of course he had to greet you all excited. You wanted so badly to wipe that stupid smile off his face, but you couldn’t. You had to put on this whole best friend act. Just a little longer.

He looked casual and boyish. The plain army green oversized tee matched with his cream colored bermuda shorts. Ever since he decided to bleach his hair you couldn’t manage more than three seconds looking at his face. It was just a silly thing he did when he was bored, but boy oh boy did he look hot.

Managing a smile, you hoped he didn’t notice the few seconds of silence you took. 

“Come here!!!” Yoongi shouted at you with a silly smile on his face. Man was clearly drunk out of his mind. 

“Who’s responsible for this?” You felt bad but couldn’t help but to laugh slightly at the sight. 

“Let him be, dude’s heartbroken.” Taehyung bit his inner cheek as he told you. 

“Poor Yoongi.” You cooed. 

“Joon though, on the other hand…” Taehyung continued, whispering to your side. “My guy looks like he’s in love.”

Your body jumped internally. “He is?”

“You don’t know? I thought you guys hangout together a lot lately.”

“Well, yeah but… he’s never really mentioned anything in that topic actually.” 

“Weird.” Taehyung hummed. “Cause he’s totally acting like he’s in love with someone right now.” 

“He acts the same.” You replied. Secretly you prayed that your friend would not notice the annoyed tone in your voice. 

“He’s been writing love songs, are you kidding me?!” The guy next to you laughed. 

“So? Love songs sell.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Bro, I saw this part of the lyrics where he talk about a girl riding him! It’s insane!” Taehyung beamed. 

A flush of heat came through you and you cleared your throat, regaining your composure. “That’s none of my business.” 

“Ah, I get it now. You’re jealous.” The lad smirked and nodded his head at you. 

“Now what kind of conspiracy theory is this?!” You tried to laugh it off. 

“I mean, yeah he doesn’t normally go for girls that look like you.”

“That’s offensive.” 

“No, I mean in a good way. He dates the most boring and basic looking pretty girls.”

“I was feeling great until you drop the word “pretty” at the end.” You eyed the guy. 

“He doesn’t join our online gaming nights anymore.” 

“And?” 

“Since he started hanging out with you.”

The statement made you stop. Taehyung’s words had you contemplating. Some nights you would give Namjoon a call when you were just simply tired, wanting to hear the comfort of his voice. Listening to his random rambles and yaps were enough to ease the burnt out from work. Could it be? Was talking to you important enough to make him skip gaming with his friends? You hoped it wasn’t just a silly thought. 

“Hello?” Taehyung waved at you. “Back from delulu world, yet?”

“Shut up.”

“Suit yourself.” Taehyung snickered before leaving you to join the others doing karaoke session. 

You could only shook your head in amusement. After being friends with them for years, the sight of the guys being goofy was definitely not something new to you. Spotting the empty dining table, you chose to sit on the chair, watching them from afar. 

That was until a certain someone approached you. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Speak of the devil. 

You forced a grin. “You know Taehyung and his silly rambles.” 

“You’re not gonna join us?” 

“Nah, I don’t feel like drinking today.” Funnily, the cup of drink was still in your hand. You swirled the liquid and stared at it. 

“What’s bothering you?” He asked while taking the empty chair next to you. 

“Just don’t wanna drink today, that’s all?” 

“Wanna go get some fresh air?” He looked at you with a sly smile. 

“We can???” You looked at him with wide eyes. “Where?”

“Jin’s bedroom balcony. We just have to be very quiet though so they don’t notice us going upstairs.” He chuckled. 

“You’re crazy. This is some type of shit that will get slippers thrown at us!” 

“He’s already on his new cup.” Namjoon said, bringing your attention to the older guy taking a fill of his drink. “He won’t notice.”

The smile on his face was making it hard for you to refuse the offer. Sighing, you put the plastic cup down on the table and stood up. 

“Fine, but if anything happens, I’m blaming it fully on you.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” He laughed and stood up as well. 

Oh if only he knew the effect he had on you, just casually calling you with that nickname. 

Both of you tiptoed upstairs, giggling like a couple of high schoolers sneaking out. You let him open Jin’s room and closed the door behind. As soon as you both make it to the balcony, you saw him shuffling his hand through his back pocket. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Uh, no. Go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” He said before lighting one on his lips. 

You just stood there, unknowingly admiring him huffing and puffing smoke to the opposite direction from you. 

“Still don’t wanna tell me what’s inside your pretty little head?” He looked at you with a grin. 

“What’s with the compliments today?” You raised one of your eyebrows at him. 

“It’s probably the alcohol.” He chuckled. 

“Wow, so you need to be drunk to say that I look good?!” You folded your arms.

“I’d say it made me more honest… but believe what you wanna believe.” He looked to your direction, making your heart jumped. 

You cleared your throat. “Joon, I uh… I kinda need to tell you something.” 

“What is it?” 

Whatever the hell that happened between us, changed me. I wasn’t okay with just being friends. I have feelings for you. 

“You look like the baby from Ice Age movie.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned as you bursted out laughing. 

It was for the best. He did not need to know. You would outgrow this abnormal phase.

The whole world stopped when he suddenly tucked your hair behind your ears. You froze, looking at him, searching for his eyes. There was that smile again. 

“It’s windy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered. 

“This might sound crazy but can I kiss you?”

You widened your eyes and stepped back a bit. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe if you…“ He groaned, squeezing his cigarette bud and tossing it. “Fuck it.”

“Huh—“

Your words were quickly cut by his lips on yours. Your mind went blank in an instant. What? Why? Whom? What was even happening you did not know anymore. All you knew was his lips moving softly against yours and the only thing that was filling up your brain was to do the same thing to him. You could taste the slight bitter taste of his cigarette, mixed with whatever fruity drink he had before, the one the boys clearly had drank all before you came since you were left with Jungkook’s abomination whiskey. 

You didn’t know how long were both of you lip locking with each other before you felt his hands started to travel, feeling up your body. You hummed on his lips and felt his breath hitched. Things seemed wrong but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. How could you? When this was all you wanted all along?

“Joon… I…” 

You tried to protest, but he quickly captured your lips again. This time more hungrily, almost feral. You swore you felt his hands grab your butt, massaging them softly. You flinched, a low yelp escaped your lips. 

Then he suddenly stopped. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He palmed his face. “I didn’t mean— Shit, you’re gonna hate me…”

“It’s okay, you’re just drunk…” 

“I’m not drunk.” He stopped you. “I have feelings for you.”

Now that’s a surprise. 

“You have feelings… for me?”

“Should’ve told you sooner, but I chickened out.” He smiled to himself. 

“You asked me if things wouldn’t change after that night…” You looked away, biting your lips. 

“I was panicking. I thought you’d hate me.”

“Well I don’t.” You huffed. “Clearly, I’m still here. I somehow managed to maintain my sanity while trying my best not to let things change between us. Just like how you wanted…” You didn’t realize some tears were already escaping your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a hug, which frankly, only made the crying worse. 

“You’re dumb.” You pulled away slightly, just to see his face. “But I have feelings for you too.”

You both laughed in unison and he pulled you back in his embrace, hugging you tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

“OH MY GOD!!!” 

You both turned your heads to Jin’s voice yelling from a near distance. In a flash you let go of each other. You looked at Namjoon and he only shrugged with a disappointed smile. 

“Who told you fuckers can enter my room so freely, huh?!” Jin yelled. 

“We thought you were drunk enough to not care.” You replied. 

“Well thanks to Yoongi turning our karaoke session into a crying fest, I had to wrap things up. Then I realize the two of you are missing.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, it was all me. I needed a quick smoke and I dragged her along.” Namjoon laughed, clearly not taking the older guy seriously. 

“Whatever.” Jin turned his back. “Just fuck off for now, my head hurts and I need to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” Joon replied. 

“Go sleep somewhere.” The lean guy shooed. “And don’t you dare have sex in my house.”

“We didn’t—“ 

“Zip it.” Jin pointed at you. “Go before I throw my expensive Louis Vuitton slides at both of you.”

The two of you quickly made an exit. As soon as the door closed, the thick awkward atmosphere surrounded you. 

“You’re staying here for the night?” He asked. 

“Don’t know.” You looked around. “Are you?”

“Wanna… go back to my place? It’s just a ten minute walk.” He said sheepishly. “And uh, do things correctly this time?”

A giddy smile formed on your lips as you let him take your hands in his.

Thank you for reading! ⛅️

[moongreenlight]

Mafia!Price is NOT your fucking aesthetic. A full comprehensive list as to why.

He cooka da pizza!

He goes to church every Sunday. A massive Roman Catholic Church downtown. Ancient building with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows depicting the life and loss of Christ. Full two hour masses that he always wears a suit to. At first it starts as some last-ditch attempt to absolve him of his guilt, but then it became habit. 

And maybe it was his wife. Her parents were devout and just about keeled over when they found out their only daughter was married by a quick ceremony in the courthouse to a man they’d never met. Her mother was the worst, though it was to be expected. Likely didn’t know John had won his new bride when her husband didn’t have the funds left to pay off his debt. Fucking miracle she hadn’t yet done the math and realized his first child was born seven months later. He’d be persecuted to no end.

There was a target on his back since the wedding. Always put him in the hot seat on Sunday evening dinners while his wife was trying to wrangle their children into eating their vegetables. Drilled into him about work and life and why he always seemed too busy to prioritize “something worthwhile” in his life. Mother sets in on him like she’d been waiting for the opening all evening.

“So, John. Remind us what you do for work.” Accusatory. Glaring over her barely touched plate of roast at him.

“Contracting. Bit of this and that.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely. 

“Hm. And what does that entail? Can’t keep you as busy as you swear you are.” She’s unabashed. Her husband doesn’t share the sentiment. He sighs into his glass of brandy and tries to catch her eye. 

“Don’t do much hands-on these days. Project management and bookkeeping for me now. Brought on a few guys to do the grunt. You remember from when we did your bathroom, I’m sure.” He doesn’t shy away from the challenge. Principled. 

“Boys would do well to have some structure. Bet they haven’t been in a church since they were baptized.” She ignores his parry and switches to what she really wants to talk about after looking over to her daughter who is all but force-feeding them florets of broccoli. Typical.

He finally wore down after a Christmas where the only gift he got from them was a deep brown leather-wrapped bible. Used. Split down the spine, dog-eared pages.  Like they’d stolen it from the shelf in the pew for the dolts who weren’t well-mannered enough to bring their own. 

From then, it had become a welcome escape from reality. Church in the morning. 8am service, because he was up before the sun anyway. Sipping coffee in the kitchen beforehand, pouring over a heavy binder with the title ‘family finance’ scrawled in his wife’s delicate handwriting across the front.

He could hear her wrestling with their two boys in the bathroom upstairs. Their indignant screeching clueing him in that he should probably get up and help, but he always tried to steal a few more moments to himself. Calm before the storm.

The boys have sour looks on their faces when they stomp down the stairs not five minutes later, though they’re nothing in comparison to their mother who’s only a few steps behind. They get the deep furrow in their brows from him, the bitter curl of their lips from her. 

“Glad you’re enjoying your slow start, John. Really.”

He should feel worse for not helping. Tries to lay her hackles back down by snapping the binder shut and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. She barely pauses to accept it before pushing past to pack her purse. Four bibles, his ratty one, her perfectly white one with different colored sticky notes poking out the sides, and two smaller children's bibles that she’d shove in their laps for appearance sake. Snacks for the boys, and a flash of the handle of her small handgun- safetied and then shoved into the bottom of her tote.

“Should’ve shouted f’you needed help. Can’t hear a thing down here.” The boys snicker when he winks over at them. They’re outfitted in their Sunday best. Slacks with damp finger marks on the thighs from where she’d tried to smooth out wrinkles. Buttoned-down shirts that they were already tugging at the collars of. Hair gelled back, no doubt the reason for their griping earlier. 

She doesn’t find it nearly as funny as they do. Shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder before disappearing into the spare room to grab a pair of low heels. 

“We’re already late. If we have to sit in the back again, you’ll never hear the end of it.” It’s not an empty threat. They’d missed one service and some aunt had told her mother in passing. Took three months to get her to stop bringing it up.

“S’not even half seven. Takes fifteen minutes to get there.”

It’s supposed to mollify her, but it has the adverse effect. She looks ready to throw a shoe at him when she sits on the bottom stair to tug them on. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Easy.” 

Somehow all four of them make it to the car in one piece. He sends a message to Kyle before they leave telling him to save them a space toward the front to err on the side of caution.