#bee’s most popular

[slfcare]

five recipes for an exciting life (in my opinion)

spending enough time creating things with your hands (baking, drawing, scrapbooking, doodling, crocheting, journaling and so on)

keeping track of things like pretty skies, milestones, happy memories, appointments you're looking forward to

listening to music that genuinely makes you feel happy and energetic

making a habit of reaching out to people in a way that's comfortable to you (i send my dad songs he might like, my friend sends me monthly life updates)

being kind to all your five senses → like investing in a scented candle or essential oil dispenser or body mist, having a soft blanket or socks (or a soft animal to pet), listening to birdsong or the rain, looking at the sky more often, and having your favorite foods enough times

[zoe-oneesama]

Can you blame Alya for not holding a grudge when she got such an awesome prize in return?

Episode 42 Part 14

First < Previous > Next Episode

Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5

Ep 41, Ep 43, Ep 44, Ep 45, Ep 46, Ep 47

Ko-fi | Patreon

[awakefor48hours]

Please consider reblogging for a larger sample size

Remember: this is about normal/everyday Parisians who live in the Miraculous Ladybug universe. We've seen actual debate on whether or not Rena Rouge has a crush on Cat Noir or Carapace before so people feel strongly about this topic in universe.

[otomes-and-tears]

hello!! if its alright i'd like to request headcanons for step 1 Qiu and Tamarack with a fem!reader who aspires to be an idol. they like to practice idol and vocaloid dances and wear frilly dresses and accessories. If you want too, you could add their reactions in step 2 to reader actually posting dance covers online and getting popular on social media. :3

thank you!!! I hope this isnt too complicated and makes sense <3

♦ Qiu & Tamarack with Idol!MC (Step 1 and 2) ♦

► tags/warnings:

► words: 945

► A/N: Hope you enjoy! Little PSA. Since the request specified both Step 1 and Step 2 Tamarack and Qiu, I used he/him pronouns for Step 1 Qiu and switched to exclusively they/them pronouns when I wrote the Step 2 section.

► Masterlist

Tamarack

Step 1 Tamarack Isn't at all familiar with idol culture, or Vocaloid, for that matter;

She is too much of an outdoorsy type to spend too much time online, and I think that at that age, her grandparents wouldn't let her go online, or would only allow it under strict supervision;

So she'd only have access to cool math games or things of that nature;

Mc would be her first exposure to idol culture;

Tamarack would ask SO MANY questions! It's something so important to her new friend that she'd like to know everything about it!;

She'd be FASCINATED by the frilly dresses, and would likely BEG to try on any of the hair accessories;

You can trust her to always be there, cheering MC on when she's practising, and Tamarack would be happy to help her come up with ideas for her future idol career;

Like, coming up with call and responses, fandom names and stuff;

Likely, practising with her around wouldn't be really helpful because she'd be dancing along to an entirely different choreography or excitedly cheering MC on;

It's amazing for morale but not so much for memorising your steps! ;

Also, at that age, she’ll be painfully blunt if she doesn’t like something, so she’s the best person MC can go to for honest opinions about stuff;

In Step 2, she still shows her support but in more practical ways!

Like helping MC set up their camera to film, or be able to give her pointers on how the audio sounds;

She's always the first person to like and comment on the videos, and is insanely proud of MC's newfound popularity, although she is not surprised at all that it happened;

I mean, she saw firsthand how hard she worked. How much she struggled and how much practice led to all the skills MC perfected over the years;

Of course she would succeed!;

At that age Tamarack is very insecure about herself, so I think part of her would wonder why MC bothers spending time with her now that she's internet-famous;

It's a thought she tries to shake but always comes back to torment her eventually;

Sometimes, when Tamarack thinks that she’ll move away with her parents, she’s thankful for MC’s videos, because they mean she’d still be able to see MC’s face and hear her voice whenever she misses her;

I think at that age, you’d see slight influences from MC’s hobby influencing Tamarack too;

Like, how you see more frills in her dresses, a light-stick charm with MC’s signature colour hanging from her bag and Mc’s covers littering her playlists;

She finds herself learning to play Vocaloid songs on her Cello;

Is still very honest about things she likes and dislikes in MC’s work, but is better at expressing it in a gentler way

Qiu

More familiar than Tamarack on idol culture;

He’s online a bit more, and I can totally see Ren as a Vocaloid fan that would introduce Qiu to it!;

So Step 1 Qiu is blessed with base knowledge, but he’d still ask many questions about it anyway;

Like what style Mc is going for, what songs they know how to sing etc…;

And he’d try to help her as much as possible;

But Qiu helping is a lot more different than Tamarack. Like, he may fumble his ballet choreographies sometimes, but he’d try to help her memorise hers!;

He’ll cheer her on while she practises, like Tamarack, but be more restrained about it and try to give her notes afterwards;

I think he’s also the type to think of ideas during class and pass her a bunch of little written notes from his notepads on things he thought of (including little drawings when he’s able to!);

He is much kinder about criticism, to the point of sometimes being a little too kind and not critical enough;

So he’s the person to go to for reassurance if she’s feeling particularly insecure about her hobby;

He acts a little like MC is already famous, and when questioned he just says, with a smile, that he can sense that she’s going to make it;

So he wants to assert himself as the first member of her fan club!;

Step 2 Qiu is colder, but they’re no less supportive;

Just, perhaps, a little envious of her sense of purpose;

How cool is it that MC has known what she wanted to do and who she wanted to be since she was little? And that, while she has matured, she’s only grown more certain of her dream?;

How they wish they had that same certainty about anything; 

It doesn’t diminish their liking for her. It’s just another way they grow to admire her as they both age;

They find her newfound internet fame a little unsettling, but they're happy for her as long as it’s something she wants and enjoys!;

They know what it’s like for people to have certain expectations about how you act and what you can offer and the last thing they want is for her to burn out like they did;

So they check on her, discreetly. And makes sure MC knows she can always say no, and that her life doesn’t need to revolve around making her fans happy and satisfying their every whim;

Would only carry discreet merch, and would not make a big deal out of being friends with her;

They are still a big fan and supportive of her work, but they want their friendship with MC to be a respite from the turbulence of internet fame rather than an extension of it;

They snap at anyone who recognises MC and make her feel uncomfortable at school

[immobiliter]

@coldjustness sent: “Chin up. We all knew the cost, do not look so glum.” - Neve to Varric

       Neve's curt voice cut through the low din of the Cobbled Swan, drawing Varric's gaze up to gratefully receive his drink, deposited in front of him on their table. Another dead-end. Another brick wall of disappointment. Chuckles was here in Minrathous — every single piece of intelligence was pointing right at it. But whoever was covering his tracks, whoever was helping him, had still yet to reveal themselves. The dwarf let out a low chuckle. “ You still confident you can get us that lead? ” He felt somewhat guilty for dropping such a case in her lap — after all, what kind of city detective expected to be told that an ancient elven god was let loose and potentially ready to do something as stupid as tearing open the Veil? That was something for the story books, not real life. Varric leaned back in his chair. “ When you've been trying to track Solas down for as long as Harding and I have... let's just say optimism is rather hard to come by. ”

[corvidpolyglot]

anxiety!

when the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's

(to the tune of "Tragedy" by the Bee Gees)

[knucklestheenchilada]

Hello!! Hope you've been doing well!

I was just scrolling through my ao3 bookmarks and saw your fic "Time and other necessities." Honestly, I grew out of the Jason Todd phase (that's a lie lmao I just stopped reading stuff), but your work always stayed in the back of my mind. From time to time, I would remember a small scene or line. UGH, I LOVE YOUR WRITTING SO MUCH. I caught up to it today.. I wanted to say I'm so sorry for what happened. The feeling of your work being desecrated in that way.. I totally understand why you wouldn't want to continue it. I just wanted to tell you that your work is beautiful no matter what ( and that I'm reading all your other works too :3)

With much love,

one of your readers <3

YOU'RE READING ALL OF THEM?! SOME ARE SO BAD

In all honesty thank you very much for reaching out to let me know this. It genuinely makes me really happy. I'll get back to time and other necessities someday, hopefully soon... I have half the next chapter already done but every time I go to continue it, I just stare at the same paragraph for hours on end before going to write a different fic for a different fandom. Even as I'm working on the one I am right now, I keep thinking about Marcy and Jason. I'm going to be thinking about this ask all day at work tomorrow xx

I miss them and being active on @blorbofrommylazaruspit quite a bit

[cosmics-beings]

Hey what are your thoughts on starbee?

Ohh it's a good ship and i like it and share fanart of it and stuff, but it isn't really a ship that I personally ship on my own! like I've written for it, and I share stuff but for personal reasons I am not like a hardcore shipper of it but it's alright! like I used to ship it a lot but not so much anymore. but it's a really cute ship I'm just indifferent.

[hobismilitarywife]

.

[john-smiths-jawline]

Association

Summary: Greg Lestrade is coming home when he is kidnapped and taken to a parking garage where a (very attractive) man wants to have a word with him about Sherlock Holmes. Will a dinner change Greg’s feelings about him?

Association

Dealing with Sherlock Holmes was a pain in the ass to the most patient people. Greg Lestrade was not the most patient person. He had almost yelled at Sherlock, the genius junkie playing at being a detective. He had yelled at Anderson, the new forensic, for being annoying. He didn’t care if Anderson and Donovan hooked up. What he did care about was getting home and having a strong aspirin and some steak he ordered. So, when he noticed a sleek black car tailing him, he sighed and rubbed his forehead, his fingers subtly reaching towards the gun in his pocket. He stopped, and so did the car. Someone got out (most likely a butler) and opened the door. 

“Look, mate, I’ve had a really bad day, whatever you want, can it not wait until—” his phone rang. A blocked number. Damn. Seeing no other option, he answered.

“Detective Inspector.” The voice on the end of the line answered. If he didn’t know better, he would say it sounded like Sherlock. Now he really was pissed.

“Whoever the hell you think you are—”

“Get into the car, Gregory.”

“Or what?”

“Just get in the damned car, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.”

“Fine.” Greg sighed and slid into the posh-looking car that was even more posh on the inside. If that was even possible. ——— Greg got out of the car in an abandoned parking garage. No-one-can-hear-you-scream type. His hand grasped his gun a little tighter. There was no mistaking who called. There was only one person there. Wearing a fancy, spotless pinstripe suit, leaning on an umbrella like he was God-damn Mary Poppins. He half wondered if the man was going to offer him a spoonful of sugar. The thought made him snort.

“Something funny on your mind, Gregory?”

“Yeah. Who the HELL do you think you are?” the man sighed, running a hand through his hair. Greg had to admit, the man was attractive. More so than his ex-wife. The thought made him think about the bi flag he had pinned to the inside of his jacket.

“That’s not funny, nor was it on your mind.” Both true. Who was this man, Sherlock’s brother?

“Correct.”

“What?”

“You were wondering if I was Sherlock’s brother. And you are correct. I am Mycroft Holmes.” Well, at least the strange names were consistent.

“What can Sherlock’s brother possibly want with me?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why do you care?” Mycroft smiled. At the surface, it looked cold and calculating, but Greg thought he saw a hint of true warmth.

“If you do continue to…call my little brother in, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis.” Now Greg was suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a rich man, Detective Inspector.” That may have been true, but he certainly was not poor either. But this was certainly not offering anything for free. Although some might argue that having to deal with Sherlock on the regular would-be price enough, but Greg thought the man had something else in mind.

“In exchange for what?” the man smiled his cold-warm smile again.

“Information. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you’d feel uncomfortable with. Just ... tell me what he’s up to.”

“Why?” Mycroft Holmes did not strike Greg as someone who cared a great deal.

“I worry about him. Constantly.” Now that was a surprise.

“That’s nice of you.” It might have come off as suspicious, but Greg was going for genuine. And judging by the slight flicker of surprise–and something else? — in Mycroft’s face, he succeeded.

“But I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern went ...unmentioned. We have what you might call, a difficult relationship.” Greg could believe it. If what Mycroft said about worrying was true, Sherlock being frosty, even to his older brother, was not hard to imagine. But still, no matter how powerful this man is, no matter how attractive he is, he thought with a small blush and another glance at handsome-big-brother, he would never sell Sherlock out. He looked into the man’s eyes. Blue, grey, and green swirled together in a mixture of color that had Greg wetting his lips. They were Sherlock’s eyes. But different, because when Greg looked into Sherlock’s eyes, he never felt he was at risk from drowning in their depths.

“No.” Not that Greg could say no to… other things.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.” As tempting as it was, Greg knew what the answer had to be.

“Don’t bother.”

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.” This made Greg think of his ex-wife and how young they married, causing him to shift uncomfortably. But loyalty isn’t a bad thing.

“Thanks.”

“Anthea?” Mycroft called, and a young girl opened the car door, somehow still texting. Mycroft moved to get in. he paused then he saw Greg still standing stock-still in the middle of the garage.

“Get in, Gregory.” Now that threw Greg for a loop. Get in? Why? But he shrugged anyway and got in the car with Mycroft and Anthea.

“So, Mycroft, where are we going?” Mycroft squints his eyes slightly and roves them all over Greg’s body. Greg knew it was just Mycroft deducing him, but it still made him blush and straighten his tie. It was officially the straightest part of him.

“You have steak waiting for you at home,” Mycroft interrupted his musings.

“Hmm?”

“But it’s second rate. Cheap. Barely worth eating.” He turned to the driver. “Michael, the best steak in London, please.”

“As you wish, boss.” As if this evening couldn’t get any stranger.

“You know, you really don’t have to—” he was cut off.

“I know.” Was Mycroft’s cryptic response. ——— The restaurant was screaming expensive as Greg and Mycroft walked in. One of the waiters walked up to them.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes. Back again, I see?” she steered them over to a table. “Do you have an order?”

“Two orders of steak, please.” The waiter scurried off to prepare the meal.

“Tell me about your work, Gregory.”

“Can’t you just deduce?” Greg asked with a smile.

“Of course. But tell me anyway.” This time, he offered a soft, and entirely genuine, smile, before Greg started ranting about how much he was going to murder Anderson and damn the consequences. Mycroft’s soft smile never left his face until the food came, and they enjoyed a nice dinner of steak and wine. The swirling blue and green and grey eyes never left his, which normally would have been creepy, but it just filled Greg with a warm happiness that swelled inside him, helped with the wine. By the time they walked to the car, Greg was quite sleepy (a combination of the wine and the late hour) and he barely noticed the arm Mycroft slipped around his waist to support him. He didn’t remember when someone told Mycroft that they made a cute couple. He didn’t remember Mycroft’s lack of denial, or the small smile that graced his features. All he remembers is being helped into the car, and his head falling into the British Government’s lap as the car started to move. He was out a couple seconds after he feels Mycroft’s hands carding through his brown and grey hair. He smiled softly and leaned into the touch. And then he was gone. ——— He awoke in his bed, with little idea how he got there before the memories start to flood back. A small sigh ruffled his hair and he turned around to see the British Government, Mycroft Holmes, sound asleep, arms wrapped around Greg’s chest, ginger-brown hair splayed on the pillow and still in his pinstriped suit. Sensing Greg’s movement, Mycroft hugged Greg to his chest and hummed contentedly. Greg, for some reason turned around and inserted his legs around Mycroft’s, and he couldn’t help but notice how they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there. Even though he probably shouldn’t, he fell asleep again, comforted by Mycroft’s arms wrapped around him, shielding him from harm. ——— He woke up again when Mycroft shifted, removing his arms and the soft, safe warmth that came with him. He grabbed Mycroft’s hand and pulled him back to bed as he opened his eyes. He saw him blinking (probably much needed) sleep from his eyes and running a hand through his wavy red-brown locks. Greg gave a sleepy smile as he remembers Mycroft’s hands in his own hair.

“I apologize, Gregory. I suppose I must have fallen asleep after putting you to bed.”

“It’s fine, Mycroft,” Greg said, and meant it. In fact, it was more than fine.

“Should I be going, or…” he seemed to trail off in a rare moment of uncertainty.

“You can stay.” He assured Mycroft.

“Good.” Greg looked at the clock. Shoot. He was going to be late for work. Mycroft seemed to read his mind.

“Do not worry about work, Gregory. I have called the police station and informed them that you will not be coming in to work today. It takes you approximately 47 minutes and 16 seconds to get ready, leave, and arrive at work. When that time passed, you were still asleep and I did not wish to disturb you, because you had not slept for 39 hours. I am told a that is a large amount of time.” Well, that was… nice of him.

“Don’t you have a war to stop or something?” he asked. Mycroft seemed at war with himself for a few seconds before sitting back down on the bed. He smiled, but it was different then the soft, sweet one in the restaurant, or the cold, icy one in the parking garage. This was coy. Flirty. Inviting, if you will.

“They can wait.”

“So, what do you plan to do with your day off?” Greg asked. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Mycroft to lean in.

“This.” And when they kissed, hair still rumpled from sleep, Mycroft in a wrinkled pinstripe suit and Greg in the clothes he wore the day before, he swore it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Gregory?” Mycroft asked when they finally break apart.

“Yes, Mycroft?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with me?” This made Greg laugh, remembering their conversation not 24 hours earlier.

“Yes, Mycroft.”

here’s the ao3:

[luv-again]

riddle me this: the fic I thought was the most garbage has the most kudos ???

[babybluebanshee]

So I finally got my water heater replaced after more than half a year of it leaking and nearly destroying my floor, but that's not the story. The story is of the handyman that installed it.

Dude's name is Chris, and he's your typically midwestern schlub - friendly, apologizes too much, really likes the Cardinals, maybe a little younger than my parents. Hella nice tho, gets the heater installed quickly, and even offers to fix the floorboards it warped (after nearly tripping over the hump it made in the floor twice). Overall, a stress-free experience.

Then, as he's gathering up his tools - "So, I noticed your, uh, banner. Over your bed."*

*(The closet where my water heater is is located in my bedroom because I live in a mobile home, dude wasn't just wandering creepily into my bedroom)

He's referring to a giant pride flag that's hanging over my bed, with the words "Sounds gay, I'm in"

My anxiety spikes instantaneously, thinking oh christ I'm about to get hatecrimed or at least microaggressioned.

But then he says "Yeah, my daughter is gay, and I was wondering, like...where do you guys, ya know, meet up?"

What.

"Because she met her most recent girlfriend when she was in jail, and I keep asking why she doesn't just find a nice lesbian librarian or something and she said 'dad I know they're out there, I just don't know where'. So...like...where do you?"

So I ended up confessing to this nice man who installed my water heater that I don't know of any real gay culture in our mostly Baptist Missouri town of about 18,000 that routinely freaks out over pride displays in the library (I'm sure it exists but I'm lazy and haven't gone looking for it). My girlfriend lives in an area with a rather bustling gay community (we just did a face painting booth for their pride festival a few weeks ago), so maybe have her go out there with some friends, and also a lot of queers I know play dnd so maybe find a nice group of them and network. I then apologized that I wasn't more helpful in getting his daughter settled with a nice, wholesome dyke.

On the plus side, he was not deterred at all, and seemed to be very interested in the fact dnd was so popular amongst the el gee bee tees. I told him the names of some dms I know and told him to go to town. I do not know if the names will be given to his daughter or hoarded for himself so he can join a group and play like he did when he was a teenager and not be called satanic for it.

He's coming to fix my floor next week.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:

vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)

which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.

luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.

why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.

vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.

then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.

which then require months of further specialized treatment.

the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage

vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.

the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!

it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!

which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s

Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.

today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar

if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!

in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!

(src)

[darling-to-death]

Why are there like fifteen million articles about the upcoming Marvel movie, but I can't find LITERALLY one article about whether or not DHMIS is ever going to get more episodes?

[suguwu]

it's been like a month and i've just now remembered i was supposed to post the childe fic to my sideblog lmao

[lovieku]

HANDS ON ME ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you like what you see, baby put your hands on me.

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

genre: smut

ratings: 18+ / mdni

warnings: lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, it’s his birthday!!! and he’s getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever

word count: 3.9k

a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy 🩷🩷

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306

────୨ৎ────

jeongguk didn’t wish for his birthday party to look like this.

the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.

there’s an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.

that is probably why he’s struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. he’s a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.

he still hasn’t figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeongguk’s 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all he’s ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.

what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.

you’re not popular for the cliché reasons a girl in college might be. you’re not mean, you don’t square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, you’re not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why you’re surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because you’re the literal definition of an angel.

an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.

you’re known for genuine reasons. he’s never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that you’re very caring in bed.

he won’t admit it, feels disgusting for it, but he’s touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.

it doesn’t matter now, because you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since he’s now 21.

unlike most people, that number doesn’t mean a lot to him. he’s not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesn’t think he will just because of this newfound freedom.

he’s now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dad’s wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.

on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, “you’re not going to fuck in mr. jeon’s wine cellar.”

“who said anything about fucking?” dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.

jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.

he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasn’t seen often. when he’s sure he’s perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.

“well, since jimin is so afraid we’re gonna break his boyfriend’s stuff,” dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jimin’s annoyed glare, “why don’t we let the birthday boy go first?”

at that, jeongguk’s head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. he’s not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.

taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, “he can go with ___. i know that would make his day.”

sitting at her left, you’re the only one who doesn’t laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.

both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.

while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeongguk’s every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeongguk’s whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way you’re looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.

he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.

a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, “let’s go, gguk.”

jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isn’t heard, but he doubts it since he’s receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what he’s received his whole life.

if it wasn’t for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.

you don’t wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and he’s at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.

he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, “wanna go in?”

jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, they’re not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and he’s glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.

he’s less glad for it when it means he’s officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but he’s convinced you must be an angel when you don’t complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.

he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.

the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, “we— we don’t have— have to do anyt—”

“sit on that stool, gguk.”

the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where he’s starting to feel a strong urge.

you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesn’t look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way he’s still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.

his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.

now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, “good.”

his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, “i didn’t bring a gift, ggukkie.”

jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, “th—that’s okay, ___. i—i’m very happy you’re here.”

you smile, but it’s one he’s never seen on you. it’s not one of those you flash when you’re grateful, understanding, or even amused. it’s mischievous, almost belittling. “are you saying i’m your gift?”

his eyes widen, and he’s ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, “huh— oh my god. i’m so sorry. that must sound so—”

you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, “hey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.”

jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. you’re impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, “but i’m still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.”

your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.

stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.

jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.

he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing he’s going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.

jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.

his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing you’re left with are your high heeled boots.

the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, “___, wh—what are you—”

swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.

you lean into his ear, “if you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.”

jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didn’t want to bust in his tight pants already, you’re a whole different person.

your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.

his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.

he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but it’s not enough. you can’t feel him.

with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, “see? you can touch me, just like that.”

the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.

but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.

he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he can’t help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, “fuck— don’t— don’t do that. i’m gonna— oh, god.”

“you’re gonna cum?” you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.

“no! i— i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, i—”

“ggukkie, this is about you. i’ll make you cum, hm? how’s that sound?” the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesn’t think he’s ever reached before.

until he’s back to zero.

you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and there’s tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you don’t let them.

the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, “touch me.”

when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldn’t imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.

you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, “good, get all of it. make your hand wet.”

the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, “take them off.”

he’s quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.

you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. it’s an adjective you don’t think you’ve ever used on any of the guys you’ve been with, but jeongguk’s cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesn’t look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.

you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, “stroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,” the second the order is out your lips, he’s already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, “mh, aren’t you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.”

you clearly have noticed that he’s not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, “fuck, you wanna try that?”

you don’t wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly don’t have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, “we taste so good together, don’t we?”

he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and he’s graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.

you don’t waste any more time, knowing there’s not much left in the heaven you’ve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.

he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what he’s missing.

you’re bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you can’t reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, “fuck. look— look up at me, please.”

you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you can’t say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times he’s seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and he’s a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.

it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, he’s painting your warm mouth with his cum.

ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.

he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and he’s not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, “it’s okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we don’t have much time left before the others come in.”

“but…”

jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.

you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, “that doesn’t mean you won’t get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.”

when you’re done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and you’re glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.

standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, “i got your number from dahye. i’ll text you, okay?”

he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, “o—okay…”

humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, “you’re so pretty, you know that? don’t be sad.” next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize what’s happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you can’t resist another peck before promising, “happy birthday, gguk.”