#good old boys network

[salty-software-engineer]

Man I just finished Babel and I was excited to read discussions online because there's so much going on in it with so many little things and just....angry white people. Everywhere. Truly a dead dove moment.

[hey-hamlet]

Information warfare au: does snitch only work with heroes through nighteye? Does he develop other contacts within the hero industry (with or without nighteye’s help)? Does he ever get information sources that are (significantly) more illegal than ‘hacking a cheap security system’ or ‘overhearing some quiet guys in the bar’? Does he snitch have a source of income of his own?

He works primarily through Nighteye! He becomes almost an unofficial member of the agency. But, Nighteye does give him some direct lines of contact to a few other agencies he trusts and Izuku himself has his own line to the Underground Network that he uses from time to time.

Izuku's best hacking method is actually social engineering! Put on a press badge or carry a tray of coffees and most places will let you right in without asking any questions. He has a collection of USBs configured to download all local files and some others that will upload key loggers among other things. He also managed to get a few email addresses to just straight up forward every email they receive to him. He's crying at Endeavors lack of a specialized network security agent. Like, he's benefiting! But Christ man, it shouldn't be this easy!

He sometimes sells villains information about other villains, but he wont take money from heroes.

[nilseyart]

I made some small speeches to give context to the fanart lol

Mandy- Billy, what are you doing!!?

Billy- You said you had a cramp...So.. I'm just helping you not to slack off.

Mandy- You idiot already told me to respect my space

Billy- Okay, I can drop you off in the water...

Mandy- NOOOO

[ryjelsum]

oh good i found a page where someone compiled all of st@llman's abhorrent pedophilic opinions so that i can just link to that in a discussion about pivotal figures in the free software movement instead of talking about it myself, because from a historical perspective i think his views ON TECHNOLOGY and where they originated from as a guy who grew up with computers are worth discussing but from a personal point of view i goddamn hate him and what he represents for the free software community

[shinobicyrus]

I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

[foone]

I visited the world where Gerard Way was visiting family in Minneapolis on 9/11 so he kept his Cartoon Network job instead of becoming a musician.

It's pretty similar to ours. He didn't go into cartoons as you might expect, but he is way more famous in the comic book world.

As for butterfly effects, MCR doesn't exist, so Twilight doesn't exist, which means 50 Shades of Grey doesn't exist. I couldn't find any references to Stephenie Meyer or E. L. James, so either they didn't go into writing or they didn't use those same pen names.

Robert Pattinson was in Harry P*tter and then mainly independent stuff from then on out.

Kristen Stewart is somehow a bigger star than in this world? She was in Red Revenge, 2012 Soviet film about WW3 happening in the 60s and then in the 80s the survivors come over to the US to find out of anything survives of the cowardly US leadership that started the war. (yes, they shoot Reagan. He's out of his mind and it's shot like Old Yeller). She's been in a lot of USSR films since then, as this greatly raised her profile.

Taylor Lautner seems to have become a writer instead of an actor. He wrote one of the later seasons of Firefly, after it went all season-long-arcs. He technically cameo'd in season 6 but it was just as a guy who ran a casino station. He had like three lines, two of which were "get off my station!" and "guards!"

I didn't see any real differences in the music world. Sometimes you take out a band or form a super-group with interdimensional exploration, and it changes the whole field. Like if you take out Nirvana the 90s look very different, or if you help the Back Road Boys form then the 2010s are all about the retro-country revival. Anyway: MCR, as good a band as they are, don't appear to be one of those "linchpin" bands that affect the whole musical landscape.

BTW, the weirdest one of those? Michael Fucking Jackson. He's a super influential musician, inspired so many others, the king of pop, right? NOPE! If his music career is skipped, then it only affects his siblings and the one hit wonder "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell.

Strange, right? There's more downstream time effects on the music industry from taking out David Hasselhoff!

[reasonsforhope]

"A 9th grader from Snellville, Georgia, has won the 3M Young Scientist Challenge, after inventing a handheld device designed to detect pesticide residues on produce.

Sirish Subash set himself apart with his AI-based sensor to win the grand prize of $25,000 cash and the prestigious title of “America’s Top Young Scientist.”

Like most inventors, Sirish was intrigued with curiosity and a simple question. His mother always insisted that he wash the fruit before eating it, and the boy wondered if the preventative action actually did any good.

He learned that 70% of produce items contain pesticide residues that are linked to possible health problems like cancer and Alzheimer’s—and washing only removes part of the contamination.

“If we could detect them, we could avoid consuming them, and reduce the risk of those health issues.”

His device, called PestiSCAND, employs spectrophotometry, which involves measuring the light that is reflected off the surface of fruits and vegetables. In his experiments he tested over 12,000 samples of apples, spinach, strawberries, and tomatoes. Different materials reflect and absorb different wavelengths of light, and PestiSCAND can look for the specific wavelengths related to the pesticide residues.

After scanning the food, PestiSCAND uses an AI machine learning model to analyze the lightwaves to determine the presence of pesticides. With its sensor and processor, the prototype achieved a detection accuracy rate of greater than 85%, meeting the project’s objectives for effectiveness and speed.

Sirish plans to continue working on the prototype with a price-point goal of just $20 per device, and hopes to get it to market by the time he starts college." [Note: That's in 4 years.]

-via Good News Network, October 27, 2024

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐌𝐆 ♡

Day Six - Cock warming

【Synopsis】 : Mingi finds his little mouse trying to do her exams. Too bad he needs her right now.

『Word count』 : 2.69k

-> Genre:  Collage au. Smut. 

Pairing: FratBoy!Mingi x Choi!Reader

[Warnings] : Teasing. Swearing. Fingering. Dirty talk. Pet names. Mentions of Seonghwa (yes, that's a warning)

Note: This is a little part two of Prove It, hehe. Keep a look for more content with these three ♡♡

Network: @cromernet @illusionnet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @k-vanity

Also, thank you to those who asked for a part two for this story. ♡ Part three with Seonghwa and part four with both boys will also be posted soon, hehe ♡

Special tags : @fxlling13 @angelsaway @stolasisyourparent @voicesinmyhead-rc @hotteokhatyu @choisanboobenthusiast @asleepyhuman @therealcuppicake @vantediary @mingisprincesss @kelsxxyawn @kissofthespring @eunseosilver @mingisdimple @mingismoralloyalty

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Ever since the night Mingi and Seonghwa had successfully proved how skilled they were, days following have become only described as cat and mouse. Every chance they got, one of them had their hands on you. Whether it was Mingi holding your hips for too long while waiting in line at the food truck one night. Or Seonghwa, placing his hand innocently on your thigh under the table at a restaurant. No, ever since that night, it became one big game of desperation. Lonely nights spent fucking yourself at the mere thought of them while Mingi had to go to Seonghwa a couple of times when he couldn’t sleep, needing some sort of relief to make him breathe for a moment. But nothing helped. They were both hooked on you. And you on them.

It was a normal afternoon, you were in your room finishing up on some homework before you had to inevitably had to continue packing. You weren't super sad to move out, but you had doubts, not knowing if living on your own without your brother was a good idea yet. But you were old enough and you always had wanted to live closer to campus. But it was still scary. You could hear the last of the loud men leave the apartment, heading off to classes or work, finally leaving you in peace for at least a few hours… “What you up to dollface?”

Scratch that last statement.

“Nothing much. I’m just writing up my exam sheets and then I’ll continue packing.” You shot Mingi a quick smile before turning back to your paper, you didn’t want to look at the extremely hot man. Not after he had just got his hair cut. You needed to focus on your work. But you hear him start to wander around your room, your eyes can't seem to move off the one sentence you have almost read over five times. You sighed, pushing against your desk so you could swivel your chair until you were completely facing the tall beefcake of a man. “Do you need something Min?”

“It’s kinda… hard to concentrate when you are walking around my room.” You stutter slightly, feeling your ears already start to heat up. his tongue wet his lips as his smile grew more. His eyes wandered down your figure, you were wearing an old hoodie from one of the boys and sleep shorts. The same sleep shorts you wore when he made you squirt.

“Hmm, no. I’m good. Don’t mind me. You continue working…” He gave you a soft smile. asshole…

“I’m sorry doll, here let me fix that.” He cut the space between you so face you could barely notice what was happening until it happened. He lifted you off your chair before sitting down and placing you on his lip. His long legs manoeuvred the chair until he was sitting back in front of the desk, suddenly making you very confused. “There you go. Now go on with your work. While I relax.”

“Mingi…I can't just keep working while sitting on your lap.” You said flustered.

“Sure you can. And if you write over 100 words I’ll reward you.” He whispered that last part in your ear before lightly leaving kisses down your neck. Your head automatically tilted to the side, letting him have more access to your skin. “Come on baby. I don’t hear you typing.”

“Fuck you.” You growled, slightly annoyed.

“Don’t tempt me.” He chuckled making you freeze. Your hands flew to the keyboard trying their best to make up some words. But your brain had gone south for the winter and you had no more brain cells left to function.

“M-mingi…” You whispered, his lips successfully distracting you. He pulled away.

“Okay, baby. I want you to write some words outs. And every time you write at least ten words, I’ll continue. Deal?” He knew he had you trapped when he suggested this sinful game. And you were of course going to agree. So you read the next question out of your sheet, seeing it was a super easy question, your brain, with a lot of inner self yelling, you managed to write a proper sentence and over ten words like Mingi had wanted. His chuckle made you shiver as you felt his hand begin to wander down your body until it stopped right above your closed legs. “Good girl, now you get a reward. Take off these cute shots baby.”

He picked up the hem of your shorts and panties, pulling them taught before letting it go, making the band snap against your soft skin. This caused you to let out a shaky whimper, wiggling your hips until the fabric slipped off. You didn’t even bother trying to stand, using Mingi’s body as a support, you finally threw your panties and shorts somewhere in the messy room, leaving your bottom half completely exposed for him. “What is my reward…”

You had asked with mostly curiosity but there was a lingering of blunt lust, not really even caring for the kind of reward. No, all you wanted was for him to touch you. In any way, he seemed fit. “Oh, baby. Do you remember the last time we were in this position…” His deep grunt tickled your ear as he threw your left leg over the armchair, opening yourself for him. “Do you remember how thrilling it was for me to touch you, while Hwa ate you out like a starved bitch.”

You couldn’t help but moan, hands gripping tight onto the desk in front of you. His fingers danced along your plump thighs, slowly creeping their way towards your soaked core. He had to chuckle at every shaky breath you took and shiver that spilled down your spine. “You were such a good girl. Listening so well. Can you do that for me again? Hmm?” His fingers pressed firmly on your clit, feeling just out sensitive you’ve become.

“Yes please Mingi. Anything. I want to be good for you.” In other situations, you would have felt embarrassed to say such words, but Mingi knew how to draw this side out of you. A side that lives and breathes to please him. Mingi rubbed your clit slowly in a circle, smearing all your slick around, the sounds were filthy, but you no longer cared. His fingers slowly snaked down until one dipped inside your belief, making you gasp in anticipation.

“Stand up and lean over your desk, dollface.” You quickly did as you were told, standing on your jelly legs but not before you threw your hoodie off, only leaving you in a lace bra. “Fuck…” Mingi licks his lip as he watched you obey him. Your ass wiggled perfectly in his view, fuck what he would give just to stare at you all day. He would die happy. But no, for now, he needed the chase. The tease. He wanted to see how far you could go. Before he breaks you. You could hear the sound of a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes. Your heart started to ring loudly in your ears as you waited nervously for what might happen. “You Ready, love?”

The nickname caught you off guard, making your heart do laps. Love. A name you most certainly need to hear him say again. “Yes, Mingi…”

His large hands gripped your hips slowly pulling you back. He was standing behind you, the tip of his cock only just brushing against your wet folds. You bit your lip hard, trying to stop the pathetic noises that were trying to escape. Just as you feel him inch inside, you couldn’t help but let out a yelp before rolling your eyes back, “Fuck you’re big.” you had no idea why you thought he wasn’t but he was definitely bigger than any guy you had been with prior.

“And you fucking tight princess. I can barely fit.” His grunts were music to your ears and it was only when he completely bottomed out, you both let out relieving sighs. “Come on Doll, sit down.”

He guided you to the seat once more, taking a seat with you now snuggly on top of him. His cock sunk deeper at the angle, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. “Now…let’s continue.” He gestured towards the computer in front of you.

“W-what.” Your brain was so fuzzy from being so filled, you had completely forgotten about the work in front of you. Looking over your shoulder you spotted Mingi’s dark eyes. He was going serious. “B-but I thoug—You thought what? What, you answered one question and that would mean I fuck the life outta you. Hmm?” He cut you off with a dominant tone, causing you to clench around him.

“Answer a few more questions and we can see where it’ll lead.” He was stern, causing your whole body to shudder. You’ve never heard him speak like this, especially towards you. But you let out a sigh, shifting a little bit only to get…Comfortable, before looking back at your work. The first five minutes that passed were hell, every nerve on fire while every bump, shift, and tug made you very aware that Mingi’s cock was still very much inside you. But after another ten, it started to become bearable, you were able to focus more on the questions in front of you. Even asking Mingi for some assistance if needed. You both became content funny enough.

He hadn't felt this relaxed ever in his life while you were getting work done you were merely dreading prior. And by the end of the hour, Mingi was soundly napping on the chair while you were finishing up with your exam sheet. A sense of pride filled you as you typed out the last answer. You almost fell back to wake up Mingi from his peaceful slumber but even though he promised, you decided to give this moment of peace to shut your own eyes, letting sleep take a hold of you.

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 01 - Hotel Room Sex]

Pairing: Good Puppy!JK + Soft Mistress!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Rockstar!Jungkook

Kinks: porn with plot cause it's my demisexual ass, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, nipple play, nipple sucking, hair pulling, passionate pegging in missionary, use of a buttplug, lube, frotting, handjob, orgasm control, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), overstimulation, he pisses himself because it feels so good, subby boy tears, praise, dirty talk, possessive talk, muscle kink, cuddly and giddy aftercare

Wordcount: 9.2k

a/n: i can't believe i'm actually insane enough to do kinktober. besties, we're in for a ride :) this is based on this ask 💙

Jungkook sings about sex and drugs and getting drunk. He sings about the girls he fucks and kisses and how they all worship him. And he isn’t wrong. They worship him by the base of the stage, stretching their arms to him and screaming their throat raw, as if he was their god. 

You don’t blame them. Jungkook looks good. Way too damn good. He is the lead singer and guitarist of his band Black Omens, a rock band known for its enchanting vocals and heavy guitar riffs. He has a certain style of singing and of playing the guitar which drives the fangirls wild. The stage is always lit in red shades and you will always find him in tight leather pants and tank tops. Sometimes he wears no shirt, showing off his tattoos and piercings. His hair is always a certain kind of wet on stage, hanging into his sexy face messily which truly fits the lewd topics he sings about. 

And the girls go wild. He sings about being their master, their devil twisting their world all while he fingers the guitar and makes sultry eye contact with the crowd. They love it, you watch from the back with a knowing roll of your eyes. If only they knew.

The concert ends after the second encore with roaring applause and screeches. Tears are spilled and way too many undergarments thrown at the band. What a bunch of weirdos. You are jealous of them. Well, maybe not jealous but threatened. Jungkook promises you that he is loyal, that what he sings about isn’t how he truly feels, but with each concert your devotion to trust him shrinks. He asked you to come on tour with him, not wanting to be away from you again for months on end. You quit your old job two months ago because your manager decided to slip his hand under your colleague’s skirt and you broke his nose for it. Fair enough, you didn’t quit, you were fired, but you left with your head held high, knowing that your actions also resulted in your manager losing his job. And so you were unemployed and therefore had free time, so you agreed to come with Jungkook on his tour and postpone the job hunt until after. You had enough money saved up to live comfortably after the tour and while on tour didn’t need to spend any because the band budget paid for everything. Of course you agreed, but you slowly started to regret it. Jungkook sings about sex and drugs and getting drunk, he sings about all the women he dominates while thousands of willing women scream at his feet in hopes of being picked. You are only that strong in your belief that Jungkook is loyal before it finally starts to affect you. 

Tonight was an especially bad night. While the band was saying goodbye, Jungkook brushed hands with a few fangirls – all of the band did – and it made you furious. The way they looked at him, how they grabbed him and basically begged to be his next willing thing to dominate made you furious. 

The band leaves after their goodbyes, talking to each other as they jog down the stairs. 

Hoseok, the drummer, and Yoongi, the lead guitarist, share a water bottle. They’re the first by your side, followed by Taehyung, the bassist, and Seokjin, the keyboardist. 

“Alright now guys, good job up there. The crowd went wild for you tonight”, Namjoon, the manager and their good friend, says, appearing beside you as well with his phone in hand. He is always busy, always networking, always socialising. The guys jokingly call him their secret leader because he does all of their social tasks. He always accepts the teasing with an exasperated sigh and a “you’re not wrong you know? You’d be lost without me.”

“Thanks man. We felt pretty pumped up there. Fuck, it feels good to make music with you guys”, Yoongi says, boxing the air in a release of good adrenaline.

“Man, the ad-libs you did during Chained Up were fucking fire man, no lies”, Hoseok praises him.

“Says the right one. You were on fire during Spit. You and Taehyung. Man, your solo was great.”

Taehyung smiles, patting his back, “thanks man. I only followed Seokjin’s cues. You were lit, my man.”

“Man thanks seriously”, Seokjin says and accepts a bottle of water from Namjoon, downing it in one go. 

Jimin, the third guitarist and second vocalist, finally comes backstage. He can scream really fucking well. He showed off the skill multiple times tonight, driving the crowd wild. Following Jimin, is Jungkook, smiling drunkenly from the successful night. Outside the crowd is still screaming for them. You can barely even look at him. He is a cheater, you just know that he is. 

“Man, what a show”, he comes stumbling, arm falling around your shoulder. “Hey baby. Did you like the show?” he lulls, leaning so he could kiss your lips. He is sweating a lot, which you normally don’t mind but tonight it annoys you.

“You’re sweaty”, you say coldly, taking a step back. 

Jungkook brushes off the embarrassment with a confused laugh and his eyes exchanging confused looks with the others. They aren’t any wiser. 

“Did you all hear how I screamed during Save Me tonight?” Jimin tries to change topic. The others gladly take it, continuing to talk about the concert as you make your way to the greenroom. Jungkook tries to hold your hand when no one is looking, but you refuse him. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. 

“Nothing”, you refuse him answer, painting a crease of displeasure between his brows.

The guys get ready and unready in front of you. Of course they don’t get fully naked, but you have seen every single one of them in their underwear before. You are mostly on your phone or doodle in your notebook when they do because you don’t care to see their nude bodies. They are mostly talking about the concert and whether or not they should go for some beers later. You don’t partake in the conversation, sulking like an immature girl. You are aware that you are being immature, but you also can’t stop. Just hearing Jungkook’s voice makes your blood boil tonight. The latter keeps glancing at you with his brows furrowing more and more.

They are already dressed when the security guards come. You loathe this moment. 

“Derek, hey man”, Jimin greets him.

“Hey, so uhm, there’s some fans outside who wanna see you.”

The insinuation is clear to everyone and you can’t stand it. Now granted, you like all of them, they are amazing and wonderful people and you are happy when they get a fun night if that is what both parties want clearly. They don’t allow anyone under the age of twenty six because that’s the age where most humans actually know what they want and they also have a clear rule that the people need to be completely sober and clear headed. There are contracts involved, ensuring the safety of both parties so the consenting women knew they wouldn’t be forced to do anything out of their comfort zone. It was an honest deal, still a little weird, but honest and safe, but you hated it nonetheless. Because Jungkook always went with the others. Not for sex because not every fan was here for that. Some just wanted a picture or an autograph and he wanted to make those fans happy and yet you still always dreaded the moment, thinking to yourself “what if tonight is the night he finally has enough of me and goes back to the hotel room with another girl? Will I have to sleep on the streets then? Will he make me watch knowing that it will hurt me?” 

You never had such thoughts before, but this tour has been truly making you go crazy.

Tonight, Derek’s arrival made your stomach churn painfully and you almost threw up the enchiladas you ate earlier. 

The guys leave the greenroom chatting with each other. You know that Yoongi and Seokjin won’t go home with anyone because that’s not in their comfort zone. They will pose for pictures and thank the fans for their support. There is a fifty-fifty chance that Taehyung might leave with someone, depending on the vibes. Jimin will most definitely leave with someone, no hesitation. Hoseok is only there for pictures unless there is someone his taste (he leaves with someone at most locations, he is just trying to act like he isn’t a fuckboy). Sometimes there are people for Namjoon as well, who he always declines with red cheeks. Jungkook, well, frankly you don’t want to think about him. 

He follows the others, laughing and joking.  Most are out of the door when he stops and looks back at you. 

“Baby?” he queries. 

“Mhm”, you hum, not looking up from your phone.

“Wanna come with us? Meet some of our fans?”

“Go and meet them yourself, maybe one of them can Suck It, Lick It, Ride It”, you throw back his own lyrics which he sang to the crowd as his hand was on his clothed crotch.

“Huh?”

You jump to your feet to stomp away, but Jungkook catches your wrist, tugging gently but with strength.

“What’s wrong? Why are you saying that?” 

“Let go of me, I don’t wanna be touched.”

“Sorry.” He lets go instantly, studying you intensely. “Talk to me. What’s wrong, baby?”

“JK, you coming or what?” Hoseok asks, sticking his head back into the greenroom. 

Jungkook looks at you pleadingly. 

“Tch”, you scoff, turning your back to him. 

Jungkook’s features tighten in confusion, panic and heartbreak. He forces a smile on it.

“Coming, don’t worry”, he says and leaves with Hoseok after giving you one last look over his shoulder.

Just like you had predicted, the known guys leave with someone while the others only take pictures. You all leave for the hotel room together, sharing cars. Yoongi and Seokjin share the car with you and Jungkook. Namjoon is with you as well, on his phone of course. The others take the other car.

Because of the missing privacy, Jungkook can’t talk to you, destined to sit next to you while you refuse to be touched by him.

You booked rooms on the seventh floor, saying your goodbyes on the hallways before disappearing inside your rooms.

The door closes behind Jungkook.

You slip out of your shoes and then you are already gone from the entrance, fleeing into the living area of the big room. 

You sit down in one of the chairs and open the room service menu. You aren’t hungry, but don’t know what else to do.

“Can we finally cut the crap and talk?” Jungkook enters the room. 

“Do you want room service?”

“No. I wanna talk to you about what’s bothering you ‘cause something clearly is.” 

You lower the menu, glaring at him. He is glaring back with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

He throws his hands in the air and drops them, letting them slap against his thighs as a gesture of complete defeat. It makes a loud sound of impact on the leather pants.

“Very mature of you, seriously”, he says with annoyance in his voice, “I’m taking a shower, maybe you wanna talk about it afterwards.”

You don’t move from your spot during the time he takes to shower, sulking and feeling embarrassed. Jungkook isn’t wrong. You know that being a sulky girl isn’t very grown-up of you to do, but you just can’t help it. What if you speak up and he confirms it? What if he says that it’s just sex, babe? You love him so much, but what if he doesn’t love you in return?

Jungkook, who notices that you haven’t shifted one bit in the chair even after almost forty minutes, stops in his tracks to sigh in defeat. 

“What’s the matter? Just talk to me.”

You glance at him. He is only in his towel now, carrying his clothes under his arm. His hair and face are freshly washed, vast of any product or makeup. This is the kind of Jungkook only you get to see. The real, unfiltered human. It should be enough to make your heart see that you are everything he needs, but it’s not.

“Nothing, I don’t know”, you murmur, looking away 

“___ please. I know something is wrong, please let us fix it.”

You throw your hands over your face to muffle the sudden sob you want to let out. 

Jungkook drops his clothes and hurries to you. He sits down on the chair opposite of you, dragging your hands away.

“Talk to me, my love. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you homesick?” 

You shake your head.

“Is it the rooms we stay in? I know they’re not the most comfortable sometimes and-”

“No, not that.”

“Well, what then baby?” he asks softly, wiping your tears.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? That I’ll overdo it? I promise those days are over. I’m twenty seven now, I learned from-”

“No, the girls.”

“The girls? Why are you scared of girls?” He scoots closer, takes your hands and speaks in a serious voice. “What happened in Jakarta won’t happen again. I promise. We upped the security, so nobody can climb on stage again and try to kiss one of us. I promise I’m gonna stay safe.”

“And loyal too?”

Jungkook is silent. In shock and confusion. Very obviously not in caught panic. He is merely lost for words, trying to make sense of what you just asked him. 

“What did you just say?” 

“You heard me. How can I know that you’re gonna be loyal?”

“Because I took you on this tour with me.”

“And if you hadn’t?” 

“I would have called you each night.”

You search for words, studying his face.

He clicks his tongue and speaks your name as softly as possible, cradling your face, “oh my sweet love, why are you feeling like this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just…” You sigh in defeat. “I’m just tired of hearing you sing about dominating countless girls when I know I could never give you that. And then they, they scream at your feet as if you were their god with such actual, pure devotion in their eyes. I can’t compete with all of them.”

“But you don’t have to compete with them. I love you and that won’t ever change.” 

“I can’t be like them.”

“Good. I’m in love with you, not them.”

A smile hushes over your face. Jungkook smiles back at you, closing the distance to peck your lips. You accept it with a whimper and a tremor. 

“Aw baby, don’t cry. I’m here”, he says, hugging you against him. 

You hug him back, sniffling into his neck.

“Why are you feeling like this all of a sudden? Was it something I did?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just that it’s been a lot, actually, watching you have thousands of girls at your feet each night. And, and then when they come backstage I get so scared. I keep thinking what if tonight is the night he finally has enough of me and goes back to the hotel room with another girl? Will I have to sleep on the streets then? Will he make me watch knowing that it will hurt me? I’ve been feeling so insecure lately and scared that one of them will be more your type than me.”

“No, I’m sorry, my baby. You don’t have to feel this way, I love you and only you.” He gives you a tight squeeze. “Please believe me. I love you so, so much. You’re not in any kind of danger, I mean it. I see these people as fans of our music, nothing more. You’re my everything. Okay?”

“I am?” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Thank you for saying that. I love you too.”

“Is that why you were being cold to me? Because you felt too insecure?”

“No, I guess…I’m sorry for being like this. I try not to be, but it’s hard. It’s just that my voice never mattered to others and if I spoke up I was ridiculed.”

“Don’t apologise, baby. I understand. Thank you for talking to me, I know that wasn’t easy.” 

“No.” You sniffle, squeezing him. “No, it wasn’t.”

“There, there”, he rubs your head as he talks, “it feels better now though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, very.”

“For me too. I was really hurt when you ignored me. It makes me really anxious and I would really like it if in the future, you could maybe give me a short notice if you still need time to be ready to talk.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to tell you if I still need time in the future.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for giving you reasons for doubting my loyalty to you. What do you need me to do in the future?”

“I don’t know. I know the image you guys have is kinda detrimental to your success and I don’t want you to lose the connection you have with your fans. I know they matter to you.”

“Yes, as fans. You matter to me as my partner. I want to make you happy first and foremost.”

“Maybe, I don’t know, maybe you could be cuter with me?”

“Cuter? Then I have an idea. I’ll dedicate at least one song to you each gig. Alright?”

You giggle.

“Yeah, you like that. I like it too, my muffin.”

You nudge him away.

“Don’t call me that.”

He grins boyishly, earning himself another nudge.

“I’m taking a shower, you egg. If you wanna order room service, go ahead”, you tell him and stand up to leave. 

“Yes okie. Are you hungry?” 

“Not really, but you can eat something.”

Jungkook is lounging on bed when you come outside.

“Did you order something?”

“No, I-”, Jungkook’s words get stuck in his throat.

You wear the towel around your hips, forcing him to do a double take because he definitely didn’t expect the view. With a content sigh, you drop onto the mattress beside him. You aren’t blind to the way his eyes gawk at your tits. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Bouncy”, he gets out and gulps.

You laugh, “yes, boobs tend to do that with movement.”

“Ah, so pretty”, he closes the distance and buries his nose into your side boob with a cute hum. His tattooed arm is around your waist like this. He kicks his feet happily, humming cutely as he nuzzles your boob.

You snicker, enjoying the attention to the fullest. He lifts his head and grins up at you.

“You know, I was thinking”, he says, tracing your side with his fingertips.

“What were you thinking?” 

“We could order room service a little later and I’ll show you my devotion first.”

“Your devotion?” you ask, feeling tingly. 

“Mh-hm”, he nods his head, lowering it to your chest afterwards so he could mouth at your tits. He does it softly and very teasingly. “You know me. How I really am, what I really want”, he speaks between his kisses, speeding up your breath with it. His pierced lips brush over your nipple, forcing it to harden and tingle. 

“But I feel like you’ve started to forget that”, he whispers, darting the tip of his tongue out to trace your nipple. 

You squirm on the sheets. Jungkook ends the slow feast with a gentle suck and then he is already back to feather light kisses all over your chest. He even climbs between your legs for better access, raising your breath to quickened levels.

“Which means, I gotta let you put me back in my place.”

He lifts his head, lips so very close to kiss and sultry eyes getting lost in yours. Your heart is racing like crazy. You are so attracted to him.

“Peg me, my goddess. I’ve been acting out of line, I need to be curbed again.”

“Kook…”

“Please?”

You gulp. He makes puppy eyes at you. His temptation is powerful, you must admit. Pegging him tonight would definitely cure your insecure heart. There is nothing more sensual than being inside him and he looks so, so good taking it. You like to argue that this is when he looks best. The temptation is unbearable, but you can’t give in yet. He has to work a little harder for his reward.

“Yah”, you slap his chest gently, “you can’t just do that to me.”

“Why not?” he chuckles.

“Because you’re being unfair with your techniques. You wanna be pegged? What about me? You think I’ll let you get everything after what you did?”

Jungkook mewls, sagging his shoulders in defeat. You are already playing into it. This is both real, but also meant to rile him up.

“Of course not, I’m sorry. I, I shouldn’t have suggested that”, he says and bows his head, using it as an opportunity to begin licking your breasts again. He places his hands under your armpits, dancing them down your sides and up again. 

You close your eyes, melting into the pillow with a slight scoot forwards. 

“Can I make it up to you, Mistress?” he asks, mouthing at your right nipple. 

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, wow, thank you”, he gets out. 

He sucks on your nipple one last time then takes on another journey. He uses his tongue for it, swirling it down the middle of your stomach. You follow it with an arch of your back, sighing his name. You are so addicted to his touch. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman”, he rasps, supporting his words with needy kisses all over your lower stomach. You are sensitive there so this is riling you up like crazy. 

“Kook, no teasing”, you mewl, thrusting your hips up desperately. 

“Mhm.” He fumbles with the towel. “Can I open it?” 

“Yeah, quick.”

He chuckles, opening it with a skilled tug. He sits back on his feet as he unravels you, smoothing the towel out on each side of your hips. His eyes are mesmerised by your pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Wow, I’m just…wow.” 

You prop your legs up and part them. Jungkook gulps and moans afterwards. 

“I can’t believe you’re real”, he whispers.

“I taste good too, you know?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Oh my Mistress”, he murmurs and lies down on his stomach, arms wrapping around your thighs and fingers digging deep into your softness. He buries himself in your warmth with a needy mewl, instantly beginning to attack your clit with eager sucks and quick licks. 

“Oh”, you let out, twitching in surprise. “Woah.” You croak, grabbing his hair to twist it. 

Jungkook mewls into you, enjoying the burn on his scalp and the overwhelmed throbbing of your pussy. He knows that he went for it rather aggressively, but he had to. You are doubting his devotion to you. He needs to show you that he starves whenever he isn’t between your legs. You need to know that your taste is all he ever wants. 

“Holy fuck, you’re being - ah - shit, Kook fuck ah, you’re being ah rather, ah, rather aggressive, mhhhm, wouldn’t you say-aah?” You somehow get out, writhing under his mouth.

He nods his head and moans his words against you. “All I want is you. I was so starved.” His tongue glides through your folds, filling your walls for a change. Not that your clit is getting a break. He uses his pretty nose for it, sinking into your sweetened scent as he grinds his nose into your clit while he tongue fucks you quickly. 

You growl deeply and roll your eyes back sensually, arching your back. Your legs fall open weakly, now held only by Jungkook's strong arms and his needy hands. 

“You’re insane, holy fuck.” 

Jungkook hums and breaks away sloppily. He talks as he kisses your pussy. “Yeah, insane for you. My fucking goddess, my everything, my life. Fuck, I want you.” He takes your clit between his messy lips and uses his skilled tongue on it. 

“Oh god, stay there ah!” 

Jungkook mewls in understanding, gazing up at you with darkened yet devoted eyes. You are so loud. Your chest is lifting and rising quickly. Fuck, your tits are so sexy. Jungkook slides his right hand from your thigh to cradle your tit instead. It takes him a second of fumbling and then he has your nipple between his fingers, rolling and massaging it just how you like it. 

“Kook, baby”, you keen, holding his hand and twisting his hair at the same time. You don’t stop him, you just want to hold so much of him. He makes you feel so good and you need to make sure this is real.

Jungkook purrs into you, closing his eyes sensually. You are writhing so happily, moaning because of him. Are the others hearing you? Are they hearing that he makes you feel good because he is yours? A part of him hopes that they can. Especially the women going back to the hotel with his friends. He furrows his brows, suddenly feeling angry at them. How dare they make his woman feel insecure. Hopefully they hear how good you feel right now, hopefully they get the fucking message that Jungkook does all of this for you. 

“Slow down, ah, Kook slow down you’re being so, ah fuck, so aggressive”, your squeaks rip him back to reality. He has been pressing his mouth into your pussy as tightly as possible, almost licking your clit raw. Fuck, he was so angry at the world that he was too rough with you.

He whimpers, lifting his mouth, “I’m sorry. Fuck, I can’t exist without you, I’m sorry I was…I just love you so much”, he lulls, kissing your clit as apology. 

“You’re such a munch, ah fuuuuck”, you sigh, opening your legs even further. You guide his hand to your other nipple for a change because even that he rubbed raw. Jungkook switches arms for it quickly, moaning when you hold his new hand as well. His right hand he guides down to your pussy, burying his two longest digits in your dripping warmth. 

“Jungkook!” you yelp, thrusting your hips. 

“Yours. I’m yours”, he mewls, connecting his puffy lips with your clit so he can lick you again. Up and down, up and down, up and down. You like this the most, walls throbbing around his digits as he uses them to stimulate you from the other side as well. You clench down on him, making it feel so much better for you.

“I can’t hold back anymore.”

Jungkook mewls and opens his eyes. He needs to watch you break apart. First you throw your head to the side and lift your brows. Then his name falls off your tongue and your mouth stays open. Next a loud moan and your back lifting off the sheets. Finally the rhythmic throbbing begins and Jungkook knows that he has you orgasming on his tongue and fingers. 

He whimpers into you, feeling high and trying to do the best job at keeping the touches perfect for you. 

“Wow, holy fuck”, you come down with a curse, flinching when he overstimulates you with needy licks. You tug on his hair. “No more, puppy.” 

Jungkook mewls sadly but obeys. He slips his fingers out and drops your nipple, placing both hands on your thighs instead so he could guide them to his lips. He needs more of you. Now that you deny him your sweet cunt, he needs to find relief in the softness of your thighs. He sucks and kisses the tender flesh, listening to your voice as you talk to him.

“You were fucking insane tonight. What the hell?” 

You writhe in the aftershocks. Jungkook changes thighs, worshiping it with throaty mewls. 

“I can’t tell whether I came with my clit or my g-spot or my fucking nipples. Oh god, Kook.” 

He whimpers, humping the mattress. Good. That’s good. He did this to you. It’s all he wanted.

“You’re insane, seriously.”

“I love you, couldn’t help myself”, he lulls and dares to kiss your pussy. Gently. 

“Ah”, you gasp and chuckle, burying your hands in his hair to ruffle it, “stop it, you munch.”

Jungkook mewls, shaking his head as he places more kisses on your well eaten pussy. You smell so good after a high. He is delirious between your legs, floating on cloud nine. 

But you are sensitive and so you pull him up with a gentle tug to his hair.

“Be a good puppy.”

He finally comes up, letting out a sweet sigh of your name. His lips are glossy from your orgasm, his damp hair sticks to his forehead. He lays himself down over you, gazing at you dreamily.

You brush his hair out of his face, cradling his cheeks. He mewls, lowering his eyes droopily as he leans into your touch.

“This was amazing, thank you.”

He shakes his head, “thank you for letting me taste you, Mistress.”

“Gosh you sweetie. Wanna have a reward?” 

“Yes please”, he whimpers, eyes glassy in devotion.

“I knew you would like that. Get ready for me, yeah?”

“I already am, Mistress.”

“What?” 

Jungkook breaks out of your touch to turn his back to you. He is kneeling between your legs, lowering himself to his elbows so his back is arched and his butt lifted into the air. The towel is still covering him. 

“What do you mean? Are you wearing a plug?” you ask, sitting up to tug the towel from him. It falls on the sheets, revealing his sweet bubble butt to you and the big plug lodged right between his cheeks.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” you get out, gawking with parted lips and widened eyes.

He whimpers cutely, wiggling his hips. You still them with a hungry grip, making him moan just for you. He looks over his shoulder at you, carrying nothing but submission in his pretty eyes.

“I put it in before the concert. I planned on asking for your strap after the show, but then we had this fight and I gave up on it.” 

“Holy fuck….” 

“I’m yours for life, Mistress.”

Your eyes meet. He is honest. You gulp, squeezing his hips as your eyes switch back to the plug. It is black in colour and has a round base. The silicon is made of the highest quality, sitting so perfectly in his hole. 

“You performed with it in?” you ask, voice croaky and frail because he has you so weak. 

“Yeah. It was so difficult sometimes. I kept thinking of you and trying not to get hard.”

“Holy fuck and I was being fucking jealous…”

“It’s okay, Mistress. I was yours all the time.”

“Holy shit”, you whisper, soaking the towel with your excitement. “I can’t believe you held a concert plugged up. This is so hot, I can’t process it.”

“Just for you, Mistress.”

“Kook, wow. And when we talked?”

“No, it wasn’t in.”

“Did you take it out in the shower?”

“Yeah. I hid it in my clothes but then, then we made up again and I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry Mistress, I put it back in.” 

He mewls and sticks his ass closer to you, revealing more of it. He is such a natural at arching his back. Holy fuck, you are dripping like as a fucking river. 

“Please, can you be inside me? Please, I need you inside me, please”, he begs.

“Fuck, you’re so hot”, you get out, giving his buttocks a spank each.

He flinches both times, moaning sweetly and fingers twisting the sheets. The impact was just harsh enough that his skin reddens a little where you struck him. Not much, it is but a cute little flush.

“You’re blushing now, puppy”, you tease him, rubbing the tender spots. 

Jungkook curses under his breath, burying his face in the sheets with a sensual roll of his eyes.

“Hm, cute”, you smile, giving his tailbone a kiss before straightening up. “Stay like this for me, okay?” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

You get everything you need to make him yours, putting it on next to the bed. Tonight isn’t the first night you peg Jungkook on this tour or in general for that matter. Anal sex is quite the regular thing between you and him and tonight it feels especially hot. 

To think that he performed plugged up. You might need to rearrange his guts for it. You place the lube bottle in the sheets and climb back onto bed behind him, running your palms along his butt. Jungkook’s breath quickens, he squirms a little. You know that he is so, so excited right now. 

“Mhm, you’re tempting me being like this, you know?” 

He mewls, arching his back.

“So pretty. Makes me wanna pound you like we’re two fucking dogs in heat.”

He moans, heavy cock twitching between his meaty thighs and hole moving the plug needily. It gets him off like crazy when you talk rough with him.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” 

He nods his head vigorously, giving you a sweet cute moan.

“Of course you did. It’s a shame that I don’t want this.” 

“Huh?” he peeks at you pleadingly but gulps when he sees the dirty smirk you are sporting. 

“Get on your back, puppy. Now.” 

Jungkook obeys as quickly as his wobbly knees allow him. He flips right where he is, head facing the foot end of the bed and feet the pillows. 

“That’s it”, you rasp, lying yourself down over him with your hands on each side of his head. 

He gulps, gazing at you in devotion. He reaches up and grasps your wrists, arching his back just for you. His dark hair is ruffled on the white sheets.

“That’s what I want. I wanna look at your pretty face as I make you mine.”

“Mistress…” 

“Yeah, you like that too, don’t you?”

“So much”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously. He lets out a little sob, “please I’m so horny, Mistress.” 

“Of course you are. You can sing about being a girl’s Master all you want, but that’s not you, is it? You don’t get off to that, do you?”

“No, Mistress”, he shakes his head, pouting in desperation, “no, I’m Mistress’ puppy. You, you get me off.” 

“Yes, I do. You’re mine. Mine to form and command and own.” 

He moans, thrusting his hips up which results in your strap to rub against his cock. He whimpers and does it again. 

You glance down and chuckle.

“Would you look at that”, you sit up, kneeling with his legs slung around your thighs. You pick up his cock and yours, squeezing them together in a sensual handjob. 

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook croaks and rolls his eyes back, head digging into the sheets and arms reaching high above it to twist the sheets. He arches his back, toes curling on the sheets and cock throbbing against yours. The power you have over him is so obvious to you and it’s getting you off like nothing else. He might have thousands of girls screaming at his feet, he might be singing for them but in your hands, he is turning into a pretty puppy with just the first touch. Only you get to make his body move like that. Only you get to make his face pull this expression. And only you get to make him sing in such ways.

“That’s what I mean. That’s the fucking view I want, puppy. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yourssss”, Jungkook mewls, dragging out the word in a sweet moan as his body writhes on the sheets against his will. Because when he is in your hands he has no own will, no own thoughts. You control him, everything he does, every movement his body makes. 

“Mhhm mine, all mine”, you purr, looking at your cocks so close together.

The dildo you have strapped into the harness is translucent because there is something incredibly arousing about seeing it inside Jungkook. It makes his hole look so pretty. It also looks very pretty against his cock. 

You open the lube bottle with your other hand and tilt it over your cocks to squirt a good amount down on them. Jungkook reacts in a mewl of your name and his cock throbbing against yours. 

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, he curses repeatedly under his breath, lost in the frotting with closed eyes and an agape mouth. His throat looks so sexy like this. 

You spread the lube on your cocks, doing a good job with it. You even break them apart for a bit to jerk them off with one hand each. Jungkook kicks the sheets, voice cracking in the back of his throat.

“Stay still, puppy.” 

“I’m sensitive”, he mewls, kicking again despite trying not to.

“I know you are. You always are. Just try for me, okay?” 

“Oh god”, he whispers, following it up with a desperate keen. He tenses his thighs, forcing his legs to stay still as best as possible. His abs rifle as well, trying so hard to keep his hips from squirming.

“There we go. Good puppy”, you praise and press your cocks together again. You wrap both hands around them, using them to pump you from the bases all the way to the tips.

“A-a-ah”, Jungkook lets out loudly, squirming instantly. 

“Puppy”, you warn in a laugh.

“I’m sorry I- oh!” he sits up as best as possible and grabs your hands tightly. 

“Hm?” 

“Stop, holy fu- wait please. Let go.”

You let him pull you away, gawking at his face so you wouldn’t miss the grimace of agony he pulls. He frowns, gritting his teeth and curling his lips back. He looks so angry like this, but you know better. He was one second away from orgasming. 

“What’s the matter?” you feign your ignorance.

“Close, fuck”, he growls and pushes your hands to your sides, so he can cradle your face instead. He kisses the first spot his lips touch, breathing all over your face. “___ oh my god.”

You chuckle softly, caressing his waist. You can feel how heavily he breathes.

“Why didn’t you let go?”

“I can’t. Not yet. If I let go, I get too tight and…”

“And you can’t get tight yet. Oh puppy, you’re such a good boy. Wanna stay loose for Mistress, mhm?” 

“Yeah”, he mouths at your nose. “So loose. Oh god Mistress, please can you be inside me?” 

“You’re so perfect. Lie down again, okay?”

Jungkook follows your instructions. You touch his thighs and he is already propping his legs up to give you easier access. 

“Very good.” 

You turn away for a second to grab a pillow, turning back to Jungkook already having lifted his butt. 

“Look at you. You’re so obedient tonight.”

“I’m always obedient.” 

You laugh, “no, sometimes you’re being a little brat.”

“That’s only when the concert was really fun. I’m too hyper afterwards.”

“Yeah, I noticed this too. You’re an egg, you know?” 

He huffs out air, “why do you get to call me egg, but I can’t call you muffin?” 

You smile and place yourself atop of him, lowering yourself to your elbows to brush your lips against his’.

“Because I say so.”

“Holy fuck, please kiss me” he breathes, mesmerised beyond saving.

“Mhm, soon”, you tease and straighten up again. 

You run your palms down the inside of his thighs, calling his attention to your touch. 

“Are you comfortable like this?”

“Yeah, really.”

You brush your hands past his cock, speeding up his breath because he knows what will come next. You trace the plug, meeting his eyes.

“Relax for me.” 

He exhales shakily, nodding his head.

“There we go. So good.”

You pull the plug out slowly, making him moan with a throbbing cock. You moan with him, almost drooling at the view. The plug is huge. At least four inches in length and with a diameter as girthy as your strap. His hole barely wants to give it up, stretching around it as you free him from it. 

“Holy fuck, you walked around with this inside?”

“Yes, oh god Mistress oh god, oh god.”

“This is so sexy. Fuck…Kook…you’re so sexy.” 

The plug slips out, forcing his hole to squeeze out hot lube. Thankfully you laid out a towel under his butt because he is already making a mess. 

“I hate this, oh god I wanna be filled up”, Jungkook mewls, squirming in agony.

“Soon, puppy.”

You place the plug aside and spread new lube in your palm to cover your cock with it. The excess you spread on his lose hole. 

Jungkook calms down at the touch but only because it means that he will get your cock soon. He glances at you as best as the position allows. 

You smile at him, scooting closer. It happens naturally that he drapes his legs over yours so your thighs were under his propped up legs and you could be so much closer. Your skins are melted together like this, sharing warmth. It feels so good to know that only you get to experience his body heat this way.

“Are you ready?” 

“So ready, oh god.” 

“Take a deep breath in for me.”

He obeys your command.

“Good, hold it in for three…” you guide your cock to his hole, “..two…” you touch his hole with your tip, “...one, release”, you push inside. 

Jungkook release the breath in a squeaky moan, fingers gripping your thighs instantly and head rolling to the side. You stop with his rim around your tip.

“Look at me.” 

He obeys.

“There we go. Keep looking at me as I slip it in. I wanna see how handsome you look.” 

You move again, pushing your cock further into him. It is so easy to fill him. There is no resistance, just utter willingness to take you.

Jungkook lets out one sound - one breathy, beautiful sound - and then one tear spills from each of his eyes, running down his temples. 

“Hey, are you okay? Does it hurt?” 

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as he croaks his words.

“Just love you so much.” 

“Oh.” You bottom out. “I love you too.” 

“___ oh god” he chokes out and rolls his  eyes back, squeezing them shut. He spills new tears like this, dimpling your thighs from how needily he holds you. 

“Try to breathe, okay?” 

He nods his head, throwing it back a moment later when you begin rolling your hips into him. He moans your name with no hesitation, arching his back as if it was the best feeling he ever experienced.

“Is this good for you?” 

“It’s the best I ever felt, oh god.”

“Shit, my stomach’s so tingly because of you. You say the hottest shit.” 

“Keep moving please, oh…oh!” 

His hole moves around your cock. He is so flushed on his rim and so pink inside. You see both. Just as you see his cock twitch each time you bottom out. He is trembling so much, moaning so loudly that you want to keep moving just so he doesn’t stop. Is he loud enough that the others hear him? Do the fans hear him? Is it finally enough to show them that he is yours and only yours? Parts of you hope that they can hear him moan on your strap. 

You roll your hips into him, burying your cock deep in his dripping walls. You stay there, writing your name. Jungkook’s moans rise in pitch, he arches his back and curses against his will.

“Am I hitting it, mhm?” 

He nods his head vigorously, leaving nail marks on your skin. 

“Yeah? Right there?” 

You place the flat of your palm on his lower stomach and press down. Your cock hits your palm through his stomach. Jungkook wails up, reaching up to press his hands into his eyes and twist his hair at the same time. His sculpted arms are flexed like this. The noises he makes are like music to your ears. 

“Right there, I know. I can feel myself inside you, puppy. You’re so filled up with me.” 

You don’t expect Jungkook to answer you. His helpless, drugged out noises are everything you need. He is such a good singer, so talented and perfect but he sounds best when you make him moan. The range he shows during such moments is impressive. How can go from deep growls to the highest squeaks and he never sounds off. Honestly, you could get off just listening to him. You really could. 

“Right there, good puppy. You’re taking me so well.”

You draw circles with your palm as you fuck yourself into him. You need him stimulated from as many angles as possible. You need him to feel stuffed and feel every fucking one of your long, drawn out thrusts. You aren’t fucking him right now, you are making sweet possessive love to him. You need every second to feel like endless ecstasy to him. 

And oh how it does. How you mess him up. How weak he is in your hands. 

You can feel it in his stomach first then watch it in his face.

“Is this good, mhm?” you taunt. 

“I have to cum.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook sobs your name, pulling his own hair back as he breaks around your strap. He becomes restless, but you push him down with your hand on his tensing stomach. 

“There we go. Let that pressure go, such a good puppy. Cumming so good with your ass”, you talk him through it, watching in fucking obsession. 

You are making him cum without touching his cock. He needed to have your strap so badly that he can orgasm just from it. Oh you are going to make him scream once he calmed down. 

You give him a few moments to catch his breath after his high, allowing his hole to relax around you.

“How was that?”

Jungkook squeaks and mewls weakly, nodding his head.

Knowing he is too ruined to see, you spread more lube on your cock then finally lay yourself atop of him. 

One hard thrust is all it takes. Jungkook rips his eyes open, taking it with a squeal and his brown eyes so big. 

“You’re not done. Hear me?” You rasp, thrusting into him deeply and harshly. 

“___!” He yelps, grabbing your shoulders.

Your eyes are darkened and widened in craze, pinning him down until he feels small and tiny. His hole is throbbing, his insides are so sensitive. Jungkook’s toes curl against his will, he hears his own pulse in his head. This is so overstimulating and he can’t escape it. 

Another deep thrust forces him to slip closer to the edge. You chase him, using the momentum to drill your cock into him until his ass connects with your thighs in a loud slap. His back bends, his feet fly into the air and collide with your lower back. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Wrap your legs around me”, encourage him in a growl, twisting the sheets beside his head. His weakened fingers fall from your shoulders, grabbing his own hair again as he cries under you. 

“Mhm look at your arms like this, so fucking sexy”, you rasp, licking along his biceps before you end it with a deep thrust. The kind which shakes him to his very core and drags an ecstatic moan from his tongue. 

You lick his other arm as well, rewarding his very presence with another thrust. Jungkook shakes under you, stomach convulsing and hole desperately trying to push you out. Not that he wants you out. It happens against his will. You fuck him so good that his body reacts by trying to push. It brings the most sensitive parts to the surface. The parts which are soft and tender and so easily stimulated. Jungkook keeps switching between clenching and pushing, having no control over it as you have him under your spell. 

All he can do is make whatever kind of noises you fuck out of him and pray that he will survive this night. You are so assertive in your thrusts, so possessive in the way you claim him. Granted, you always get a little possessive when you peg him, but tonight it is the main motivator for each of your skilled thrusts and it’s ruining him.

“You’re mine. Holy shit, you’re mine.”

Jungkook wants to say it back, but he can’t. He rarely loses his ability to speak, but he has no words left tonight. You never felt like this before. You never fucked with such force, such depth and craze. And he never felt so frail before. He is so much stronger than you and yet he can’t use any of it right now. His legs tremble around your waist against his will, his arms feel like useless noodles as you lick and bite them repeatedly and his torso is on fire from the constant pleasure you shoot up his body. 

He is yours. Don’t be mistaken. He is yours and yours and yours. He just can’t say back. He physically can’t talk. 

“All of this is mine. Shit puppy, I love you like fucking crazy. I need help.” 

You bite his biceps especially hard, making him sob and drop his arms weakly. His flesh slips from your teeth, his messy face comes into your view. He looks ruined. Teary, snotty, sweaty and flushed. You lower yourself to your elbows and cradle his face, resting your forehead against his’ while your hips chase his depths.

“All mine. For life”, you whisper.

“You’re making me cum”, he sobs, orgasming on your length a second later. He reaches for your face and cries, whimpering your name like his last call for saving. But there is no saving him from the kind of high you give him. He has to get through it even if it feels so good that he loses himself to it. Even if it is so hot that his body is burning. Even if it digs so deep that he actually feels every single nerve in his body make sense of it. 

And because you are you, you make it even better by picking up his cock and jerking it off quickly. 

Jungkook screams, fleeing you until his head falls over the edge and tangles in the air. You chase him, drilling his throbbing hole in quick rolls of your hips while your hand milks his cock.

“Give me everything, puppy. Every single drop.” 

“I have to pee! Please too much! Too much. I’ll piss myself, please!”

“Don’t hold back. Let it happen, puppy. Fucking piss yourself for me.” 

You twist your hand around his cockhead and fuck his swollen prostate, sealing his fate. The stimulation is too much, the pleasure too big. Jungkook gets set off one last time, finally orgasming with his cock. He shoots a huge load of creamy cum at first, covering his own torso and parts of the sheets. Then it happens just as he had said. He spurts sweet pee everywhere, crying like a pathetic boy as you help him get reborn. 

You climax like this with him, spilling tears from the beautiful view in front of you. You own him to the point where you control his bodily functions. He pisses himself for you and screams your name as he does. This is like heroin to you. 

Jungkook tightens up painfully after his high. He reaches for you with one hand, using the other to hit the mattress in his safety gesture. 

You let go of him instantly, stilling your hips.

“Out please out.”

“I am. Relax and breathe. Breathe.”

You slip out of his painfully tight hole, soothing it afterwards with soft rubs.

“Breathe baby, it’s already done.”

“Holy fuck, oh god”, he croaks and then the next moments are filled with sounds of you and him catching your breaths. 

You know that he needs this and you need it too. You can’t stop looking at him and the puddle he left on his own torso. His own cum mixes with it. His sweat does too. He did this for you. Because you told him to. You really don’t have to worry, do you? 

Jungkook comes back to you, trying to sit up.

“Ah, everything hurts”, he gives up, head still tangling over the edge. 

“Wait. I’ll wipe you down and then help.”

He lets you clean him. 

“Wrap your arms around me.”

He obeys, giggling in surprise when you tug him up moments later. Like this, you and he are facing each other, legs tangled together and bodies so close. You cradle his neck and rub his upper back, gazing into his beautiful eyes. 

He has his fingers in your hair as deeply as possible, eyes lost in yours. 

“I love you”, you whisper.

“I love you too”, he breathes and spills tears.

You wipe them instantly, “don’t cry.”

“I’m happy. You made me feel so good.”

“Yeah? It felt so good for me too. Oh Kookie”, you cradle his cheeks, resting your forehead against his’, “you peed yourself for me.”

“I would do it again. It’d do anything for you.” He hugs you, face hidden in the safe crook of your neck. “I never experienced something like this before. Not with anyone. I can’t believe this happened to me. Thank you, ___. It felt so good, you have no idea.” 

“Mmh no I think I’m getting an idea.”

“You do?”

“You’re making me squirt regularly, remember?” 

He snickers, nodding his head. 

“I know how you felt.” You hug him tighter. “I’m so glad you felt this way. Shit baby, I feel so giddy. This was so perfect for me.” 

“Yes, it was perfect. Thank you for being like this. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

He nuzzles and sighs. There is no more bad blood between you and him. You love him and he loves you, it is finally clear to both of you again. This is all that you needed tonight. Oh, how wonderful it is to be together. 

“So, about room service. I was thinking. We could order two things from the menu each and then share it. So we get to try lots of food.”

“I get that the pegging made you hungry?”

“Mhm, you basically fucked a new stomach into me. I gotta fill it.”

You laugh loudly, breaking away to look at him.

“It’s stuff like that which makes you an egg. You say the weirdest stuff. Only an egg can do that.” 

He laughs.

“Well, only muffins complain about this which makes you The Muffin of all the muffins.” 

“Oh Kook, you cutie. I’m so happy with you”, you giggle, pulling him back into the hug. One which he falls into gladly and with a fluttering heart. “Don’t ever break my heart. Hear me?” you say, plead even. 

“I wouldn’t even dream of it. Your heart is safe with me. Actually, I’ll build it its own cozy home and make sure it’s always taken care of. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. If your heart was a flower, I would water it each day and give it sunlight so it won’t ever have to wither away.”

You melt with him, spilling tears on his naked shoulder. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

“I love you too, ___.”

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Isn't there an age limit?

The Justice League gathered in the meeting room to deal with yet another potential world ending threat. On the screen was a projection of an incoming alien armada. The invaders were as numerous as the stars. Each spaceship looked like a skull with many tentacles.

“These mechanical ships harvest a world’s resources, destroying all life, while terraforming the planet into servers which become part of Brainiac’s interstellar network,” Batman explained.

“We don’t have sufficient numbers to take them all down,” Martian Manhunter pointed out. “Is there a weakness we can target? Or do they have a leader we can capture to force the entire fleet into submission?”

“We need to locate Brainiac and infiltrate the ship he’s on.” While Batman spoke, a hush silence fell on the entire room. Everyone stared at the screen behind him, with mouths wide open.

Turning around, Batman stared in unbelief.

A massive sphere - a dead star, moved between Earth and the alien army. 

The cameras zoomed in on a red dot pushing it - Fawcett’s new local hero with the demeanour of a golden retriever - Captain Marvel. 

Gripping the titanic star like an oversized plastic ball, he swung it forward, hitting the incoming spaceships out of the galaxy.  

The Herculean man’s face lit with childish glee as he pumped his fist in the air. 

Grinning like an idiot, he carted the unimaginably heavy celestial object away, while whistling a ditty. 

How powerful was that man? 

More importantly, does he have any weakness in case he needs to be taken down?

“Phew,” Flash was the first to get his voice back. “The new guy took care of that. So can we go home now?”

“No,” Batman raised his hand. “Change of agenda. It’s time we expanded our membership.” Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. What better way to keep an eye on the new guy than to bring him into the fold.

Superman had a silly hopeful grin on his face. “I vote we invite Captain Marvel to join the League.”  The Last Son of Krypton must suspect that the new hero is a fellow Kryptonian.

“We don’t know anything about him,” Green Lantern cautioned.

“Better get him on our side than have him join our enemies,” Batman replied as the screen showed photos and articles about Captain Marvel gleaned from the internet for all to study.

“He’s clean.” Cyborg ran his checks on the man. “He’s a boy scout. Half of all the footage I have found — and I mean exactly half — shows him rescuing cats from trees or helping little old ladies cross the road while carrying groceries for them.”

“Cast your votes,” Batman ordered. “Do we want Captain Marvel to be a member of the Justice League?”

*

The decision was unanimous. Captain Marvel has a place in the Justice League, that is, if he wants it. With his power set, he would be a valuable asset to the team. All appearances of the new hero have shown that he is one of the good guys.

“I’ll ask him,” Superman volunteered. He was dying to meet the new guy. He had to be a fellow Kryptonian. Though he must have a chat with The Captain about Bat-paranoia, to hide how much Kryptonians can really do. Otherwise Bats might break out his Kryptonite stores to hit them both.

For example, while pushing a titanic star, for goodness sake, please make it look a lot more challenging.

According to Cyborg, Captain Marvel would appear in Fawcett right after a massive lightning strike from the clear, cloudless sky. The hero tended to patrol Fawcett for an hour before seven in the morning and for an hour after three in the afternoon on weekdays. His schedule was more unpredictable during the weekends. 

Clark was a reporter. 

Could The Captain be an elementary school teacher in his civilian identity?

It was a quarter past three on a Wednesday afternoon. Superman hovered four hundred feet above Fawcett’s busiest square, drawing a curious crowd while he waited for Captain Marvel to make his appearance.

Lightning struck an alley near a local elementary school.

“S-superman!” Captain Marvel hovered in front of him. 

The man’s brilliant blue eyes brimmed with excitement as he stared at Superman with an open-mouthed grin. 

“What brings you to Fawcett?” The Captain’s cheeks flushed as he stiffened, arms crossing his heavily muscled chest. If Superman didn’t know any better, he’d think Captain Marvel was starstruck.

“Captain Marvel,” Superman began, feeling a little self conscious.“I come on behalf of the Justice League. We’ve seen what you can do and want you to join our team.”

“You want me to join the Justice League?” The big guy was practically bouncing with excitement. If he were a golden retriever with a tail, he’d be wagging it.

Just as abruptly, he looked down, slouching as if trying to shrink his large frame. “But isn’t there an age limit to join the League?”

“We don’t discriminate against anyone based on their ages.” 

Superman whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t even know how old I was when my ship landed on earth. For all you know, it could have taken lightyears to get here.”

“Hmm,” Captain Marvel rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so.”

“Take your time to think about it,” Superman handed him a League communicator. “This is for you. If you want to talk to us, just press this button,” he showed The Captain how to use the device.

“For me?” The guy looked as excited as a kid who had received a shiny new toy. 

“Yes, for you,” Superman replied. “Call us when you’ve decided.”

“I want in,” Captain looked up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Then, welcome to the Justice League!” Superman shook his hand. “Come with me to our headquarters.”

*

The flight to the Justice League’s Headquarters with Superman was fun. 

That giant satellite that Cap often flew past when he left earth’s atmosphere was the Justice League’s Watchtower -  a secret meeting place for Justice League members.

Billy was flying with Superman. 

Elated.

The SUPERMAN!

How cool was that?

His hero was a lot chattier in person. 

Superman talked about Krypton, his home world. His dad uploaded all Krypton’s history and knowledge into the A.I. of the spaceship that brought Kal-el to earth. 

Kal-el was Superman’s birth name.

“What’s your birth name?” Superman asked?

“William,” Cap replied.

“Wil-em,” Superman looked deep in thought. 

“The Ems — I think I know your bloodline.”

“You do?” The thought that Superman even cared about Billy’s family warmed him like a cup of hot chocolate. But as far as Billy knew, he was a Batson, not an Em. He was four when he lost his family. It’s been three years since. His memories of Daddy, Mummy and Mary were beginning to fade.

“Come with me to my Fortress of Solitude after your induction and I’ll show you Krypton’s records about the Ems,” Superman grinned as he tapped on the satellite.

A panel slid open.

“Where is it?” Cap asked as he flew into the airlock.

“In the Arctic,” he accompanied Cap in the dock.

“Are there polar bears?” Cap felt giddy with excitement.

“Plenty,” Superman laughed as he walked Cap through the massive hall. It was like nothing Billy had ever seen. 

“I can introduce you to a family of friendly bears,” Superman grinned.

“I would love that,” Billy’s heart did flip flops over the thought of getting to meet polar bears who were friends with Superman. Cap could speak all languages. He’d have a great time chatting with Superman’s bear buddies.

“Holy Moley,” Captain Marvel exclaimed as he walked through the security checkpoint. The doorway opened into futuristic corridor with interactive walls and holographic displays. 

Announcing the arrival of Superman and his guest Captain Marvel, a tinny voice rang out.

“Brace yourself,” Superman whispered. “The rest of the League is waiting for us in the meeting room.”

A metallic panel slid open revealing a grand meeting room. Batman sat at the head of the long table. Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg and Aquaman sat around it. There were two empty seats.

All eyes were on Captain Marvel.

“Holy Moley,” Cap whispered. He couldn’t help himself. It’s a bad habit he picked up from his late father.

“Guys,” Superman announced. “Captain Marvel has agreed to join the Justice League.”

The room broke into applause.

“Welcome to the team,” Flash whooped.

“Let’s celebrate,” Aquaman tilted a large bottle of whiskey, filled a glass and slid it across the table to Captain Marvel.

Cap looked at the glass in front of him and back at Aquaman. “Isn’t there an age limit?”

[itstheghostofmypast]

Screw You!

Soulmate/Corporate AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6k

Est.Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Yes, I did write myself a birthday fic- I am not delusional. Also, I had been keeping @justsomekpopstuff 's request literally for this day!

Soulmates, the concept of love, the proof of your "other half" sounds like a load of fun until you realise there's an expiry date on that fun little deal. The beauty of this ideal world was that each soul is blessed with an ink, an ink that morphs into a phrase or a sentence, one that is uttered by their other half at one point of their lonely lives.

In this fundamentally twisted world, she was one of the few who had been blessed with one of the most horrendous soulmate one liners, "Being on time means, no overtime." One she'd gladly cover up with a long sleeved shirt, a cardigan, coat or whatever she could find- yes, she had once thought of getting a tattoo over it, but apparently that was illegal? Like, okay?

As a child, she'd stare at her forearm before glancing at her parents' palms. Both had a single word on their palms, their names. Her bestfriend had a cute phrase on her wrist, one that had her taste the bitter sweet awe at the back of tongue when she saw the boy mumble that question to her platonic soulmate, "Be my starlight?" It was sweet, adorable, swoonworthy even, but like any normal teenagers, her hormones told her a different story, "You're dying single."

As the years passed by she still clung onto some form of hope, wishing that whoever this was, was some good-looking corporate hunk and NOT SOME OLD MAN- mind you, this thought had only occurred to her when her sister had stumbled across her soulmate by accident at a cafe. The young but clumsy barista had almost dropped her coffee on her. Instead, he placed his hand in the way, smiling through the pain as he hissed, "Ain't hotter than you." Granted, Mingi was a weird dude, but he was the one her sister was destined with and as much as she admired the two pair in their late teens, the girl who had hit 21 had an epiphany, "Fate hates me."

Life went on, though. People around her were slowly reuniting with their other halves, but her- screw Plato's theory of other halves. He didn't know anything. Soon enough, she found herself coming home to an empty apartment, waking up in a cold bed, staring up at the dull ceiling, letting the silence hug her with its melancholic tune. There was not much she could do anyway, everyone would remind her not to lose hope, the ugly, rude, black ink in cursive was a sign of assurity that there was someone out there for her. Yeah, an old balding, stubby man, probably with a beer belly and all that crap- yes, this could be a horrid over exaggeration. Looks didn't matter. Personality did. That was true, but then, even if he was a sweet person, why would her other half say something so pointless? Something so blunt and rude?

Yes, that was the paradoxical dilemma that had her up on alternate nights. What if he is a good-looking hunk, but is a total prick! There was no winning in this situation. To top it all off, she had managed to somehow land herself a small little place on the corporate world- now proudly titled as a team leader, she could gladly say that this world was nothing more than a dog eat dog world and she was the bone fate had been chewing on for almost 26 years.

And when our poor, little, angel-hearted, extremely polite and definitely not bitterly sarcastic protagonist was not wailing about the ink on her forearm, she was daydreaming about choking the man on the 28th floor. The bastard who had been the bane of her existence, joining on the same day together but, oh, since he was oh so great at licking them boots, he'd managed to score a bit higher than her. Misogyny at its finest. Who cared if he wasn't even aiming for the same goal as her? Who cares if he was part of the finance team!? Sure it wasn't his fault the advertising head wasn't a fan of her, delaying her promotion till the old prick had finally retired- still, her current higher up, should have at least suffered the same way! To some extent.

"Some people are just lucky." She grimaced at the way her annoyingly sweet best friend had uttered during one of their afternoon coffees, placing a hand on hers, "And, if we remember correctly, you're the competitive one. I told you not to turn it into a competition." Yes, she did handle that situation maturely, chugging down her coffee, grumbling about how break was almost over, leaving the cafe with a, "I'll tell Seonghwa you've been eying up Choi Stupid from work."

Choi Stupid. Technically, that wasn't his name, but let's call him that. Initially, she had thought he was kinda nice, cute too, but then he was just too nice? How do you get everyone to like you? Can you actually be this nice? No, she was sure he was a snarky, mean bastard deep down- yes, he did manage to get the intern manager to like him as well, yes that man would praise Choi Stupid even if he was in the wrong, even if she did better than Choi Stupid, he was somehow appreciated that day too. Eventually she had just began to ignore him, only give him one word responses, but one thing was for sure, Choi Stupid was as competitive as her, but unlike her, luck had been on his side since the start, which is why his boss was a nice lady, while her's was Satan's retired manwhore- for sure.

And as fate would have it, with the annual dinner approaching, the teams and departments were working insynch, collaborating, especially the marketing and the finance department and although she loved such creative opportunities there was one problem- Choi Stupid by default was her boss during this project. And he had made sure to make her already miserable life ten times worse.

Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

It all started when she had woken up to the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, opening the door to her family and friends who had come to give her a surprise birthday party- hey, not her fault her birthday landed on a 'working Saturday'. So yes, like any unlucky, lonely, sad 26 year old she had celebrated her special day till around 3 A.M. before knocking out cold and waking up late for work- the best way to celebrate the new year.

With a sigh she leaned back against the chair, unsure if the creaking was coming from it or her poor back, before glancing at the wall clock, leave it to Choi Stupid to have her finishing up everyone else's tasks- technically the reports were her domain, she was team leader after all, but still, she has been here since morning, she had missed her lunch with her family and her usual afternoon coffee with her friends- what a way to enjoy the day.

There was no one else on the floor but her, a part of her wanted to abandon the work and just leave, but the more responsible portion of her soul was already busy beating her up for slacking off like this. Yawning in defeat, she hunched over the desk, glaring at the screen of her desktop, audibly sighing when the familiar clicking of shoes approached her, ignoring the way they progressively got closer.

She actually forgot about him for a moment, busy reading a report, thinking of what to add when she felt him hovering next to her, "It's bad enough you have me working on my birthday, I don't need you to baby me."

With a heavy sigh, he controlled the urge to roll his eyes, placing the coffee cup on her desk in a civil manner. What was she five? Complaining about her birthday like that, it's not his fault she was late. In fact, he had to stay overtime as well, because of her! Her presence was irritating enough, but the constant pestering of his friends about his lack of significant other had him huffing all day, especially when the boss-man asked him today, "Sannie boy, you better look for her quick, you seem to be sulking these days." He only gave the bastard a tight-lipped smile, easy to say for a man who apparently found his other half at the age of ten - oh how San would give anything remotely like that. Imagine knowing your other half for so long, hell, the only people he'd known for a while her of course, his family and friends....and....her.

"What you staring at, Choi? This part of your overtime punishment?" She snapped him back to reality, snatching the cup off the desk in a graceless manner. He didn't deserve a thank you.

He could only scoff at her reaction, pushing up his glasses before shaking his head, she was hopeless, whoever gets stuck with her probably would be sent directly to heaven- considering his punishment would be to spend the rest of his life with this creature. Giving her one more glare, he mumbled, walking away, "Being on time means no overtime."

Her body jerked at the sudden realisation, twitching as her head whipped in his direction, staring at that disgusting-or not- broad back, her lips moving quicker than her brain to process, her automatic defense system kicking in before she could stop herself, instantly having him freeze in his tracks as her voice echoed, "Oh, SCREW YOU!"

An audible gasped caught his burning ears, though he stood there in place, ever so slowly the pieces coming together, forming a picture that had him laughing at the irony.

Her hand slapped against her mouth, eyes widening when she saw him turn around and glare at her, slowly walking towards her, staring her down hard. Clearing her throat, she tried to mumble an apology- wonderful girl, make sure he hates you the moment you meet him, HELL HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS HIM THIS ENTIRE TIME!?

"S-San I-"

Her words caught up in her throat when she realised what he was doing. Approaching her with careful steps he tugged on his tie in an aggressive manner, ignoring her when she tried to speak as he trapped her between the desk and his body, popping open the first two buttons of his crisp white dressshirt with one hand, his other hand gripping her shoulder, rolling his eyes when he noticed her close hers in fear, hande covering her face.

"THIS IS HARRASSMENT-"

"Read." His calm voice cut her off, gently giving her shoulder a squeeze, signalling her to do as told.

She peeked through her fingers, scanning the exposed neck line, about to scream, or possibly kick him down south. That is when her eyes caught trace of a cursive right above his collar bone.

"What...the...hell. " With a faint whisper she lowered her hands, not noticing how he was now looking at her with a certain softness, not noticing how his hands were on her waist, too busy to notice how his face was flushed, his ears burning a bright pink when she traced the phrase on his skin with the tip of her fingers, mumbling, "Oh, screw you..."

"I can't believe it, all this time, it was you." He mumbled, letting her have her moment, but not stopping with his, staring at her with a new kind of tenderness, "I spent my entire life thinking this meant my other half would reject me...I was made fun of till this day....I just...If I had known-"

"I thought I'd be married to an old, bald suited man."

His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes, "What...do you mean..."

"This, you fool, who says this to someone you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with?" She snorted, unbuttoning her cuff and rolling up her sleeve to show the statement on her forearm, letting him gently grip her wrist, bringing her closer so he could read, "I...yeah I see what you mean-Wow, we just had really weird things to say, huh?" He smiled, looking up at her, and for some ungodly reason, those dimpled and stupid glasses suddenly made her heart beat a little too fast for her liking.

"Speak for yourself. What I said was cool as hell." She mumbled, trying to distract herself, trying not to jump into his arms and break down, to think they met three years ago, and never knew any of this.

His brows raised at her statement, almost about to say something before choosing to lean closer to her, smirking at the way her eyes widened like a dear caught in headlights. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat, eyes closing when he was a breath away - until she heard a soft click and his warmth disappeared.

"Oh, look, I guess you don't need to work overtime anymore." He chuckled, eying how she stood there dumbfounded, staring at the desktop he had turned off, while he placed her things in her bag for her before slinging the laptop bag over his shoulder, "I'd take your purse too...but...the red doesn't go well with my outfit."

A loud cackle resonated across the empty floor, causing Choi Stupid to smile like a mad man at the woman who was running towards the elevator with him hot on her heels behind her.

The doors closed with a ding as he glanced at her, blushing at how she was shamelessly staring back at him, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall of the elevator with a smirk.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head, knowing he wasn't gonna like whatever was coming next.

"Lady luck ain't on your side no more, buddy."

"Why'd you say that??" He asked, raising a brow, somewhat amused at this sudden boost of energy she was now blessed with.

"Gotta spend the rest of my your pathetic life with me."

"Actually, I think I'm pretty lucky. Not only do I get to do that, I still have an hour or so before your day ends...so technically, I think you're finally getting a bit lucky there...having your other half save you and take you out on a nice relaxing dinner for your birthday."

The doors opened as he walked out, chuckling at her gasp, amusing how quick she was even in those heels.

"Save me!? From who!?"

Opening the car door for her, he gestured for her to sit and smiled while closing it, "From Choi Stupid." Laughing at the muffled whining that he could hear while he walked over to his side of the door. Truly lady luck had never left his side, because from the day he had seen her, he had wished she was the one, even when she was being her gremlin self- a part of him wished it was him.

By the time the two had gotten to the road a comfortable silence had settled between them, and a small smile had graced his lips, especially when he had felt her lace their fingers together, giving his hand a light squeeze.

She glanced at their hands, sighing in relief, grateful and somewhat pleasantly surprised, feeling a bit too giddy when he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, before casually beginning to drive again.

What a birthday surprise indeed.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

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@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday

[poppitron360]

Headcanon that there were a couple online chatrooms for new parents of demigods, so they can find a support network. (because chronologically speaking it was the 90s back when the Seven were born).

Sally meets this one woman from Texas, and they get to talking. She’s got a little boy, about a year younger than her Percy. They share stories about the constant anxieties of parenting a powerful demigod, the horrors of demigod pregnancy, the fears for their boys’ futures, the cute little moments when Percy drew his mommy as a mermaid. Esperanza is funny, and they become good friends despite the fact that they’d never met in person.

Eventually, though, school and work and Gabe all get in the way of things, and Sally and Esperanza lose touch. She still thinks about that woman, though, who was her only confidant in a freaky world. Her one place she could offload all the stresses of life. Her one… hope. She made Sally feel less like she was doing it all on her own. When she had to raise Percy all by herself, she was there. Their lives touched from across the country.

She tried to get back in contact, years later. No response.

She’s probably just not using that old messaging system anymore.

Sally wonders where she is now. She hopes she’s happy.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Bullying Victim! x Bully! Reader:

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, murder, stalking, bullying (cofcofabusecofcof), torture, and yandere behavior. Inspired by "The Glory".

-Yandere Bully Victim: Before meeting you and being the target of your group of bullies; He was very alone, having his loving mother as his only company. He was also a very dedicated and intelligent boy, as well as passionate about studying, but he felt that something was missing, although he did not know what.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He applied to one of the best private schools in the country due to a scholarship, because of his high grades.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He was accepted into that school in which the vast majority of students were children of millionaire people (businessmen, politicians, etc…) with influence in the media, except for a few who were middle or lower class.

-Yandere Bully Victim: His first year at that school wasn't a big deal; In fact it was quite boring. Hell began in the second week of classes of the second year of high school. Your group of Bully's took notice of him, as they got bored of his previous victim. The first to make life miserable were your friends, but you were the worst. Your friends cornered him, hit him, robbed him, humiliated him and insulted him and you pretended to defend him (your friends knew you were pretending) and made him believe that you wanted to be his friend. You pretended to be a support network for him and as a result, he fell more and more in love with you.

-Not to mention that no matter how much the Yandere Bully Victim reported your friends' abuse to teachers or the police, money always bought the authorities. Furthermore, he had lost his mother because of the father of one of your colleagues, since she threatened to make public everything that Yandere Bully Victim suffered because of his evil son.

-As for you… he not only developed a strong emotional dependence on you; not accepting that you didn't love him, and once he even tried to forcibly kiss you and beg, just to earn a slap from you. After this, his yandere and vengeful behavior began (after a failed suicide attempt). He was later forced to give up school and get precarious jobs at the age of sixteen; while you, your friends and boyfriend (also his bully) at that time enjoyed a life of luxury and power.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He was forced to live in a small room after being evicted from his old house; in addition to living off precarious jobs as a janitor, deliveryman, waiter, etc.; while he tried to save as much money as he could, at the same time that he had to do school online through a borrowed laptop at the time. As I said before, his intelligence and grades were very good, so he got into a good university despite not having that much money.

-Yandere Bully Victim: At university he studied medicine, since since he was a child he wanted to be a doctor. He had to work hard not only studying and working, but also making friends and meeting important people in the profession. He studied a lot; he managed to specialize general surgery; save and earn more and more money, move to a thousand times better house, and how could you not? follow in your and your friend's footsteps; thus discovering everything that both you and they currently do; including dirty secrets.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He did not work alone, but had to do everything with the help of detectives. Long story short, Yandere Bully Victim was getting rid of every single one of your friends and family. He not only revealed every dirty secret he had in his possession (anonymously) to your loved ones and the internet, but he murdered them one by one.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He watched as chaos broke out in your life no matter what you tried to do. Your family's reputation was stained; your partner and children left you because they hated you; Not only did your friends betray you, but now one by one they are dead (leaving you as a suspect); They fired you and now your ENTIRE history of evilness was made public, but the Yandere Bully Victim, not happy with that, kidnapped you some time later in the basement of his house.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He still loved you, but his desire for revenge was very great and he didn't wait long. He reminded you day after day of what you did to him in the past; how he loved you; what you make him feel and how crazy he is in love with you; He reminded you of how now you no longer have anyone but him; that your children hate you; how you lost your job and how the police are looking for you on suspicion of murder. This made you angry, insult him and curse him.

-Yandere Bully Victim: Then he ended up torturing you physically, cutting your body; hitting you and burning things on your body as payment. He did it not only because he loved you and wanted to leave marks for it, but for revenge. Then he would heal you and then do the same to you.

-The End.

[trashiiplant]

I don't really ever post my oc stuff here, probably in fear it wont be received that well but ah, here I go anyway.

I finally made a slugcat oc to accompany my iterator oc, Gaze Upon a Borealis HEHE.... they're very good friends

Some notes of both below the cut:

Gaze Upon a Borealis is an iterator located in the arctic region, making her even more isolated than many other iterators. Their communication network isn't all that great. I currently don't have any proper ocs that would be a part of her local group but I DO know that it's small as hell.

She is very gentle and welcoming of any small creatures that find their way to their can. They worry over every single one every time, aware of how cold it must be for them outside. She often times assists starving creatures.

Their puppet is made to be portable in case she needs to fix some outer damage to her structure by herself. (The Beacon likes helping them with this.) There's hardly ever a proper need for that though, so she simply walks around her facility and admires the view. They gaze upon the aurora borealis often. (ayy)

Borealis can even exit their can for a certain period of time with a built in lift. They like to go on walks with Beacon every now and then.

AND OH BOY.. I rambled a bit while working on The Beacon OOPS

Anyway, here's the text if that's a bit hard to read:

-The Beacon is modified by an iterator, Gaze Upon a Borealis

-Also referred to as "Assistant" by GUB

-Specifically modified to survive the harsh climate of the arctic, where Borealis' can is located.

-Very durable and larger than most slugcats. It is awfully slow but much akin to the Gourmand, it's spear throws are quite deadly.

(2,5 dmg at most, maybe. Depends on the throw)

-Tail is designed to keep it warm, along with the thick fur

-The tail acts as a lantern, it's heat and light may lure in dangerous predators in seek of warmth.

-Rather grumpy and strict in personality. It is extremely wise due to it's old age and has acted as a mentor figure to a few slugcats in it's old colony

-Borealis managed to put it's physical aging to a halt... wont die permanently unless ascended. (screw the logic)

-At night, it's colors change to resemble the northern lights. It's tail even leaves a trail akin to one. Borealis simply thought of it as a pretty feature. Beacon finds it bothersome

-◉◉◉|◉◉◉◉◉◉ Easy peasy food pip req due to the lack of food in the arctic.

The rest is just height comparisons.

[aikuse]

spring's temptation

Three times Kisaki Tetta attempts to confess to you, and one time it works…a little too well. -> 5,211 words. gn!reader (reader wears heels to a party), fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, texting, college universe/au, hankisa-centric, mentions of throuples/polyamory. pet names ("pretty girl", "doll") -> a/n: love a good slow burn moment. this is VERY very selfship coded...this may or may not have been modeled off of a text convo my partner and i have had in the past...whose to say! no smut/nsfw this go around, just good old fluffy slow burn. my entry into the enchanted forest network's spring feelings collab!

INSTANCE #1: March 21st, 2005

Your eyes crack open to the sound of a lone mourning dove, cooing as it takes its place on a telephone wire, nestling next to its companion in the bright morning sun. It’s…warm. Warmer than it’s been the past few days. There’s a peek of pink and green from behind your curtains, asking to be let inside.

Your bed is soft, but with a groan, you arise, slamming your alarm off by smacking your phone screen and rubbing at your eyes. The smell of breakfast creeps into your nostrils as you get dressed, and a ping from your phone catches your attention as you check the screen.

Shuji <3

Ready yet, doll? We’re here.

Sure enough, two sets of bike tires faintly squeak against the asphalt, Shuji’s high-pitched giggle echoing through your now-open window that you release the lock on, pushing the curtains aside. Your two boys are down at the edge of the fence, Shuji pocketing his phone and looking up at you with a massive smile. His companion doesn’t make eye contact with you, fiddling with his shirt instead, his glasses slowly sliding down his nose.

Kisaki.

You wave at them both, a grin to match Shuji spreading across your face. “Be down in a minute!” you call to him, and he nods, elbowing Kisaki to look up at you. He complies, begrudgingly, a blush flushing his cheeks as he looks up at you. He waves at you, and you cheekily blow a kiss at him, to which he flushes an even deeper scarlet and looks away. Shuji’s laugh echoes in your ears as you shut your window, making your way downstairs.

Your mother greets you quickly, making sure you have everything you need, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as you leave the house, bounding down the stairs and grabbing your own pink and blue bike to join the boys.

“There’s my pretty girl,” you hear Shuji say, walking up to you and leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, pushing your hair behind your ear. You giggle at it, your face a little warm as you take a sniff of the surrounding air. It’s spring, all right; there’s the scent of freshly cut grass, the sharpness of Shuji’s cigarettes, and the clean linen scent of Kisaki’s laundry detergent hanging in the air around you.

Speaking of, the boy in question seemed to be hanging back today. You peer around Hanma to take a look at Kisaki, who almost looks like he’s pouting. “What’s up, Tetta? Need some attention?” you coo at him, and he snorts, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, don’t treat me like a baby,” he says in a low voice, but you can’t help walking the two steps over to him and giving him a hug. His arms don’t wrap around your own, but you can feel his heart absolutely racing against you.

Hmm. Weird.

Hopping on your bikes, you make your way to the bakery around the corner for some fluffy confections. Your mother has always waggled her finger at you for doing so, complaining that you’re going to rot your teeth before you’re twenty-five, but you simply laugh and take a massive bite out of whatever pastry your eyes were set on that day.

Today, it’s blueberry scones.

They’re fresh, the daily special, the scent of warm bread and blueberry drifting through the air as you three pull up to the storefront, hooking your bikes up before wandering in. Hanma takes his place right behind you, a large hand splayed across the small of your back, with Kisaki next to you. Your arms brush every so often, and you can almost feel a flinch.

Mega-weird.

The woman behind the counter gives you a soft smile when she hands you your bag of treats, and you return it before exiting with the two boys following you closely. The breeze that hits you as soon as you walk out is ethereal, like that first sight of a daffodil peeking out from the snow, or seeing the suggestion of cherry blossom bulbs beginning their push through the trees’ branches.

“Wish it could be like this forever,” you whisper, and Hanma moves in front of you, his face so close to your own with a massive grin on his lips, giving you a wink before moving to his bike. You turn to look at Kisaki, who has obediently stayed back behind you and Hanma during the exit, but seems to not know what to do now, looking down at his feet.

“Right, Tetta?”

You saying his first name causes his head to jerk up, before he scrunches his nose. “I guess,” he says slowly, his words heavy. You roll your eyes, grabbing his shoulder with one of your hands, the other occupied with the bag as you flash him a smile, to attempt to get him to give one back to you. It almost works; you can see the hint of one tugging at his face.

His mouth opens.

“Yeah. I wish it could, but maybe it’s a good thing that it won’t.”

Huh?

He says nothing more, moving to his bike to unhook it, Hanma already ready to go. “Come on, doll, you’re gonna make us late!” he shouts, and you huff, placing the bag on your bike’s carrier in front before mounting it yourself. You three make it to campus with plenty of time, Hanma’s claim of being late a far cry from the truth as always; he never failed to be the most dramatic of you three.

What Kisaki said somehow still weighs on you, and not even the still-warm blueberry scone in your hands can dispel the peculiar sense that weighs in your chest.

Shuji <3 [5:32 PM]

Hey doll you seen Kisaki anywhere

You [5:34 PM]

nah why

Shuji <3 [5:40 PM]

Haven’t seen him in a few days. Kinda weird, right? Like I’m not trippin

You [5:42 PM]

no that’s not like him to ignore u. are u sure he’s not just at summer camp?

Shuji <3 [5:45 PM]

No, I checked his house because I’m a psycho :p and the cars are still there

You [6:17 PM]

hmm well maybe just leave him alone maybe smth went wrong at home

Shuji <3 [6:18 PM]

I guess……………

Shuji <3 [9:46 PM]

You ever notice how he looks at you?

You [9:47 PM]

huh??? the fuck does that mean

Shuji <3 [9:48 PM]

Nothin. Just feel like something aint right

You [10:20 PM]

shuji ur literally overthinking rn im sure he’s fine

Shuji <3 [10:31 PM]

Hmm. Alright. See you tomorrow doll <3

You [10:31 PM]

<3

INSTANCE #2: April 10th, 2010

Five years, and now you’re head of the garden club at school as a freshman in college. Of course, Hanma and Kisaki both made it into the same university, and you’ve all been enjoying freshman year with everything you have. You’ve both grown closer over the years, naturally; but that feeling you had with Kisaki all those years ago has since festered. You’ve pushed it away, consistently, but it never fails to linger. Hanma doesn’t notice, or is ignoring it, and frankly, you’re relieved about that. The last thing you want is him jumping down your throat about it.

You wander through the rows of colors, letting your hand drift across all of the soft petals as you approach the small outhouse, grabbing one of the straw hats left for the volunteers. You wrap an apron around you as well, tugging gloves on before you hear a cough behind you.

You almost jump six feet in the air as you whip around and come to face—

“My God, Tetta,” you say, exasperated, your hand on your chest in mock surprise, “don’t scare me like that! You could’ve just asked to come with me today, you know.”

There’s a hint of blush on Kisaki’s cheeks as he pulls the books in his arms closer to him with a tch and a roll of his eyes. “I guess, but it’s a public garden,” he points out, the know-it-all in him becoming even more loud, “anyone can come in and out. You should expect visitors.”

He’s right, he’s always right.

You wave him off anyway, handing him some gloves and a trowel. “Well, since you’re here, I’ll put you to work. I’ve got some flowers to plant where the pansies died last year, and I’ve dug them up already, so I’ll need your keen eye to know if I’m planting them correctly.” The sentiment in your voice is clearly not lost on him, as he all but throws his books into the outhouse next to your bags and tugs on the gloves, following you like a puppy as you move through the rows, landing on an empty bed with fresh soil.

It’s quiet, the activity; he pulls the flowers out of the store-bought plastic containers, and you tuck them into their new place, patting them once as you go to make sure they’re solidly planted into the soil. The bed becomes a flush of color as you both make quick work of it, with reds and yellows and purples exploding across the empty space.

There’s a problem plant that Kisaki ends up dealing with, whose roots have made it almost impossible to pull out. He’s been struggling for a few moments now, continuously trying to get it out and then reverting to another sprout and returning to the stuck plant after. Seeing his frustration caked with dirt on his face makes your chest flutter just a little bit as you reach over—

Your hands make contact, and even through the gloves, you feel a spark.

Your hand moves back unconsciously, almost yanking it to your chest as you play it off with a laugh, but Kisaki’s eyes go wide as he looks at you. There’s a beat of nothing, before he nervously laughs with you. “Must have some static electricity,” you say, attempting to smoothen out the awkwardness as you reach for the plant again, “but let me.”

He hands it to you, and you slip it out as easily as if it were never stuck at all, his jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching in anger. “Well,” he begins, and he stutters as you look at him with an eyebrow raised, patting the problem child into the dirt, “I-uh-I just loosened it for you. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat back to him, but there’s no malice in your voice. The blush on his cheeks is even more red as he looks away from you, grabbing the next flower to remove from the pot, refusing to say more.

The sun is still high in the sky when you finish the bed, and it looks gorgeous as you sit in front of it, sharing water with Kisaki. His hands freed from the gloves, he reaches out to brush against the petal of a snapdragon, the cherry red contrasting nicely with his emerging tanned skin.

“Antirrhinum.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Bless you?”

He laughs, then, a genuine laugh that you hadn’t heard in a while. His mood around you hadn’t gotten worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either, since that day at the bakery. You still don’t know why he’d been acting so weirdly, why he said that he wished things would change; it had been five years, you’d think you’d know by now. Why did he think that? Were you and Hanma not enough for him after so long? Did something happen at home? Did—

“It’s the genus that snapdragons are from. It’s ‘cause they look like dragons when you squeeze them. They’re actually not compatible with themselves, a lot of the time. They can’t self-pollinate.”

You nod, humming. “Sure know a lot about plants, huh?”

Kisaki’s face couldn’t be redder or he’d look like a tomato. “Yeah. One of the weird things I like to study, I guess.”

You’re not sure what prompts you to move, but you do, so your hand is covering his own. Skin touching skin, the spark isn’t there, but there is an odd sense of warmth. The peculiar sense comes back again, one that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not weird or wrong, just…odd. Nevertheless, you don’t move away, and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet, and it’s like time is suddenly frozen, waiting for a choice to be made. You can’t help but flicker down to his lips and back up, and you can tell he’s noticed as his white teeth appear to bite down on his bottom lip gently.

You cough, moving away, going to remove your hand. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, gripping onto your hand so you can’t remove it. “Don’t be. We’re friends, right?”

The smile he gives you doesn’t reach his eyes.

There’s the peculiar feeling again, tightening your chest.

Shuji <3 [9:26 PM]

Alright, doll, enough fuckin around.

You [9:26 PM]

huh????

Shuji <3 [9:27 PM]

You invited Kisaki to do the stupid garden shit with you and not me? :(

You [9:27 PM]

oh my god u idiot he literally just showed up of course i had to put him to work

Shuji <3 [10:08 PM]

Yanno if it were me I’d think you’re fuckin with him on the side

You [10:09 PM]

WE ARE FRIENDS OMG

Shuji <3 [10:10 PM]

You sure about that?

You [10:11 PM]

YES???? why should i not think that???

Shuji <3 [10:20 PM]

Come on, you gotta notice. He’s not the best at being subtle

You [10:21 PM]

i rly don’t know what ur talkin about here but if he rly thought that i’d hope he would have a convo w me about it instead of brooding like an idiot as u seem to say

Shuji <3 [10:42 PM]

HAHA yeah. Hopefully he grows some balls and does something about it.

You [10:43 PM]

ABOUT WHAT????

Shuji <3 [10:45 PM]

Nothin. Gnight doll <3

You [10:46 PM]

ugh fine gnnnn ilysm

Shuji <3 [ 10:50 PM]

Love you too

INSTANCE #3: MAY 15th, 2013

“Kisaki!” you slur, your drink sloshing in its container as you stumble your way over to him. Hanma is behind you, one of his large hands keeping you steady as he meanders over with you, a matching grin on his own face as you both adventure over to your third, who is currently sitting at the bar nursing his only beer of the evening, scowling.

“What’s got ya so bummed out, huh?” Hanma asks, resting one hand on the bar and the other on your shoulder as you slide in front of him, between the two men, your eyes sparkling as you look up at Kisaki. His glasses are new, clear frames that make him look more mature. He’s forgone the buzzcut he used to have, instead opting for an undercut. No more dyed hair, either, at least not at the level he used to have. The highlights are more exact, a barber having done them rather than a fourteen-year-old rebellious boy.

He looks good. Too good.

Hanma has also changed quite a lot, although not to you. To you, he’s still the possessive boyfriend he’s always been, goofy and laughing and never taking anything seriously. He’s also opted for shorter styled hair, being much less ridiculous than his “skunk haircut” that you forever teased him about. However, he has a look that he gives Kisaki, one that you either hadn’t picked up on before or that you simply hadn’t noticed…

It looks like yearning.

Kisaki takes a sip from his beer before looking at Hanma. “You know this stuff isn’t really my style,” he drawls, a finger circling the rim of his glass, “I’d much rather be at home, honestly. Reading a book sounds like a much better use of my time.”

You clap your hand on him, ignoring the flash of shock in Kisaki’s eyes. “Come on, Tetta,” you whine, “life isn’t just about books. It’s all out here! Waiting for you to explore!” You brandish your arms around you, gesturing at the bar’s dance floor, crammed with sweaty bodies and solo cups and tongues inside of wet mouths, filthy noises barely being dulled by the horrifically loud bass echoing around the room.

Luckily, where you three are, it’s relatively quieter. Sofas line some of the walls. There’s a girl grinding on her choice for the night, her cherry red lips leaving faint marks on his cheeks as they kiss sloppily. There’s a hint of drool on his chin as his hands move to grab onto her hips, moving her gently against him, grinding her down onto whatever is hiding in his pants.

You tear your eyes away, only to see both Hanma and Kisaki staring at you. “What?” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders, but the alcohol has a grip on you now. You need someone to touch you, and whether it’s Kisaki or Hanma, it seems to not matter to your horny brain. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every moment that passes.

Your logical brain, however, goes for Hanma, due to the fact that he’s your partner, your lips brushing against his neck. “Kinda wanna go home,” you whisper against his sweaty skin, and you feel his throat rumble as he laughs, pulling you close to him. “Sorry, doll, this is my party,” he says, “but lucky for you, I have a good friend willing to take you home, since he wants to go so badly.”

You look over at Kisaki, who looks like he’s staring daggers at Hanma. There’s a beat of silence between them, tension hanging in the air so thick that you could cut it with a knife, when Kisaki sighs, finishing his beer and extending his hand. “M’lady,” he says, a smile on his face, and you follow him happily, planting a kiss on Hanma’s lips before you go. “I’ll let you know when I’m home,” you shout back, and he nods, lifting the glass at you and blowing you an air kiss.

The walk home is slow as you stumble, eventually ripping off your heels and choosing to walk in your bare feet. Kisaki doesn’t notice, moving a few paces ahead of you. Once he realizes you’re no longer right next to him, he looks back at you, and then at your feet, and—

“Jesus, why are you walking barefoot? Come here.”

You don’t get a chance to say anything before he’s picking you up, slogging you onto his back in a forced piggyback ride. Your heels thud lightly against his chest with every step he takes. “D’you work out or somethin’?” you slur, your cheek resting against his shoulder, your breath on his neck. He nods, effortlessly huffing as he adjusts you without you even doing anything, a squeak falling from your lips. “Tetta!” you exclaim, giggling, and you can feel his smile without even seeing it.

“I work out so I can make sure someone as pretty as you gets home safe without a scratch.”

Pretty. “Pretty,” you say slowly, weighing it on your tongue, “I s’pose I am. Thas’ a weird thing to say about your friend, you know.”

You’d always joked with Kisaki that you were just friends. Sure, he got touchy when he was drunk, and he did do things for you that felt boyfriend-level, but it was nothing serious. Hanma was always there, anyway, clearly the boyfriend in charge with his loud voice and raucous laugh taking up the space that Kisaki himself left for him. They’d been good to you, both of them; they’d always been good to you.

Your apartment appeared much faster than you wanted it to, having felt so content being carried by Kisaki that when he set you down in your entryway, you almost collapsed to the ground. You giggle at the mistake, picking yourself back up and dusting yourself off, before looking up at him.

You’d have thought he’d been looking at the stars with the way he looked at you in such fascination. You ignore it. You have to ignore it, because you can feel that peculiar feeling rearing its head again. It had been years since you’d felt it, so why now? What about right now, other than the alcohol flooding your veins, made you feel like this?

“Thanks for, uh, for gettin’ me home,” you say, breaking the silence and picking up your heels and going to move further into your apartment, but a hand lands on your arm. There’s a plea in Kisaki’s eyes when you meet them, but it’s gone before you fully realize it.

“You’re welcome,” he chooses to say instead, “make sure you drink some water.”

He disappears before you can respond, the door clicking shut behind him.

When the refreshing water hits you, after you meander into the kitchen and fill a glass, the realization does too.

The peculiar feeling, the feeling you’ve felt every time you come into contact with Kisaki. The feeling you had all those years ago when he’d mentioned how he wanted things to change. The spark between you two that felt so much more than just static electricity jumping from one’s skin to the other. The fact that he took time out of his day to come help you at the flower gardens (which you never questioned, either, oddly enough).

It all pointed to one thing, one staggeringly shocking revelation that you almost can’t fathom as you slide onto the linoleum floor.

You were in love with Kisaki.

Kisaki was in love with you.

And you, despite your best efforts, were in love with Kisaki and Hanma.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You [1:02 AM]

u fuckign bas tard u were rIGHT the wh OLE time

Shuji <3 [1:04 AM]

Hmm? Really? What was I right about?

You [1:05 AM]

TETTA

You [1:05 AM]

HES IN LOVE W ME ISNT HE

Shuji <3 [1:06 AM]

Oh, yeah. He’s so fuckin bad at hiding it it’s kinda funny

You [1:06 AM]

WHY DID U NOT

You [1:06 AM]

TELL ME

You [1:06 AM]

WHY DID U NOT SAY ANYTHIGGGGGNNG

Shuji <3 [1:10 AM]

I have, so many goddamn times. You just didn’t wanna see it <3

You [1:12 AM]

FUCK

You [1:12 AM]

what do i do shuji. what the fuck do i do

Shuji <3 [1:13 AM]

Well, you still love me, right?

You [1:13 AM]

yes god i would never not love u im so fr

You [1:13 AM]

but wtf am i supposed to do about being into him too like how does that work

Shuji <3 [2:05 AM]

Well, there’s a lot I gotta tell ya.

You [2:06 AM]

like what????

Shuji <3 [2:17 AM]

You think you’re the only person out of the three of us that likes him?

You [2:17 AM]

like………

You [2:17 AM]

WAIT

You [2:18 AM]

LIKE LIKE?????

Shuji <3 [2:18 AM]

God, I love you but you make it sound so fuckin weird lmao

You [2:18 AM]

I DIDNT KN OW U WER ENT STRA GIHT

Shuji <3 [2:25 AM]

Surprise lmao

Shuji <3 [2:25 AM]

So I’m guessin u can see how this is gonna work right

You [2:26 AM]

that,,,kinda makes it a lot easier

Shuji <3 [2:26 AM]

Yeah duh. Worryin for nothin. I love you but goddamn lol

You [2:27 AM]

oh my god shut upim gonna go to bed and pretend this didnt happen

Shuji <3 [2:27 AM]

You can try doll. But we’re gonna talk about it eventually.

You [2:28 AM]

yeah yeah okay gn i did make it home safe btw

Shuji <3 [2:30 AM]

Yeah Kisaki told me. Knew he’d keep ya safe considering he’s in love with you

You [2:31 AM]

FUCK OFF GOODNIGHT

Shuji <3 [2:31 AM]

Goodnight doll <3

INSTANCE #4: MAY 31st, 2013

Having your boyfriend know that you’re in love with his best friend and also having the realization that he is also in love with your best friend is, frankly, a best case scenario for the ridiculously comical love triangle that you find yourself in now.

Neither of you have said anything to Kisaki, of course. It’s been a few weeks since the party, and you’ve both concocted a plan together; to drop hints and see how long it takes Kisaki to realize what’s going on. Given his innate ability to read people, you both bet that it’ll take him a week at best.

A week stretches into two, then three. Consistent touches are met with a smile but nothing more, helping out around his apartment gets a “thank you”, but he’s not giving either of you any room to move further or even bring up a discussion. It’s a bit ridiculous, actually, and while you know Hanma can last forever when it comes to a good slow burn (particularly if it involves Kisaki), you do not have the same patience.

It’s a wine night after you finish your junior year of university when it all comes out.

You three are piled up on the couch, and you unstick yourself to move into the kitchen, sighing as you pour another glass of wine. There’s a sound of shuffling, before you see Kisaki enter the kitchen with you, pouring his own glass. “It’s good, right?” you say, swirling your glass up to the light in mock analysis as he grins, the wine flushing his cheeks a sweet pink.

“Sure is,” he says, and the silence that fills the space after is…a little awkward.

“Say, I wanted to thank you for, you know, not making things weird.”

Your gaze moves from the glass to his face, and with the drunken flush on his cheeks it looks like he’s finally grasped onto a string of bravery.

“Weird about what?”

There’s a clink as his glass lands on the countertop. “Calling you pretty. Was just a slip of the tongue, I’m sorry. That wasn’t right.”

“Ever the example of honesty, I see,” you joke, sitting on the countertop with the glass. You can hear the TV in the living room slightly lowering its volume, and you know for a fact Shuji is listening in. Why wouldn’t he? The look you gave him after you left the room, the wink he’d tossed your way, he knows what’s going on.

Kisaki swallows so harshly that you’d think he was attempting to swallow an apple whole. He looks as if he’s debating on what to say, how to respond to that, because you know he’s not being truthful. He doesn’t know that you know, though.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long, because he takes a deep breath, and out it comes.

“I’m tired of pretending that I’m not into you. It’s a lie, it’s a massive lie that’s been poisoning me for years and I am so exhausted with pretending that I don’t feel something for you.”

You stare at him in mock shock, trying your best not to laugh.

He immediately backtracks, his hand brushing against the back of his neck. “Fuck,” he whispers, “fuck, I’m sorry, now I made it weird, I know you’re with Shuji and I shouldn’t have said anything, I know, I—”

“God, Tetta, shut the fuck up for once,” you finally say, snapping. The resistance that you’ve held the past couple weeks has suddenly crumbled, watching him stumble over his words and ignore the love he has for you based on…what? Your commitment to Shuji? You’re basically a throuple anyway, it’s like he’s been blind to it all. Blind to the love that you and Shuji have for him.

He looks at you with real shock, and you roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt to bring you closer to you, slotting between your legs. “Shut up,” you repeat against his lips, and you crush yours against his own.

He’s speechless, unmoving, like a statue as you kiss him, slowly, gently attempting to unravel his nerves that are bubbling underneath his skin. Slowly, he softens in your hands, meeting the motions you’re giving him. He cups your cheek and tilts your head and his tongue slides in, skating across your teeth. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop. The restraint is off, disappeared, dissolved in the space between you two.

He’s shuddering against you, like he can’t believe he’s doing this, but like he’s so excited to finally kiss you and break through whatever mental block he’s put up. He’s panting against you, red-bitten lips pounding as he looks at you. There’s so many emotions in his eyes; betrayal, shame, lust, excitement, all colliding in a wild kaleidoscope.

“Sorry.”

His voice is raspy, and he goes to move away, but you lock your legs behind him so he can’t move. He stiffens, looking back at you with surprise as you lean back, your palms flat on the countertop as you roll your eyes. “Tetta,” you respond, in a sing-song voice, “don’t apologize. I liked it.”

“But Shuji—”

“Are you stupid?”

He slowly blinks in confusion. “M-Maybe?” he stutters, alarm in his voice, and you giggle.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

There’s a snort that breaks the air, and Kisaki’s head all but whips to the kitchen entrance as he looks at his newly-emerged friend, brushing his long fingers through his black and blonde locks, grinning.

“Silly Tetta,” he teases, walking up to you two, “silly, silly Tetta. How are you so goddamn analytical but you can’t tell when both of your friends are in love with you? Fucking idiot.”

If Kisaki could get any redder, he’d be morphing into a tomato as he looks down at your lap, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he finally confesses, and you cup his cheek in the same way he did to you moments ago, pushing his face to look at you. “You don’t have to do anything right now,” you say to him softly, “but I would like to snuggle some more with you both, if that’s okay.”

Shuji laughs, swinging an arm around Kisaki and dragging him back into the living room. “C’mon, love,” he calls behind him, and you follow, bringing the wine glasses and placing them on the coffee table as you collapse onto the couch with Shuji’s head on your shoulder, Kisaki’s on your lap. Your hand falls into Kisaki’s hair as the other removes his glasses, and he hums, shockingly fine with the way events are progressing given his embarrassment earlier.

“Just me and my boys,” you giggle, and Shuji can’t help but laugh, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Kisaki joins him, brave again, kissing your other cheek.

Your face hurts by the end of the night, having the two men you love more than anyone draped over you. It’s more than you could ever ask for.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

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