#it's all in the laundry i literally just threw it all in the dryer before we left

[halfwayhearted]

You & Me Song — Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite having silly arguments, you know it’ll never ruin what the two of you have.

Word Count: 525+

Disclaimer/s — Not angst, but like, I don’t know, and fluff!

A/N: Imagine that one picture of the guy in the distance with his hands over his head and the chains locked around his wrists snapping broken. Yeah. That’s quite literally me, bless.

Was it really that hard to keep your clothes from being thrown to the ground? No. No, it wasn’t.

However, it didn’t seem that way for Arda! Nope!

Ever since you guys started dating and you’d have sleepover at his house or he yours, the man would always, and you meant always, leave his clothes on the floor. It irked you more than you cared to admit. Tremendously so.

“Arda,” you started, letting out a sigh as you went to pick up his clothes, “Didn’t we talk about this?”

Looking over at you, his expression goes from stoic to soft. “I was in a rush this morning. I’ll put them in the basket next time, okay?”

“Okay. But… that’s what you said the last time.”

Oh. Well, that was true! He knew it. “I know—it was a bad morning. I was late. I just threw on clothes and left, you know that. You saw me!”

“Yeah, I did. Do you notice how these clothes are the clothes from yesterday? Arda, the basket is right there! Is it really that hard to simply…” you trail off, scooping his clothes into your arms and dropping them into the basket of dirty clothes.

Once your arms were empty, you turned toward him and quirked a brow. “To do that? Is it?”

“How is that any different than when you leave dishes around?” His attempt to subtly switch the scolding to you. And it worked. “It’s basically the same thing, just different. Do you know that?”

You felt annoyance rising into your veins, your gaze following him as he stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I literally wash them!”

“After I tell you that they’re there!” Arda scoffs.

Finally having had enough, you spare him one last glance before grabbing the basket of clothes and exiting the room. Closing the door behind you. He had a point, you knew he did. It was in the heat of the moment that you decided you’d ignore him.

That only seemed to last… fifteen minutes. Okay!

Hearing the dryer’s ‘ding’ had you entering the laundry room, taking out every article of clothing and folding them. That’s when you heard steps from behind you and hands settle onto your waist, interlocking over your abdomen. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, “I… well, I’m sorry, too.”

Your boyfriend hums against your hair, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll start putting my clothes in the basket, I really promise.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him. And it was clear he couldn’t stay mad at you. So, with a small smile spreading across your face, you nodded your head. “I promise to set my dishes in the sink.”

“Good. How about a movie? When you’re done.”

“Clothes can wait. What did you want to watch?”

While Arda answered, he guided you both into the living room and settled down on the couch. Your legs draped over his lap and his hands tracing up and down against them. Together, you became engrossed in the movie playing before you.

You loved him deeply, clothes on the floor and all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby ! ౨ৎ

[ksywoo]

11:19pm / c.hs

pairing: vernon x reader pronouns: not specified word count: 764 genre: established relationship, fluff, sleepy vernon, sharing a bed, implied idol!vernon but could be read as non-idol, vernon tries to commit the cardinal sin of going to bed with wet hair (something i do literally always), domestic caretaking of tired vernon bc i want to put him in my pocket for safe keeping warnings: none note: i love vernon. also I'm back to writing more frequently WOOO

masterlist

The familiar sound of your front door opening made you perk up, surprised at the sudden distraction from your work. You weren’t expecting your boyfriend to show up for another few hours, but as you heard him drop his bag and take off his shoes, you were excited to see him after a long day. 

You stood up and all but ran to the front door. He laughed fondly at your sudden appearance and opened his arms to you after taking off his jacket. You quickly stepped into him, hugging him tightly and taking in his presence. 

“It amazes me how excited you are to see me even after a year of dating,” he mumbled into your shoulder. 

“You’re here early,” you defended. “And it’s been a long day.” You pulled away, arms still loosely wrapped around his torso. You gave him a kiss and he smiled in return. 

“Long day in a bad way?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “Just a lot to do. You?” 

He shrugged. “I’m very tired.”

“Did you eat yet?” You picked up his bag from where he dropped it and carried it to the bedroom as you spoke. 

“Yeah, a bit ago.”

“Then you wash up and get ready for bed and I’ll finish up my work so we can sleep. Sound good?” 

“Sounds amazing,” he agreed and dragged his feet to your bathroom. 

You and Vernon didn’t live together, but it was almost like you did. He came over so often to escape his members or just to spend a few extra hours with you that it sometimes felt like your small apartment wasn’t a home unless he was there. He had a key, spare clothes tucked away in a drawer in your room, and some of his clothes even smelled like your detergent from how often you threw his laundry in with yours just to make his life easier. In all the ways that mattered, Vernon and you lived together. He just also lived with his members half the time. 

After you got dressed in your comfiest pajama bottoms and an old shirt, Vernon walked in and peeled back the blankets on your bed until you stopped him. 

“Hey! Your hair is wet.” 

“Yeah? I took a shower?” he explained, eyes wide with surprise at the sudden disturbance in the peaceful atmosphere.

“Go dry it,” you waved him out of the room but his shoulder fell and he pouted. 

“Babe I’m so tired–” 

“You’re not getting in my bed with wet hair. Same rule as always.” 

He tried to protest your demands but you continued. 

“You could get sick but even if you don’t, I’m not cuddling you while your hair is soaking wet. It’s going to get the pillows wet and drip onto me and–” 

“Fine,” he groaned, trudging back to the bathroom. A few moments later, you heard the blowdryer turn on and followed the sound so you could brush your teeth. 

You smiled at Vernon with your toothbrush in your mouth. He was still frowning, looking deeply distraught and exhausted as he weakly pointed the dryer in his face, barely reaching his hair. 

“Idiot,” you mumbled around the toothbrush. He glared at you through the mirror before pointing it at you for a second. Your small yelp made him smile and he went back to doing a half-assed job of drying his hair. “Give it to me,” you demanded after you finished brushing your teeth. 

He gladly handed it to you and you stood behind him, ruffling his hair and pointing the dryer to get all of his hair. His eyes closed with contentment as you played with his hair, though he’d never admit it out loud to anyone except you that playing with his hair was one of his weaknesses. 

“I’m already about to fall asleep,” he mumbled just barely over the loud machine. “You playing with my hair is not helping.” 

Even when you were done and there were no damp pieces left, you threaded your fingers through his soft locks for just a few more moments before turning off the dryer and putting it away. Vernon opened his eyes and smiled at you through the mirror. 

“Thanks,” he said softly before turning to you and kissing your lips. “Love you.”

“Bedtime, bud,” you smiled, sure he would fall asleep standing up if he waited any longer.

A few minutes later, with the lights off and Vernon’s limbs tangled with yours under the blankets, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone, telling him how much you loved him too. 

[burningdarkfire]

well.

i've been getting some bug bites the past couple of days and while washing my sheets today am 99% sure i found a bed bug so. i guess that's happening to me now.

called the landlord pretty much immediately and then spent the entire evening nuking my bed and linens with the dryer and the steamer, which hasn't actually made me feel any better about going to sleep. it's 3am here and i'm just avoiding going to bed at this point since i don't think there's much else i can actually do tonight. in theory the landlord will have a professional pest control company come through ... soon? one hopes?

i've cancelled half my plans for the weekend and just plan to shower before/wear clothes fresh out of the dryer for the other half. hopefully that's enough.

i think i might have brought them back from miami, i was suspicious of a cluster of bites i got on my shoulder while we were there (could've been mosquito bites, but it was exactly the sort of cluster people describe for bed bugs, which hilariously i don't actually have right now, all of my bites are individual or max in pairs) but my friend helped me strip the bed in the hotel and we really didn't find any other signs. i was still careful coming back though (threw all clothes into the washer/dryer immediately, i even washed and dried the bag i took with me which i definitely don't always do) but i mean, there's no point in overthinking the "blame" since we'll never actually know.

i guess i'm lucky that at least we have in-unit washer/dryer combo so it's convenient to do all of this laundry. it's good that i'm the perfect amount of reactive to the bites in that i react but i don't seem to be allergic (i was allergic to some bugs bites as a kid and it sucked, but those days seem to be behind me now - knocking on wood!) so i'm hopeful we caught it early. we also didn't find any other signs while cleaning tonight, and we checked the mattress and bedframes and everything. tbh if a dead body didn't literally drop in front of me i think we'd still be wondering if it was really bed bugs at all. but at least we should be getting professional treatment covered by the landlord.

we actually had a cockroach problem in this apartment a few years ago that was successfully eradicated after .. i think 3 treatments from the pest control company? so i mean. it would be amazing if this went better than that lol but at least they did do something. at least i don't have cockroaches and bed bugs right now (knocking on wood so fucking hard).

i'm generally a good sleeper so i'm hoping that will carry me through. i just need to get ready for bed, lie down, and go to sleep. i keep telling myself that the worst thing to happen with bed bugs is just that you get bug bites, which sucks but really isn't the end of the world. they're a pretty simple problem compared to other pests.

my roommate hasn't had any bites and she was very good about putting up a strong front for me today while i've cried like five separate times already. but like what even am i going to do about it anymore right now. i should just go to sleep!!

if you've read this far ... thanks! i'm sorry if it's gross! i don't know how to deal with this but i would really like someone to hold my hand and reassure me that the world is not currently ending even if it feels like it 😭

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

A Shitty Poem

No one slept.

Not even a few minutes.

No you can't check in early.

In fact there's not even a place to sit down. Go on out into a city you don't know with jet lag after being up for 30 straight hours.

That corner smells like urine.

I've been in this same city back home.

Just because you can charge that much for a shitty breakfast for desperate, sleep-deprived people doesn't mean you should.

At the next stop, he was mad at me for not operating the washer-dryer combo model correctly without any instructions. He was mostly angry because I didn't pack for everyone this trip so he was going to run out of underwear and he'd have to carry damp laundry on the plane to the next next stop.

Oh good. Another airplane. Smaller than the last two.

I'm usually walking at the back. Sometimes the boy looks back for me, but the man never does. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even here. I'm invisible. Maybe they wish I was.

When we got to the place we were staying the longest, I cried. Neither of them noticed. I guess to be fair I wasn't loud and immediately in their faces. But I'm fucking tired of needing to be loud and in people's faces for them to notice that I'm not invisible.

If you can't cry when you need to, you're not free.

If you cry and no one notices or cares, it hurts pretty badly.

On day 2 it rained and they were so far ahead of me that when I fell down, not only did they not catch me, they didn't notice, they didn't help me up. I learned without doubt then that despite outward appearances to other people and a lot of self delusion, I'm still alone.

There's broken glass literally everywhere in this city. Not a stray piece here and there; big piles of it all over. Multiple broken bottles on the stairs of one of the most famous churches in the world.

I've been to a lot of big cities in 5 (arguably 8) countries now, and this is the only place I've seen violence and loud anger directed at strangers. They might be known for art and fashion and food but I guess no one ever said they were kind. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I am though. That one guy just threw a couple of stangers' bikes out into the street and no one stopped him or even said anything about it.

I'm having pain in the center of my chest. It's not cardiac. I know this. So he says it's nothing to worry about. I think he's worried but we're still 3 days from home and most of the frustration he shows seems like it's at me for complaining about anything at all.

We got to the train station 4 hours before the departure. There's no security to go through. When we finally got to board the train, my seat didn't exist. Hilarious.

Not even a hint at a subtle metaphor for me not mattering, maybe not even existing.

If I'm not real then you're not real. Strawberry fields. Nothing is real.

I can't wait to be home. At least my dog thinks I'm real. I think. Maybe he forgot me because we've been gone so long. Maybe I wouldn't even blame him.

I'm so excited for you!!!! all of them said before I left. I never felt the excitement. I still don't feel it. Traveling isn't for me clearly.

The three of us are sitting here on our individual phones ignoring each other on this wretched train that sold us a non-existent seat and then had the audacity to check our tickets again after we were 30 minutes into the journey.

Fuck them. Fuck all of this. I just want to be home where at least my fucking phone works all the time even if I'm still alone and invisible.

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

alright done with work. im going back to bed. then ill clean my apartment. too tired.

when i woke up, i changed some laundry to the dryer and literally threw a laundry pod into the heep of wet clothes out of muscle memory thinking it was a dryer sheet. two seconds later i realized obviously and went "😐😑😐" but like i just need to go back to bed. im tired lmao. BUT GOOD!! WE ARE GOOD.

allergies r kicking my ass tho. realized the "sickness" i had? was allergies. im not used to having allergies. like i just started getting allergies to the season last year. did you know that you can literally develop allergies in your adult life even if you never had them as a kid?? its weird how allergies work. kinda of fascinating how they can change too. you can not be allergic to something later in life.

i was cleaning cause i had some fruit flies hatch out so ughhh. no more oranges until winter i suppose. bugs gross me out so much but i need to put fly tape up later. oh yeah and also cause of the kitten. i dont have her yet but my dads getting her later. he was gonna keep her with him until i get situated with my landlord (shes super nice so i dont think ill have any issues. i just dont know how that all works with leases)

but im really excited abt her. shes 9 weeks old. 🥺😭. im probably gonna be super annoying abt it too sorry. ever since i lost spike a couple years ago before i moved out, its been like i missed that company and companionship of an animal. granted, he was an old ass dog and shes a lil bby, i think the energy is the same.

[my-ultimate-is-ready]

from the prompt meme (if you're still doing it ofc) “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." w Reyes 😈

Gabriel’s back from god-knows-where for god-also-only-knows-how-long, a pause in his suffocating schedule allowing him to spend a few luxurious days at home, so you can live like all the couples around you do. High on your priority list is doing all the laundry your washing machine can handle, catching up on all your favourite shows you swore you wouldn’t watch while he was away, and making dinner together. 

At some point in this unadorned normality, you’ve also got to go grocery shopping, and while it’s not the most riveting of things you can do together, it’s significantly less of a chore with him there. It takes inordinate amounts of fuel to keep him running; SEP created a super soldier with a super appetite. So, with Gabriel home and the fridge pitifully empty, it’s a non-negotiable addition to your day.

But what a joy it is to feel halfway ordinary, defaulting to your routine that gets interrupted every other week when he becomes a mere voice over the phone or a few lines of text in a written message. 

When he’s home, you live slowly—one day at a time.

Out of necessity, Gabriel’s efficiency is unparalleled. It doesn’t matter how organized you are when he is a master at packing and planning. It’s thanks to him that you’ve never set foot into a store without your reusable bags, and it is also thanks to him that unloading the groceries from the car to the kitchen takes a single trip.

Is any sight more touchingly domestic than him hauling several massive blue IKEA bags as though they’re precious cargo?

Going down the list that he remembered to bring—even though you wrote it, you’d forgotten about it—Gabriel ensures you’ve got all your essentials but can’t find the last ingredient you need. You know it’s crucial that when you have the chance to cook together, there’s no deviation from the recipe, no disrupting the ritual. When he suggests the pair of you should make a stop at another store, it’s not a compromise that you’re unwilling to make, but you’d much rather get back home and have him all to yourself again.

“Maybe we have some left from last time,” you say, trailing out as you scour the shelf for the third time, making a showy pretence of it.

“We don’t,” he informs with a discontented shake of his head, “I checked.”

The addendum to the shopping list was his doing, penned in at the bottom.

“Can we do without it?”

“We probably could, but do we want to? This is the question we have to ask ourselves. You know it’s not going to taste the same.”

He’s too determined for his own good sometimes.

It’s not that you want to rush him; it’s just that you know what traffic is like and how a little detour could throw the rest of your afternoon off. If you weren’t constantly picturing time dripping through the narrowest point of an hourglass, maybe you would have a single chill.

But you don’t, and Gabriel is already wise to some version of that.

Naturally, you think of a way to suggest he shuffle his priorities around and get you home without asking him to blatantly give up—because he won’t.

Beckoning him to lend you an ear with a finger, he leans down so you can whisper: “I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.”

Something passes over him as he returns to his full height. Once you think he’s past replying, he speaks into a closed fist, “Holy shit.” 

“You good?” A bad question, knowing full well you’ve quietly obliterated him.

He clears his throat and assures, “Never better.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how we need to home before the ice cream melts.”

“What ice cream?”

Gabriel steps away, opens the closest freezer, grabs a pint of ice cream, and adds it onto the heap in your cart. “That one.”

Then he slips behind you and helps you steer towards the checkout, whispering in your ear about how he still can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.

[mimi-cee-hq]

Laundry Days - Aran x f!reader

Summary: Three times you picked up his underwear and one time you missed doing it.

Genres, other tags: fluff, slice of life, humour, meet cute, domestic fluff, not suggestive lol, married under 25, neighbours to married lovers ;)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: manga spoiler

This is for @neoheros & @coophi's 2021 Summer Haikyuu!! Writing contest. (Okay I'm pretty shy at first so it feels a little scary to tag you two but here's my piece.) I was going for the married under 25 prompt but ended up doing neighbours to lovers too. :D

Don't mind me spreading the underrated characters agenda as well. lol.

*****

A few articles of clothing spilled out of the dryer and onto your feet. Oops. Your neighbour must have forgotten them. You should've checked first.

Your own damp clothes sat inside the washing machine next to it, waiting for their turn to enter the dryer. It wasn't possible now.

You sighed, retrieving the phone from your pocket and scrolling until you saw the name of the neighbour who lived a floor below you.

Ojiro Aran.

You were sure this was the right person after a second look at your texting history. Who'd bring the garbage to the curb, where the lawnmower was kept, and keeping the duplex's stairway clear were some of the conversations you had with him.

You had yet to meet the guy, but he seemed amicable enough.

After shooting him a text, you thought to give him a call instead. Perhaps he'd think a phone call was strange. However, your clothes were damp and you shouldn't leave them for long. Was he even home?

You sighed. Crouched down, you returned the clothes on the floor back into the machine. A scarf, several socks, and a knit hat made their way back inside. But what was this?

Underwear. Men's underwear.

You scrunched your nose as you lifted it from the cold, tile floor. Was that a hole in it?

Click.

"Sorry I just saw your text!" a tall, dark-skinned man blurted out as soon as the door was unlocked.

"Oh! It's alright! I only texted you a few minutes ago!" you quickly explained, waving your hands in front of you.

You shouldn't have done that. The underwear was hanging from your hand.

"Ummm…" Aran scratched his cheek, eyes retreating from you.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" you spat out, tossing the incriminating object to him. "It just fell out of the dryer when I opened it so I went to pick it up!"

Once in his hands, he recognized it as the one with the seam coming undone. "I… umm… should probably have thrown this one out."

"Umm… yeah… you probably should." Those words slipped off your tongue before you could catch them.

"I- I guess I'll go now," Aran said hastily.

He shut the door.

You let out a breath. That was awkward. Heat continued to linger in your body and you weren't sure who was more embarrassed by the encounter.

Wait. His clothes were still in the dryer. Did you dare ask him back?

The door slowly creaked open and Aran peeked his head into the room.

"I forgot something, didn't I?" Aran sheepishly asked.

"Yeah." The corners of your mouth lifted into a smile. "Yeah, you did."

"I'm Aran by the way."

"Y/n."

You never thought this would be how you'd meet your future husband.

*****

The office chair in your apartment was a comfortable spot for folding clothes. The webcam caught your face as you chatted with Aran whose image filled the monitor.

You smiled. Your husband was winding down after a long day with the team and decided to check up on you.

"I'm alright," you told Aran. "I miss you though."

"I literally just saw you yesterday!" he said. "I miss you too."

After that fateful yet awkward encounter with him in that laundry room two years ago, you had run into each other more frequently at the front doors of your duplex. Your classes ended at similar times four out of your five school days. You were surprised he even started a conversation with you. You wouldn't have been able to bear the embarrassment. Fast forward to a confession, a kiss and a rock-embedded ring, and you got a small, snowy wedding during winter break.

It was back to the books for you now, and you dreaded it. Chores seemed much better, easier. Plus doing them for your newly-wedded husband? You got giddy about that.

You quirked your brow, lifting a familiar piece of clothing from the basket.

"Hey, I thought you threw this one out," you mentioned to Aran, dangling his underwear in front of the camera.

"I did! That's, uh, probably a different one."

"Just how old are these?"

"Hey! Wait a moment! Are you folding clothes?"

You avoided the eyes on the screen. "Maybe."

"You have your paper due in a few days! I told you I was going to do it after flying back home."

"I know…"

Aran's eyes narrowed at you, a trademark expression of his. "You're procrastinating again, aren't you?" His tone implied disapproval.

"But I'm still being productive!"

"Y/n…"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Your foot pushed the basket away, sliding it across the floor. Maybe you could fold them after you hung up.

Aran must have read your mind. "Show me what the laundry bin looks like."

You groaned. He saw right through you. Complying, you removed the clipped webcam off the monitor and directed it at the pile of unfolded clothes.

"It better be like that when I get home."

"Alright," you said with a pout.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Must he stop you from doing chores? They were a simple reminder you were married to him, as if the gold on your finger wasn't enough to show you.

You were his wife.

A smile snuck into your lips whenever that thought crossed your mind. The honeymoon phase was a peculiar, strange, lovely stage.

Yet it was fleeting.

*****

You groaned as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Aran's white track pants hung off the counter, the red t-shirt he got for free from first year college laid on top, and of course his underwear, which likely went through hundreds of washes, remained on the floor.

Great.

You rubbed your temples, your headache getting worse by the minute. It was Saturday morning, and Aran, who was nowhere to be seen, had left his mess behind.

I'll clean it up later, he would tell you. You knew his mother had spoiled him, always picking up after him. You understood why he was like this, but why couldn't he just start doing it now?

"Do you have this problem?" you asked your friend through your wireless headset.

"What problem?" she asked.

"Does your husband always leave laundry around on the floor?" You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Aran never picks up after himself."

She laughed. You weren't sure if it was because you were a young, amateur wife or if she understood all too well.

Knowing her, probably a bit of both.

"Okay two things."

You listened.

"One, don't say always or never. That's lying."

"I'm not lying," you snapped back at her. You began to regret asking her.

"Are you sure he never picks it up and always leaves it on the floor?"

You left no comment.

"Exactly."

"Okay fine, but that still doesn't solve the problem. If only he just did it, it would solve everything–"

"Number two," she interrupted.

You groaned at her and she gave an amused snort in return.

"If you weren't picking up his underwear, it means he's dead."

You were aghast.

"You know I'm right."

Still aghast.

"What? No husband, no mess."

"I can't believe I asked you for advice."

"But it's true."

"Ugh," was all you could utter. She had several years more of marriage experience than you, yet you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You hung up the phone after you finished deciding today's outing with her, but you hadn't addressed the issue in front of you. Your head throbbed again.

Sighing, you picked up the underwear.

A few minutes later, the front door opened and you dipped your head into the hallway. Aran shuffled grocery bags through the door and into the kitchen. He yawned, placing the milk, eggs, and other items into the fridge.

A familiar coffee brand peeked out of a bag on the floor. Right. You didn't have your coffee yet because there wasn't any left.

You wrapped your arms around Aran and relaxed against his broad back.

"I can't put the food away like this," he said with a chuckle.

"You left your clothes in the bathroom again."

"Oh shoot!" He dropped a bag and started towards the bathroom but you tightened your grip on him.

"I put them away already," you told him. His body relaxed and he caressed your arm around his waist.

The honeymoon phase was a fleeting phase, novel tasks turned mundane, but your love for him grew deeper still.

*****

Aran was away again, this time at Tokyo in preparation for the Olympics. He eagerly called you during breaks, wishing to see his favourite person – although your hands were full as well.

"I miss you," he told you, his smile displayed on the screen.

"And I miss picking up your underwear," you told him with a smirk.

Like clockwork, he narrowed his eyes at you with a comeback. "Why don't you say you miss me like a normal person?"

"Because I'm your wife. I'm special," you told him as he rolled his eyes. "I wish I could be there though."

"You wouldn't be able to spend that much time with me anyway," he said. "Besides, one of us needs to stay home."

"I know." You smiled.

"I gotta go," he said as Atsumu yelled in the background. Aran blew a kiss at you.

You snorted. How cheesy. You returned the kiss anyway.

Hearing a mischievous squeal behind you, you told him, "I gotta go too."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

After you hung up, you turned around and sighed. A soggy wet diaper sagged on the floor and the little guy jumping in the crib giggled at you as if he did the funniest thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes and smiled before picking up the diaper.

"Alright kid. Let's put a diaper back on you and wash your sheets."

*****

I hope you liked it. This is a little different from what I usually write but I hope you still enjoyed it!

I blame Aran's current concern for giving me this idea along with the person who suggested I write Aran fluff. (As well as the seasoned wife I know who told her husband, "If I wasn't picking up your underwear, it means you're dead." lolll.)

I hope you stick around my blog to check out my other works! My current work in progress is a fake dating Suna series. I can't believe we're on chapter 10!

If anyone is interested, I have a Google form for my taglist.

[indulgenthoax]

Being Domestic Isn’t So Bad.

Nobara Kugisaki x Fem!Reader

Domestic Fluff and Humor

WC- 2k

Warnings- Swearing

Summary- You and your girlfriend Nobara hang laundry on the lines together because the washing machines in the school broke. On laundry day.

Honeyy’s notes- First JJK story and its Nobara because I have a big gay crush on her. Enjoy!!

“You’re joking!” Nobara exclaimed with disbelief, resting her hand on her stomach as she laughed.

“I’m not.”was the response from Gojo. He looked smug about it, as the response wiped away her smile. I had seen and heard the conversation happen from my spot, partially down the hallway, and quickly picked up my pace towards the two. I put my hand out,

“Hold the hell up.” I started. “Kugisaki and I are the ones who are doing the laundry today! How are we supposed to do that if the machines are broken?” By the end of my question, I had made it next to my girlfriend and stood there with my arms crossed. Nobara and I stood with our shoulders touching, she leaned slightly into me with her opposite arm and hand resting on her hip.

Gojo threw us a smile, “Well! Luckily enough the washing machines are working just fine!” He put his hand under his chin and continued, “the dryers though? They’re definitely broken.”

“What? How?” I asked in disbelief. There's three dryers in the laundry room and every one of them is broken? “Show me,” I said.

“Alright.” Gojo turned right, down the hallway, towards the direction of the laundry room. I turned to Nobara with dead eyes: she returned the look, grabbing my hand and following after Gojo.

“This is so dumb.” She said, “how did you even manage to break one drying machine? Let alone all three?!” Her fingers tightened around mine as she expressed her disbelief.

“Well, it’s quite funny actually!” Gojo laughed and I quickly aimed a glare at the back of his head.

“Yeah of course you would say that cause you don’t have to do the laundry.” My words were clipped, showing my aggravation towards the situation.

“No noo, not that. It’s funny how the washing machines got broken.” He swiveled around to face us, still walking backward, and started his story enthusiastically.

“So pretty much, I was out watching Megumi and Yuji spar with each other, and like, because we’re at the school I told them both to go all out!” Nobara and I sent each other a look.

“And they were fighting really well together,” Gojo’s tone changed for a second, “still not all out but, y’know, whatever.”

He perked back up again, “Suddenly! Panda came out and wanted to join them and like, the more, the merrier! Anyways, I wasn’t really paying attention through most of it.” He waved his hand back and forth then took a really deep breath in. “Then! Before I even noticed! Panda is going flying through the air! Goes barreling right through the laundry room walls and crushes only two of the dryers. But then because of the electrical wires being damaged the third dryer started up! It started spinning super fast and caused way too much friction. Long story short. Megumi set his dogs on it ‘cause it wouldn’t stop spinning so it caused a fire.” Gojo let the breath out. “So that, my lovely students, is what happened to the drying machines.”

As if it was the finishing touch, Gojo opened up the door to the laundry room, displaying the massive hole in the wall, the dented and crushed laundry machines, and the walls partially scorched from the fire. Nobara and I balked at the story and utterly destroyed, room in front of us.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Nobara said. She started on a long spiel aggressively pointing her finger at Gojo and then gesturing to the room in front of them. I stood there with my hands on my forehead staring stunned into the room. my voice was low as I started,

“Gojo-snsei.” He and Nobara looked towards me slowly. “I could literally. Choke. The ever-living SHIT! Out of you right now! Are you so incompetent that you can’t watch a bunch of teenagers not throw themselves through a fucking building?!” If I was an anime character, my eyes would be comically angular and my teeth would be pointed and sharp. My hands were reached forward into a phantom choke as I glared daggers into Gojo’s casual sunglasses. Nobara looked back to him and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose right between her eyes.

“How are we supposed to dry laundry now?”

“Well, if you can find them, we have clotheslines hung up in one of the courtyards from like, I don’t know, ten years ago.” Gojo shrugged his shoulders. A resounded groan left Nobara and me.

“Well! Good luck girls!” Without a sound he promptly disappeared, leaving us here to figure out a way to transport two massive loads of heavy, wet laundry across an unknown distance.

“What the fuck?” echoed from both of us. I looked over to her and watched her stand there next to me. She was quiet, thinking of what to do next and how to do it.

“I have no idea what to do next, at all.” Or maybe she didn’t. I hummed, placing my hands on my hips and turning to look at the room.

“Let’s text Maki!” I said. She turned to me and smiled. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulled out her phone going to what I assumed was Maki’s contact.

“Good idea!” She paused, then looked back to me, “uh, why are we texting her?”

“Oh. Uh. I figured she would know where those old drying lines were since she’s been here longer than us.”

“Oh. Right right. Smart.” Nobara quickly went to type out a message on her phone. I stared at her thoughtfully. If there was anybody I had to get stuck doing a massive load of laundry with, I would always choose her. My ears warmed up and my lips curled into a smile that I’m sure looks stupid. She looked upward and into my eyes, stared for a second, and then got flustered when I had not said anything.

“What are you looking at (Y/N)?” Rhetorical question, she knew I was looking at her.

“I’m looking at the most beautiful, perfect girlfriend who has ever graced the world!” I said smiling while walking towards her with my arms open. She walked forward and accepted my embrace, resting her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arms around me. One over my shoulder and the other underneath my opposite arm. We rocked gently until I piped up,

“I’m glad I’m with you to fold all this stupid laundry.”

“Me too.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said happily. Just as I had spoken, we felt her phone vibrate. Nobara looked down, reading out the text message.

“Maki-san says it's not too far. Said it was somewhere to the right of this courtyard.”

So we were off. We released each other from the hug (not before she gave me a quick peck) and moved to take all the wet laundry out of the machines and into a hamper. The hampers were conveniently stacked in the back corner unscathed by the roughhousing. Nobara and I both divided the clothes evenly between us, stepped through the massive hole in the wall, and started walking in the (assumed) direction of the courtyard.

It wasn’t too long until we got there. Maybe a ten-minute walk because we had to keep adjusting our grips on the baskets. In front of us were four, ‘T’ shaped posts standing from the ground; rope lines, stretched between the heads of the posts. The wood was older, faded to a sort of gray wooden color, holding dapples of green lichen. The ropes were stained from weathering, but the clotheslines, in general, seemed to be in safe enough condition where they wouldn’t fall if rustled. Nobara walked to the closer of the two clotheslines and let the hamper fall from her hands to the ground.

“Alright, I’m taking this one and you can take the other one. We have a lot of clothes.” She held her hands on her hips, examining the loads of wash between us two.

As I walked towards the farther structure I was quite pleased, “Today is such a pretty day! It's sunny and there's a nice breeze! I get to be with a hot ass girl, doin domestic stuff.” I began laying the laundry across the lines humming happily. Nobara laughed at what I said. We started on opposite ends so once we got to the last rope we would be closest together. Steadily we worked our way inwards, everything was peaceful and sunny,

“HAHAHAH! (Y/N), come look at these!” Nobara’s cackle was heard before it was seen; I had to maneuver through the clothes hanging in the way of my eyesight. As I made it to where she was, I was met with a pair of tighty whities that had little round dog faces on them. I choked a laugh and placed my hand over my mouth. Nobara and I were in a fit of laughter so hard we both ended up on the ground. My hands held my head as I knelt over face first into the ground. Nobara’s hand hit my back with every fit of laughter she fell into.

With time, we both stopped laughing and sprawled out next to each other on the grass. The lines, partially filled with clothes, let the perfect amount of indirect sun shine on us. She held the underwear into both of our lines of sight and snickered again.

“How much do you bet they’re Megumi’s?” I belted out a laugh at the thought.

“I thought they could be Yuji’s, but he seems like more of a cat person.” Nobara hummed and tossed the underwear to the side, back into the hamper, and let her hand grab ahold of mine. A thought popped into my head,

“I feel like a little housewife doing this. Like hanging clothes and stuff.” My hand gestured upwards.

“Yuck.” Nobara made a gagging noise. “I hate stuff like that, it's got such a weird stereotype behind it.” I agreed with her.

“I hate the stereotypes, but I love the thought of a little house somewhere.” I rolled towards her, hands still connected, “we could have a little house with clothes lines. And, and, we can cook meals together, and sleep in the same bed. We can go fight and then come home and clean each other up.” I rambled, expressing my day dream.

I looked at her side profile that still pointed upwards into the sky. She peaked her eyes in my direction before rolling over to face me, like I had done to her. Our noses lay centimeters apart as we stared into each other’s eyes. The moment was blissful, our eyes drooped as we met each other in the middle for a kiss. Her lips were soft and had chapstick on them, giving them a light dewy feeling. My hand holding her tightened as the kiss continued, the other came to rest on the side of her neck under her ear. Her own reached for the fabric on the front of my shirt as she lightly pulled. Her voice was soft in the moment she pulled away,

“I guess, with you, being all domestic, and stuff, wouldn't be so bad.”

I lay there smiling and looking at her, until she shifts and jolts. She places her hand over her left eye.

“Ow, what the fuck?” She said, rubbing the socket.

“What happened? Are you okay?” I said sitting upwards. She stopped her hand and opened her eye which was teary and red.

“A piece of grass just stabbed me in the fucking eye!” I quickly folded over into laughter as she complained.

“Don’t laugh! It hurts!” She yelled. I looked up to apologize right when she ripped up a clump of dirt and grass, and threw it directly into my face. I sputtered and spit the dirt out. Blindly ripping up my own clump, I threw it in her last known direction. A shriek told me I had hit the bullseye. I guess we’ll have to wait on that little house a bit longer, for now, we have to make sure not to get dirt on the clean clothes.

NOBARA MY BELOVED <3 <3 <3 - Honeyy

[norasinclair]

Despite her growing size, Nora was determined to finish all her chores in the garden before the baby came and took up most of her time. Changing out the borders for some fresher, more sun-loving flowers was the next thing on her long list of things to do on her free day. Though even the keenest gardeners with the greenest thumbs seldom went to war with stubborn weeds on an empty stomach so Nora threw off her gardening gloves and walked into the kitchen while she tried to decide what she was going to make herself ( and her little bean ) for lunch. Living in a three-person household, she wondered how her parents were able to keep her and her siblings fed and watered without anyone missing out and not getting what they wanted. Luckily, before she could make any kind of decision, Nora was quite literally saved the bell, starting the short waddle towards the front door. In the glaring haze of her pregnant brain, she'd almost forgotten extending her laundry services on the neighbourhood's social media page. " Oh hey, yeah that's me. C'mon in ! " She grinned as she opened the door a little more to allow Aster to move into the hallway. Walking her new guest through the house, Nora felt sure she'd made the right choice, judging by how much laundry the younger woman had brought with her. " The washer-dryer's just down this way, everything's there. Detergent, fabric softener, whatever you need ... " She trailed off, caught between wanting to help out her new friend and needing to find something to eat. " Uh, I was just about to make myself some lunch. Have you eaten yet ? 'Cause I can rustle something up for you too ? Might help pass the time ? ".

where: The Sinclair Residence, Maple Hills with: Nora Sinclair ( @norasinclair )

It had been a challenge to find a way to get across East Haven, but Aster had learned to be resourceful. She'd found a second-hand bike for sale online, and had charmed the owner into giving it to her for half his asking price - it was obvious they wanted rid of it more than they wanted the money. Then she'd fixed her up, and gotten her a little basket, and she'd been zooming all over town with her.

Now she'd journeyed into Maple Hills to find the address of one Nora Sinclair, who had very generously offered to let her use her washing machine. The laundrette at Happy Trails had left much to be desired, and she'd already lost one too many crochet tops. Biking through town with a laundry basket tied to her back, she turned up at Nora's place flushed but smiling.

"Hi! Are you Nora? I'm Aster. I'm here with my laundry." She held up the basket to show.

[dilly-oh]

Laundry Day

    It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left. 

    He had to do laundry.

    “Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

    “You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

    “I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

    “It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.” 

    “Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

    “They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

    “I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

    “Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

    “Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.” 

    “Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever. 

    There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin. 

    Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be. 

    Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

    Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

    “Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!” 

    Everyone immediately turned to look.

    Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

    “You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag. 

    “I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

    “Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

    “You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

    Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats. 

    Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back. 

    “Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak. 

    “Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.” 

    Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

    Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

    “It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

    “Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip. 

    Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

    “Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

    “Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

    “I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

    “Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

    “Oh, I'm dead serious.”

    The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

    The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads. 

    “Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

    “It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave. 

    “But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

    “So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?” 

    “Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-” 

    “See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock. 

    Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

    “You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

    Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

    He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

[binniesthighs]

can i request some cuddles with jeongin and maybe he's feeling a little insecure so reader is just taking care of him sorta? maybe include some kissing or a massage if you're comfy!!~

thank u for requesting this! 🥺I literally always need jeongin fluff to cleanse my soul LOL

don’t you worry about a thing | reader x jeongin |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yang jeongin

Genre: ~fluffy fluff~

Tags: trainee!jeongin, college au, established realtionship, secret relationship, insecurity, mentions of food and dieting, cuddles, a lil kissing

Word count: 1.5k

You always hated the sound of your dorm’s doorbell buzzer. It was too shrill and startling, it made you jump every time that you heard it. It also kinda sounded like the dryer buzzer from the dorm’s laundry room. You had fallen asleep down there much too many times that the buzzers had become your wake-up alarm.

“Y/n? Are you there? Can I come up?” Jeongin’s voice hushed into the intercom.

You nearly threw your laptop off of your lap upon hearing is voice--you knew that you had to act fast.

“Yep, I’ll be right down, just wait a sec.” You croaked back to him. In the late hours of the night, sleep had started to take over your voice.

The sound of your footsteps bounced off the concrete walls of the stairwell to your dorm. Even though it was dreadfully cold, you didn’t bother taking a coat--the faster you could get to him the better. Him getting caught outside of the dorm would be much worse than you getting a little chilly.

He shook his knees a little where he waited for you with a long and thick black winter coat around his shoulders and a thick matching scarf covering him up to his nose. He also wore a facemask underneath and sunglasses, regardless that it was nighttime. You could barely see any of his skin, but his little blue beret was a key indicator to you that it was him. As soon as he saw you coming he did a couple little excited hops.

You swung the door open. “Get in get in, hurry.”

“Y/n--”

You could feel his little happy smile while he outstretched his arms. As badly as you wanted to wrap yourself all over him, the doors to the dorm were made of clear glass.

“--Not yet!” You scolded. “Once we get to my room.”

“But I missed you so much...” You could also feel his sad little pout.

“We’re not in the clear yet.”

This time you took him up the emergency stairwell, not the main one; there were almost never any people in the emergency one.

From behind you, his freezing hand grabbed at yours.

“Geez! Icecube much?” Your voice echoed around you both, and you squeezed his hand back.

“...sorry.” He rubbed his thumb against your hand.

Jeongin swayed back and forth as you unlocked your door quickly. The closer that you got to your dorm, the closer that you knew you were to tackling him as hard as you could.

The door clicked open, revealing your rather cluttered dorm, but Jeongin never really seemed to care. Back when you could to go over to his home, his room wasn’t much different. The door closed behind you two, and you breathed out a sigh in relief.

“I think that--”

Jeongin was the one to tackle you, throwing nearly his whole body weight on you to wrap you in the tightest hug that he could muster. The way that he wrapped himself almost made it a little hard for you to breathe.

“Oh-well hello to you too.” You gently rubbed at his back.

“I just missed you so so much.” His words came out soft and his voice appeared to crack a little.

“It’s only been a couple weeks...”

“But it felt so long.”

“You were busy I’m sure--”

He pulled away to start removing pieces of his disguise so you could see his face.

“I just wanna be close to you tonight, okay? For as long as I can?”

“Okay. Of course. I’d love to do that too.” You helped him shake off his coat.

He followed you to your little couch, barely big enough to fit more than two people. You plopped him right down, swaddling him in your biggest, fluffiest blanket till only his face was visible. You gave him a little peck on the forehead.

“There. Warming up?”

“Yes. Thank you. Are you coming?”

“I’m gonna make us some popcorn. You hungry?”

“They said that I should be dieting...I shouldn’t...”

“I’m going to make you some anyways.” You winked back at him.

Once you had finished, you settled yourself right next to him, draping the blanket over your shoulders as well, and adding one more to your laps. In seconds he pushed himself as close up to you as he could, nuzzling deep into your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you. He was normally a clingy person, but something about the way that he held onto you a bit weakly was different.

“Is everything okay?” You patted the top of his head carefully to soothe him. Among the black strands, little shiny hues of deep blue shone beside them. “Hey, I just noticed that your hair is kinda blue, did you dye it?”

“Yeah, we have an evaluation coming and my stylist was saying she wanted to try something new on me since we start filming for predebut stuff soon.”

“Predebut? Innie that’s amazing!”

“It is...but it’s all been really draining and...” He exhaled out a shaky sigh.

“Draining and...?”

“--Stressful. I just feel so stressed all the time. I get so worried that if I make one mistake at the evaluation then they’ll cut me from predebut promotions, that I won’t make it.”

“You’ve made it so far though! And you’ve always gotten positive feedback from them. As far as I know, they love you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes. I do.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Would I ever lie to you Innie?”

He huffed out, “I guess not...I just get so worried that I’m not good enough. All the other trainees are so talented, they can do anything that they want to and its so easy for them...with people like them, I just, fade away.”

“Hey! Don’t talk like that! Look at me.”

His weary and adorable brown eyes looked up at you, covered by a couple strands of his newly colored hair.

“You’re there for a reason. And you are talented. Just like the rest of them. I’ve heard you sing and I know how hard you work to do everything else. Even if I haven’t seen it, I know that you are doing so well, m’kay?”

“...okay.” He let up, and returned to nuzzling into you.

“You need to take care of yourself too. No matter what they tell you to do. That’s what’s most important.”

“Seeing you is like taking care of myself. I’m sorry that I haven’t been around much.”

“You don’t have to say sorry, I understand.” Under the blanket, you pulled him in closer and continued playing with his hair.

“--And they have us working out all the time too. I’ve never been so sore in my life.”

Jeongin ran his hand down your arm to hold your free hand and play with your fingers absentmindedly.

“Are you telling me that you’re bulking up? Ahhh well, that is a little exciting...” You grinned a little as he couldn’t see it.

“I’m in pain!!!”

“Ok, sorry, sorry,” You chuckled a bit. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“My back, and my shoulders. Sometimes my arms.”

“Here.”

You lightly pushed him off of you to reach around and thoughtfully massage the muscles in his lower back, pointing your fingers to give a little more pressure. You worked your way up, pressing down all the way to his shoulders where you rolled the tension away. All the while he let out little happy and relieved sighs.

“Thank you so much Y/n.” He let his body go a little limp as you kneaded into the knots in his neck.

After, you worked down his arms, switching between pressing hard and soft. You finished off in his hands after massaging his palms. By then he was nearly jelly.

He cried out a little fake sob. “That felt so nice, thank youuuu.”

“~You’re welcome.~” You sung back. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Okay. But I might fall asleep. Sorry in advance.”

“If you’re tired and that’s what you need, I’m not gonna be mad.”

“But this is our only time together!”

“I said, I won’t be mad.”

“Okie.” He pulled the blanket back over the two of you, hesitating before he decided to get comfy again. “Y/n?”

“Mmhm?”

He blushed pink slightly, “Can I...?”

You rolled your eyes. Even after a year of dating he would still ask to kiss you. Still, you hoped that would never change.

“Yes.” You leaned in a little and closed your eyes.

Jeongin tenderly took both sides of your face in his hands to press his lips into yours. It was a bit of a tired kiss, but it wasn’t any less loving. Whenever he would kiss you, somehow he knew how to pour his whole heart into it, reminding you just how much he loved you. It hadn’t even been that long, but you had forgotten a little just how sweet it was feeling close to him like this. Maybe it was because you had lost yourself in it, but time seemed to fade away after long as the two of you took comfort in each other.

Once you broke, Jeongin tackled you once again--a startling contrast to how gentle he had been before.

“OoF!” You laughed into his shoulder.

“Y/n, I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Projectiles

You absolutely terrorize your dad, Sebastian, and you don’t feel bad about it at all.

-

           “Why are you home so early?” Your dad was about to eat a sandwich and raised it to his lips before stopping, realizing that it was barely noon and you were home already.  He put the sandwich down an looked at you like you had two heads.

           “Nurse told me I could go home,” you shrugged. You held a bag from the drugstore down the street, backpack on your back.

           “And why?” You looked at him, holding the bag up. “Oh.” You could tell he didn’t fully get it, but you didn’t need to say anything else. He was slow, but he could figure it out eventually.

           “Yep. I’m going to take some pain pills.” You walked up the stairs to your room and set up your cave for the afternoon. You must have gone through half a season of Schitt’s Creek before you dared to even went downstairs to get your backpack to start doing homework. Your dad was putting his jacket on, obviously about to leave.

           “You want anything specific for dinner?” He asked you, looking you up and down. You looked like a wreck, but your entire body hurt so badly that you just didn’t care.

           “Death,” you responded dryly, walking past him to go to the kitchen. You grabbed a box of cheese-its, not even that you really wanted them. You just wanted food in general.

           “Okay,” your dad said quietly, taken aback at your statement. “Well, text me if you need anything. I won’t be late.” He walked out to go to his meeting, leaving you all alone. You needed a dog, you thought. You really needed a dog. So you scrolled through your phone and spammed your dad with pictures of puppies in the greater Manhattan area, all of which he said no to. You knew exactly why you were crying over pictures of pitbull mixes, but that didn’t make it any easier.

           You thought you were going to throw up when you smelled the smell of pizza down the stairs right as your dad walked back in the house a few hours later. You loved pizza, normally, but now it was just reminding you of the acne on your face and the fact that you were totally and completely nauseated.

           “How much do you want?” He asked you as you walked into the kitchen.

           “None,” you replied. “I’ll have some tomorrow.”

           “You told me last week that you would literally die for Luigi’s pizza.”

           “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

           “Do you have a fever?” You glared at him, again. He nodded in understanding. Truth be told, he was still having a tough time being a single dad to a teenage daughter. He had to deal with a numerous amount of things that he didn’t think he would have to deal with. Periods was one of them. You’d had it for a few years now, but yours was different. You gave him a heart attack at fourteen when you said it was so bad that the doctor wanted to put you on birth control, and two years later you were still struggling with the fact that it was completely random if you even had it at all. And this was the first time in a couple months, so of course it had come back full force.

           “I’m eating saltines, I guess,” you sighed. That was the only thing you could think of that wouldn’t screw with your stomach.

           “Honey,” your dad said back, turning from his chair to look at you.

           “Do you want to clean up my throw up?” He didn’t answer you, which you took as a hard no. “That’s what I thought. I’m taking the couch.” You walked into the next room and curled up on the couch, pulling your favorite fuzzy blanket over you. You turned on Bones and ate the absolutely pathetic sleeve of crackers that was your dinner.

           “Honey?” You heard after four episodes. Your phone told you that it was almost 1 in the morning, and your dad had gone to bed hours ago. Or so you thought.

           “Don’t call me that if there isn’t a sentence attached to it!” You said. He sighed from the stairwell and walked into the living room, rubbing his eyes at the bright TV you had playing.

           “You should go to bed. Especially if you’re tired.” You sighed and got up, letting him walk you back to your room. You finally settled in, turning your own TV on so you could sleep to it, and fell asleep.

           You woke up four hours later to the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. And indeed it was; your bed looked like an absolute massacre. You’d fallen asleep with the wrong kind of tampon in. Again. Your blue-gray sheets were stained already, your favorite sleep shorts were stained, and you almost started crying as you walked into the bathroom. It was so early in the morning that the sun wasn’t even up yet, and there you were, crying and carrying your things all the way to the stupid basement. You tried to get the stain out of your mattress pad, but there was no changing it, so you gave up. You put everything in the laundry with a high soil level setting and set an alarm to get back up later to deal with it. And then you fell asleep on your couch again, still crying, and in absolute misery.

           “Y/n?” You heard your name the next morning and woke up, rising from the makeshift bed you made out of your couch. Your dad was obviously ready to get started with his day. You’d missed your alarm again because your fucking phone was dead.

           “What?” You groaned, about to start crying again. Your dad held his hands up in surrender.

           “I was going to ask if you wanted to come take a quick walk to get some coffee with me. We’re out. And it looks like you need it.”

           “Will you buy me a chocolate croissant?”

           “Of course. I’ll be downstairs.” You changed your clothes and went to put everything in the dryer, making a mental note to ask your dad if you could use his card later to order more sheets. And then you started walking down to your favorite café, twelve blocks away.

           “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” Your dad asked you as he pressed the crosswalk button. He was the only man in Manhattan you knew that would wait for a crosswalk light to turn, but you followed along with him. You stuck your hands in the sweatshirt you’d used to hide the fact that your stomach was twice its normal size.

           “No,” you responded. “I need new sheets.” He understood.

           “I’m sorry. We’ll get some at Target on the way home.” He gave you a small smile and herded you into the coffee shop. Normally he would try and tell you just to get something small, but he let you get whatever you wanted and he didn’t complain at all. You almost forgot about how terrible everything was when you got home later with a new set of sheets to put on the bed. These were darker ones, so even if they did stain they wouldn’t look too bad. He handed you the dark towels, too. And then you ended up raiding the fridge later. You looked like an absolute hermit with your hood pulled up and the drawstrings tightened up to your neck.  

           “So you refused the hot, fresh pizza last night and now you’re eating it, cold, right out of the fridge?” Your dad was standing in the kitchen, extremely confused, and about to go to the gym when he saw you with the cardboard box open, grabbing a slice in each hand.

           “What about it?” You asked in a slightly threatening voice.

           “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just admiring your creativity. I’m about to go to the gym, but I’ll see you later. Tell me if there’s anything you want me to get on the way home.” You nodded, knowing that you were probably scaring the living daylights out of him, and started eating one of the slices of pizza, closing the fridge door with your foot.

           You laid out on the couch for a few hours before deciding to take a nap. This time you didn’t wake up to a massacre, but you weren’t exactly in a good mood either. Your dad figured that out when he came back into the house. The light in the hallway wasn’t helping your migraine, so you did what any angry teenager would do. You found your slide sandal on the floor and picked it up and threw it in the general direction as the light.

           “Jesus, Christ!” Your dad exclaimed. “Honey, why are you throwing projectiles?”

           “I have a migraine! Turn it off!” You whined. He did what you asked, leaving the whole apartment in darkness.

           “I got you some of your favorite candy, if you want it,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind of sour patch you wanted so I got three kinds, the watermelon and the normal and then this new one they had, and then I got you some chocolate ‘cause your mom always wanted chocolate, and then we can get some ice cream or something later if you want.” He walked toward you and handed you a bag from the store. You sat up, taking the bag, and felt really bad.

           “Thank you.” He backed away from you like you were a dog about to bite. “I’m sorry I’m being a bitch.”

           “I get it. I probably would be too if that was happening to me. I think you might need to go back to the doctor, though, if it’s hurting you and you’re blee-” You found the other sandal and threw at him, this time in point blank range. “I’ll go call them and leave a message so they’ll get back to us on Monday. You just, uh… yeah. Please stop throwing things at me.” He walked out of the room and you could hear his footsteps quicken as he walked up the stairs to his room.

           A/N: I feel so bad for Seb here, but it had to be done. I hope you like it! A reminder that this will be my last post until the weekend probably, since I’m driving halfway across the country. I’ll be back as soon as I can!

           Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message with what all you’d like to be added to!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[ughseoks]

stolen sweatshirts | jhs

— pairing; hoseok x reader

— genre; fluff

— words count; 1.1k

— warnings; none

— summary; hobi doesn’t mind when you steal his sweatshirts-- in fact, he loves it. however, he’s steadily running out of clothes, and it’s time for you to return some of his stuff.

— masterlist —

“Hyung!” Namjoon called from down the hall, checking the watch on his wrist. The group was about to leave for dance practice, and Hoseok was running late, per usual. “We’ve gotta leave in five minutes. You ready yet?”

“Give me a second!” Hoseok called back, running over to his closet to find a sweatshirt to slip on. He sighed in defeat when he realized that he only had one clean hoodie left, and it was the one littered with stains after wearing it to film a messy Run BTS! episode one too many times.

Where were the rest of his hoodies and sweatshirts, some may ask? Well, there were three possible answers: in your closet, on your body, or laying on your floor.

Now, to be clear, Hoseok loved seeing you in his clothes. You always looked so soft, and he couldn’t resist the smile that graced your face when your head would pop through the neckhole, hair slightly tousled.

He adored the way you would pull the sleeves over your hands and give yourself a hug, saying it was basically the same as a hug from him when he was away on tour. He cherished the way you would send him selfies in them, the hood pulled over your head as you snuggled with the large teddy bear he got you for Valentine’s Day.

It was safe to say that Hobi was more than happy to let you borrow his clothes any time you’d like. The only issue was… he was starting to run out of clothes to lend, and as much as he loved you, he also knew you were a pretty forgetful person. (You managed to stay on top of your grades and extracurricular activities with ease, yet you struggled to remember to buy milk when you went to the store.)

This led to his borrowed sweatshirts remaining at your house for months on end, his closet growing more bare each day. He never had the heart to ask for his stuff back, but as he threw on his only remaining sweatshirt, he knew it was time for you to return at least a few of his things.

Ding! Yawning, you sat up in bed, gently rubbing your eyes before reaching out for your phone on the nightstand. You’d passed out binging Netflix the night before, leading you to sleep in a few hours later than you’d expected. Taking a moment to stretch, you swiped open the screen of your phone and read the newest message from your boyfriend.

Hobi: good morning, sunshine! i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but i’m kinda running low on hoodies. mind if i stop by to reclaim some of my personal belongings this afternoon?

You: do you really have to take them back? :(((

Hobi: i literally only have one clean hoodie, and i’m wearing it rn

You: fine… i’ll have them washed and ready by the time you get here…

Hobi: i think you might be addicted to stealing my stuff, y/n.

You: are you suggesting that i have a problem? i can guarantee that i most definitely do not.

Hobi: hmm… guess we’ll let the court decide. and by that, i mean the rest of the boys.

You laughed to yourself and locked your phone before stepping out of bed, almost tripping over the shoes that you’d left on the floor the night before.

“Oops,” you murmured to yourself, scanning your room for any of Hobi’s sweatshirts. After trying to balance about six or seven garments in your arms, you decided that maybe you should grab a basket or two to hold them in.

Or three.

Or four.

Okay, maybe you did have a slight problem. But, in your defense, Hobi owned way too many sweatshirts. You were just trying to help!

It took three loads of laundry just to clean the sweatshirts, and luckily, you were pulling the last load out of the dryer when there was a knock at your door.

“Coming!” you called as you ran towards the front entryway, opening up the door to a heart shaped smile.

“I believe you have something of mine,” Hoseok joked, stepping inside when you moved out of the doorway.

“More like some-things,” you laughed, walking back over to the dryer to fold the sweatshirts, “Like, plural.”

“Told you that you have a problem,” he shrugged in an I-told-you-so way, beginning to help you fold the clothes, “Do we need to have that intervention I mentioned?”

“Listen, I’m not THAT obsessed—” you paused when he raised his eyebrows and looked down at the sweatshirt you were wearing, your cheeks turning red upon the realization that it was one of his.

“You were saying?”

“Okay, you might have a point,” you giggled and tugged on the sleeves, “But, we both know that you don’t mind seeing me in your stuff. It’s a win-win situation.”

“You’re not wrong,” he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a warm side hug. He smelled like vanilla, and his hoodie was soft against your cheek as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“So…” you pulled away and gave him puppy dog eyes as you pointed down to the sweatshirt you were wearing, “Can I at least keep this one? Just for today?”

“Hmm…” he placed a hand on his chin, pretending to consider your plea, “I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeee!” you stuck out your lower lip, “I promise I’ll give it back. Really.”

“You know what?” he dropped his hand from his face, “You can keep that one. Forever. My gift to you.”

“Thank youuuuu!” you sang and did a little jump, squealing when Hobi grabbed you around the waist and lifted you up. He spun you around in a circle before setting you back down, his cheeks tinted pink. You always looked beautiful, but in this moment, you were glowing brighter than he’d ever seen before. “But…” you paused, “Maybe you should take it back sometimes. I don’t want it to stop smelling like you.”

Hobi simply giggled in response, taking a moment to brush a stray hair away from your face before bringing his hand down to hold your jaw. His thumb was rough against your cheek, calloused and worn from his years of dancing; but his touch still felt like home.

And that was just it, wasn’t it? No matter where you were or what you were doing, Hobi was always your home.

a/n; thank you for reading!! i adore hobi & it was so much fun to write this. <3

— masterlist —

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[actionnerdgamerlove]

Wolf and Lark: The Case of the Mysterious Underwear

Find it on AO3

Summary: Geralt is doing a load of laundry and finds something...unexpected.

CW: None?  Language?  Suggestive picture?

Geralt NEEDED to do some laundry.  He was down to one pair of black boxer-briefs, one black t-shirt and one pair of black jeans.

When he got home from work that day, he picked up his full laundry basket from the floor in his room, tossing in the few random socks and pairs of underwear he hadn’t managed to throw in the basket the first time.

Realizing his basket wasn’t completely full, he pushed into Jaskier’s natural disaster of a room before FEMA could get there, and gingerly started picking up items off the floor with index finger and thumb.  He threw in a couple t-shirts, a pair of pants, and some socks, calling it ‘good enough’ when items reached the top of the laundry basket.

They weren’t lucky enough to have a washer/dryer in-unit, but having to walk three floors to the basement wasn’t so bad.  Geralt brought the book he was reading and set up in a corner, not wanting to leave while his stuff was being laundered.

Geralt read about the virtues of a Wakizashi vs a Katana. (Generally, a Wakizashi is smaller than a Katana, for those that want to be as informed as Geralt.)

Doing laundry was a chore Geralt didn’t mind – if he timed it right, there weren’t usually other people in the laundry room, so he was left alone with his laundry, thoughts and the sounds of the washer and dryer.  And Jaskier HATED doing laundry, so Jaskier wasn’t there to tease Geralt about the books he was reading.

Not that it bothered Geralt, when Jaskier teased.

Much.

The laundry took the amount of time laundry usually takes, so Geralt had about two hours to himself, to read, or in this case, let his mind wander.  His mind-amblings had started veering into Jaskier territory, as of late.

His roommate was just…so much.  Of everything.  Loud, funny, talkative, sociable, beautiful, vibrant, charming…Geralt could keep going. And going.

At first, Geralt had regrets about Jask moving in.  Jaskier was loud.  Jaskier was made of noise.  And he never stopped moving.  Geralt wasn’t certain the man knew how to be still.

Not even in sleep – not that Geralt had watched Jaskier sleep, mind you.  It wasn’t his fault Jask often fell asleep on the couch, and Geralt felt duty bound to carry him to his bed, so Jaskier wouldn’t wake up with a stiff back and a days’ worth of complaints rolling off his lovely tongue.

Geralt’s reverie was interrupted by the dryer buzzing.

He gathered up all the items from inside the industrial size heat machine, double checking that everything had been retrieved from inside the drum. No sock left behind, and all that.  Throwing everything back into the laundry basket, he made his way back up to their apartment.

Jask still wasn’t home yet, so Geralt flipped the TV on to watch ‘Real Housewives of Temeria’. Jaskier had gotten Geralt into it, against his better judgement.  It was just so…ridiculous.  Who CARED what Elsie said to Ginny about their neighbor Betla?

Well, Geralt did, for one. It was mindless background noise for folding laundry, is what he would tell anyone who asked.  Only Jaskier knew the truth – that Geralt was keenly aware of the political intrigue between the wives, their lovers, and their husbands. It kind of made Geralt sad that so many of the wives’ lovers weren’t their husbands.  He’d mentioned that to Jaskier once, and Jaskier’s face had instantly bloomed into an adoring smile while cooing that Geralt was a romantic, after all.

Geralt never mentioned it again.

Geralt was 99% of the way through folding when he happened upon a pair of underwear.  Or, that’s what Geralt thought they were. There wasn’t much to them – a red mesh pouch in front, with two straps on either side, connecting to a g-string in back.

A g-string.  

Geralt felt faint.  He’d never seen Jaskier in these, although why he would was certainly a good question.  I mean, sure, Jaskier walked around in boxers…often.

But never anything like this.

Geralt hadn’t even known underwear like this existed for men.

Well, he sure did now.

Geralt, being the good roommate he was, folded Jaskier’s things, putting the red mesh…distraction on the top of the pile, at the end of Jask’s bed.

He was putting his own laundry away when Jaskier got home.

“Hey, big guy, I’m home!” Jaskier called.

“Bedroom,” Geralt called back.  Jaskier walked back to Geralt’s bedroom, stuck his face around the partially closed door, waved, winked, and disappeared.

Five minutes later, Geralt heard Jaskier’s confused “G’ralt?”

Geralt hummed.

“What’s this?” Jask called.

“What’s what?”

“This…well, I don’t know what this is.  Underwear? I guess?”

“The red thing?”

“Yeah.” A pause.  “Geralt!  Did you get me a present?”

Geralt frowned. “No.” But oh, the thought of seeing that on Jaskier was delicious. “It’s not yours?”

Did Jaskier want Geralt to get him fancy underwear?

Another pause. “No, I’m certain I’d remember something this…particular.”

It was quiet for a moment. Geralt had finished putting his clothes away, and went to stand in the doorway of Jaskier’s room.

“Someone else’s?” Geralt asked, eyebrow lifted.

Jaskier jumped, not hearing Geralt come up behind him.

“See previous comment regarding the particularness of this specific item of clothing.”  Jaskier’s head tilted to the side. “And…they’re not yours?”  Jaskier sounded thoughtful.

“I’d rip right through those, Jask.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” Jaskier said without thinking, and it did something to Geralt.

“They’re not my size, Jask.”

Jaskier literally jumped around to face him, giving Geralt the most obvious once-over Geralt had ever received.

“No, no, I guess they’re not,”

His tone was driving Geralt to distraction.  Geralt had to bite down on his lip to keep himself in check.

“So, if they’re not yours, and they’re not mine – Geralt, whose underwear is this?”

Geralt was incapable of answering this question in a coherent manner.

Geralt.exe had stopped working

WHOSE FUCKING UNDERWEAR WAS IN THEIR HOUSE?

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun / Taemin; love is so nice(part 2); nc-17

picking up literally right after part 1 :-)

He dreams about living on a strawberry farm and wakes up to one of his favorite songs playing quietly in the background. It surprises him; it's not on the playlist that him and Taemin compromised on. Taemin must have switched to his own personal playlist instead. How nice. Jonghyun wonders why.

The next thing Jonghyun notices is–and he doesn't know how this wasn't immediate–something being pushed into his asshole.

Not a cock; it's too big to be either Taemin or Jinki’s, too round, not quite warm enough. And besides. He doesn't know how the body attached to the cock would fit in between his legs when he can feel a head between them, kissing his thighs, sucking a hickey into his skin.

They push it in, slow, careful, and Jonghyun feels his asshole widen around it, suck it in, close around it, them sealing it with a kiss to his rim. He guesses the dilator is out, then. And inside, deeper, he can feel that there's more than one. More than two. More than he can count. Filling him up, pressing against his walls, one in particular flirting with his prostate. Jonghyun bites his lip, breathing slowly. Of course. Taemin can never not resist filling him up with his favorite toys, the set of soft silicone balls. Each one is about the size of a ping-pong ball, small enough on their own, but when he starts packing them in, the size and the weight start stacking up fast.

Taemin laps at his hole, kissing it, taking his time. A little snap, a wet splutter, and then another snap. A lube bottle. And then another ball, just pressing so gently on his hole, not even pushing in yet. Taemin returns to the hickey he was working on.

Jonghyun pushes his fingers through his hair, not opening his eyes yet. He's so comfy. He slips his hand down to rub into his eye, then over his cheek, and stops when it touches something sticky and a little wet. Cum. On his cheeks, his forehead, over his nose. The taste of it fresh on his tongue, fresher than it should be for how long ago he's assuming that he sucked Jinki off.

His cock twitches–he's hard, too, he's only just noticing–and his hips instinctively grind up, into the pleasure, into the growing picture of how much fun he's been having while he was out. He stretches his arms over his head, content as a cat, letting his pleased squeak come out of his throat as loud as it wants. Then he relaxes, his hands falling onto the pillows above him, playing with his own hair, and cracks open his eyes. The first thing he notices is the new lines of cum streaking his stomach and chest. Hell yeah. Then he looks lower, and.

And there’s Taemin, cross-legged on the bed between his knees, lube and little pile of balls next to him, smiling warmly at Jonghyun. The clock says it's just before 8:00; it's dark in the room and outside the window, and the lamp on the bedside table is on. That and the candles on the dresser provide the only light. Well, those and Taemin's smile.

"Goo moning," Taemin singsongs, just as cute and little and delicate as he did earlier that day. Jonghyun still wants to put him in his pocket. Especially because, in the low light, he can see the pile of balls glittering at him. He's using Jonghyun's favorite, the galaxy colored ones. "Before you say anything, I want to tell you some stuff, so be quiet for me a little bit, okay?" Taemin says. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, curious, and he nods. He never feels like speaking for a few minutes after he wakes up anyways. Taemin presses a smile to the inside of his knee.

"Jinki had to leave," he starts. Instinctively, Jonghyun feels up on his head and realizes that there's nothing there anymore except his hair. Taemin laughs quietly when he pouts. "Yeah, he took our bunny ears. Homophobic, I know.” He pushes the ball against Jonghyun's hole without really trying to get it in. He's playing with it, opening up his rim and letting it close again. "He wanted you to know that he loves you very much and he thinks you're very cute and sweet and caring."

Jonghyun blushes, hiding his face in his hands. That's so nice. That's so fucking nice. And only Jinki would find a way to get him all flustered when he's not even here anymore. Taemin gives him his time to blush, occupying himself with pushing the ball deeper into Jonghyun every time. Soon he has it halfway inside of him with every roll of his hand, and he has Jonghyun gasping every time he does it. Finally, he holds it at the halfway point with his thumb, not far enough for Jonghyun to take it in but not letting it fall out, either, and he only eases it in himself when Jonghyun starts whining. He leans in and kisses Jonghyun's asshole as it’s closing.

Then, while Jonghyun is catching his breath, squirming as all of the balls rearrange themselves inside of him, Taemin says, "he threw our sheets in the laundry, before he left. That's why you're on a towel now." Jonghyun had no idea. But now that Taemin mentions it, the texture under his booty and his back is different from the regular bed sheets. Cool, he guesses. Casually, pleasantly, Taemin lubes up another silicone ball and pushes it against his hole.

"And he said," Taemin continues. He kisses down from Jonghyun's left knee, his cock, sucks on his balls a little, kisses up his right knee. Jonghyun shivers, goosebumps popping up all over him. He's so close, so sensitive, he can feel his own precum dripping down his shaft. "Jinki said, the first one of us to nut would have to get up and put them in the dryer."

"Oh no," Jonghyun whispers. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Taemin's smile turns into something very much more wicked, all teeth.

"So, I have a question for you.” He pushes the ball in almost halfway again, stretching Jonghyun out but not letting him take it all the way in. It's so frustrating, almost unbearable, to feel it there, to want it inside of him, but not be able to magic the muscles of his bootyhole to do it himself. Taemin looks very proud of himself. "How many are inside of you, Jonghyunnie?"

"I," Jonghyun says. He swallows, pants. He shakes his head. This is so unfair. Taemin expects him to be able to remember what numbers are right now? Let alone be able to count? He squirms, tightening his abdomen, rocking his hips up, trying to find an angle where his intestines will be able to feel how many balls are inside of them at the moment. He could probably figure it out if he knew how long it's been since Taemin started, but on the other hand, that's even more math that he would struggle with on a regular day. He throws out a guess: "si–sev–s–six."

"Ooh," Taemin hisses, eyes all squinted up in disappointment. He licks his lips, grins, shakes his head. "Not even close." He pushes the ball all the way in, following it with his thumb, forcing it in deep so it moves all the other ones. The slow roll of them inside Jonghyun is a torturous pleasure on his prostate. "How many?" Taemin asks again.

“Fuck," Jonghyun breathes. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck this. He reaches down to grab his cock–to stroke himself or hold himself tight at the base so he can't cum, he doesn't know. He doesn't find out, either, because his hand comes to a hard, jerking stop the moment it passes his shoulder.

For the first time, he registers soft fabric around his wrists. He pulls at them, panicking for just a moment, until he understands. Until he recognizes it. It's their thick hemp rope, nice and sturdy, custom ordered to be surrounded with Jonghyun's favorite pink fuzz. And it's knotted snugly around both of his wrists, connected to the headboard, giving him enough slack to move his arms but definitely not enough to reach below his waist. He curses again, whining it out as he twists his wrists helplessly in the fabric.

"Fuck isn't a number, Jonghyunnie," Taemin says reproachfully. While Jonghyun was struggling, he was lubing up another ball. Jonghyun feels it at his entrance and expects him to tease him with it just like the others, but instead, Taemin shoves it in quickly, all at once, holds it in hard with his palm when Jonghyun's hips buck off of the bed. Then he kisses it, gently, until his rim closes all the way around it, then laps at his rim as it twitches. "How many?" he repeats.

"Nine. No, twelve. No, fuck." Jonghyun pushes his palms into his eyes, trying to get a fucking grip on himself. If six wasn't enough, then he added three, and then realized that he would have to add two more to account for the two that Taemin pushed in him since he first asked, and then he fucked that up. "Elev–oh my fucking gosh."

His words turn into growls halfway out of his throat because Taemin sucks on his rim, thumbs rubbing on either side of it, tongue slipping inside with little flicks, tiny little movements that have Jonghyun breathing harshly through gritted teeth. What's even worse (better?) Is that he can feel Taemin's smile on his hole, his round face cheeks against his booty cheeks.

"More than that," Taemin singsongs. Jonghyun barely understands the words. The fuzzy feeling on his wrists from the rope–he's starting to feel that all over, inside of him, his nerves tingling, his entire body shaking. He swallows, panting hard, working his brain frantically. He can't remember any of the numbers that come after 12. Something teen, something teen. "Try," Taemin says. He kisses up to Jonghyun's cock and laves tongue over the head, slurping up all of his precum. He holds up another slick ball in three fingers, wiggling it pleasantly. "Sixteen."

Jonghyun's cock twitches so hard that falls out of Taemin's mouth. He curses again, dropping his head to the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut. Holy fucking shit. Chuckling, Taemin kisses the very tip of his cock. Then he kisses his tummy, his belly button, swirling his tongue in there for a moment, up the faint line of his abs, up his chest, up his neck. All the while, he plays with the ball at Jonghyun's asshole, just rolling it in the tiniest circles, just barely letting it start to open him up.

As soon as he can, Jonghyun grabs Taemin around the back of his head, needing to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him. Taemin allows him that, at least, kissing him deeply, hungrily, licking into his mouth, letting Jonghyun suck on his tongue, thick with strawberry lube. But he stops quickly, far too quickly for Jonghyun, and shushes Jonghyun when he whines about it. He cups Jonghyun's chin and presses soft, chaste kisses to his mouth without letting him kiss back.

"See?" he smiles. He pushes his thumb past Jonghyun's lips, hooking it behind his bottom row of teeth and forcing his mouth open. Jonghyun is so worked up that he's drooling, but Taemin doesn't seem to mind. He pushes ball number 16 in and out, in and out, like he's going to push it all the way in but then decides not to every time. Jonghyun is fucking melting, cock drooling even more than his mouth, every nerve in his body alight with pleasure, and he's not going to last, he won't, he can't, any second now he's going to burst into a million pieces. "You're not the only one that can cheat at this," Taemin says. "I can use all of your kinks against you too."

He pushes the ball all the way in, follows it with two fingers until he's rubbing hard on Jonghyun's prostate, and, absolutely overkill, spits into his mouth.

Jonghyun cums so hard that he's pretty sure he passes out for another couple of minutes. But maybe not, because when he comes back to himself and starts registering things around him again, he’s still shaking, trembling, twitching. He swallows Taemin's spit and it's so hot that he feels another tiny splurt of cum come out of him and everything. So maybe not that hard.

Hard enough to have his hands shaking, at least, messing up his hair more than fixing it as he runs his fingers through it. Taemin is back between his legs, kissing his knee, sucking on the head of his cock, pressing just his thumb gently to his hole. Try as he might, Jonghyun can't feel grumpy at him. He's too cute.

He can pretend, though.

"Gremlin," he says, and then he gets bored of pretending. He yawns, smiles, weakly wiggles his hands. "You win, okay," he sighs. "Untie me." He doesn't like being tied up if he's not ravenously trying to touch his own dick. If he's not horny then it's just annoying.

"Okie dokie," Taemin chirps. Instead of climbing over Jonghyun, he gets off of the bed and just stands by the bedside table, reaching over and gently untying his wrists. They're not sore at all, but he still bends over and peppers kisses around each one. Jonghyun has to turn his face into his shoulder so he doesn't melt completely. "By the way," Taemin says as he winds the rope loosely around his hand. "You lost before you woke up." He's bragging, absolutely smug, and Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, puffing out incredulous laughter.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Taemin says, nodding seriously, eyebrows furrowed. "This?" He holds up the rope, gestures down at all of the fresh cum on Jonghyun's tummy and chest. "This was just for fun. You nutted in your sleep like half an hour ago."

"Okay, well," Jonghyun huffs. "First of all, I don't think that counts for the competition, but–"

"Sure it does," Taemin smirks. Jonghyun narrows his eyes. He's in his bad boy gremlin mood. The one he usually reserves just for Key. No use arguing with him when he's right and everyone else is wrong no matter what.

" Anyway, " he says. He licks his lips, then drags his bottom one through his teeth, very intrigued. "I did? Really?"

"Yeah, dude," Taemin says. He ties the rope to itself and tosses it back into their box of horny stuff in the headboard cupboard. He leans down and smooches Jonghyun's mouth, softly, once, and then trails his fingers down his torso, following each line of dried and drying cum on him. "You think all of this was just me and Jinx? Half of it is yours."

If Jonghyun hadn't literally just nutted his 10th conscious nut of the day, he's certain that he would have gotten hard again. Half of it? He props himself up on his forearms so he can look down at himself better. He is absolutely streaked, covered in it, all in various stages of drying, and not including the load that he just remembered is on his face. He touches his cheek just to make sure it's actually there, and Taemin chuckles.

"Okay, well, that one was all me, yeah," he says. And then, after Jonghyun's next breath shudders out of him, adds, "here, wait. Don't get all worked up about it yet. Relax." He puts a fresh bottle of water in Jonghyun's hand.

Jonghyun looks at it, and then cracks it open. Yeah, okay. Taemin is probably right. He needs to stay hydrated.

Still, he snaps his fingers impatiently at Taemin as he sips. He wants the details. Taemin grabs his wrist, and then his hand, and then very gently kisses the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger.

"One minute," he says. Jonghyun pouts into his water bottle. That's so long. That little action melted Taemin's heart; he can see it in the way his smile softens almost imperceptibly at the corners. Taemin pushes the water bottle down and steals another quick kiss. "It'll be fun, I promise," he says.

Jonghyun humphs, grumbling bubbles into his water bottle, wondering how a single minute where he's not getting what he wants immediately can be made fun. And then he finds out: Taemin moves back down between his legs and picks something up from next to his pile of balls. The sight of it makes Jonghyun tap his feet in excitement. There it is. There’s old trusty.

For the umpteenth time today, Taemin pushes Jonghyun's pink cherry blossom plug inside of him. Just like every time, it feels delicious going in, filling and satisfying, safe and secure. Jonghyun will admit, he was a little worried that he might have accidentally let one of the balls out. Now he doesn't even have to think about it.

There’s still a handful of balls left; Taemin pushes them away to the other side of the bed. Jonghyun guesses 16 is the maximum today. He smirks at Taemin as he crawls up to sit next to his head and pet his hair. Gremlin probably just doesn't think it's as hot to put them in while he's awake instead of sleeping. He puffs his cheeks out so Taemin will want to pinch them. It works, and he gets a kiss on each one as a bonus.

"So, from the beginning," Taemin says, and then he immediately falters. He hides a sheepish smile behind his hand. "Well, actually, I don't know when the beginning is. I don't know when you fell asleep." Jonghyun chokes on his water, a little bit; he coughs and then grins into Taemin's shoulder when he helps him sit up. Absolute loser boy. Of course he didn't notice at first. Taemin, instead of getting defensive or trying to brush it off, just shrugs, not bothered at all. He looks at the palm of one hand, drawing lines on it with his other one like he's reading off a notepad as he speaks: "we gave Jinx that nut, and then I was eating him out, and then I was fucking him, and then–"

"That's when I fell asleep."

"Ah, got it," Taemin says. "Had no idea. I was absolutely fucking out of it." They grin at each other, sharing the joke of Jonghyun's baby sleepiness and Taemin as desperate babyness. Two babies, in love. The height of disaster gay culture. Jonghyun doesn't know how Jinki puts up with them. "Anyway. Nutted in him. Absolutely divine. And then he let me eat him out some more. And then he let me eat you out. Jerked me off. Hell yeah.” He starts writing imaginary lines on his palm with two fingers instead of one.

"And then we kind of just hung out for a little bit. Played some fucky chess." He waves a hand to the closet where they keep the chessboard and amalgamation of every lost or extra game board piece that they own all in the same box. "Went through a lot of the fruit. Absolutely devoured the rest of the cookies–ah, right!"

Taemin taps his fingers against his temple and then scrambles up to his knees. He starts rustling around on the headboard, but before Jonghyun can even turn his head to look, he's sitting back down. "Here," he says, dropping the packet of cookies on Jonghyun's chest. "We saved the last couple for you. Consume nutrients." That last part he says sternly, tapping Jonghyun on the forehead. Jonghyun slaps him away, but he also opens up the packet and pulls out a bite-sized cookie. Hell yeah. He loves nutrients. Munching on it, he gestures towards Taemin to continue. He’s loving the story. Can't wait for it to get good.

"Yeah, so," Taemin says. "We were playing on top of you, like, we put the board on your tummy. And I was feeling up your leg, because, you know, obviously."

"Obviously," Jonghyun agrees, nodding. Obviously. Taemin winks at him.

“But then, it made you get all horny again. And it's like, were we just supposed to ignore that? Jinx wanted to, actually, but only because he was winning." His mouth does a weird thing, a combination between a smirk and a grump. Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "So then," Taemin says. "We fucked you, like," he balls his hands into little fists and presses them together facing each other, so the bottoms of his palms and the flats of his knuckles are touching. He hesitates, then uncurls his fingers just enough to make a little heart with his hands. He smiles at Jonghyun through it, and then closes them again back into fists. Extending each pointer finger, he rubs his hands together up and down, so his fingers extend forward alternatively. "Taking turns," he says. "And then we." He makes his pointer fingers even again and then moves them up and down as one. "And you–"

"I slept through getting dp'd? " Jonghyun demands, distressed. What the fuck. He cannot believe he missed that. That is so unfair.

"Sure did," Taemin grins. "Jinx took a video of it for his onlyfans, but he said he'll send it to you later. You would have loved it. It was really hot. You nutted all over yourself and everything." Easily he predicts Jonghyun's slap to his arm and blocks it, holds his hand and kisses his fingers instead. Jonghyun glares at him anyway for rubbing it in. He's going to make an addendum to his sleepy rules. They can do anything they want with him, except dp him. If he's going to get dp'd then he wants to be awake to fully enjoy it. "That was this," Taemin is saying. He's dragging his finger down Jonghyun's tummy.

Jonghyun looks down and follows the line he's drawing, but he has no idea how he's supposed to tell it apart from every other assortment of jizz splotches on him, especially since they're all criss-crossed and overlapping on each other. He guesses it does look the driest, maybe.

"And then, this," Taemin says, and draws a big circle around another bunch of cum lines. "That was me, because you nutting made me nut. And then over here Jinx made himself nut, too, I think he did it on purpose, to be polite. Nice bun."

"Nice bun," Jonghyun agrees. Very very nice bun.

"And then, uhhhhh." Taemin looks up at the ceiling, trying to remember. He's holding three fingers up now, Jonghyun notices, and one on his other hand. "Uhhh. That's when Jinx left to go do nerd shit." He hunches over like a little gremlin, drawing his hands to his chest and wiggling his fingers. It takes Jonghyun a moment, but then he realizes. Jinx left to go get paid to play d&d. Good for him.

"And then I hung out some. Cleaned up a little bit. Kissed you a little bit. Oh, I put your burger in the fridge for later. Ate the rest of your fries though. And then I guess I started–? Oh! No, oh my god, I can't believe I forgot. My dude." He puts his hand and heavy on top of Jonghyun's head, making Jonghyun look at him, quiet in his sudden seriousness. "My dude," he says again. "Did you know that you like. You genuinely, legitimately, eat ass super good in your sleep?"

"What?" Jonghyun bursts into laughter. That is the most absurd thing he's heard all week. Taemin squeezes his fingertips, though, both his eyes and his smile big and earnest. "Really?" he asks. "What does that even? Mean?" It can't mean what he thinks it means. Taemin has to be exaggerating.

"It means ," Taemin hisses. He laughs in hard, heavy breaths, like he still can't believe it. "I was up here getting the lube and stuff, and I thought it would be kind of funny to sit on your face a little bit, you know, and see what you would do? I thought like at the most maybe you would kiss me a little bit? But you licked me, and then you did it again, and then you started, like. Like legitimately, actually, eating me out. Like for real. I thought you woke up. But you didn't. I could not believe it. It was so good. And then, so, obviously, that was really hot, so." He mimes jerking off and then spreads his hand open to signify the release, wiggling four of his fingers over Jonghyun's face.

Holy shit. Jonghyun does not believe it. But then, he doesn't know why Taemin would lie to him, and there is the jizz on his face, and there was that taste of cum in his mouth that he noticed when he woke up, so he guesses that he does. Gosh.

He is so cool and sexy and talented. He thinks he might just be the coolest and the sexiest and the most talented. He bets no one else eats ass in their sleep. He's almost upset that he didn't actually wake up to experience it, but not really. He thinks, maybe, it's hotter to just hear about it, to be told what he did. To hear about his talents secondhand, to just know that he is so good at sex that it's instinctual, that he's good enough to do it while he sleeps.

He thinks, maybe, it's actually hotter that he slept through getting dp'd, too. To be so good at taking it, at getting fucked and spread open, at being used so harshly–and he knows it was harsh, he knows they weren't being gentle with him–that he could sleep right through it. Like it was nothing. Like he was made to do it. Yeah. Maybe he won't revise his sleepy rules after all.

"Jonghyunnie?"

"Wuh?" Taemin's fingers pinching his cheek startle Jonghyun out of his thoughts. He blinks quickly, remembering where he is, that he was in the middle of a conversation. Whoops. "Sorry," he says. "I was thinking about how hot I am." He grins shamelessly as Taemin snorts. He's not going to lie and he's not going to downplay the truth.

"Yeah, I can tell, little half chub," Taemin teases. He pokes Jonghyun's cock with his weird little finger, making Jonghyun very much aware of the fact that he does, indeed, have a half chub going. Giggling, feeling even more shameless, Jonghyun shrugs. If you can't get a boner at yourself then what even is the fucking point. Taemin kisses his mouth, kisses his tummy, kisses the tip of his dick, and sits up straight. "Anyway," he says. "I was making fun of you for guessing six balls earlier when you nutted when I put the sixth one inside of you."

Jonghyun giggles harder. That's so good. Now that he actually has a clear head, he doesn't know what he was thinking. Six was obviously way too low.

"Caught me fucking off guard, too," Taemin mutters. "Wasn't expecting it at all, you fucking, rocketed three of them out of you at mach 5, I couldn't catch them, and they landed all over the floor, I had to fucking. Pick them up and go and wash them, and then put them back in. God. I'm glad you think it's funny."

Jonghyun does think it's funny. He thinks it's absolutely hilarious, picturing Taemin scuttling around for the balls, grumbling over the sink, and he's doing nothing whatsoever to stifle his laughter. He lets it fill up his chest and then fill up the room, holding onto his stomach, kicking his feet in the air.

It feels so good to laugh. It always does. It feels as good as all of his orgasms today combined and then some, joy and light and love. And comfort, in the way that Taemin sits with him, laughs softly with him, looks at him. Like he's the world. Like he's the universe. When Taemin looks at him like that, it's hard not to believe that it's true.

Eventually he settles down, his laughter calming down to chuckles, ramping up again into bubbling giggles, slowing down finally to single, wheezing breaths, each one with its own individual smile. Taemin is playing with the cum on his chest, rubbing off some of the more dried lines, rolling it into a sticky little gooball between his fingers. When he notices Jonghyun calming down and smiling at him, he wipes it on the towel. He holds up four fingers on one hand, two fingers on the other, wiggling them in front of his smile. The six nuts that Jonghyun missed while he was out. Seven, actually, if he remembers Jinki's one. He's glad the other two had such a nice time.

"Anyway," he says. He stretches his arms toward the headboard, his feet towards the end of the bed. He relaxes all at once with a big puff of air, like he's deflating. “How long ago did Jinki leave?" he asks. Glancing down at the towel reminded him. "When am I supposed to go do the laundry?"

"Oh, um," Taemin says. He reaches for his phone on the headboard. "Jinx left a while ago. Laundry was done, um." Upside down, Jonghyun watches him pull down his notifications and swipe away everything until he gets to an alarm. "Like half an hour ago," he says.

"Gosh," Jonghyun sighs. Man. He was hoping it wouldn't be done yet so he would get to lay here for a little bit longer. But now that it is done, he knows that he has to get up and do it now or else he'll never get around to it. "Okay. Hup ." He starts pulling himself into a sit up but halfway there, all of the balls inside of him shift just the tiniest bit.

It catches him off guard, surprises a squeak out of him, and even with Taemin's helpful hands on his arm and back, he flops down onto the bed, laughing again. Holy shit.

"You okay?" Taemin asks, one hand petting his hair, the other hovering over him, unsure of what exactly to do. Jonghyun nods, hiding his eyes behind his hands. Embarrassing.

"Would you believe I forgot they were in me for a minute?" he asks.

"Oh my god," Taemin says, "you didn't," and then he's laughing too, loud and sharp. Jonghyun wants to be offended, but he can't. If there's one thing better than laughing hard, it's laughing hard with Taemin.

Quickly though, Taemin calms down, fanning his face. He touches Jonghyun's shoulder again, gently. "Do you want help?" he asks. "To the laundry room?"

"No, I can do it," Jonghyun says. "I'm a big girl. I can do it." It's just down the hallway. How hard could it be?

He sits up again, carefully this time, breathing through the movements of all of the toys inside of him. It's not that bad. He just has to get used to it. Taemin helps him out of the bed, pushing him gently, holding his waist until he's steady on his feet, and then he sits back down, crossing his legs, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows at him; Taemin blows him a kiss.

Rolling his eyes, Jonghyun takes his first step towards the bedroom door. He wobbles; instantly Taemin's little hand is on his back. Just as quickly he pulls it back when Jonghyun glares at him over his shoulder. He said he could do it. Innocently, Taemin blows him another kiss.

Jonghyun quickly turns and tries again so he doesn't blush into a soft pink powder. Taemin is too cute for his own good. He takes slow, careful steps, registering the shift of balls inside of him, where they are, especially where they are in relation to his prostate. Once he has that down, once he can predict it, it should be easy.

Three steps out of the bedroom, he realizes that was a lie, and halfway down the hallway, he admits that to himself. It's harder than ever because now that he knows that every time he puts his right foot forward the ball just underneath his prostate will roll up and put just enough pressure to steal his breath from his lungs, he shakes with anticipation every time he takes the step.

He thinks, maybe, if he takes bigger steps, it'll help, but that just makes the pressure harder, longer. The first big step he takes is so much, so new from what he'd come to expect, that he has to stop, right there in the middle of the hallway, and lean against the wall for support. Fuck. His pulse pounds in his fingertips; his cock drips onto the carpet. He should probably worry about that more than he is.

Instead, he's cursing himself for being so fucking stubborn. He could have just taken the help. He could be holding Taemin's hand right now, he could be either in the laundry room doing the laundry or pressed up against the wall whimpering into Taemin's neck and halfway through another orgasm. But no . He's a big girl. He doesn't need help. Gosh. Dickhead.

Taemin is watching him; Jonghyun can feel his eyes on his back. He could just turn around right now and ask for help. He could do it. Taemin would give it to him. But he doesn't want to give Taemin the satisfaction. He cannot stand the smug look that Taemin would give him if he did that, if he even glanced over his shoulder.

So, stubbornly, Jonghyun takes some deep breaths and keeps going.

Slowly, purposefully, he makes his way to the laundry room, and then quickly, clumsily, he stumbles to the washing machine and slams his hands down on it to keep himself standing. His knees tremble, his breath comes ragged out of him. Fuck. He cannot believe he did this to himself.

He crouches down, carefully, holding on to the washing machine until he can angle himself into a crouch that doesn't push the balls directly onto his prostate. From there, he takes his time getting his breath back, and then he takes his time opening up the washing machine and dryer.

From the looks of things, Jinki didn't just do the folded up cummy sheets from that morning. He did the rest of the sheets on the bed and their blanket. Jonghyun guesses he also slept through getting picked up off of the bed for however long it took him to take everything off and then remake it. Pulling everything out and transferring it to the dryer, he smiles to himself.

Nice bun. He likes that guy.

Jonghyun slams the dryer shut, hovers over all of the knobby dealies on top, hesitates. He opens it again, throws a couple of dryer sheets in, and slams it shut for real this time. He sets it to go for medium on everything, slaps the start button, and then he just leans against it, catching his breath. Standing up to reach the buttons was a whole process.

The dryer rumbles underneath his hands, the metal already heating up underneath his fingertips. Jonghyun looks at it, and then grimaces. Damn it. He really should have accepted the help. He could be getting fucked on top of this right now.

Whatever. Another time. For now, he takes a minute to psych himself up and then bravely starts making his way down the hallway.

It's even harder on the way back. Every step brings the anticipation, the jolt, the release. And it's different, this time, too, because when he was doing all of the laundry movements it shifted the balls inside of him enough to make the change noticeable in his steps.

He can see Taemin through the open bedroom door, but Taemin can't see him. He has his nose buried in his phone. Jonghyun doesn't mind; between now and coming back to the bedroom is going to take a while. He is almost certain that Taemin will have time to notice him again. He better. He's not doing all of this fucking struggling for nothing.

Nearing the door, Jonghyun wobbles, stumbles a little bit, and slaps his hand on the frame to steady himself. Taemin's head pops up. He sees Jonghyun; his phone falls out of his hand. Jonghyun sees his eyes moving over his body, down and up, down again when another drop of precum drips onto the carpet. Taemin licks his lips, and then he bites the bottom one hard.

Jonghyun's entire body flashes with heat, tingling under his skin. Yeah, this is worth it. Being looked at like that, wanted, craved with the intensity that Taemin has in his eyes. This is worth it.

This also makes it that much harder to collect himself and take his next step. He doesn't trust his knees not to give out, not when Taemin looks like he could devour Jonghyun in one bite. Without him meaning it to, a whimper escapes from Jonghyun's lips.

And just like that, Taemin blinks, shakes his head, snaps out of it. A smile spreads on to his face instead, wide and round and beautiful, and he stands up. He walks out to meet Jonghyun in the doorway.

"Do you want help yet?" he asks, offering his hands out. A wave, a surge, of obstinance, of pride fills up Jonghyun's chest, his throat, but he swallows it back down before it can come out of his mouth. Nodding, he reaches for Taemin and lets himself be pulled into his arms. Yes, he wants help. Yes, he wants support. Yes, he wants to not have to walk the five steps back to the bed on his own.

Yes, he wants to stand here for a little bit, in the middle of the bedroom, hugging Taemin. Nuzzling into his neck, smelling his sweat. Loving him. Being loved by him. Sharing their love together, the both of them, for each other's everythings. For Taemin's smile and his heartbeat and his ugly laugh and his forgetful brain and his weird kinks. For everything about himself that Jonghyun knows Taemin loves just as much.

A question comes to him.

"Hey," he says. He picks his head up from Taemin's neck, but just to rest his cheek on his shoulder so he can be heard clearly. He puts one hand on his tummy. "Are we calling these your eggs?" he asks. "Like, are we pretending that you laid your eggs in me in my sleep?"

"I mean." Taemin lets go of him with one hand. Jonghyun feels it brush his hair a moment later. Taemin is pinching the bridge of his nose, embarrassed. "You don't have to," he mumbles. "I know you're not really into it."

"Yeah, but," Jonghyun says. He leans back to smile up at Taemin. Gently, he kisses the back of his hand. "I don't mind," he says honestly. Just because it's not his thing that doesn't mean he won't play along with it. "I'll call them eggs if you think it's hotter." that's just being polite, really.

Taemin goes pinker and pinker underneath his hand, his mouth fighting between saying words or smiling, and then, all at once, he hugs Jonghyun around the head. He mwahs Jonghyun a hundred times, smooching all over his hair and his forehead and his nose and his cheeks and his eyelids when Jonghyun scrunches them up against the assault. And his mouth once, at the end, even though he's busy using it to laugh.

"I like you a lot," Taemin tells him. Jonghyun's heart swells. Hell yeah.

"I like that you like me," he smiles. He really really really does. Taemin presses his forehead against Jonghyun's softly, and Jonghyun returns the pressure. Then, feeling better and happier than he has all day, he takes a careful step back. "Look," he says. "I'll even." The thought to jump onto the bed forms in his brain and gets sent halfway down his nerves before he grinds himself to a hard stop. Maybe. Maybe not that. He climbs carefully on to it instead, hissing and twitching as it jostles his insides, smiling inside of his heart when Taemin helps him. He lowers himself carefully onto his back and closes his eyes.

He makes a few fake snoring noises, and then, yawning, flutters open his eyes innocently. He puts on a look of exaggerated concern and brings both of his hands to his stomach. “Wh... What's this feeling?" he asks in his very best delicate princess voice. "In my tummy? Why do I feel so... So strange? Something is moving inside of me...!" And he swoons, throwing his head dramatically back on the pillows and resting the back of his hand on his forehead. He waits a beat, then pops open his eyes and smiles at Taemin, wiggling his eyebrows and nodding, congratulating himself on his own role playing skills.

Taemin is just looking at him, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised. He laughs, shaking his head.

"Okay, well, first of all, it wouldn't be a surprise," he says. He sits on the edge of the bed and gently pushes Jonghyun's bangs out of his face. "You wake up to it every morning. It's a daily breeding ritual, you know. I'm very fertile."

"Oh, of course," Jonghyun smiles. How silly of him. He nuzzles into Taemin's hand, and then scrunches and giggles away from it when he trails it down his neck. Taemin only tickles him a little bit though, just to tease, before he trails his fingers down his torso, follows his happy trail down to his cock, twists them gently in his pubes.

"And right when you wake up, I'm right there bringing you breakfast in bed, and then while you eat it, I'm–”

"You're so fucking vanilla, dude," Jonghyun sighs. He sighs it with all of the fondness in his heart. Only Taemin would bring his alien (bug? Jonghyun has never asked) breeding queen breakfast in bed. Taemin tugs on his pubes, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to surprise him into hissing "ow," anyway.

"While you eat it," he continues like Jonghyun didn't interrupt him, "I'm down between your legs, getting you ready to lay them all. Which is just." He grins, shameless, and shrugs. "Me eating you out a lot and talking about how wet you are.”

"Mmhmm," Jonghyun hums, enamored. He wouldn't expect anything different. "And then when I'm done with breakfast I lay them for you?" he asks.

"How did you guess?" Taemin asks, feigning surprise. Jonghyun laughs, covering it with his hand. Taemin holds onto his hand halfway through so the end of it comes out louder, unfiltered. And if Jonghyun isn't mistaken, Taemin also leans closer to hear it better.

That thought is way too much for Jonghyun, way too much for his heart, so quickly he says, "well, I'm ready to start laying." He bends his legs at the knees to open himself up and everything. He is ready to be a good little ovulator or whatever.

"Hell yeah," Taemin says. He bites his lip, papping his hands on his own knees in his excitement. Then he calms down, a little bit. "Except, actually," he says. He pushes gently on Jonghyun's leg. "You gotta be on your knees for it."

"Oh, of course," Jonghyun snorts. Of course. "How could I forget the traditional egg laying position?" Obviously that’s the way that everyone lays eggs, naturally, in nature, and has nothing to do with how it's Taemin's favorite view. He lets Taemin help him carefully onto his knees with his legs spread open to give Taemin room to sit in between them. He pulls pillows to hold in his arms and underneath his chin, getting himself comfortable.

Carefully, Taemin pulls himself in to sit behind him. He slides his legs underneath Jonghyun, then bends them so that his knees are on either side of his waist. It's such a simple thing, an easy way for Taemin to get comfortable and close, but it sends a shiver down Jonghyun's spine. It makes him feel trapped, caged in. He's here and he's not leaving until Taemin is done with him.

Taemin's hands are feather light on his thighs, up to his booty cheeks. His mouth is, too, dropping soft kisses like butterflies on his skin. He makes his way to Jonghyun's hole, where he rubs his thumbs on the other side of his crack and pulls him open. He drops a kiss that is so gentle onto the plug that Jonghyun doesn't even feel it. He only hears it, the little smek of his lips leaving the jewel.

"So beautiful, my Jonghyunnie," he whispers. Jonghyun flushes all over, his cock twitching. Fuck. That's not fair. And judging by the way he can feel the kiss Taemin is pressing to his ass turn into a smile, Taemin knows that it's not fair. "So gorgeous," he hums. "So pretty." Jonghyun whines. He's already overwhelmed. He spent all of that time getting himself worked up walking down the hallway and back and now Taemin is doing this to him? Before he even starts with the actual hands on horny stuff? Fucked up. He's going to nut in a millisecond.

Taemin holds the jewel in two fingers, moving it in slow circles that are absolute torture on his sensitive rim. "I want you to push them out for me one at a time, okay?" He says. Jonghyun whimpers quietly. Yeah, sure. One at a time. Taemin pushes hard on the plug, pushing it against his rim, rolling his thumb so the pleasure rolls with it. "Okay?" He repeats.

"Yes yes yes, okay, please," Jonghyun says quickly. It's so much, it's so much, and he tries to move his hips away, but he can't. Taemin locks them in with his knees, holds him in place with his hands. "Please," he begs again.

"Please what?" Taemin Is enjoying this. He rests his face cheek on Jonghyun's booty cheek and Jonghyun can feel the smugness like it transferred through their skin like osmosis. He starts pulling on the plug opposite to every time he rolls it in, so Jonghyun feels the pressure intense in both directions. "Tell me, pretty."

He wants Jonghyun to nut in a millisecond. He wants Jonghyun to cum before they even get started. He wants it, but he's not entirely decided yet, so he's hovering on the decision. Stalling. Teasing. He's not going to stop, but he's not going to go harder and make Jonghyun cum, either. He's waiting for Jonghyun to answer and make the decision for him, but it was fucking bold of him to assume that Jonghyun would be able to force his brain to make that decision before he got fed up.

"Fucking stop or make me cum," he growls. Let him calm down or let him boil over. Just do fucking something .

Taemin laughs quietly. "Okie dokie," he says. He wraps one arm around Jonghyun's leg, holding him tight, and he starts actually fucking him with the plug. He pulls it all the way out to the tip and he pushes it back in, fast, in the same rolling movement he was doing with his thumb but bigger. Jonghyun grits his teeth, biting the pillows. He can feel every movement. He can feel it pop out of his asshole and then smooth its way back inside. He can feel everything it does to the balls, how it pushes them in deeper, then gives them room to start trying to come out.

And he can definitely feel when Taemin reaches even further around his leg and grabs his cock in his little hand. He cums before Taemin even jerks him twice, hard, so hard he can hear the impact of it on the towel beneath him. So hard that he himself is silent, voice empty, broken. The only thing that's working inside of his throat right now is his airways, and even those aren't doing that great. He fights to get air into his lungs, each breath stuttering, desperate.

Taemin ends his orgasm gently, slowly, letting him down easy with the plug firmly still inside of him. He's holding it in, Jonghyun can tell, but as he calms down, as he settles, as he exhales long and slow, Taemin lets go. He smooths his hand over Jonghyun's leg instead, rubbing him, patting his booty gently as he kisses and coos against his other leg.

Jonghyun squeezes his pillows as he gets his breathing under control. He counts the seconds, in, hold, out. He counts his heartbeat, all the way up to a hundred. He yawns into the crook of his elbow. Then he smiles into it, relaxed and content. He really needed that. It gets hard to tell, on days like these, when he winds up worn out and tired but also riled up and sensitive at the same time, when all of the sensations start blurring together and getting mixed up in his brain, when he needs the edge taken off or not. He's glad Taemin went for the nut option.

"Hey Taem?” he says. He wiggles his hips, getting comfortable again now that Taemin isn't holding him in place. "Thanks." Now he'll be able to be clear-headed and focused when he starts the task of pushing all of the balls out. He definitely won't be that way by the end, but he'll be able to ramp up into it, to appreciate the build up, to have the experience of what it feels like when he is himself to compare to what it feels like when he is once again absolutely losing it with pleasure. He'll be able to have the whole experience as one single crescendo instead of interrupting with a hard crash right in the middle.

"No problem," Taemin says. He places one big, wet, smacky kiss to Jonghyun's booty cheek. "Are you ready for real or do you want another minute?"

"I'm ready for real," Jonghyun says. He's calmed down enough, he thinks. He's ready for the long game. "One at a time," he adds, letting Taemin know that he hasn't forgotten his job.

"One at a time," Taemin repeats, saying the words between kisses. He repositions himself between Jonghyun's legs, kissing softly back and forth between his thighs. Once again, he takes a hold of the plug, but this time, he pulls it out, all the way out, nice and slow. Jonghyun hisses, feeling his bootyhole twitching, fluttering, feeling the balls already trying to slip out. He concentrates, working to just clench his bootyhole shut without flexing his abdomen or accidentally pushing. It's hard, but he's had practice.

Taemin laps at his hole, his tongue hot and wet, catching and pulling on his loose rim, trying to open him up. Jonghyun is so sensitive, been used so much, so roughly today, that even Taemin's breath is making him tingle. Before all of that heightened stimulation can make him lose control, he catches his breath, steadies himself on his forearms, and starts to push.

It's a lot. The movement of all of them inside of him, the slow roll against his prostate, the pressure on his hole, so much pressure that he has to control, that he has to hold back. Taemin spreads him open, pulling on his cheeks, tracing his rim with his tongue as the first ball starts to come out. Jonghyun feels everything in high definition. He pushes his fingers through his hair and pulls on it to ground himself, to mitigate some of the stimulation so it evens out throughout his entire body instead of just on his ass.

Slowly, carefully, the first ball comes out. It spreads Jonghyun open slowly, faltering as Jonghyun clenches and unclenches, trying to find the perfect amount of strength as his asshole opens up wider and wider. And then, all of a sudden, there's no more pressure, only the slick feeling of the ball popping out of him, and the quick second of panic as he clenches hard to make sure it's the only one.

"Good job, good job, so perfect for me," Taemin is whispering immediately, that and a hundred other praises, a hundred other compliments. He kisses Jonghyun's hole between words. "One," he counts cutely. Jonghyun smiles.

"One," he agrees. Fifteen more to go.

The second one is easier. Jonghyun is less hesitant, more willing to push harder and for longer. He's still careful–that's the thing about the size of these balls. They could be bigger, much bigger, but Taemin picked the small ones specifically for him. It's just that he’s always so loose, gets fucked so easily, takes the nine inch dilator–almost double the size of the balls–with ease every time, that the challenge is never how many can he fit inside of him. It's always can he keep inside of him.

The second one comes out much like the first, with a struggle and then a pop and then a kiss, Taemin dragging his tongue over his hole between murmured compliments. They count off, two from Taemin, two from Jonghyun.

Pushing the third one out, Jonghyun almost lets the fourth one out, too. He can feel it starting to come out, spreading him open again, and he tenses up, drawing it back in. Behind him, Taemin chuckles, pinches legs, and helps the ball back in with slow kisses. There's amusement in his voice when he says three and a little bit of shame in Jonghyun's voice when he repeats it a moment later.

He makes sure, when the fourth one does come out, that it is slow and deliberate, to prove that he isn't starting to slip up already. He hasn't even started to get hard again. Of course he isn't going to mess up yet.

And with that determination, he falls into a rhythm. A practiced set of motions, steps: push, stretch, slow down, get his rim worshipped by the gremlin behind him, press just enough, ease out, close back up. They count together, five, six, seven. Jonghyun relaxes into it, rocking his hips, getting comfortable.

So comfortable, actually, that he does mess up. In his confidence, he loses some of his discipline. When he pushes out eight, nine comes with it, slipping out of his hole before he can stop it.

"Ooh!" he squeaks, surprised, and then he laughs. Whoops. Taemin, also laughing, puts his thumb on his hole to hold him closed. He tsks, and Jonghyun doesn't have to see him to know that he's shaking his head.

"Excuse me," he says reproachfully, the smile still audible in his voice telling Jonghyun that he isn't actually mad. "What happened to one at a time?" he asks.

"Sorry," Jonghyun pouts. He's sure that the smile in his voice tells Taemin that he's not serious, either.

"It's okay, Jonghyunnie," Taemin tells him. His voice is soft, soothing. Gentle and comforting. Reassuring Jonghyun like a soft cloud. His cheek rubs soft against Jonghyun's skin as he drags his tongue up his crack. "Besides," he says cheerfully. "Now we get to start over."

"What?" Jonghyun asks. He cranes his neck to look behind him. He can't have heard that right.

"Here we go!" Taemin chirps. And just like that, he pushes ball number nine back against Jonghyun's asshole. Before Jonghyun even registers what he's doing, the ball is back inside of him, simple, pushing all of the other ones backwards.

"Hello–? Oh my gosh." just like that, ball number eight is back inside of him too. Taemin isn't shoving them in, but he's not going slow, either. He's going at a steady, pleasant pace, taking his time, but not letting Jonghyun take his own time to recover and respond. All he can do is feel, is experience.

"Yeah?" Taemin asks. "What's up?" Ball number seven, at his entrance, pushing in, his thumb following it. "Is something wrong?" ball number six, the same way.

"I–I mean." Jonghyun licks his lips, swallows. "I–" Ball number five. Taemin gets it started a little more than halfway in and lets Jonghyun do the rest, his asshole almost involuntarily sucking it in, tightening around it.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't," Jonghyun breathes. Anything but that. "It’s fine, I'm fine. Of course we're starting over." Of course they are. Of course Taemin is going to drag this out for the both of them. (Ball number four.) "I can do it." The words come out of him and he hears in his voice, he feels in his chest, that same stubbornness from before. It feels familiar, like his brain is giving it to him as a warning, but Jonghyun just exhales a smile into his pillow. He's not worried. If anything, he's proud of his determination. He's excited that Taemin sprung this on him.

It hits him that maybe Taemin didn't take the edge off of him earlier to help him calm down, but to lure him into that false sense of security that he had. He grinds back into ball number three, impressed. Taemin is pretty good at this. No wonder Jonghyun likes fucking him so much.

The last two balls go in smooth, without fanfare, and Taemin gives Jonghyun a moment after to catch his breath. Jonghyun makes use of half of it, and spends the second half wiggling his booty and telling Taemin to tell him that it's cute.

"Entirely adorable," Taemin says obediently. His little hands pap each of Jonghyun's booty cheeks as gently as possible. "I love and cherish it with my entire heart."

Hell yeah.

Jonghyun starts the process again of pushing out the balls, more careful than ever. He tries to stay vigilant and controlled, but again, when he is as loose as he is, especially on a day like today, especially right now, when he's still a little rattled from the surprise, he messes up almost instantly. The third and the fourth ones come out at the same time, the fifth one almost following.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Uh-oh," Taemin singsongs. Jonghyun huffs, almost annoyed with his playfulness. Embarrassing. He lets Taemin push them back inside, lowering himself down further into the pillows to get more comfortable and give him a better angle.

A much better angle; now, with the curve of his spine, the balls switch from a gentle, ever-present pressure on his prostate to directly pushing against it every time they move. Jonghyun shivers. His nerves are still a little dull, but with an angle like this he can sense another boner in the very near future. Five more balls, maybe.

It's actually four; Taemin drools enough to drip down to his balls after Jonghyun pushes it out and as he ducks down to slurp it up, his cock takes that as a sign to get revved up and raring to go.

Taemin announces that he's noticed the boner too by going, "oh, hello again, little one," and kissing just underneath the head. Jonghyun laughs, flattered. He loves the way Taemin talks to his dick. It's always so cute. "Going to have some fun with you," Taemin says. He sucks on the head, then licks a wide stripe up the shaft and back to his balls, sucking on them gently again. With one hand still on Jonghyun's booty, thumb teasing into his hole, he wraps his other hand around his shaft and strokes slowly.

Jonghyun, a little thrown off by how quickly his dick went from maybe thinking about waking up again to absolutely rock hard, shudders at all of this new stimulation. His entire body trembles. He won't last long like this at all, and he knows that Taemin knows that, and he very much suspects that the next time he nuts, Taemin isn't going to give him time to cool down.

Trying to distract Taemin, get his mouth back to his hole, Jonghyun starts pushing the fifth one out. It works; Taemin is instantly back up there, helping him with his tongue and kissing around it, pecking his hole lovingly. But as soon as it's out, he's back down teasing his balls, and his hand never left his shaft.

It doesn't make Jonghyun panic, but it does make him distressed, rushed. He wants to hurry, hurry and get the next one out, and then the next one, to keep Taemin where he can better handle him. And that, of course, makes him sloppy. The seventh and eighth come out at the same time, right into Taemin's waiting hand.

Taemin's laugh comes out as a warm hum around his balls and the ninth one joins them as it vibrates throughout Jonghyun's entire nervous system.

"Ah, ah, ah," Taemin says, shaking his head. "I thought you could do it?"

"Fuck off,” Jonghyun snaps back, and then immediately puts his hand over his eyes. Gosh. Fuck. Why did he say that. Taemin just hums, amused, mmhmm? Like he's asking if Jonghyun really meant that, if Jonghyun knows what that's going to earn him. Jonghyun did mean it, but he wishes that he didn't, because he does know what it's going to get him.

Taemin was just playing with his cock before, for his own enjoyment. Now he actually puts effort into it. As he pushes the toys back in, taking his sweet time, he really works over Jonghyun's cock. He sucks hard, massaging his balls with his tongue, twisting his wrist every time he strokes, switching it up at random intervals by sucking on the head of his cock instead, or pushing his thumb into his slit, or worst of all, gently, gently, gently, biting his shaft.

Jonghyun's cock leaks like a faucet. He hisses, curses, growls through bitten lips. He can feel it, every drop, just like he can feel all of the lube and spit that leaks out of his asshole, just like he can feel his pulse throughout his entire body. He holds on though, keeping himself together, keeping himself grounded–until Taemin pushes the last one inside of him.

He would have kept it together, if Taemin hadn't decided to smack his ass twice when he finished. Not hard–Taemin is too baby to spank him for real–but still sharp, a celebratory booty slap that has Jonghyun jerking, surprised. With that full body twitch, three balls come out.

Jonghyun collapses, exasperated, annoyed, frustrated, as Taemin bursts into laughter. Fuck. Damn it. Awful.

But less awful when Taemin starts gently peppering kisses all over his booty. That's fine. He doesn't mind that. He quite likes that, actually. Taemin doesn't make him get back up on his knees, but he does even him out, pull his legs straight, position him so his booty is in Taemin's lap. Jonghyun can feel his cock hot and hard next to his own.

They're not lined up, and Taemin can't fit his hand around both of them at the same time, but still, he holds them together and jerks them off like that, slow and steady. Jonghyun gasps into his pillows, hugging them close around his face. He can feel Taemin's pulse against his own. That's not lined up either, his heartbeat much faster than Taemin's and getting faster by the second.

Taemin pushes a ball in and follows it with two fingers, deeper and deeper, until he reaches Jonghyun's prostate and rubs it in slow circles. He keeps that up past Jonghyun gasping, past him breathing hard through his nose, past the low growls that purr in his throat, past him grinding his hips back, and stops right when he starts gasping again. Right before his orgasm starts.

Jonghyun growls again, very different this time. Angry this time, upset. Taemin knows he doesn't like to be edged like that.

"I know, Jonghyunnie, I'm sorry," Taemin says, in a tone that says he is sorry but not nearly fucking sorry enough. "I couldn't resist." Jonghyun grumbles back a lot of just noises until he ends with a petulant, "resist you ." It's an empty threat, and Taemin chuckles.

And he starts pushing the second ball back inside of him right after, so Jonghyun guesses that he doesn't mind.

Except, then he does mind, because Taemin does the same thing, following the ball in with his fingers and playing with his prostate.

Except again, he doesn't mind at all, because once Taemin gets him gasping again, and he's expecting him to stop, he doesn't. He keeps going, harder, faster, squeezing their cocks together, until Jonghyun is cumming.

He cums with heavy breaths, rocking his hips in Taemin's lap. It's not a particularly big or powerful orgasm, but it is stronger because he wasn't expecting it to actually happen. He doesn't think he's actually been jerked off today, either. Sure, if he thinks about it, he might have helped himself get to a nut once or twice today, but he hasn't been properly jerked off, his cock paid special attention to, until this orgasm right now, and it definitely is making a difference.

He cums more and more with each stroke of Taemin's hand, his balls and his nose twitching at the same time. It feels different–prickly under his skin, sticky in his veins, different in the way it always feels different from getting fucked or only having his prostate played with. Not better, or better only because he hasn't yet experienced it today so it's fresh and new.

All of this he thinks and feels in just the short space of time it takes him to have most of his orgasm because directly after Taemin is pushing him back up onto his knees. It's easy for Taemin to do it, Jonghyun limp and weak, still shaking, still cumming, and before he knows it, he's back in the original position with the last ball being pushed inside of him.

"Come on, Jonghyunnie," Taemin murmurs."one at a time, right?"

"What? Yeah, yeah. One at a time. Yeah, I remember, I can do it. I'm–I can–yeah." His vision reason is so blurry and his brain is so hazy that he just agrees on instinct. He knows Taemin. He trusts Taemin. He'll do what Taemin says.

Still cumming, still jolting through the aftershocks, Jonghyun tries to push the first ball out. It's hard, harder than it should be, a resistance there that wasn't there before. He breathes hard, pushes harder. The ball pops out and Taemin kisses his rim back closed. The second ball, and again, that resistance. That opposing pressure that makes him push harder, that makes the pop of the ball out of him that much more jarring, that makes panic and hurry to close himself back up again that much more urgent.

On the third ball, he realizes that it's Taemin. Everytime Jonghyun tries to push the ball out, he puts his thumb on it and holds it there, keeps it from moving. He controls the speed that it comes out with, keeping it slow, steady, stopping Jonghyun from accidentally letting more than the one out. Jonghyun's heart pounds in a love way, not just an orgasm way. It pumps blood through his body and it also pumps adoration, affection, gratitude, for the care and the help.

On the fourth ball, he realizes what Taemin is actually doing. He tries so hard, he pushes so hard, for so long, on the fourth ball, and for so long, Taemin doesn't let it even come more than halfway out. And then, all of a sudden, he lets go, leaving all of the control to Jonghyun. Jonghyun barely stops in time, barely flexes the right muscles, barely keeps the fifth one in. He's not helping at all.

And it's not until a minute later, when Taemin is kissing the fifth one, licking it, keeping it inside of him with his mouth for the entire minute, that Jonghyun's head clears enough to put a word to it. As Taemin kisses it all the way back inside of him, humming through the kiss so Jonghyun can feel the vibrations in his own skin, Jonghyun swallows hard and catches his breath enough to say, "You're. You're cheating."

"What do you mean?" Taemin asks. He's pouting, but no amount of pouting in the world would be able to cover up the smirk Jonghyun can hear on his mouth. No amount in the universe, because as he does it, as he leans back, as he stops fighting the ball, fighting Jonghyun, he also puts his hand on Jonghyun's abdomen and presses hard.

Jonghyun doesn't have a chance to react in time. Instantly, five, six, seven, eight, all pop out of him, and the only reason more don't come out is because he whimpers and collapses onto his stomach again.

"Whoopsy-daisy," Taemin beams. He gets Jonghyun right back onto his knees, holding him steady because Jonghyun can't do it himself, and starts filling him right back up. " "It's okay, Jonghyunnie, we all make mistakes."

"Oh my fucking gosh," Jonghyun growls. Absolute fucking terror, menace, shitlord, gremlin. He doesn't know how he ever got so lucky.

Things get a little hazy for him after that. It becomes clear to him that right now, all he is is Taemin's toy. He's not supposed to try hard. He's supposed to let Taemin play with him and do what Taemin wants, and what Taemin wants is for him to be delirious.

So he lets go. He gives in, gives himself over to Taemin and lets Taemin make his decisions.

He doesn't stop trying entirely, but if one of the toys slips out when it shouldn't, he doesn't get upset. He starts seeing those moments for what they actually are: not failure, or annoyance, but opportunities for more fun, more pleasure, more absolutely gorgeous back and forth inside of him. For more of Taemin murmuring praises against his skin, complimenting him, flattering him, telling him how gorgeous and perfect he is.

He loses track of how many he pushes out, when he messes up, how many Taemin puts back inside of him. All of it melts together, back and forth, in and out, push and pull, empty and full, pleasure and pleasure, none of it ever stopping, even when he cums again. It happens when Taemin is in the middle of filling him back up, he thinks, because he cums into Taemin's mouth, warm and soft and sloppy wet, feeling him swallow around him. He thinks. He's stopped perceiving all of his body parts as separate body parts, and instead he just feels like one big pile of happy goo. All he feels is good. All he knows is that Taemin never lets him get very far with the balls, or even very close to finishing at all, and that he's thankful for it.

One time, Taemin does. Jonghyun is almost sure of it. He's sure that, somewhere in his melty goo brain, at some point, he hears Taemin say, "just two more." And then he's sure that Taemin makes both of them come out at the same time, and he's sure that Taemin pouts, "oh no, so close , Jonghyunnie," and he's sure that Taemin puts all 16 right back inside of him, and Jonghyun is almost positive that he cums again, because how could he not?

Another thing that he registers is when Taemin is finally done playing with him. It's not a hard thing to notice; it's very obvious, in fact, even to his tingly goo body, when Taemin fucks his cock into him.

There are still toys inside of him. That's the next thing he notices, the few balls still inside of him that Taemin fucks deeper, fucks through, his deep groan and whispered curses floating in between Jonghyun's ears quietly, and then louder.

Not louder–closer. Closer, Taemin on top of him, kissing him. Taemin is fucking him so hard that he can feel himself jerking back and forth with him on the covers. He can feel his cock grinding against the bed. He must have collapsed onto his stomach again at some point.

When Taemin cums inside of him, Jonghyun registers it as the barest change of temperature somewhere on his bottom half, the very barest change of pressure in his top half, the tiniest fizzle of pain around where his neck might be. If he wasn't already, Jonghyun starts smiling. Bitey little gremlin. Good for him.

After a while, that pressure leaves, and he feels Taemin playing with his booty area again. Nothing like before, though. Nothing constant, nothing intense, nothing overwhelming. And then, a little bit later, Taemin disappears entirely. And then, even sooner, the bed dips beside him, tilting down, so he feels like he might melt and drip off if there wasn't something solid and warm blocking his way.

"Hey Jonghyunnie," Taemin's voice, little and delicate, right in front of him. "How you feeling?"

Those sure are words that Taemin said, Jonghyun thinks. Some form of communication, at least. Jonghyun mumbles his own attempt at words back.

"Oh, jeez," Taemin laughs. Something soft and warm on his cheek. "Jonghyun. Hey. Come back to me, Jonghyunnie." The warm thing on his cheek jiggling him, tapping him. "Open your eyes for me." Jonghyun does; blurry in front of him is a lot of shapes. A smile. He blinks, trying to see it better. "There you go," Taemin coos. "Tell me five things you can see, okay?"

Five things he can see. Jonghyun blinks harder. All of the blurs in front of him form into one shape that he recognizes. It takes a minute to find his voice, but eventually, he says what he sees: "I see... my favorite." He wants to touch his favorite, his round cheek, and when the urge comes to him, so does the memory that he has a hand, an arm attached to it. He raises it and gently puts his hand on Taemin's face. "And," he says. More blinking, and the room behind Taemin comes into focus.

"I see. The lamp. And. And." His eyes drift back to Taemin, because they want to, because they like looking at him. "Your eyes," he says, deep and brown and warm, little flecks of gold, little flecks of love. "My hand," he adds, making the realization that if the hand is attached to the arm and the arm is attached to him, then it's his and he owns it. It's small and square, his skin dark and a little dry, his veins prominent. "Your mouth," he says. Lips thick and plush, teeth cute and round. His favorite mouth.

"Okay, well, three of those were me, but okay," Taemin says. Jonghyun's favorite mouth smiles around every single word. "Give me four things that you can touch. Only one of them can be me."

Gosh, that's so unfair. Jonghyun pouts, but he does it, exploring with his newly discovered hand. What can he feel?

"Your hair," he starts. Taemin's hair, black, short, wavy, a little greasy. He rubs a few strands between his fingers, feeling the texture change. Then he slides his hand down, down Taemin's face, down his shoulder, slipping off of his arm, landing on the bed. Soft, a little fuzzy. "Towel," he says. He moves hand up between them until the texture changes into something silky smooth and cool. "Bedsheets." The sheets that Jinki changed for them earlier. Jonghyun remembers that he touched Taemin's shoulder. He puts his hand on Taemin, and then he remembers that he can't say Taemin again. He touches his own self instead, rubbing his neck with his other hand so he doesn't have to let go of Taemin. "My skin."

"Good, good," Taemin tells him. "Three things you can smell?"

Oh yeah, that's right, Jonghyun has a nose. It occurs to him, also, that if he has a nose and a hand and an arm and a neck, then he has to have other body parts as well. Slowly, he remembers them, he feels them, he senses them as his own. He sniffs, sniffles harder to clear his nose, sniffs again.

"Sweat," he says, and he grins. A whole lot of sweat. But also, something sweet, something fruity. He remembers Taemin bringing in the fruit bowl all those hours ago. "Lime?" he asks. Taemin glances up on the headboard.

"Lemon," he says, "but close enough. One more."

One more. Jonghyun turns, realizes that he can use his hand to prop himself up so he can smell the air better. He does that, trying to pick up another scent in the room. Flickering light catches his eye; the candles, still burning on the dresser. Sticky sweet summer strawberry, cozy warm fresh vanilla. "You and me candles," he smiles.

Again, something on his cheek, though now Jonghyun knows that it's Taemin's hand. Taemin pinches him softly, and says, "two things you can hear?”

And that, that's easy. Jonghyun doesn't even have to try. Taemin's voice, music still on the speakers. He settles himself back down on his stomach, but he rubs his palm into his eye and tries to figure out what song is playing to give a more specific answer.

"Your voice," he says, before he forgets, "and.” He listens hard, then smiles. "Shinee," he smiles. His favorite queer girl group. They make him feel like such a lesbian, this song specially. "Excuse me miss."

"A kiss with you, like vanilla ice cream," Taemin hums. Jonghyun smiles at him. This is one of the songs in his personal playlist that they both like. "One thing you can taste," Taemin says.

Jonghyun smacks his lips, gathers all of his spit and swallows it down. He wishes he could taste vanilla ice cream. Do they have any? He sure hopes so. But he'll worry about that later. For now, he looks up at the headboard again, looking for something to taste. And then, a taste registers already in his mouth, soaked into his tongue, almost part of his taste buds by now. He giggles, he laughs, he turns into the pillows and cackles.

"Cum!" he exclaims proudly.

"Fuck yeah!" Taemin exclaims with just as much pride. He leans forward and kisses Jonghyun's temple, then keeps leaning, until he's turning over, from his side to his tummy, swinging his arm over Jonghyun's shoulders. "Welcome back," he grins. Jonghyun returns it. He's glad to be back.

"Thanks," he says. Then he giggles. "For the welcome back, not for the nutting me out of my own brain. But actually, thanks for that, too. Did you have fun?"

"You know I did," Taemin says.

"I sure do," Jonghyun snorts. He doesn't know why he asked. He would comfortably bet that that was the most horny fun Taemin has had in a long time. He wiggles around until he can get comfortable, putting his head in his arms again and scooting a little bit up the bed. There is a veritable puddle of cum and lube between his legs and the longer he spends as a regular human being again the more uncomfortable it gets. As he's readjusting his leg, it bumps the sticky pile of balls down there.

"You know what," he says. The longer he's spending as a regular human being, the more he's remembering everything that happened before he turned into goo. He frowns, puffing up his lips. Something doesn't add up. "What is like. The evolutionary function. Of putting the eggs back inside of me after I've already laid them?" he asks. Like. How did any of that fit into the role play or whatever.

"I'm going to be honest," Taemin says. He starts to say something else, and then he laughs, turning into his own pillow. His shoulders shake, and so does the bed, so so does Jonghyun. "I forgot I was doing the whole egg thing very early on."

"Gosh." Jonghyun rolls his eyes. Of course he did. "So, normally, I would only lay them once?" That makes a lot more sense.

"That is correct, yes," Taemin says sheepishly. His eyes are closed since they're so close, but Jonghyun didn't feel like closing his own. He's glad he didn't, because the pink dusting on Taemin's cheeks is very cute. The most cute, Jonghyun would say. "There's usually more than 16, also," Taemin adds.

"Yeah?" Jonghyun asks. Interesting. He guesses that makes sense, if he's the breeding queen, but now he's curious. "How many?"

"Uuuuhhhhhhh," Taemin says. He rubs his hand over his face, into his eyes, and throws it back around Jonghyun's shoulders. "However many I think about before I finish jerking off," he admits. This time he isn't blushing; he's smirking, shameless. Jonghyun has to agree. That's the perfect number. "Average 50, maybe. I told you, I'm very fertile." He yawns, and his smile lessons into something more soft, more lovely. "And then, once you're all done, I fuck you again to get you started on the next batch. And then we clean all of the eggs up together. And then we kiss a lot. And then probably I fuck you again."

"Already?” Jonghyun hums, intrigued.

"Whenever I get hard, baby," Taemin grins. "It's important, for the, for the, you know, for all of the layers. Of cum. You need a lot to make a nice strong egg. I gotta fill you up as much as possible before you go to sleep. So the eggs turn out big and tough in the morning. For big healthy grubs or whatever." His hand creeps down, copping a feel of Jonghyun's booty. Jonghyun hums for him to continue the story and pushes his butt back into his hand for him to continue with that as well.

"What if you're doing stuff?" he asks. "Are you not, like, the king? don't you have king stuff to do?"

"No, I'm not really the king, you're just the queen," Taemin says. "You picked me out of everyone to be your fertilizer. That's, like, my only job. When I'm not fucking you I'm just vibing. Doing whatever. Usually messing around in the gardens. And your only responsibility is to lay eggs and the rest of the time you can do whatever you want to do. You write a lot of music, and you like cooking, and you like hanging out in your library, and every evening you like to go for a walk around the city and talk to people and look at the stars. So whenever I get hard I have to go find you and fuck you really good and then kiss you a lot. I don't have to kiss you a lot. I just like to kiss you a lot."

It's quiet after he says that, because Jonghyun thinks he's going to keep talking. And then it's quiet because Jonghyun is thinking. That sure is a little scenario that Taemin has come up with. Finally, he says, "you've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

"Yeah, well, you know," Taemin mumbles. He shrugs. "Just, whenever I feel like jerking off about it, I add a little more. Got to keep it fresh, keep it exciting, you know?"

"Sure," Jonghyun says. He knows what that's like. Once he jerks off to a scene in his brain then it's not as bonerific the next time and he has to expand a little bit on it if he wants to come back to it. "Tell me more," he says. "They hatch into grubs? So we're bugs?"

"No, just, vague aliens, I haven't actually thought about that part," Taemin says. "I just think grubs are cute. And I thought it would be cool if you got to be a space queen. You have an observatory, way up in the sky." He keeps talking, slipping into an easy monologue about this cozy little universe that he's created for the two of them. Jonghyun lets his eyes close, listening.

He thinks it's fascinating. He never puts this much detail when he's expanding his own horny fantasies. All he ever does is give himself a new position, or a new camera angle, but Taemin could write a book about this if he wanted. And for his own personal jerk off material, he puts so much consideration into not just what he likes, but what Jonghyun likes, as well. Jonghyun learns about how they grew up, and how they met, and how Jonghyun came to choose Taemin out of everyone else on the whole planet, and what an average day for him is like.

He would have learned more, too, probably, if Taemin didn't start lazily fingering him. Once he started talking about all of the different ways he could fuck Jonghyun during the day, he slipped his hand down lower, between his cheeks, and pushed two fingers inside of him. He plays with Jonghyun while he talks. Absent-mindedly, Jonghyun thinks. Just fingerfucking him gently, just pulling on his rim, just stimming. Just just just, but Jonghyun starts falling apart very quickly.

He can't remember exactly when he nutted during all of that earlier, but he does know that he was still hard by the time Taemin finished. He just wasn't super interested in taking care of it because he was so tired and loopy, but now he's definitely into it again. At some point Taemin said something about fucking him in the middle of the bridge at the local river and Jonghyun absolutely latched onto that and stopped paying attention to anything he said after it.

Taemin hasn't mentioned anything about clothes, and Jonghyun knows that he likes being nakey, but he's imagining himself in a pretty flowing shirt, almost a dress, that flutters around his thighs, that blows gently in the wind while Taemin raws him. White, maybe pink. Maybe green, to match all of the nice trees at the river. And thigh highs, obviously.

He's rocking his hips against the bed, moving with Taemin's fingers, getting close to kicking his orgasm off when there's a loud buzzing noise above him. It startles him, jolting his senses, before he realizes what it is. Just a phone vibration. Taemin’s. Taemin whispers "ooh" and scrambles to grab it, his fingers wetly leaving Jonghyun's hole.

Jonghyun is expecting him to just glance at it and then put it back, so when Taemin glances at it and then hisses "oh, fuck yeah, fuck yeah, oh my fucking god, fuck yeah," and starts jostling the bed all around to get off, Jonghyun is disappointed. To say the least. Taemin slaps a heavy smooch onto his cheek, says, "I'll be right back, I promise," and absolutely bolts out of the bedroom.

Jonghyun sighs, deflating into the mattress. Well. Shit. He guesses he'll have to get to his own orgasm then. With Taemin blasting into the bathroom and turning the faucet on max, Jonghyun goes back to thinking about getting fucked at the park. He smiles, grinding against the bed. What if he was able to see his reflection in the water below them? See the way he pants, see how glazed his eyes are.

Would he even be able to see his reflection? Or would the water be gross. He doesn't think it would be. He thinks he would be a good queen and make sure none of the water was polluted. Taemin is fucking stomping as he runs through the house, doing whatever the fuck it is that he's doing.

He's getting distracted. He thinks about hanging out in his library instead, like Taemin said. Hanging out, having a nice time, reading a nice book, when suddenly Taemin is there, Taemin is pushing his cock into his mouth, suddenly he's working to get Taemin's cock nice and wet for his asshole.

Would he need to do that, actually? Taemin was talking a lot about him just being naturally wet, which was super hot. And he guesses all of the cum inside of him would make him slick and slippery all day long. But still, would they like doing a little oral before the sex, just for fun, in this universe? He hopes so. What's foreplay like in this world?

The sound of the front door slamming open; Taemin, loud in the night, triumphantly yelling, "haha!”

Distracted again. This is why Jonghyun doesn't overcomplicate his horny scenarios. Now he can't focus. He smash cuts himself into giving a speech in front of the whole entire kingdom while Taemin fucks him so hard he can barely talk.

Would it be a kingdom, though? Jonghyun doesn't like the sound of that. He can be a queen, but that doesn't mean he has to be royal . What are the logistics of government in this–gosh fucking damn it. He cannot fucking keep a horny thought straight in his brain for more than 10 seconds.

He pulls on his own hair in frustration. He's so close. He's so fucking close. All he needs is something solid that can push him over the edge. Maybe he needs to trick himself. Make it a soft horny thought. Something that is so fucking good, and so fucking wonderful, and so full of so much love, and also so fucking sexy.

Taemin absolutely charging back through the house, all the way to the bedroom, slamming into the half open door, half tied bathrobe flapping wildly.

"The fucking pizza is here, baby!" he announces loud enough that the neighbors probably heard it.

"You ordered pizza? " Jonghyun squeaks, and that is so fucking good, and so fucking wonderful, and so full of so much love, and also so fucking sexy, and he cums.

It's a little nut, a baby nut, the tiniest little orgasm, but it feels so big in his heart, where it matters. Taemin is so good.

"Yo, did you just nut?" Taemin asks. He's laughing as he sits back down on the bed. Jonghyun grins into his pillow. He sure did. Gosh, the pizza smells so fucking good, too. Jonghyun might just nut again. Clumsily, he gets to his knees, and then rearranges all of his limbs so he can sit down with his legs crossed mirror to Taemin, and then scoots around so he can be next to Taemin, their sides pressed together.

"What did you get us?" he asks instead of answering the question. Grabbing the bag, he peeks into it before Taemin shoos him away. Now that he's remembered he has an actual stomach he also remembers that the last time he ate an actual meal was hours ago and he is ravenous.

"I got me," Taemin says, pulling out the top two boxes, two small personal pizzas. He squints at the label on them, then hands them to Jonghyun. "You," he corrects. "Onion and pepper and mushroom and sausage. And cheesy crust."

He continues talking about the pizzas he got for himself, but Jonghyun isn't listening. He's ripping at his first box to get it open. He loves Taemin. He loves Taemin so fucking much. He loves Taemin with his whole entire heart, except for the tiny section of it that is reserved for the first bite of this pizza. He doesn't nut again, but he does come close to getting hard again. It's so fucking good. It's the third best thing he's put in his mouth all day long.

"I also got some mozzarella sticks," Taemin says. Jonghyun only hears him because the sentence is accompanied by six boxes of mozzarella sticks tumbling out of the bag in front of them.

Jonghyun isn't good at math on a normal day, but he thinks six boxes of mozzarella sticks is something that he would question on a normal day anyway. Today, though, he just inhales dramatically and then chokes for a moment. Taemin pats him on the back. When he finishes with that, he starts his dramatic inhale all over again. For the show of it.

" Mozzarella ." Just like chicken nugget, he says the word weird, round and from his chest. He finishes his first baby slice of pizza and then fumbles with one of the boxes, prying it open.

"Motzie rella," Taemin says. He grabs three in a handful. Jonghyun takes the other two, repeating the word again but even weirder. And just like chicken nugget, then it's just the two of them repeating mozzarella back and forth weirder and weirder until they're just making noises, snorting and laughing, between stuffing their faces and moaning at the cheese pulls.

That peters out eventually, into just little giggles, and then into comfortable silence, the pair of them eating and nudging each others sides, sharing little smiles. And then, Taemin twists and looks behind him. He reaches for something and comes back with Jonghyun's laptop. He opens it up, then sighs and rolls his eyes when it starts turning on and loading everything.

He hits Jonghyun with a, "can't believe you turn it off all the time," to which Jonghyun replies, "you're supposed to. She does so much for me and she deserves a break. Maybe if you let yours rest every once in awhile she wouldn't fucking chug through trying to load a music video," which gets him a, "shut up, fucker." Which Jonghyun can't argue with. Instead, he steals the last mozzarella stick out of the box Taemin is holding so he has to open up the next one himself.

Once the laptop is on, Jonghyun types in his password and then lets Taemin put on a video for them. It's a gameplay video from their favorite group of internet funny video game queers and Jonghyun smiles, resting his head on Taemin's shoulder. This is nice. Just sitting here, munching and watching.

Above the video, the twitter tab that Taemin didn't close catches his eye. He has some notifications. He reaches for his phone, tapping quietly through it. Some texts, some updates, some news. Jonghyun takes his time looking through the news, taking in everything that happened today. Like he expected, while the two of them spent the day in bed, the world kept on spinning around them.

Jonghyun thinks about that as he puts his phone back on the bedside table. The world, spinning. People, existing. Him and Taemin, spending the day indulging in each other, indulging in their love. Jinki, paid to give people a good time, coming over to have a good time with them for free, for fun. Their delivery babes, transferring happiness throughout the city before heading home to indulge in their own loves. The people at the pizza place, working their love of food into a craft and sharing it with the world.

Whoever the fuck invented mozzarella sticks. Jonghyun thinks about that a lot as he pulls apart a stick and then wraps all of the cheese that stretches out from the top part around the bottom part like a spring. Someone, somewhere, a long time ago, looked at a cow and decided they wanted to drink what came out of that thing’s cow titties. And then someone else perfected that idea to make milk. And then someone else took that milk and did some weird shit to it to make mozzarella. And then someone else decided to make that mozzarella even better by breading it and frying it. And now Jonghyun is holding that in his hands, centuries of human crafting, of people doing stuff, and he gets to eat it.

"Dude, are you crying?"

Jonghyun is crying, he notices, tears leaking down his cheeks as he munches.

"Frick," he mumbles, touching his cheeks, looking at his wet fingers. "Yeah,” he laughs. Holy shit. "I'm fine, don't worry," he says, but he also doesn't push Taemin away when he drops his pizza slice, wipes his hands on the towel, and then thumbs away the tears. Just because he's fine that doesn't mean he won't appreciate some coddling. Because he knows that Taemin is going to ask, he tries to figure out a way to say he was crying about mozzarella sticks without saying that he was crying about mozzarella sticks. "I was just thinking that the world is so beautiful and we get to live in it."

Smiling, chuckling, Taemin kisses each of his cheeks just underneath his eyes. Then he rests his forehead on Jonghyun's temple and kisses the flat of his cheek. "It sure is," he sighs. And he doesn't mean the world likes Jonghyun means the world. Like the planet, spinning through space. He means his own world. He means Jonghyun. And Jonghyun knows that, and he cries a little bit about that, too. And then he cries a little bit more, because Taemin says, "by the way, I grabbed our little chocolate cake that we forgot to eat earlier."

"Hell yeah," Jonghyun sniffles. He fucking loves those little guys. He plucks up the least greasy of their 50 napkins and dabs at his eyes while Taemin takes out the chocolate cake, little and cute with a big glob of cream cheese frosting on top, and clumsily cuts it in half with the plastic fork that came with it. Then he hesitates. There's only one fork. After a moment, he shrugs, stabs himself a bite, eats it, and hands Jonghyun the fork.

They split it like that, passing the fork back and forth between finishing up their pizzas and sticks. Jonghyun, when he's full, winds up with half of his second little pizza left. Taemin has his whole second pizza, but he also was going to town on the mozzarella sticks, so Jonghyun guesses it evens out. Between the two of them, they have one box left. They've also eaten a bunch more tangerines and downed a bottle and a half of water each. Their stockpile is almost out.

Jonghyun looks at all of their garbage spread out on the towel, strategically placed around splatters of cum. He rubs his neck. The video they were watching finished a little bit ago and Taemin is absently scrolling around looking for something else to watch. It's almost 10:00. Jonghyun sighs. One of them has to say it.

"We should probably clean all of this up."

"Man," Taemin sighs. He leans back on his hands, scrunching his face at the ceiling. "You could have not said it." He comes back forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands. He looks at Jonghyun from the corner of his eye. "I should probably wash all of the eggs, too.”

"Oh, yeah, right," Jonghyun mumbles. They're still all sitting there, covered in lube and cum and booty juice. "You do that, I'll do the garbage?" He offers. He thinks for a moment–he's sure Taemin does too–about doing another first one to nut has to do everything contest, but. He thinks that their long day is finally catching up with them. And besides. It wouldn't be fair. Jonghyun has like four nuts on Taemin by now.

"Yeah, okay," Taemin says.

Neither of them get up. They sit there, looking at their mess, sneaking smiles at each other. Jonghyun touches Taemin's knee, trails his hand up his body and then back down his arm, holds his hand. Taemin kisses his fingers, and then he kisses the back of his hand, and then up his arm, his neck, his cheek, the corner of his lips, and then finally he kisses Jonghyun's mouth, holding him behind the neck and dragging him forward.

This is very much favorable to cleaning up, so Jonghyun kisses back with absolutely no hesitation. It's a lot like their kisses earlier that day, when Jonghyun was in his lap, but also it's very different. It's all the same emotion, all the same love pounding in their hearts, all the same urges to show the other what they're feeling by the presses of their mouths, but none of the frantic desperation. No neediness, no urgency. It's relaxed, comfortable, languid.

Taemin puts his hand over Jonghyun's heart anyway, just to feel, and Jonghyun puts his hand on top of Taemins, just to share it with him. They both know it's there, and they don't need the reassurance, but they like it.

After a couple of minutes that might as well be years, they break apart again. Reluctantly, with little pecks, little smiles pressed to each other. Taemin is the one that finally says, "okay, lets go."

Still, after a beat, neither of them move. Laughing, pressing their foreheads together, they just sit there. They have a problem. But since all that problem is is that they like each other too much, Jonghyun doesn't mind.

"Okay," he says. "Three, two, one."

And, miraculously, they both twist away from each other and hop off of the bed.

They make out a little bit more standing before they actually get started, but that's okay. Little steps.

Jonghyun sorts their stuff into actual garbage and stuff to put back in the kitchen to eat later, including the snacks and water bottles still on the headboard. He stuffs all of the garbage into the pizza bag to get it off of the towel so Taemin can just wrap that around all of the balls and pick the whole thing up.

They bump shoulders and hips as they walk down the hallway until Taemin turns into the bathroom and Jonghyun keeps going to the kitchen. Once he's there, Jonghyun shoves everything down into the garbage can quickly and then heads back to the bedroom to grab all of the leftovers. Courageously, recklessly maybe, he gathers everything up in his arms at once. Carefully walking it back down the hallway, he ignores Taemin's loud snort when he passes the bathroom door. He makes it fine, even if all of the water bottles do fall over when he deposits everything onto the kitchen table. They're all closed anyway. For all he's concerned, he did that perfectly.

He puts everything away where it all belongs, then heads back to the bathroom to bother Taemin while he works.

Taemin has the sink full of water and has just dumped all of the balls unceremoniously in there. Methodically, he picks one up, squirts some soap on it, and rolls it around in his hands. He gets each one completely covered in suds, then rinses it off and drops it on the towel, folded up with all of the cum on the inside, to dry. The cherry blossom plug sits in the center of the towel, surrounded by balls where it won't fall off.

Jonghyun steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck. His skin is warm, tacky with dried sweat. Jonghyun rests his cheek on his right shoulder and their skin stutters together when he nuzzles in.

"Hello," Taemin says cutely, and then, "will you top me?"

"Now?" Jonghyun asks, raising his eyebrows. Seems a little sudden. He thought Taemin would ask him another time, like, another day.

"Well," Taemin says. His shoulders move as he scrubs a ball, Jonghyun's head moving with them. "I don't want to wait. But. I guess when I'm done with this. I was going to ask when we were in the shower, but. I think we might fall down, don't you?" His shoulders shake more with his laughter. Jonghyun grins into his back, squeezing him a little tighter. Yeah, that's. Yeah. He's pretty confident that he would be able to stay up but Taemin getting fucked for the third time in one day definitely wouldn't stand a chance. Out of all of their shared kinks, falling down and knocking their heads open on the bathtub isn't one of them.

"Yeah, okay," he says. "I'll fuck you." He likes Taemin, his little bub. He'll do him that favor.

"And you'll, like, actually, genuinely enjoy it?" He's using his stern voice and Jonghyun huffs.

"Yes," he says. "I told you, I do like it." Just because he never volunteers it doesn't mean he doesn't like getting his dick wet every now and again.

 "Yeah, well, I don't know, I'm just making sure," Taemin says defensively. And now he's pouting, grumpy. "For all I knew, your dick has never even kissed a bootyhole. I didn't want to ask you to do something if I didn't think you liked it. Quit giggling."

 Jonghyun does, but only after another minute. He stops when he wants to, and then he kisses Taemin's shoulder. He figures he should give Taemin some kind of answer, so he sighs, "it's just so much work ." It's so much work and he is such a pillow princess. He doesn't want to have to do stuff when he's having sex.

Snorting, Taemin replies, "I mean, Jinx already opened me up so–”

"No, it's not just that," Jonghyun whines. That's part of it, yeah, but he doesn't mind that so much. "It's, like, when I'm fucking someone, I have to make it good? Like. I am so good at sex. I'm so good at it. I can't slack off. I have to do a good job. If I can't fuck someone as good as I like to be fucked then what is even the point?" He has standards. He is not a lazy top. "I have to, like." He puts his forehead between Taemin's shoulder blades, holds on to his hips, and bumps against him in demonstration. "But, like, good." He says.

 "Why can't I just ride–?"

"I don't like when people ride me," Jonghyun grumbles. Feels nothing like being a pillow princess. Feels bad and wrong. "Feels like I'm a dom."

"What the fuck?"

"Fuck you."

"All right, fair point," Taemin concedes.

"And I don't want you to, like, baby me during it, either, to make me feel more subby," he adds before Taemin can even think about it. He hates that the most. Makes him feel like his bottom feels bad about asking him to top and they're trying to make up for it. When he literally does genuinely legitimately like it. He doesn't even let Jinki do it. "Kibum is the only one allowed to bottom dom me," he says stubbornly. He's the only one that knows how to do it right.

"All right, all right," Taemin says. He sounds as amused as he can possibly be. "So you want me to just neutrally–wait."

There's a splash; one of the balls dropping into the sink, probably, but before Jonghyun can lean around him to find out, Taemin is whipping around in his arms.

"You fuck Kibum?” he hisses. In all the years Jonghyun has known him, he has never looked more offended. Jonghyun smiles, ducking his head down in between his shoulders. Once again, he doesn't know what Taemin expects from him.

"He asks," he says.

"Oh my fucking god," Taemin snaps. He turns back around, splashing his hand into the water to grab a ball again. Jonghyun bets it's not the same one he was working on. Then, immediately, Taemin turns around again, sending water flying everywhere. There's an intensity in his eyes that Jonghyun has never seen before. "Do you fuck Min –?"

"If you finish that question, you're not going to like the answer." Jonghyun says it with his eyebrows raised, his head tilted. He knows that Taemin isn't going to like it and he's telling him now for his own good, to give him an out. Taemin breathes hard for a moment, mouth open, eyebrows furrowed, and then he pivots back to his work in the sink.

"Everyone in the goddamn fucking world except for me," he seethes. Jonghyun just laughs, quiet, dropping soft kisses all over his shoulders. He's so cute when he's grumpy. Jonghyun bets he'll be even cuter when he's shivering around his cock.

Since it's decided, Jonghyun closes his eyes. He starts thinking toppy thoughts: putting his hand in a butt pocket, push-ups before sex, holding on tight, finding that perfect angle that's different for everyone. He rocks his hips forward against Taemin's booty, getting his dick into the mood of the moment, letting her know that she's going to be having a different kind of fun than usual soon.

Taemin glances over his shoulder, a badly suppressed smile on his mouth. Apparently he's over his grumpy shit already, because he spread his legs a little, pops his booty a little, and says, "starting early?"

"I gotta get into the mood," Jonghyun laughs. It takes him a while. It's not his usual mode of operation. "I'll be ready by the time you're done."

"Sure," Taemin grins. He's giddy. Jonghyun can tell. Little loser boy. Still, Jonghyun guesses he can't judge. He's a little excited, too. It's always fun to do something brand new with someone that you've done everything with. He will admit, he always has been curious to see exactly how Taemin would whimper if it was Jonghyun fucking him instead of Jinki.

" Ooh ," he whispers. That definitely woke his dick up. It twitches, blood flowing south, fueled on by all the different noises Jonghyun imagines Taemin is going to be making soon. Quickly he's hard enough that he can flip his cock up, settle it nicely on top of Taemin's booty cheeks.

He thinks about slipping a hand down to finger Taemin a little bit, but decides against it. Taemin would dissolve instantly, and then he would never finish washing all of the toys. Instead, Jonghyun just grinds into him, pushing his cock closer, between his cheeks, holding them close around it. Taemin doesn't have much of a booty, but what he does have is very soft and cute and squishable, perfect for fucking gently into. Jonghyun leaks precum, slicking the way, making it easier and easier.

It's a good couple of minutes, until Taemin shudders, dropping his hands on the sink and shaking his head.

"Too much, too much," he whispers. "I want to finish this, Jonghyunnie."

"Really?" Jonghyun asks, laughing. "Just this?" He was barely deep enough to even get to the sensitive part of the booty crack. Taemin just whines, pouting at him in the mirror, so Jonghyun laughs and nods, conceding. "Okay, okay," he says. He knows a lot about Taemin, but Taemin still knows more than him what his own body is feeling. If Taemin says he can't take it, then he can't take it. "Can I fuck your thighs?" he asks. He does love him some nice soft thighs.

"Ye," Taemin says, a cute little noise that makes Jonghyun's heart skip. Taemin is too much for him sometimes. "Here," Taemin adds. His dripping wet hands grab Jonghyun's and he fills them with soap suds. Jonghyun looks at them blankly over his shoulder for a moment before he understands.

"Thanks," he says, and slaps them in between Taemin's thighs, getting his skin all wet and slippery. Then he lightly taps the outsides of Taemin's legs, telling him to close them, cross them. When he does, Jonghyun pushes his cock in between them, sighing happily, his eyelids fluttering shut. There it is. There's the good shit. It's soft and warm, not too tight, like a cozy little hug for his dick. He rocks back and forth a few times to get the feel of it–the friction, the slide. Hell yeah.

Stepping a little closer to press Taemin more firmly against the sink, he wraps his arms back around his waist and tucks his chin over his shoulder. Nice and comfy. Taemin is looking at him in the mirror when he opens his eyes, his own eyes glazed, his mouth hanging open. But only for a second–as soon as he realizes Jonghyun is looking, he drops his gaze back into the sink. He tries to play it cool, but his nose scrunches and his teeth dig into his bottom lip.

Jonghyun kisses his neck, amused. He loves catching Taemin being soft by accident.

He fucks his thighs slowly, languidly, a lazy back and forth of his hips to get him in the mood. To help him remember what it feels like, remember the movement, remember his own strength. He sucks a hickey into the back of Taemin's shoulder as he does it, marking him. He wants to do something with his mouth and he knows Taemin loves it when Jonghyun marks him. He can't believe it's taken him this long to do it today, honestly.

The minutes go by; the pile of balls on the towel grows and so does Jonghyun's boner. Every time he fucks his cock back in between Taemin's thighs, he remembers more and more what his orgasms feel like when he's the one topping. They don't tingle, they don't fizz. They don't run through his nerves. They run through his blood, so it boils under his skin, heating him up from the inside out. They scrunch his nose, they bare his teeth, they curl his fists.

He's just starting to think that he'll need to stop soon before he gets carried away when Taemin grabs onto his forearms with his wet hands. Startled, Jonghyun pops out of his neck. In his wake are several hickeys and bite marks, way more than he remembers working on. In the mirror, Taemin is smiling at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I believe you that you like it," he says. Jonghyun grumps, bites him not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be annoying. Should have believed him from the start. "Ow," Taemin says, still smiling. And then, smiling different, now, brighter, more eager, "I'm ready to get fucked."

"I don't think you're ever ready to get fucked," Jonghyun says mildly. Every time, it overwhelms him. Though, maybe that's what Taemin means he's actually ready for. He pulls his cock out from between his thighs and lets him steady himself, spreading his legs and leaning forward a little bit over the sink. Taemin shifts his weight from foot to foot, almost bouncing with his excitement, and Jonghyun laughs. "It's not that big of a deal," he says. "It's just my dick."

"Yeah," Taemin grins through a bitten lip. " Your dick." He pats his hands quickly back and forth on the edge of the counter. "Put it in," he demands.

Well. Jonghyun isn't going to say no to that. He puts his right hand on Taemin's hip, his left hand on his cock, and lines himself up. Taemin's hole twitches when Jonghyun kisses it with the tip of his dick, little and dark and glistening with what has to be leftover lube and cum and spit. If Jonghyun didn't know any better, he would say that Taemin needed to be opened up a little more again, stretched out again, since Jinki's cock was so long ago.

But he does know better. He knows Taemin is just as loose and slick as he was before, and even if he's not, he knows that Taemin likes it a little rough.

Slowly, because he doesn't want Taemin to fall apart before they even get started, he eases himself in. It's bliss the entire way, warmth engulfing the head of his cock and then sucking him in inch by inch until he's seated all the way in. He takes a moment for himself, a moment to shiver, to grab Taemin's other hip, to lean his head back between his shoulder blades and roll his hips forward, making sure he's as deep in as possible. Fuck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Taemin is breathing. Jonghyun feels the same way. He can feel his heartbeat . Every pulse, every pound. He forgot about that. Gosh, it's so fucking good.

Taemin is whimpering, whining, already. Jonghyun realizes this after a moment, once he gathers himself and his senses back, and he just barely represses a snort. But when he looks at Taemin, he can't keep down his quiet laughter. He's a mess, one hand gripped in his hair, the other holding on to the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles are white.

Jonghyun knows that even if it was someone else giving Taemin this third fucking of the day, he wouldn't be this messed up already. Jonghyun guesses he just is that mind-blowingly sexy, which is, at the same time, extremely obvious and also extremely surprising. He puts the thought into the back of his mind before he gets fixated on it and instead reaches up to pet Taemin's hair straight.

"You good?" he asks, not trying too hard to keep the smugness out of his voice. It's hard not to be, with just his dick sitting inside of Taemin making him react like this. Maybe this is why Jinki likes fucking him so much. Taemin, already wiggling his hips back, breathing hard, nods frantically.

"Yeah, yes, I'm great, I'm–"

"Because, remember what I said, about, making it a point to fuck as well as I like to get fucked?" Jonghyun reminds him. He's going to go easy on Taemin, but going easy doesn't mean he's going to slack off, either.

"Oh my god," Taemin groans. "Please, please."

In all of the sex that Jonghyun has ever had in his entire life, doesn't think he's ever been begged for it before. It's a nice feeling. Feels good in his cock, in his ego. Then again, maybe it's just nice hearing Taemin specifically beg for him. Either way, he's not going to make Taemin wait any longer.

Well. Just a little bit. Just enough to put his fingertips between his shoulder blades and bend him over a little bit more. Then he resettles his grip on his hips, widens his stance, pulls out, and fucks back in.

It takes him a minute to find his rhythm, his angle, but Taemin helps him out the entire time, with his grunts and his groans and his "yeah, fuck, right there,"s. He strokes in evenly, making sure each one is nice and hard, so their skin slaps together every thrust, just the way he likes. He pulls Taemin back into him, making Taemin meet him pound for pound, fingers pressing so hard into his skin that he'll leave nail marks. Bruises , maybe. Taemin will like that.

And once he has that down, Taemin like butter underneath him, his own blood coursing hot through his veins, he glances up into the mirror. First of all, him. Pink hair a mess on his head, eyes dark and dilated, teeth digging deep into his plush bottom lip, skin glowing–with either all of the orgasms he's had today or the one he’s in the middle of, he doesn't know. Arm and faint stomach muscles flexing as he works, veins prominent under his skin. All of him, still covered in cum, smudged and streaked all over him. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. No wonder everyone always wants to fuck him so bad.

And then, Taemin, eyes scrunched shut, mouth flushed and hanging open, skin all sweaty, hair absolutely wild in front of his face. He's holding onto the counter with both hands now, trembling, shaking. Jonghyun knows that he can't take all the credit, but still. He's proud. Taemin is like that because of him . That pride flares through him, flashing through his entire body, starts up a growl in his throat.

He's lucky Taemin falls apart so quickly when he gets fucked, because Jonghyun knows that he isn't going to last long either. He slides his left hand up his sweaty back and grabs his hair. Pulling him upright–that's why he pushed him down earlier, so he could pull him back up–Jonghyun holds him close with his other arm, keeping their bodies tight together. Taemin's hands scramble for his wrists, for the back of his head, for anything to hold on to.

"You feel so good, Taemie," Jonghyun says against the back of his ear, keeping his voice low, suave, but letting it stay just a little bit rough. "So soft and tight for me, still, even after Jinki finished with you, even after fucking me all day. You really are a perfect little fucktoy, aren't you? You could do this forever, couldn't you?"

 "Oh my god," is all Taemin has to reply with. Jonghyun smirks, kisses behind his ear. He's so easy. So desperate and needy. But Jonghyun is, too, even when he's doing his best to be the best, and oh my god is it going to cut it.

"You like this?" he asks. "You like my cock fucking you nice and hard? Feels good?" His next breath stutters in. He swallows hard. "Tell me," he begs. He knows it's asking a lot of Taemin right now, but he wants to hear it. He needs to hear it.

"Jonghyun," Taemin says. "Jonghyun, Jonghyun," his voice raw and broken, and fuck, even that would be enough, but Taemin quickly finds more words to add on top. "Yes, I like it, I love it, you feel so fucking good, god I wish I'd asked you to do this sooner."

And there it is, that's what Jonghyun needs, that's what Jonghyun craves, that's what kicks him into fucking harder, faster. The praise soaks into his skin and lights a fire underneath it, racing throughout his every inch, faster and faster with every beat of his heart, and Taemin keeps going.

"You're so fucking good, you're fucking me just right, everything, you–your hands, fuck, and your voice, god, you're so, god I love you."

Jonghyun cums. Not on purpose, definitely not on purpose–it surprises him, stops his breath in his throat, explodes in his chest, burns up in his cock, his balls, every single muscle flexing as he pumps Taemin full. It's just. It's just that. Never once, in all the time Jonghyun has known Taemin, never once has he ever said I love you during sex. He barely ever says it out of sex. It's hard for him, hard to be so vulnerable, to put himself out there, to feel so safe and work up the courage to say it out loud.

And he just?

Just like that.

So yeah, Jonghyun cums, not harder than any of his orgasms today, but better. So much fucking better. Better because his heart is so full, his body is so full, of Taemin's words, of his validation, of his love. Better because pride thrums in his veins, pride that he fucked Taemin so good a confession popped out of his mouth. Better because the whole time, in his blurry vision, he can see the brightest pink and the biggest smile on Taemin's face.

It lasts for a while, has him breathing hard, unstable, loopy, but still. Still he holds onto Taemin, still he fucks into him without breaking his rhythm. Panting, he takes his hand off of Taemin's hip and wraps it around his cock instead, jerking him in time with his thrusts.

Clearly Taemin wasn't expecting it, because he cums too, very quickly, trembling and shaking, slapping his hand on the counter so hard that the water in the sink ripples. His knees give out; Jonghyun registers this, vaguely, and tightens his arm around his waist, leans heavier against him, keeping him against the counter, keeping him up. His mind, his vision, is clear enough that he can watch Taemin's cum spurt out of his cock and land in the sink.

Once Taemin is done, Jonghyun relaxes. He puts his hand on the counter too, resting his weight on it. He puts the rest of his weight on Taemin, hooking his chin over his shoulder. Every breath of Taemin's heaves him up and down, but Taemin doesn't brush him off. He puts his hand on top of Jonghyun’s, locking their fingers together. Their hearts, beating rabbit fast next to each other, slow down at the same place. Jonghyun can feel his own cum leaking out around his cock, dripping to the floor.

 Together, they watch Taemin's cum in the water. Thick swirls of off-white floating in between soap bubbles, slowly descending.

"Is that okay for the plumbing?" Jonghyun asks, mildly concerned. He thinks he read one time about too many people jerking off in a dorm room shower that it blocked the pipes. Taemin blinks, slowly, unevenly, and scratches his cheek with his free hand. He shrugs with the shoulder that Jonghyun isn't on.

"Not any worse than all of the lube that's already in there, probably," he says.

Hmm. Good point, Jonghyun guesses. He yawns, he kisses Taemin, he wiggles his fingers on his tummy. Not to tickle, just to do it. Taemin seems to remember that he has legs and straightens up, standing on his own. Jonghyun keeps leaning on him anyway. The cum slowly meanders all the way down to sit at the bottom of the sink.

"Shower?" Jonghyun hums then. Seems like a good time.

"What?" Taemin says, and then, "yeah. Give me a minute. I gotta." He reaches into the sink and pulls out the plug, pats his hand dry on the towel, and gestures at it and all of the stuff still on it. Jonghyun nods. Oh yeah, right. He forgot about those. "You get it ready," Taemin tells him. "I'll do this."

"Mmkay," Jonghyun says. Okay. Sounds good to him. Carefully, he steps back, pulling his cock out of Taemin's booty. Taemin still hisses, sensitive, Jonghyun can physically see the chill run up his spine and all the way to his head. He can't help but to smirk to himself. Hell yeah. Lacing his hands behind his head, stretching, twisting his torso back and forth, he watches as Taemin gathers the towel up around all of the toys and takes it out of the bathroom. He stumbles, his steps wobbly, and cum trails down his thighs. Absolutely precious.

Alone now, Jonghyun gets to work. He grabs two of their softest, fluffiest towels and puts them on the space heater, flipping it on to low heat. He grabs two hand towels and hangs them over the railing inside the tub. He turns on the shower, cranking it up nice and hot like he likes, and then easing it down to something that Taemin will tolerate.

Taemin still isn't back. Jonghyun waits a minute, then gets bored and lonely and goes off in search. The bedroom is empty except for all of the balls dumped unceremoniously on the headboard instead of put away like they're supposed to be. Understandable. Taemin will do it tomorrow, probably.

The laundry room. That's where Taemin is. Their towel is draped over the laundry room sink, all of the cummy spots rinsed off so they don't get crusty. And Taemin is by the dryer, clumsily folding one of the bed sheets. When he catches Jonghyun's eye, he shrugs and says, "I knew we would forget."

Jonghyun shrugs back. He's right. He walks forward to help fold. Although, for the pair of them, fold is a loose description. They get the sheets down to a more manageable size, and then just roll them up together and shove them into the linen closet. Good enough. Always has been, always will be.

Then, pinkies linked, shoulders bumping, they make their way back to the bathroom. Jonghyun gets into the shower first and Taemin pulls the curtain closed behind them. After that, it's easy. They've done this together enough times. More than enough times, but also, never enough times.

They shampoo each other's hair, playing with the bubbles, massaging each other's scalps, stealing kisses, petting all of the bubbles off of each other during the rinse. They slick each other's hair back with conditioner. They do rock paper scissors and then Taemin grumbles as he squirts Jonghyun's woodsy bodywash on to both of their washcloths. They wash all of the cum and sweat off of themselves, scrubbing their faces, their necks, their chests, all the way down. They take their time washing each other's backs, slowly, each of them making it a half of a massage for the other.

Jonghyun hugs Taemin close, snuggling into his shoulder, and lets Taemin finger him gently, slowly, spreading him open, washing the rest of the cum out of him, jerking him off when he starts gasping, kissing him through the tiniest, most miniscule, most squeaky nut of the entire day.

One new thing: for the first time, Jonghyun returns that favor to Taemin. Or at least he tries to. Taemin doesn't last half a minute before he starts whimpering again, shaking his head, pushing Jonghyun away.

"I'll just. I'll just be cummy forever. It's fine. It's fine. Oh my god," he hisses through gritted teeth. Jonghyun lets go, laughing. Sure.

Just the conditioner rinsing left, and they stand underneath the shower spray, not really doing much to help it along. They're too busy kissing, making out, holding each other's faces, biting each other's lips, pressing the tiniest smooches to each other's tongues. The shower head does the work for them eventually, and they keep kissing for a long while after.

It's only when the water starts running a little cold that they finally step out. Grabbing their cozy warm towels, they dry off, stealing kisses all the while. When he's mostly dry, Jonghyun wraps the towel around himself like a little dress and sits himself down on the stool next to the counter. He digs around in the drawer next to him, pulling out the hair dryer. Plugging it in, he hands it to Taemin.

Smiling, Taemin puts his own towel back on the space heater and grabs the dryer. He turns it on high and instantly blasts Jonghyun directly in the face, and then both of them are laughing so hard that he has to turn it back off and put it on the counter.

Then he turns it on for real, and dries Jonghyun's hair, for real. Jonghyun smiles up at him, lazy, relaxed, content. From this angle he can very clearly see his double chin. Soft, squishy, and cute. He reaches up and pokes it, then tickles his neck until Taemin swats him away. Grinning, sticking his tongue out, Jonghyun just tickles his hand down his body instead, until he gets to his dick. Soft, squishy, and cute. He leans forward and kisses it, and then realizes something. Leaning back, he pushes the hairdryer away for a moment and asks, "have I sucked your dick at all today?"

"Uh," Taemin says. He frowns, the hairdryer dropping to his side. After another moment, he turns it off, frowning harder. Jonghyun agrees. He's wracking his brain, trying to remember their entire day, remember if he ever had Taemin's cock in his mouth. "Ah!" Taemin says suddenly. He snaps and points at Jonghyun. "Yeah," he says. "Before I had to go get breakfast from the delivery babe. And when Jinx was opening me up."

"Oh yeah," Jonghyun says, grinning. Yeah, he remembers that. That was great. Then he frowns again, a little bit. "Wasn't that just cleaning you up, though?” he asks. "Have you nutted in my mouth today? No, right?" he knows that Jinki nutted in his mouth, but not Taemin.

"Uh," Taemin says, "no."

"Well," Jonghyun says, determined suddenly. What the fuck. He distinctly remembers, just this morning, Taemin telling him he was going to flood his throat with cum. And he hasn't done that yet. "Can't have that." And he leans forward and takes Taemin's cock into his mouth. He refuses to let a day like today go by without swallowing at least one load of Taemin's cum.

Laughing, but not stopping him, Taemin pets his head. He turns the hair dryer back on, continuing his work while Jonghyun starts his.

It's not the best blowie in the world, but that's not the point. The point is that he's doing it, and he's enjoying it, and Taemin is enjoying it. The point is that, by the time Taemin is done with his hair, it's just in time for him to practically throw the hair dryer on the counter and grab onto Jonghyun's head and cum down his throat.

Jonghyun swallows happily, looking up at him with hearts in his eyes. It's thick and hot in his throat, satisfying in his stomach. Hell yeah. Today is officially perfect.

Since Taemin is swaying on his feet, Jonghyun drops his cock and then gently stands up under him, grabbing him, turning him, pushing him to sit down instead. Taemin stumbles a little bit, crashing into the chair a little harder than normal, but he smiles up at Jonghyun all the same. His eyes are filled with hearts too. He grabs Jonghyun's shoulders and bends him in half to kiss him, slipping his tongue into his mouth and groaning softly at the taste of himself.

When Jonghyun stands up straight and grabs the hair dryer, Taemin holds onto his hips. He rubs slow circles into his skin with his thumbs, squishes his booty a little bit, closes his eyes when Jonghyun starts drying his bangs. Once Jonghyun finishes with that and moves on to the rest of his head, Taemin leans forward. He wraps his arms around Jonghyun's waist and presses his face into his stomach. He kisses Jonghyun, softly, all over his tummy, his belly button, down the line of his happy trail. He doesn't suck Jonghyun off, but he does kiss his dick, once, gently.

And Jonghyun kisses the top of his head, once, gently, when he's done drying his hair.

Together, they brush their teeth, bumping hips in front of the mirror. Jonghyun pouts about washing all of the cummy taste out of his mouth so soon. Taemin laughs at him, teasing. They grab their towels and throw them in the laundry, then shuffle their way back to the bedroom, yawning.

Jonghyun’s candles are still burning strong, melted all the way to the edge. They're way lower than they started, the wicks almost comically long, and he's just a little bit guilty when he puts the tops back on them and watches them slowly fade out to nothing. The clock tells him that it's after 11:00 by now. They've been burning for over 12 hours. Probably should have kept a better eye on those. But, given the alternative, he doesn't mind too much.

 Turning around, he's met with Taemin holding out his plushie puppy. He has nightmare kitty under his own arm, and when Jonghyun takes his puppy, Taemin kisses their noses together cutely.

Jonghyun stands there and blushes into his hands while Taemin puts nightmare kitty back into the headboard where she sleeps until Taemin needs her. And while Taemin puts all of their extra pillows back into fluff corner. And while he smoothes out the sheets and then pulls them down so they can get in. And he's still standing there when Taemin comes back, grabs his arms, and, chuckling, pulls him into bed. Then, at least, Jonghyun stops blushing.

He gets comfortable, wiggling around, Taemin wiggling next to him, both of them happy little worms. When they settle, their legs are tangled together, Taemin's arm is around his waist, Jonghyun's arm is under Taemin's head as a pillow, and they're so close they can breathe each other's air. Jonghyun smiles in his heart.

"Hey, Taem?" he says.

Taemin kisses him as a reply.

"I really liked today," Jonghyun smiles. Taemin kisses him again, much more of a smile than a kiss this time.

"Me too," he says. "Wish everyday could be like this."

"Yeah," Jonghyun sighs wistfully. "Sucks that we have little baby human bodies that can't handle it." Homophobic, he thinks. To the extreme.

"Yeah, well," Taemin says. He shrugs, snuggling just that much closer. "If everyday was like this, I'd never have time to go to the dance studio. And you would never get to record stuff."

"That is true," Jonghyun says. And besides. He thinks days like this are so fun and special because they're so rare. He doesn't want to ruin the magic by making it commonplace. Though, he does wish there was a way to prolong this, just a little bit. Make it last to the morning. Give them a little something extra to wake up–"oh!" he exclaims. "You know what?" There is a way.

With Taemin humming curiously, Jonghyun wiggles around until he can rummage in their headboard cupboard. When he gets what he wants out of the sex toy box, he gets himself comfortable again, just like before, but a tiny bit closer. Taemin's eyes are closed; Jonghyun taps the corner of his eyelid to make him look.

"Buh," he says when he does. Jonghyun smiles mischievously. He sucks the plug–silicone and ocean blue, much smaller than his cherry blossom one–into his mouth, getting it wet, and then trails it around Taemin's waist and down to his booty. He doesn't tease him with it, but he does touch just the tip of it against his hole.

"I want," he says. He wants Taemin desperate during the night. He wants Taemin rutting against him in his sleep. He wants him breathless and tense when he wakes up. Jonghyun wants to wake up and eat him out for breakfast. He knows he'll still be sensitive, he knows just the gentlest flicks of his tongue will have Taemin falling apart. He wants to fuck Taemin in the morning, maybe, even. Show him what he can really do when he's well rested in the morning and at the top of his game. He wants–

"Well, actually," he says. He pushes the plug in all the way at once, quickly, without any fanfare, and smiles when Taemin hisses anyway. "I want to not do laundry," he says sheepishly. He knows that if he actually says all of that out loud then Taemin will absolutely turn him around and fuck him again. And he would love that, he wants that, he craves that, but. Not enough to want to wake up and do laundry. Yet another homophobic hate crime. "I'll let it be a surprise for you in the morning."

"Man," Taemin whines, but he's smiling. He's looking forward to it. He shifts forward, closing the distance between them so their chests press together. Just like that morning, he kisses all over Jonghyun, his face, his neck, his hair, humming through them, pouting like he's grumpy that he can't kiss Jonghyun faster. And just like that morning, just like every day, Jonghyun smiles, his heart thudding warmly in his chest.

All at once, Taemin settles down, relaxing into the pillows. He presses his forehead against Jonghyun's and kisses him just once more, softly, on the mouth. With the hand that isn't around Jonghyun's waist, he touches Jonghyun's chest, pressing his palm flat against his skin. With the hand that isn't under Taemin's head, Jonghyun holds his puppy plushie tighter so he can put his hand on top of Taemin's.

They fall asleep like that, together, sharing each other's heartbeats, smiles identical on their mouths.

[fanficparker]

Faking, Falling > Part 11

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~2.55 k words

Warning: Swearing... And Fluff?!

Summary: No date, but?

<< PART 10 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 12 >>

10:25 pm...

Lying on the sofa, holding your kindle, you were scrolling through a list of books that you desired to read later than actually reading anything.

10:50 pm...

You failed to concentrate on the words of the book you finally chose to read, your mind dozing off with each word.

11:26 pm...

"Ooga chaka ooga ooga..."

The kindle was kept aside while you sang along with the lyrics of the playlist blasting through your phone as your toes tapped along the edge of the sofa.

11:45 pm...

You were lost in thoughts, the music serving only background ambience.

Did he eat something? Or was he waiting for having dinner together? He must have eaten something. He must be hungry. What if he brings a take away home for us to eat? What if he was expecting you to make something for us to eat? He would have told that on the phone if he was looking forward to such a thing.

Maybe you should tell him to eat in case he didn't eat. Picking up the phone and pausing the music, you discovered that you already had some unread messages from him.

Harrison [10:22 pm]: >> Hey don't wait for me for dinner. >> I don't think I can be there before midnight. >> I will pick something for myself to eat.

Harrison [10:28 pm]: >> Also I will try bringing that rainbow cake. >> Although not sure. >> But still :)

You would have replied him to not take efforts to bring that stupid cake but all you were doing was gently biting your finger that had made the way between your lips in an attempt to stop smiling.

11:56 pm...

You finally texted him to not to worry about the cake but didn't receive any reply. So, you instead started looking about the storm on the internet.

'The routes were set back to original by eleven o'clock.' It said.

12:15 pm...

After living alone for years in London all by yourself, unexpectedly this empty house was beginning to haunt you. You wrapped a soft thin blanket around your figure sitting on the sofa, feet tucked under yourself while your eyes roamed all over the place. Sitting there waiting for Harrison, you tried your best to prevent your mind from wandering around bizarre thoughts.

Ghost don't exist. You reminded yourself. The horror movie you saw and laughed about all through your flight duration was finally coming back to you. You closed your eyes for a millisecond and the terrifying face of the lady ghost was clearly visible. You jerked on your seat and opened your eyes, breathing a sigh of relief seeing no-one or that lady ghost in general. But then you heard footsteps. You clenched the blanket tighter around yourself and again closed your eyes shut, keeping your right hand near your heart. The footsteps were coming closer making you sink further into the sofa. Your heart rate was already shooting up.

Ding Dong.

You literally screamed. Your scream facilitated the actions of the person on the other side of the door. The harsh knocking on your door made you re-open your eyes.

"Y/n are you okay? Y/n answer? Y/n?!"

That was Harrison's voice. And instantly the feeling of calmness rushed through your veins. You threw your head back, sighing at your own stupidity. The door knocked again accompanied with Harrison's panicked voice. You threw the blanket to the floor, slapped your head and ran to open the door. There stood Harrison, his hair a mess from the wind that was still blowing outside. You could smell that it was going to rain very soon.

"What happened? You screamed?" Harrison asked, his head peeping inside.

"Everything's fine." You puffed out air accompanied by a chuckle.

"Is it?"

"Absolutely." You said greeting him home and shutting the door. Instead of walking towards the living space, he walked to the kitchen. He kept the brown cake box inside the fridge.

"You don't have to bring it." You said softly.

"No worries." He replied smiling and took out a water bottle. You turned on your feet making your way to the sofa. You folded up the blanket while he sat on the opposite end. Even without looking at him you could imagine his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Water?" He said pushing the now half-filled bottle towards you. You blinked accepting it, attempting to push back the thoughts to your grave. You sat across him, taking a sip. He kept his handbag he had kept clothes to wear on the date on the floor and sighed loudly. You closed your eyes tightly. You hated how his breath sounded-- sad and a little bit of guilt rose in your heart. You could have done something. You could have set up the table, made a little snack, literally anything but you didn't. You heard him tapping his shoes on the floor, still taking deep breathes.

"You're asleep?" You asked looking at him. His eyes were closed and his head was supported by the back cushions.

"Wasn't sleeping, just... ah... resting my eyes," he muttered, eyes still closed, "Long day..." He yawned, sinking more into the sofa.

"You want me to make anything? Tea? Coffee?" You offered. He slowly opened his eyes and straightened his posture.

"Coffee. Please." He almost pleaded. You rushed to the kitchen while you heard him move inside the bathroom. While the decoction was getting ready, you heard the sound of the shower running. Maybe it wasn't too late... You glanced at the wall clock — 01:24 am

You rushed into the bedroom, plugged in your laptop and tossed a cosy blanket on the bed, propping the laptop over it. Securing the bedpost with pillows and setting up the air conditioning to a pleasurable temperature you rushed back to the kitchen. The shower was no more audible. You finished making the mochaccino(you decided to add a little chocolatey twist). You plated the rainbow cake pieces on two plates and placed your little sweet dine in a tray. Decorating the mocha mugs with some whipped cream, you made your way to the bedroom. Upon entering the first thing you saw was Harrison rubbing some moisturiser cream on his washed face. His blonde wet hairs almost looking brown in the dim lights of the room were pointy at the ends. He was in his pyjamas. A little smile spread across your lips at the sight. You placed the tray over the nightstand. The soft thud made Harrison turn and look at you, running a hand through his wet hairs.

"You were watching a movie?" He asked wiping his hand on the towel, looking over at the bed.

"No. We will watch a movie." You smiled broader.

"Which movie?" He asked throwing the towel over the chair. Bad habit. For god-sake put it on the air dryer or in the laundry. You wanted to scold him. But he made his way into the covers inhaling the scent of the freshly washed covers and sighing in comfort. You decided against the scolding thing.

"You decide what we watch. My prime account is unlocked." You said lifting the towel yourself while he excitedly scrolled through your laptop. You returned back to the room after putting the towel in the dryer. He was slurping the coffee.

"This tastes heavenly, Y/n!" He said picking up the mug in the air. You suspected it to be him asking for you to cling your mug into his. You lifted the cup and clung it softly.

"Cheers!" He cheered like a little child. You giggled at his ministrations, getting inside the covers, bumping your shoulders and knees across his. You placed the cake pieces on your thigh.

"What are we gonna watch?" You asked taking in a bit, devouring the taste. You moaned at the taste.

"It's good?" He asked but instead of your answer, he took a bite of the piece himself. "It is. Mmh..."

"Mmh..."

You both burst into laughter. Little cake pieces ashamedly flew out of your mouth into the air.

"That sounded---"

"Sexual?" He said interrupting you. You playfully slapped his arm.

"Kiddish." You said sounding unimpressed. He took another sip from the cup.

"I guess... Inception? Should we watch it?"

You coughed at the suggestion, "I am seriously not putting that much pressure on my brain at midnight."

He again started scrolling through the laptop. "WALL-E?"

"I have watched it too many times. Haven't you?"

"Well... I have too." He clicked his tongue keeping his finished mug and plate on the side table and rolling over his belly. "Why don't you choose?" Finishing off your eatables you laid by his side trying to find a suitable movie along with him but ended up closing off the account unable to decide. His eyes suddenly lit up seeing your desktop.

"Gosh. You got Need For Speed. We should play this!" He said looking at the game folder.

"It's almost three?!"

"Please Please. Been a long time. And it's better to play with a competitor." He looked at you with pleading eyes but his body radiated childish excitement.

"Not in the mood." You yawned.

"I will let you win."

"Oh ho ho. You will lose anyway." You said getting offended.

"Prove it then... coward." He said turning his head to the other side but the smirk on his lips was clearly visible.

"What did you call me?" You asked in a low tone, raising a single eyebrow. He slowly turned his head back to look at you. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You know yourself." He bit his lower lip trying to suppress the giggles that were emerging from the pit of his stomach.

"We'll play it on my play station. And we'll be celebrating my big victory." You stood up and shuffled the items in the cupboard producing the gaming console.

***

"So how is it going so far, Ms. Y/n Y/ln?" Harrison sneered looking at your side profile from the game screen for a second. A soft giggle escaped his lips as he saw you focusing on the game as if your life depended on it.

"Don't disturb me, Osterfield. Your ass is soon gonna be kicked," You replied pushing the joystick to the left while your body tilted to the right.

"And... Boom!" He yelled throwing the gaming controller on the cushion as his car crossed the finishing line. You rolled your eyes at his actions keeping your own controller aside.

"What's the score? What's the score?... Harrison five. Y/n? Huh?" He nudged your elbow making your eyes roll.

"Two," You maintained an unimpressed expression, instantly accompanied by a yawn.

"Nah. Sleepiness won't be an excuse for your poor performance." He said looking at you, remembering how you used the same excuse an hour before.

"It's almost six in the morning div. I genuinely want to sleep. The rain started and even stopped!" You actually sounded sleepy and you rubbed your tired eyes.

"Right," He mumbled pressing his lips into a thin line. He was having so much fun. For the first time in years he wasn't feeling out of place or lonely, he definitely never wanted these moments to end. But on the other side, he should be glad that these wonderful moments do end. They should end because that's the only way he hoped he won't get too attached to your presence.

But wasn't he already? The two sides of his brain were at war. Just three days with you and he was falling down the sky. He thought he had already fallen but somehow landed on a thin wire which he was gripping with his life but now that wire was broken and he was falling again. Falling down from that height must be hurtful. But he wanted to touch the ground, feel the grass underneath his feet, but there were more chances of him falling into the quicksand. And surprisingly falling into the quicksand doesn't hurt, unlike the green floor. But later quicksand would engulf him, choke him and take away his life. Yes, his brain was at war and he knew— wars bring destruction.

He followed you into the bedroom where you got into the covers and he took the responsibility to clear the debris of the snacks and then carefully placed the laptop on the table. He removed his t-shit and you snorted at the sight.

"You like to show off your abs, isn't it?" Your comment was definitely snarky. He wetted his lips and looked at you, your eyes were already closed.

"They are already gone." He said getting inside the covers with you.

"What's gone?" You mumbled shifting lightly in the bed.

"My abs. Ate for two months. No gym either. My next TV show shoot starts in May, I'll have to work extremely hard in the gym to get them back." He said closing his eyes too.

"Your family must be proud of you." Your voice was almost a whisper but he heard it and also heard the fact that it sounded sad.

"What do' you mean?" His eyes fluttered open and eyebrows concentrated in the middle. His eyes met yours and he noticed the tears welling. You instantly turned and faced the other side.

"It's just... I am a loser." Your voice sounded cracked within turn made his heart crack.

"Hey, hey. What are you talking about?" He asked even when he knew and shifted closer to you.

"I sometimes think I should... stop with the designing thing. It's not working."

"No. I have already told you that your designs are amazing and---"

"I just edited the designs of the previous designer. It was just a dummy work." You sighed.

"I have seen your notebook, I have seen your creativity." He said pausing for a moment, "First look at me."

"No." Your voice was extremely scratchy. He shook you by your arm lightly but you didn't budge.

"Please Y/n. Look at me," He pleaded. And you did turn to look at his blue eyes with your teary ones, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

"Hey. Don't cry," His voice was so soft, just like his fingers that wiped off the tears from your face. He then cupped your face in his hands. "It took me at least one thousand auditions to get my first role, and that role wasn't even a speaking one. It takes talent and patience. Be patient, love." He said softly.

"You're so good with this." You said, your tears finally paused.

"Good with what?"

"Talk." You produced a little smile. He giggled at the compliment.

"By the way, I am really sorry." You said. He furrowed his brows at your words. "I was just sleepy and then was crying. I must have annoyed you."

"No. Not at all." He said removing his hands from your face but then he felt your fingers running across his exposed arm, a shiver ran down his spine. You shifted closer to his chest and pressed your face to his body. His hands involuntarily held your back and kept you closer as you cuddled into him. The scent of soap radiating from his body made you feel even calmer. He slowly closed his eyes.

"Thank you for the date, Harrison. I had a great time... with you." You mumbled into his chest while he combed your hairs with his fingers.

Me too... He replied in his mind, knowing he won't get nightmares this time.

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