#obsessed with how pink he is btw

[fish-daily]

fish 167 - masu salmon/cherry salmon

[mayasikeu]

hii<3 I really wanna put in a request for sunghoon x reader where reader is very sweet and bubbly and LOVES PINK, wbk that sunghoon doesn't like pink, but whenever he sees her he loses his mind a little, he finds her absolutely adorable, sweet enough to eat. You can make this nsfw btw!

Sunghoon would’ve never expected to end up with a girl like you. You were the complete opposite of him, bubbly, kind, talkative and the biggest extrovert he’s ever met. I guess it’s because opposites attract because Sunghoon absolutely adored everything about you. He loved your personality, the way you would dress, and of course your obsession with the color pink.

Sunghoon stepped inside your bedroom, his tall, broad figure filling the doorway, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes met yours. “You really love pink, don’t you, princess?”

You nodded shyly, “I do… is it weird?”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, “It’s not weird at all, princess. It’s adorable.”

“Do you think so?” you said, your face lighting up. “You’re so adorable I could just eat you up.” he teased, your cheeks began to redden from all of the praises he was showering you with. He took a step closer, “But you know what I love even more?” his tone suddenly switched, sounding more seductive.

“W-What?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he brushed his long fingers across your cheek before sliding them down to your chin, lifting it up gently and forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I love how submissive you get for me”

His thumb teased over your lips as you parted them, letting him slide it inside inside. Gently, you began to suck on it.

Sunghoon’s gaze intensified as a low groan escaped his mouth. “Just like that. Good girl” he praised, his tone making your cunt throb with need.

He withdrew his thumb, and you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly silenced you with a kiss.

You felt yourself melting in his touch as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Your dainty fingers tangled in between his locks.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and slick with his saliva.

“On the bed,” he ordered.

You obeyed instantly, climbing onto the pink sheets and laying yourself in the centre. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he undid the buttons of his stark white shirt, revealing his chest muscles beneath. Your mouth salivated at the sight.

He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself above you. His hands glided over your body, as if he was memorising you. When he reached the end of your dress, he paused.

“Take it off,” he commanded, you quickly pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your lacy pink underwear, the color matching the room perfectly.

“You look so fucking pretty in pink” he growled with satisfaction, his hands exploring your exposed skin. He leaned down, pressing kisses onto your neck and your collarbone before his mouth found your nipple. You clenched onto the sheets due to the sensitivity. You arched into him, desperate for more, but he took his time, teasing you with soft touches that left you wanting more.

“Please” you whimpered

Sunghoon chuckled, his breath hot against your skin. “Patience, princess. I want to savour you.”

His finger travelled down your body, hooking under the waistband of your panties, and with one quick motion, he pulled them off, leaving you completely bare under him.

He reached for his belt, undoing it with ease. You watched, entranced, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes.

Sunghoon lined his tip with your hole, the head of his cock rubbing against your wet slit.

“Tell me what you want princess”

You bit your lip, your voice trembling, “I want you… I want you inside me, Sunghoon.”

A dark, satisfied smile crept onto his face. “Good girl” he praised again before slowly pushing into you, inch by agonising inch, until his dick was fully nestled inside of you.

Sunghoon gave you a moment to adjust before he started to move, his pace slow, each thrust driving deeper and deeper into you. You moaned, lost in the overwhelming sensation of him filling you up.

He grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and lifted them above your head. Now he was fully in control.

His thrusts grew faster, harder, as he pushed you towards the edge.

“Cum for me, princess,” he growled into your ear, and that was all it took for you to cum.

Sunghoon followed you after a few seconds, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you. His own release drawn out by the tightness of your wet walls. He collapsed on top of you, his breath ragged and the pink sheets twisted beneath you.

[seattlesellie]

ellie x plushies obsessed reader hq’s

or

ellie beefing with plushies for 40 minutes straight

or

ellie fucks u with a plushie <3

♡ first of all, dont get it wrong. ellie buys you the actual plushies she has this ongoing beef with. she straight up walks around town, probably dealing or some shit, and then she just sees a plushie that is so you from the window of a kids store, and she staright up runs to get it. jesses all like “where the f-….” and one second later, he sees her standing in line, holding a pink squishmallow ready to pull out her credit card. “sorry” she mouthes to him. “for my girl”

♡ as much as ellie loves to see your face light up when she comes home with a limited edition sanrio plushie, she loves trolling you even more. shed literally see a demonic looking plushie and get it for you, only to see how upset you get over it. shit makes her laugh so hard. shes all giggling like “wh- babe its pretty!! look at its eyes its like he sees through you- s’romantic actually”, she speaks, trying to hold her laughter. youre standing there, simply baffled, just staring at her. “ellie. that is a spongebob plushie and it looks deranged- and why is he missing a shoe?!” you question. she just huffs and says “i dont know” with a guilty look on her face. when you deadpan her she just says “i wanted to see what its feet look like” ¿¿¿ you shove her and she gets all offended and says “pfft… you dont get it” you tell her that monstrosity is not welcomed in your home and she ends up. sleeping with it. every night. ellie sleeps with a spongebob plushie (i hc ellie as being a spongebob lover btw i know shed be quoting him like hes kafka)

♡ one night, you walk to your room, the door is like half closed and you just keep hearing sounds of huffing and muffled breaths. you take a peak, and you literally see ellie flipping off and mouthing “fuck you” to all of your little plushies. youre standing there with this shocked expression, baffled to see your girlfriend pretending to punch the plushies and whispering at them to fuck off. you walk in, and ellie turns to look at you and she looks so guilty, like joel just caught her eating cookies at 3am. “ellie. what are you doing?” you question. she huffs, rolls her her eyes, “they were looking at me weird”

♡ youre naked together, cuddled up after getting your pussy destroyed, and ellie takes out two plushies from behind her. “this is you” she points at the pink ribboned plushie, “and this is me” she points at the black squishmallow. she takes both of them in her hands, bumps them together, and begins demonstrating her wonderful show. the black squishmallow is humping the pink one from the back. ellie pants heavily. “els.” you say, warning her. she gives you a sly look. “mmmhm ellie” she moans. “fuckkk ellie- so so good” youre so shocked, you cover your eyes under the blanket before you even think to grab them off her hands. “taking it so good” she says with a darth-vader like voice. “fuck me harder please” she mocks in a high pitched voice and starts moaning like a porn star. your cheeks are so hot you cant even move. “gonna cum- ellie lemme cum” shes screaming now, youre pretty sure your neighbors can hear. you start kicking her beneath the blanket, and that only makes it worse “ellieeeeee get me pregnant” she yells and moans louder and louder. youre basically assaulting her legs now, pushing her away, which leads her to finish her wonderful spectacle with a “best ive ever had ellie. best ive ever had” youre screaming and yelling at her for sexually harassing your dolls and shes laughing like a maniac, literal tears fall from her eyes. “ooooh-“ she wipes a tear. “that was so fucking funny” she speaks, holding her stomach wheezing. “not funny” you deadpan. “too funny. ahh- shouldve been a comedian” she says. she shouldnt.

♡ shes buried deep inside, your leg resting on her shoulder, tears falling from your eyes from how good, how intensely shes fucking you. a white creamy circle starts forming on her strap. “you crying?” she teases, squeezing your cheeks together forcefully. “mhm-mhm ellie” you whine, cunt flooded with pleasure, and pain, because its so big, and shes so fast. “cry some more” she commands, panting over you. “taking me so so good… my good girl” she coos, lost in the feeling of the harness bumping her clit, and her girl coming undone beneath her. “cant take it… too much!” you plead. shes circling your clit, so slow, just to torture you some more. her hand stops squeezing your tit, and theres a little surprise shes holding on to. “take it” she commands, and places the plushie on your chest, staring directly into your eyes. “hug it for me. gonna make it easier, fuck” she rambles, feeling her own orgasm coming closer and closer. “el- so- so” you cry out, mumbling incoherently and squeezing the doll so tight its eyes almost pop. “jesus christ- cute, so fucking- cute” she pants. her breathing gets heavier and heavier and shes pushing the strap inside even deeper, squeezing out your arousal. “god damn” she growls.

[yandereend]

Yandere Househusband

The wedding

P. 2/?

TW : normal yandere stuff, dubcon, reader is into it?, Tyler talks about children, both are like 18 or 19

Btw English is not my first language so please keep that in mind

🩵Also thanks to everyone who wrote nice comments under the first post🩵

You sometimes watched those trashy shows about the bridezillas who were obsessed with their weddings and made everyones live hell. Like many people you hopped to never be in a situation like this. But here you were sitting besides your fiancé while he discusses flower arrangements, acting like a giant brat.

Is it so hard to put together bouquets with ALL pink flowers?!

Sir we dont have enough pink lillies for all your decorations. You should reconsider some of your choices-

I‘m surrounded by idiots!! My spouse wanted pink lillies so i don’t care if you don’t have them stocked!! Just buy them!

That would be even more expen-

Just do it !!!

And with that Tyler took your hand and you both exited the flower shop. It was almost comical how such a small thing could affect a grown man so much, but hey it’s his day. Tyler had a big pout on his face so that called for your attention and pampering.

Tyler don’t be upset.

But its our day my darling, everything should be perfect! We spend so much time picking out your (suit/dress/whatever you want its your wedding) and my suit. The flowers have to match or everything was for nothing my dear!

Not everything has to be perfect.

Oh yes it does! Have you never been on pinterest ?

That was the whole wedding planning in a nutshell , just an avid pinterest user placing together the wedding of their dreams( yandere style). Sometimes it was cute seeing Tyler being so invested in the wedding, other times it was more than annoying to cater to his perfectionism.

You also often thought about how quickly things progressed. I mean you just graduated high school and are already engaged and working for your fiancés father. Tylers father, Eric, was a great boss, you often wondered why people were scared of him. It’s just your nice father in law! Always explaining everything to you and hyping you up as the next in line of the family business. I mean you’re almost a part of it.

And Tylers mother, Ramona, was the same, always acting like she’s your real mother and caring for you. Not to mention Tyler himself. You were not suprised when he didn’t went out to look for a job or university, he always promoted the idea of a traditional family with you as the breadwinner in the center. And hey, his parents gifted you a house as an engagement gift, so its safe to say that you wont suffer in the presence of those saints.

At least that’s what you thought of them, little did you know that they were the reason why most of your friends cut contact and your family hardly called after you moved out. But hey who needs them anyways.

So while all these thoughts ran through your mind here you were, walking down the aisle with your father and finally seeing the man of your dreams in his perfectly tailored suit and styled hair, with tears in his eyes witnessing your beauty.

Your wedding vow was rather short but still packed with the love you felt for your husband. And after he put himself together, because of his happy tears, he read the most beautiful wedding vow you ever heard touching your heart and everyone else’s in the chapel. So when you finally get to put the rings on each other’s fingers you both stand up there with tears in your eyes.

And when you both finally unite in a grand kiss your fate was finally sealed. Tyler had you finally completely in his grasp, even if you didn’t realize it. And he,as well as his family, will never let you go. So enjoy your wedding party with your family and friends, you won’t get to see them any longer my dear.

Till death do you apart.

🩵Thanks a lot I hope you enjoyed it, I am planning on making this a series so please comment ideas for your life with your new husband 🩵

[sexilene]

Hi angel! thoughts on 80s!slasher!jj ?? I loveee ur work btw! sending hugs and kisses! 💗

ofccc!! this is fun lol - 80s!slasher!jj

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, violence, jealous!jj, death, slight breeding kink, threats, obsessed!jj, dark!jj - ₊˚⊹

you and jj would have never become friends if you both hadn't met while working together at the little fast-food diner inside the mall. he was usually working in the back, preparing the food, and you were usually on server duty. with your short white tennis skirt and the diner polo shirt uniform you could usually draw attention from guys who wanna take you out and possibly eat you, you were so sweet. but there were days when you and jj would both be on cashier duty, those were his and your favorite days, it was basically like hanging out all day side by side.

as the day dragged on it was getting closer to closing time, thank goodness you thought, already super exhausted. after a few minutes a group of preppy jerk jocks come in, one of the guys walking up to your register with a stupid smirk on his face, danny. "hey babygirl, can i get uh, the number 5 with a milkshake anduh- your number? " he tilts his head up, proud of his little pickup line. you shake your head with a small smile and silently scoff at his stupidity. jj who is currently helping another customer, listens in and watches the interaction by side eyeing you both every few seconds. jj's jaw ticks as he tries to let you handle it. 

"a number 5 will that be all?" you continue to try and be professional with a sweet smile. 

"uh no actually, how about- you let me take you to the prom," he smirks again.

"i'm actually out of town that day so-" you tilt your head and act uninterested. 

"oh cuhmon- it'll be fun, you know you want to. i even booked a hotel room for that night and we'll-" danny persists further until he's interrupted by jj who snaps his head toward us. 

"she said no man." jj warns, danny's mouth agape as he turns over to look at jj. 

"was i talking to you maybank? cuz uh- i don't think i was." danny snickers almost trying to size jj up. 

"i don't give a shit, she's clearly not interested." jj squints his eyes and nods to himself. 

"oh woah! you've got yourself a little protector huh? no way this guy is your boyfriend right?" the guy turns to you and then back to jj. "i mean look at you! she's a total betty and you...you and your deadbeat dad aren't even good enough to scrape the dirt off our shoes." the boy scoffs and the rest of his friends snicker on cue.

jj tongues his cheek and grins in faux amusement, the guy turns around to walk off like a winner when jj reaches his arm out and taps the guy's shoulder. "hey man you forgot your-" jj grabs one of the milkshakes ready on the counter and throws it in the asshole's face, 'ruining' danny's gelled hair and expensive polo shirt. the diner fills with gasps, 'ooohs' and snickers.

"milkshake." jj finishes his sentence, and laughes through his nose. you stand there eyes wide as danny wipes the melted pink milk off his eyelids. "quit fuckin' around and get outta here" jj shoos the guy away with the motion of his hand as the humiliated boy walks away shouting back loudly "you are so dead maybank!" 

"whata piece of shit." jj mumbles and slams his hand on the counter and turns to see the manager shaking his head, disappointed. jj goes into the kitchen leaving you there to process what just happened. 

as the restaurant was about to close, you and jj were the only ones left, since you would have been closing together that night. the manager did fire him but somehow managed to stick around without him seeing jj.

you decided to let him do this thing inside the kitchen while you did the final table wipe-downs and setting up everything for tomorrow morning, time after time playing in the background. you hear some concerning noises coming from the kitchen area, knowing only jj was in there makes you stop and wonder why all the banging?, when another loud scary sound can be heard throughout the diner. you run behind the counter and around the corner to see what was making that noise, your eyes land on danny, dead, laying flat on his back on the floor with his face all burnt, bubbling, and bloody. you let out a horrified scream and cover your mouth immediately afterward, stumbling backward a bit and feeling nauseous. 'how did danny even end up back here?' you thought.

you feel your back bump into something, and you let out another spooked yelp, you feel two strong hands spin you around and when you look up, you realize it's only jj. 

"jj, danny...he must have- the deep fryer-" you stutter, and he shushes you "i know, i know."

"we have to call the police! i-is he dead? oh god, i'm gonna be sick..." tears start to fall down your cheeks, terrified and confused by how jj isn't freaking out or doing anything about it. you squirm out of his grip and back away from him.

"jj? did you hurt danny? oh my god, did you burn his face off?" you ask with wide eyes, chest heaving. 

jj nods but he doesn't look remorseful. you start to burst out in tears, unsure of what to do, you look over at the door and back over at jj who gives you a look of warning. he's all sweaty and dirty, his white shirt stained with grease and blood. 

the jukebox continues to play music, where otherwise silence would fill the diner. you decide to make a run for the door, but he beats you to that. jj manages to stand in front of you, clenching his jaw and squinting his eyes. 

"i did that for you, i did it to protect you." he spits, looking down at you in disappointment. 

"you're scaring me jj" you whine.

"why? i think you're being ungrateful." he whispers, looking down at you.

"you murdered him! jj you'll get in so much trouble, they'll know you did it!"

"no, manager man thought i left already..and i'll get him outta here so" he shrugs.

you whine again, eyes moving towards where danny was lying on the ground. jj snaps his fingers in front of your face to get you to pay attention to him again. 

"what you want him? you liked that guy? huh?" he spits out frustratedly. you shake your head no, now too afraid to even speak "what so now im the bad guy? cause i got rid of him for YOU!" he shouts and you flinch, unsure of what to do now. 

"you know what, fine, i think i deserve a little thank you don't you think?" he clenches his jaw again and yanks at your top pulling you to the other side of the counter, overlooking danny's corpse. 

he bends you over and yanks your skirt down, you begin to cry when you realize what he's going to do. "no, jj no, i'm scared please" you sob too frozen in fear to move. 

"you should see what i did with the rest of the bodies" he laughs quietly and reaches his hand around your waist to meanly grab your poor cunt, then pulling your panties to the side. you look down at the bloody dead body again and shut your eyes tight, then you feel jj's fat tip teasing your hole, sliding in your stickiness. "no, you are supposed to be my friend jj! friends don't do this!" you mewl.

he wraps his arm around your neck, trapping you in a headlock when he starts to push in to keep you from thrashing around. "shush, s'fine see? s'fine drama queen." he grunts in your ear, starting to slowly thrust in and out. 

part of you wishes you had the strength to kick him off of you, but the other half is in heaven. "look at danny, you want him? wanna go to the prom with that? hmm?" he taunts, squeezing you tighter in the headlock with his beefy arms when you don't respond which makes you let out a whimpery moan. 

"no! no, i don't wanna keep looking at him! it's making me sick!" you cry.

"i know, i know...grossing you out kinda turns me on though," he grunts again and laughs. he spits in his hand and uses that to sloppily rub your clit. the feeling of his spit mixed with your wetness makes you whine.

he keeps on pounding your pussy, letting you out of the headlock, and pushing your tits to press against the countertop. he smiles at all the little 'uh-uh's' you let out with each thrust. 

"you feel better? yeah? you calm now?" he hums and brings his hand down to smack your ass causing you to squeal and push your ass out almost asking for more. 

"yeah, i know mama, nobody's ever gonna touch you again kay?" his voice soft, making you nod slowly and dazed. 

"say thank you and i'll let you cum." he pressures you, so close to spilling all over him. 

"mmnnm jay-"

"use your manners c'mon" he cuts you off and brings his hand down again to start to rub your clit faster.

"thank you jayjay, thank you-" your cunt pulsing around his dick as you cum hard.

"atta girl, atta girl" he praises, then pushes into you harder than before, filling you up, and pulling out. he tucks himself away and moves your panties back to cover your cunt and to keep his cum and yours pooled in them. he pats your covered pussy and lets out a satisfied hum. 

"go wait by the mall entrance n i'll take you home, jus' gonna get ridda this guy." he pats your ass and walks over to get rid of the bloody body.  ᥫ᭡

[astermath]

Hii 🤭 can I request a Dave Lizewski x reader fluffy smut? Maybe something like dave and the reader are studying for a test but he gets distracted or something

omg yes ofc!! I haven't written for dave in a bit but he's still one of my main pookies so YES, YES I WILL ANON. so sorry this took so long btw!!

pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend is too distracted during your study session, so you decide to help him out.

word count: 1.5K

tags: dave and reader are in college, protected sex, established relationship, kind of sub dave? a little proofread, minors dni! normal font below!

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further dave lizewski related content!

Dave tutoring you was a regular part of your weekly routine. Not only was he a great boyfriend, but he was also an expert at anything math related. Which came in handy for you, because despite being a major in social studies, your course required you to take a class in statistics. So, with exams coming up, the two of you had been spending more and more time preparing together.

The sound of pens clicking and papers being shuffled around filled the room along with your groans. You were desperately trying to find the formula key you’d written down earlier, that had now conveniently disappeared.

Dave watched you, eyes peeking above his glasses as he bit his bottom lip. He wouldn’t tell you, he was pretty sure you’d gotten even more frustrated, but you looked so cute when you were agitated. Not that he liked having you in that mood, not at all. But it was just— the pout of your soft lips, the scrunch of your cute nose, the little huff you’d make when things didn’t go your way… Boy, he was obsessed with you.

"But I swear I-- are you even listening to me?"

Dave snaps out of his daydreaming when you snap your fingers in front of his face, a blush creeping up his face. "I-I was, I promise!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Sure you were." You leaned back into your chair, crossing your legs. "Aren't you supposed to be helping me? I'm gonna be so mad if I have to retake this course."

He gulps, the last thing he wanted was for you to waste your precious time on doing this all again. Especially because that meant you'd have less time for him as well.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just... I'm so--"

"Distracted?" you interrupt his stammering. To Dave's surprise, you're no longer looking all that frustrated. Your frown is replaced by a cheeky grin, one he knows all too well.

“N-No, I mean— yeah, a little, but it’s not that I don’t wanna help—“ he starts rambling, his words dying off when he hears you giggle. "Wh--What?"

"You're so cute, Dave," you got up, closing the distance so that you were now standing in between his legs, "but I really can't have you being all distracted while we're supposed to study."

He suddenly felt a lot guiltier about his staring. He promised to help you and here he was gawking at how pretty you were, getting all kinds of thoughts. He felt like a pervert.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I'm just getting in the wa-- what are you doing?"

You took his hands and pulled him off the chair, guiding him over to the bed and giving him a push so he landed with his back flat onto the mattress. He looked a little disheveled, curls all messy and his glasses a little crooked. God, you could just eat him up.

"I can't have you being distracted, so," you took your shirt off in one swift motion, "let's fix that."

He watched you with wide blue eyes, face flushed pink with his mouth hanging open. You were no stranger to taking the upper hand with him, but he hadn't expected your study session to get steamy so quickly.

That's how you ended up on top of him, hips grinding down on him through his boxers and your panties. He swore he was about to cum just from you rubbing yourself over him, it took everything in him not to give into that feeling.

"Is this what you were thinking about, baby?" Your voice is dripping with honey. There's something teasing, almost mocking in it. You were well aware of how horny your boyfriend gets, the dirty thoughts he gets, even from before the two of you were a thing. But he never just admits them, no, he's a sweetheart like that.

He wants to answer, so bad, but with every movement of your hips a whimper spills from his lips, whether he wants it to or not. He's not too sure what to do with his hands, keeping them loosely on your thighs, not guiding, simply touching. Almost to ground himself a little.

"Hm, or maybe... You were thinking about this?" You reach down to move your panties to the side, and he takes the hint to start shoving his boxers down, just low enough to free his cock. You feel it tap against your ass as it finally springs free, already dripping with precum.

The vulgar sound of your juices spreading over his cock drives him mad. He barely gets the time to roll a condom on before your rubbing his head through your folds again, his hands grabbing the fat of your thighs a little harder. He's whining softly, silently pleading for you to let him fuck you already.

"What's that baby?" you reach out and grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you. "Use your words hun, I'm not a mind reader."

He just stares at you for a moment, cock twitching at your commanding words. He swallows, struggling to get anything out like the horny mess he is.

"I-I want you to--"

"Speak up."

"I want to be inside you," His voice cracks a little when he repeats himself, louder this time, "Please." he adds.

You smile, a thumb rubbing gently across his cheek. Poor boy looked like he was about to cry if he didn't get to fuck you, cock painfully aching with a need for you, and you alone.

"Well," you lined him up with your entrance, "only because you asked so nicely."

You took him inside with one swift movement of your hips, dropping down onto his lap with an audible clap of skin against skin. You moaned in unison, eyes finding each other, always wanting to watch the other's face when you finally connected like this again.

You wasted no time, already moving your hips again, the sensation of his cock dragging over your slicked walls sending you into a state of euphoria already. Dave's a big guy, and that counts for every other part of him too. You didn't care if stretch was a little painful, or that it took you a while to get used to the size of him at first, you loved it.

"B-Baby, please-- oh my god, you feel s'good, holy shit..." He blabbered on, his words slurring over the sounds of his moans. You grinned, he was already so pussy drunk, it was adorable.

You leaned over, hand splayed over his toned chest, nails dragging over his fair skin and leaving red trails in their wake. He looked so pretty, all marked up, letting everybody know that he was yours. Not that they didn't know already, he loved letting them know, always mentioning his pretty girlfriend whenever he could.

Your thighs started burning a little from the exertion, but you couldn't stop, not when you felt your orgasm slowly approaching. You started moving faster, bouncing on his cock, grin faltering as your expression grew more desperate.

"Dave, I-- fuck!" you cried out when he shifted his hips, the head of his cock hitting a particular spot inside you that made you see stars. "Keep doing that, holy shit, m'gonna cum baby..."

He took your command, as always, following your rhythm with his own movements. His thrusts become more erratic and sloppy by the second, letting you know he was getting close himself. Not that the continuous repeating of your name wasn't already alerting you of that.

"J-Just like that baby, just like that," your orgasm caught up to you soon, walls fluttering around him as you tilted your head back and moaned his name. The two of you were always loud, but now you were sure the whole floor heard you.

He followed right after, thrusting up into you and filling the condom with his hot cum. Your body went limp for a moment, collapsing on top of him with your full weight. His strong arms enveloped you, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, panting, trying to catch your breath.

After a moment to come down from the high of your orgasms, you moved your head to press soft kisses to his cheek. He sighed dreamily, an adorable boyish smile appearing on his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you. Sometimes, it just felt like a dream. Luckily you were there to kiss him back to reality.

"D'you wanna go back to studying?" he asked softly, his hand tracing gently over your spine.

You whined, pressing a few kisses to his lips. "Hm... No..."

"But," kiss, "what about," kiss, "the exam?"

"Fuck the exam." You moved your head back to rest on his shoulder.

He doesn't reply, instead smiling to himself. Just being glad he's not the only one distracted now.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme  @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson  @reneehillary69  @durag-tanaka @earth-elemental18    @caxddce  @777iii @a-simp-for-broken-people

[her-favorite]

MATT STURNIOLO

HUSBAND!MATT STURNIOLO X F!WIFE!READER

warnings: this is a complete au - like no youtube, no brothers, no nothing btw!! toxic relationship (like insane), pure obsession - this is all fiction ofc!! id add more warnings to make that statement more understandable, but then it’d give everything away lol (the song is Important!!)

guys this is genuinely like insane so be warned LMAO (ALL FICTION!! remember that)

wc: 2,431

a/n: gif creds to @mattsturnioloarchive !! guys i actually cant like i love luvcat so bad (i have a draft of their other song Matador but it isnt finished yet </3) - the song is basically the plot so i definitely recommend listening to it!!

SYNOPSIS: Your husband has been and always will be yours.. forever.

Matthew was yours.. it was obvious.

Ever since you both have gotten married, your feelings towards him have only seemed to heighten. He was always there for you, he was at his happiest when with you. Everyone knew that. At least, that’s what you believed.

On the days Matt needed to attend work were your most boring ones. It might’ve been pathetic to depend on someone so heavily, but, truly, that was the least of your worries. As you lie on your shared bed, your eyes carefully watch the ceiling fan spin around and around and around..

Sitting up instantly once the sound of the front door clicking open echoes through the house, your lips curl up.

Matt was home.

Dashing out of the room, you lean against the wall as you watch your husband sluggishly set down his briefcase, readjusting the black-framed glasses atop his nose. He looks up from the floor and meets your gaze, a soft smile appearing on his pink lips. He licks them before slowly making his way over to you. “Missed you.” Matt mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he leans forward to hide his nose into your neck.

A quiet chuckle leaves you at the affection. Instinctively, your arms round his shoulders as you hug him closer to you. He was so intoxicating.. he was yours.. yours, yours, yours.

Inhaling as your eyes flutter shut, you relish in the smell of him. A mix of his natural scent and the lingering cologne that he had sprayed on that morning filled your nose, relaxing you further. Your hand mindlessly brushes through the back of his hair, eliciting a soft hum from the man. Just the sound alone made a wave of satisfaction wash over you. He needed you.. needed you, needed you, needed you.

“You need me.” It wafts from your lips like a breeze, blowing away before anyone could hear. Your arms subconsciously tighten around him, eyes opening as you stare forward at the wall a few feet from you.

“Hm?” Matt hums, pulling back slightly. With a shake of your head in response, you let your hands glide down his arms. His eyes possess such love, it was sinful. Wandering eyes meet his as you take him in, forever greedy for his attention. He was a drug to you; something you needed to keep you going, to keep with you forever.

“I made you dinner.” You say, though it was routine by now. You walk towards the kitchen, taking the already made plate out of the microwave where you had kept it warm. You’ve memorized his schedule by now, so you made his food in the perfect time he’d come home to eat it. Besides, it wasn’t like he could say no to you.

You watch the way his lips quiver slightly - as if not enjoying the thought of eating your meal. The gesture was barely noticeable, but you caught it - to you, it was clear. No, this wasn’t right. He’s yours - Matt’s yours. He’d do anything for you.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Matt utters softly, fixing his glasses again before taking a seat at the dinner table. You watch him carefully, studying his body language. With a curt hum and nod, you place the dish in front of him. The bottom of the chair scratches against the floor as you pull it out from under the table. Sitting down, your eyes never leave Matt.

“How was your day?” You ask - routine. Matt lets out an exhale as he picks up his fork, stabbing at the food on his plate before bringing it up to his lips. Your eyes stay on him, needing to see anything he does. You’ve come to terms with the fact his love for you will never equal to yours. You’re obsessed; utterly, truly obsessed. Maybe it was unhealthy, but you didn’t care - you had Matt, what were you to complain about?

Matt swallows, small marks along his lips appearing before going away again. “S’fine.” He murmurs, keeping his gaze on his plate. It was often his mood would switch like this. Coming home, he’s all over you. But now, as he sits and eats your food, Matt acts as if he was being forced to do so. He wasn’t. He wasn’t being forced, you’d never do that. You’d never force -

“Yours?”

You blink. “It was okay.” You reply. You subconsciously pick at your nails as you look at him. “Boring without you.” You add. Your stomach swarms with butterflies as your eyes catch the slight shift of his lips, the ends of them turning up a little. Did he like the thought of you missing him? Noted.

“Um, I was talking to Josh today,” Matt begins, trying to start conversation (maybe to distract you from the way his fork swirls his food around, not eating it - it was obvious). You tilt your head, keeping silent as you let him continue. “He reminded me of my break coming up next week and I thought, maybe, we could go somewhere?” He suggests, glancing over at you. Finally, he’s looking at you. His words make a smile spread on your lips, a warmth spreading through your chest.

“I’d love that, Matt.” You coo, nodding. God, you bathed in the way a soft smile curls on his pink lips. It was addicting. It reminded you of the way he used to smile and giggle at certain things you both would talk about years ago when you had started dating. Oh, how you wish you could bottle those memories up and keep them forever. Forever, forever, forever..

“Good. It’d be nice to.. get away for a bit.” Matt nods, seemingly picking his words carefully. Your eyes glance him over before nodding. You lick over your teeth, swallowing heavily. You inhale deeply, sitting up as you stare at him. Matt notices the change, but doesn’t speak on it. Sometimes it’s better when he kept his mouth shut.

“Finish your food.”

By the time the night had rolled around, you decided to take a shower. Too many thoughts were consuming you - too many, too many.

A soft exhale left you as you step under the warm stream of the water. Shutting your eyes, you let it flow along your body, relaxing your tense limbs. Though, it doesn’t wash away your thoughts - as much as you wish it did. Jumping slightly once you hear the door squeak, your head snaps over to the direction as you wipe the water from your eyes.

“Can I join you?” Matt’s voice sounds above the running water. His figure was distorted through the glass wall, but you nod. He seems to understand as he strips himself from his clothes, glasses already off for the night. As he slides the cold door open, he quickly slots behind you. It wasn’t rare, occurrences like this - but it wasn’t as often as you’d like.

With him beside you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he seems thinner than before. You’ve made him dinner, you’ve kept him fed.. he had no reason to be getting skinnier? Your hand reaches out and gently rests on his stomach, light goosebumps on his skin from being partly out of the warm water, the cold air contrasting it. Your eyes meet his once his large palms cup your cheeks, making you look at him.

“What’s wrong?” Matt coos, his thumb gently caresses your cheekbone. A pit deepens in your stomach at his question. What were you to tell him?

You smile softly. “Nothing.”

That night, you were woken up by the way Matt thrashed against the sheets. Your eyes flutter open as you squint, not yet used to the darkness in the room. You turn on your opposing side, instantly sitting up once you notice the way your husband’s face scrunches up in his sleep, head moving against his soft pillow. Quiet whispers - pleas - of “no, no, no,” fall from his perfect lips. What was he dreaming about?

Your hand gently holds his arm as you softly shake him awake. “Matt.. Matt,” you murmur quietly, not wanting to startle him even more. “Baby, wake up.” You whisper, tightening your grip on his bicep before his eyes snap open. “Hey, hey, relax. It’s alright.” You coo, wrapping your arm around his shoulders to help him lean on you. He lets out a shaky exhale and hesitates at first (an action you were quick to take note of), before he wraps himself in to you, hiding his face in your neck. “What were you dreamin’ about?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through his hair soothingly.

Matt shivered, his nose tickling your skin as he digs his face in further - as if trying to hide in your skin. “C.. Couldn’t leave.” He stammers quietly, voice cutting out either from the memory or from him just waking up. Either way, that was all you could get out of him. Couldn’t leave? Couldn’t leave what? Leave.. leave.. leave..

When you had woken up the next morning, you were alone.

He was just at work. He was at work - Matt was at work.

Your day carried on, occupied with watching the washing machine spin and spin and spin.. until the front door chimes as Matt comes home. Like the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that..

Getting up from your crouched position in front of the machine, your dress straightens out. You decided that today was the day - it was perfect. With that, you also dressed up for the occasion. A nice, long dress sits on you, the light clacking of your heels against the floorboards echoing through the house. You’d done yourself up; you needed this to be special.

“Why’re you so dressed up?” Was the first thing that came out of Matt’s mouth. You quickly dismiss it, waving your hand. The repetitive sound of his briefcase being placed on the floor hits your ears. It was routine, of course.

“No reason.” You reply, glancing over at the kitchen before locking eyes with him again. You notice the way he blinks several times, something clearly bothering him. “Are you okay, honey?” You ask, brows furrowed in concern as you watch him.

Matt shakes his head, rubbing his blue eyes to try and clear his vision. “Yeah, ‘m’fine.” He mumbles. “Just blurry.” He adds. You hum and nod, the skin around his eyes turning a light shade of red from the irritation of his fingers rubbing against it.

“I made you some tea.” You say, moving to the kitchen counter as you pour some into a small glass. “Just relax, sweetheart.” You coo, gliding your hand along his back as you gently bring him to the dinner table again. As soon as he sits, you place the cup in front of him. Your ears immediately pick up the soft, shaky sigh that leaves your husband’s lips. He reaches forward and hooks his finger through the small loop, bringing it up to his mouth. It wasn’t like he could say no to you.. he couldn’t, he couldn’t, couldn’t.

“How was your day?” Praxis.

Matt falters, face scrunching slightly as he blinks. Your head tilts slightly as you watch him, standing before his sitting form. Blue eyes become hidden from his eyelids as he blinks slowly, the glass from his hand slipping as it falls to the floor. The sharp sound reverberates through the room, though you keep your stance.

“Wha.. what was in that?” Matt slurs, hands grasping at the table weakly. He tries to push himself up, standing on shaky legs. His chest heaves as he looks over at you. Every action of his seemed like it took all of his strength as his chipped nails dig into the wood of the dinner table. He inhales a deep, loud breath as he tries to regain his breathing, though it only seems to deplete the more he tried.

“It’s okay, Matt.” You coo softly, walking closer to him. The sound of your heels ring in his ears as he grimaces, body hunched over as he breathes quiveringly. “It’s just us.. forever.” You exhale, lips curling up as you cup his cheeks. Drooping eyes meet yours as the white in his seem to become discolored, a faint red showcasing the irritation happening. His lips are parted as he heaves, hands now located on your hips as he fingers harshly dig in to your skin through your dress.

Matt shakes his head - well, as much as he can with such weak movements. He lets out a choked sound, a dry swallow following. “No.. no,” he mumbles. “Can’t leave.” He whispers, his words from last night repeating in your head. Your jaw clenches as your hands glide back, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” you murmur, slowly starting to move. The movements were slow, not correlated. You hum softly, eyes fluttering shut as you take gentle steps with Matt. The sound of music begins as it takes over your mind, adding to the poetic scenery.

Hand in hand, you dance with him as you take slow, deliberate steps. You hum along, shoes clicking against the floor as you move with the remaining life of your husband. You didn’t care for the sounds of the washing machine anymore, or the ceiling fan - or Matt’s head aches, or his dreams. He’s happiest with you.. with you, with you..

“No one will love you like I do.” The whisper falls from your lips quietly, but it rings in Matt’s ears. You inhale deeply, soaking in the situation as you spend the last few minutes with your husband. “You’re my man.” My man, my man.. mine, mine..

“You wanted to go somewhere, Matt.” You say, still slow dancing with him. His body, though clinging to you, only weakens as minutes pass by. “I’ll take you there.” You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. “It’s just us.. just us. Forever.” You whisper, lips curling up.

“Forever.” Matt breathes, his grasp on you slowly loosening.

Your grin widens as you nod. The music increases, louder and louder as Matt begins to fall. You follow with him, keeping your arms around him as he collapses. “To hell and back.” You promise, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

As his head rolls to the side, eyes still open, the music fades. It’s done - over. He’s with you forever.. forever, forever.

“Me and my man.”

tags!: @chrissv4mp @mattybsgroupie @emotionalblues @jetaimevous @sturnobsessedwh0re @fratboychrisera @witchofthehour @lizzymacdonald06 @mattslolita @little-miss-shay @mattsdirtylittlehoe @y0urval3ntine @pinksturniolo @x0x0bunny @blahbel668 @chrisbesitos @fratbrochrisgf @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @gabri3la-sturns @ncm9696 @strnilolover @luv-sturno @pr3ttyf4wn

[httpsghostie]

I’m a new follower but I literally so obsessed it’s unhealthy. Like it’s to the point where I just daydream about the fics you wrote.

My birthday is coming up, and my dirty mind is restless.

I am not requesting a whole fic, maybe a Drabble about female reader with König and Ghost 🤭 and they find out it’s her birthday 🤭 and give her a very… big… birthday present. 😏😏😏. I am sorry 😂

(If anything makes you uncomfortable please ignore this.)

Big fan,

Love you. ❤️❤️

Birthday Gift

honestly? no words, we're the same

btw happy birthday!!!! wish you the best (by that I mean I hope you find yourself between ghost and könig)!! ilyyy <33

this is so filthy why am I like this

hope you enjoyyy!

Summary: it's your birthday and your friends want to give you a big present.

Word Count: 1,8k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader x König, unprotected piv and dvp sex (dont b silly wrap your weenie), breeding kink, lots of pet names, no use of y/n

masterlist

On a typical morning of work, you found yourself casually having breakfast with Price. It wasn't common for him to be around for more than ten minutes, so you just enjoyed a little bit of bonding with your captain, who almost always treated you like a long distance daughter.

"You're gonna get older in a few days." He started, sipping his coffee. "Excited?"

"Yay, minus one year!" You cheered playfully and he chuckled. He was the only one in the squad who knew your birthday anyway.

As he finished his plate, he grabbed his hat from the table and excused himself off, and you followed your day with the chores you were assigned to.

A few days passed by and it was finally your big day, and you were woken up in the middle of the night by your teammates knocking on your door. As you sleepily opened the door, you couldn't hold back a smile.

They were in party hats, and Soap was in the middle, holding a definitely homemade cake, telling you to make a wish. You chuckled at the sight, a little bit of the pink icing simply falling on his finger. You closed your eyes and blew the candles, and they invited themselves in.

They thought of everything, they were able to sneak a few plates, forks, cups, soda and especially the cake into your room without disturbing any other soldiers. You all sat in a circle on the ground and ate the cake, giggling and chuckling quietly like you were all teenagers in a sleepover. Slowly they went back to their rooms, leaving you, Ghost and König behind.

They looked at each other nervously, and you couldn't comprehend what they were trying to telepathically communicate, mostly because emotions couldn't be displayed over the fabric that covered their faces. Ghost wore a simple black balaclava and König wore his usual t-shirt hood.

"So…" Ghost cleared his throat in annoyance at König's obliviousness. "We have a present for you."

"If you want." König added.

"If you want." Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"I mean- I do, what is it?" You chuckled in confusion, looking at them.

Ghost clears his throat and slowly gets up from the floor you were all sitting on. König follows his lead and they both stand towering over you. You get on your knees to get up too, but König's hand gently presses your shoulder back down.

"You know," Ghost starts untying the knot of his sweatpants and pulling them down together with his boxers, enough to expose his already hard member, "we just didn't have the time to wrap it."

He placed the tip on your lips and slowly pushed himself inside your mouth. What the fuck was happening? You thought to yourself, but you weren't mad, though.

König got rid of his clothes, tapping his dick on your face, and you pulled away from Ghost with a pop, jerking him off. Your lips met with the precum seeping out of König's tip.

"Been dying to know how those pretty lips feel around my cock." He said between gritted teeth as he entered your mouth slowly.

You bobbed your head up and down, trying to take the most you could, but they were so big. Ghost held your hand firmly around his cock and slowly fucked your fist as König held your hair in a ponytail so it didn't fall on your face.

You pulled away once again and sucked Ghost eagerly, gagging when he brushed his dick in your throat. Your hands jerked König off at the same speed you bobbed your head.

König couldn't contain himself anymore, he needed to be inside of you, he needed to stretch you out. He picked you up and threw you on the bed, taking your pants off instantly. Ghost took his clothes off, and then your shirt, and positioned himself beside you, one of his hands holding the back of your knee to spread for König.

The austrian man spared no time to go down on you, his tongue swirling around your already wet folds. He moaned into your clit as he masturbated, imagining how tight you'd feel, Ghost watched as you moaned under him. His tongue worked magically, and you lost it when he inserted two fingers inside of you.

But he was impatient, he only did that for you to grow used to his not so subtle size. He towered over you and lined himself with your entrance, pushing it deep inside and holding your legs around his waist.

“Bet she’s fucking tight, eh?” Ghost murmured, lost in the heat of your pussy swallowing such a fat cock. He got closer to you, his dick hovering over your face. You licked a long strike from his balls to his extremity, and took him all in your mouth. Your hand grabbed his thigh as he was kneeling beside you, and signaled for him to define the pace. “What a slut, huh? Want me to fuck your mouth, is that it?” He growled in his thick accent.

You nodded anxiously, the feeling of being stuffed almost too overwhelming. He fucked your mouth ruthlessly, inevitably making you choke and gag, drooling all over yourself. König watched as you had fun on Ghost’s cock and buried himself deep into your cervix, mercilessly pounding into you.

“You take us so well, liebling.” He whined, holding your hips firmly. You couldn’t help but moan at the sudden roughness, but your moans were muffled as your mouth was filled. Ghost’s hand traveled to your clit, where he started to draw circles and rip a few more cries from you. König held your thighs against you and railed whatever thoughts you had on your brain.

“Be a good girl ‘n cum for us.” Ghost demanded as he pulled away from your mouth and you were finally able to gasp for air. König’s thrusts combined with Ghost’s hand stimulating your clit were too much to take, and the knot inside of your stomach rapidly increased.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You whined pathetically, and they didn’t stop. König reached a spot you didn’t even know he could, and you weren’t able to hold it anymore, orgasming on his dick and clenching around him.

“There you go, engel.” König said, pulling out. He caressed your fucked out face and lifted his hood to plant a kiss on your lips, that turned into him sucking and biting your neck.

Ghost grabbed you from the waist and flipped you over, pulling you by the hips and brushing the tip of his cock all around your vulva. König sat down in front of you and jerked his throbbing length slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. Something about his innocent eyes behind that mask was so sexy. Ghost entered your abused hole and gave you a second to adjust, he wasn’t as big as König, but he was far from average too. Everything about them was far beyond average.

The soothing touch of Ghost’s hands on your ass were soon washed away when he started to fuck you viciously, digging his nails on your flesh. König also impatiently grabbed your hair and made you suck on his cock, one hand holding the base of it. He didn’t push you, instead he held your head firmly and bucked his hips up in order to fuck your mouth. You looked at him with innocent eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“‘M gonna use this pretty cunt of yours as my fucking toy.” Ghost muttered in a husky voice. “Show me how needy you are.” He gripped your hips so strong you swore it would bruise. He slammed his weight on you relentlessly, your moans vibrating on König’s cock.

“That’s it, hase, ‘feel so fucking good.” König whimpered.

The sounds in your room were unholy, the air was filled with lust and sex, and you felt another climax approaching. König pulled you up, manhandling you to straddle his lap, and made you sit on his shaft. You whined at the sudden loss of Ghost’s dick and the denial of your orgasm, but gladly bounced on König, your ass jiggling up and down. Ghost came right behind you, lining himself with your pussy and thrusting hard into you, making you feel even more filled, if that was even possible.

“Look at this,” Ghost said, “taking two cocks in your pussy.” You moaned in response, your forehead laying against König’s chest. “Tell us the truth, you’ve been dreaming about this, don’t you?” Your eyes meet König’s, and you nod. His head falls back and he rolls his eyes. “I asked you a question.” Ghost chokes you firmly, raising your chest.

“Yes, fuck.” You whimper, closing your eyes as another wave of heat clashed against your bruised flesh. “I’ve been needing this for way too long.” He smirks.

“Don’t tell me.” He says in a low and cocky tone. “That’s why you stare at us like there’s no tomorrow, huh?” He said in between breaths. 

The heat of an orgasm hits you again, and you cry out in pleasure, legs trembling as König holds your thighs firmly and looks deeply in your eyes.

“I can’t…” You manage out a moan. “Too much…” Your brain was melting at this point.

“Shh, hase, didn’t you say you wanted this?” König pleaded. “Shut up and take your birthday gift. It’s not our fault that you’re a needy whore that won’t stop coming on our cocks.” Ghost widens his eyes at the sudden words of the impatient König beneath you, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed, cheeks painted red with shame. König whined, digging his nails even deeper on your hips, desperately trying to reach his high. “Want my cum inside you?” 

You press your lips together, feeling sweat dripping on your spine as Ghost holds your arms on your sides, and you nod. He inserts two fingers in your mouth, smiling when you gag on them. And he comes. You feel the warm seeds filling your pussy as he pulls out, leaving Ghost to chase his climax alone, fucking his cum back into your walls.

He unexpectedly pulls out and grabs a fistful of your hair as he gets up and stands in front of you, his cock already coated with König’s cum. He jerks himself relentlessly in front of you until he cums on your tongue, his head falling back and rolling his eyes. You swallow his bitter cum and suck him a few more times.

“Well, happy birthday.” He says, lifting the mask and giving you a peck on your sweaty forehead.

[reiderwriter]

Hi love! How are you? I'm currently obsessed with your content and I was hoping I could make a request?

I have this idea of Spencer just like reading a great book and maybe his bombshell girlfriend just loves to see him read cause, of course he looks AMAZING, so she gets a little flustered and h@rney because of him, and while Spencer often can't believe he has such a gorgeous girlfriend he still gets all cocky and proud for how obsessed she is with him.

Something like fluff and smut maybe?

Also if this doesn't resonate with you feel free to ignore it. Thanks and lots of love!

(hope I'm making the request in the right place btw <3)

A/N: Hello! This was absolutely the right place to request. Thank you once again for sending it in! I made this one a little bit soppy and soft, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! As much as I love rough/dominant/ playful smut, tender smut does sometimes just have me feeling very 👉👈☺️ you know?

Find my masterlist here ❤️

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mutual masturbation, tender sex, slight thigh riding, hints at soft!Dom Spencer

You were usually happy to pick up a book and read along with Spencer when he got in one of these days, but today something felt charged.

You weren't sure if it was the way his hands were tensed, flowing across the page like it was his one mission in life to take in every word ever written, or the way his hair half hung in his face, but he'd enraptured you.

You sat in a suspended daze, not looking away, grin splitting your face without a care in the world.

When he got like this, it was like your heart was going to burst with admiration.

“Y/N, you're staring at me.” He tried to make the words stern, keeping his eyes on his book and continuing to read, but you noticed his hand having to go over the same spot two or three times, noticed the pink hue of his cheeks as you leaned in and tucked his hair out of his eye. You made sure to let your hands linger, falling down from his ear to his neck slowly as you let them fall away from him.

“How could I not stare at you?” You caught his eye and your heart sang, kneeling up on the sofa next to him as you basked in the sunlight of his attention.

“I thought you wanted to read?” He laughed a little, fingers stilled on the page as his other hand cradled the spine in one. You felt ridiculous feeling jealous of how tenderly he held the book, how you desperately wanted his fingers to run across your skin like that.

You wondered what words he would read across your face, your thighs, your breasts and hips. You wondered what telling signs of devotion would be inscribed there.

“Spencer, please put the book down,” you held out a hand for the book as you said the words, and he contemplated for a second before giving in. “Thank you.”

You carefully placed a bookmark in the book - habit not necessity - and scooted an inch closer to your partner.

“Spencer. You are too distracting. I cannot read, and therefore, neither can you.”

“But I'm not distracted, Y/N.” He laughed a little at your childlike jealousy, the poit forming on your lips as you pushed up against him in protest of his words.

“I'm sure I can distract you if you'd like.” You lay your hand over his crotch then, slowly tracing your lusty thoughts through his pants.

“You're a brat, you know that?” He whispered, bringing a hand over yours. He didn't stop you though, but controlled your movements, showing you how hard you should press, how fast your movements should go. You loved this silent guidance from him, loved that he took you seriously enough to show you what he needed.

“Takes one to know one.” You winked back at him and his face flushes some more, a giggle escaping your lips as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons.

He pressed a kiss to your lips and grabbed your hip with his spare hand, pulling you into his lap within another shared breath.

“Then I guess we'll just have to make each other behave,” he whispered, tugging your skirt up just as you managed to free his cock from his pants. He lifted his hips slightly to push the clothing down into a more comfortable position, before placing his lips back over yours, letting his fingers blindly find your center.

His hands slid along your skin with all the care and attention you were used to. He was always light and teasing with his touches, caressing you until the point of insanity before pushing you further and sending you spiralling into a fit of pleasure.

As his fingers swirled across your clit you moaned into his kiss, keeping your pace on his cock steady as you both worked towards your climax.

These lazy embraces were the highlight of your monotony, the bliss found in each others hugs, kisses, touches and caresses enough to sustain you for weeks.

You never could keep your hands off of him for that long though.

“Spencer, please, I'm going to cum.” You whimpered as his thumb dragged across your clit, other fingers exploring your depths now.

Your hips rocked against his dominant hand as his other guided your own still, his small hisses and moans only spurring you on and working you up, nearing your finishing line.

“Y/N, you're so beautiful.” He moaned, stilling your hand as his cock twitched, shooting his white load across the bottom of your stomach and underside of your dress.

The sight of him coming undone in your hand was enough to have you clenching around his fingers. He didn't stop but let you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, stroking your back and smoothing your hair out as you regained your breath and composure.

“I need to clean up.” You whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

“We need to clean up. How about a bath?”

With a smile and a giggle, you pressed another lingering kiss to his temple before slowly climbing up and off of him.

“No books allowed, though?” You said, questioning the man's motives.

“My hands are yours, Y/N.” you rolled your eyes and dragged him up, letting him cradle you in his arms as you walked to the bathroom joint at the hip.

[vngelicc]

𓆩♡𓆪 “he a eater, he ate it for lunch” — jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — munch!jk, lots of pussy eating, rimming, cum-eating(?), brief fucking, unprotected sex, jk’s obsession with pussy eating, little to no dirty talk, reader being her cute bimbo self, talks about sex (jk’s made fun of), man’s a ass eater too btw

Jungkook didn’t care that people were staring at him for having a handful of your ass sitting in his hand. He used his hold to gently guide you around the store, steering you away from places you tended to wander off to. He didn’t want you leaving his side, especially since you were in those pretty pink velvet shorts.

You looked adorably slutty today.. With your little white hairclaw, a matching pink sweater with a white tank top that made your tits pop out beautifully and those damned shorts that hugged your ass tightly. To top it all off you were drinking your little pink drink because Jungkook couldn’t say no when you asked for Starbucks before the store.

So here you were, happily sipping on your drink and walking about the store with him. He held the basket with ease in his other hand as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and stuff that had happened prior. Jungkook only hummed in response with the occasional “Yeah baby?” while he picked out stuff he needed for his apartment.

“I got a perfect score on my essay today, the teacher even says that I would make a heck of a lawyer with my arguments!” You giggle, bouncing in excitement as you twirl to face him with puppy eyes, “But I wouldn’t wear those ugly colors they all wear, I would make my suit a different color like baby pink..maybe even pastel purple.”

Jungkook quirks a brow at this, “A lawyer? Are you gonna help me out in case I ever get into trouble?” He teases. You shake your head no with a ‘mm-mm’. “Oh? Why not baby?”

“Because if you’re my client I won’t be able to give you a good luck kiss for the trial..” You pout.

Jungkook laughs, “You’re so fucking cute.” He ruffles your hair and then pats your bum, “Alright, to the seasoning aisle, we’re going to make some spicy ass chicken curry tonight.” He nods his head in the direction of the exit, “And you can’t back out this time y/n, you promised you’d eat with me.”

You pout at him, “But-but, it’s too hot for me! It makes my tongue burn and my tummy upset.” You try reasoning with him but he isn’t having it either. He asks you to get something he needs from the lower shelf and without thinking much of it you bend over to get it.

Jungkook’s mouth gapes open, not only is your beautiful ass on show for him, but the shorts dip low to expose the hem of your thong. Not just any… the fucking g-string he got you with those gold letters on the back. “JK” stares back at him almost tauntingly, shimmering in the light as the two letters dangle from the pretty chain on your g-string.

“You’re wearing them?” He says in shock, “I didn’t think you’d actually use them..” He trails off given your reaction to the panties last time.

You stand up straight and tilt your head, “The panties you got me? Oh yes! They looked cute with my outfit so I put them on. Everyone thought it looked so pretty on me! Jihyo even asked me to ask you where you got them from because she wants her own too.”

He looks back down at your ass and curses because he can’t think of anything other than the g-string sitting underneath. “I think I got everything I need.” He rushes out.

That’s how you find yourself in the backseat of Jungkook’s car, legs tossed over his shoulders and hands tangled in his hair. Your shorts are long gone and the thong is hanging around your ankle, dangling around as your leg jerks every so often from the pleasure. There’s loud slurping noises that emit from between your thighs.

Jungkook works his tongue over your clit slowly, trailing down below to your slicked up hole. He flicks his tongue over and over, swiping it from side to side and up/down. The radio does nothing to obscure the slick and gushing noises from your pussy.

“Mmm,” you hike your thighs higher and press them against your chest, “stop teasing me,” you huff quietly, “you’re no fair.” You say, hooking your hands under the back of your knees and holding your legs up for him.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, instead he takes your ass in his hands and spreads you wide on his tongue. He nibbles on your clit teasingly knowing that you like the overstimulating feeling it gives you. His finger teasingly rubs against your puckered rim, he finds it cute that you tense up and whine at him to leave the backdoor alone.

“Jungkook,” you whimper out, toes curling as his tongue swipes over your swollen clit repeatedly.

Jungkook softly pants and pulls away, letting spit dribble down your cunt as it slides down between your ass cheeks. “Best fuckin’ meal.” He licks a stripe across your cunt to prove his point.

You wiggle around underneath him and gyrate your hips towards his mouth invitingly. You desperately want his tongue back on you, and you’re fucked stupid at this point and can’t collect your thoughts properly. “J-Jungkook,” you softly whine, drool slipping past your lips.

Jungkook coos softly, “I know baby, lay back, don’t need to worry that pretty little head about anything.” He dives back down to lick over your pussy over and over again.

More moans poured from your lips as you closed your eyes in bliss. He worked his tongue over and over again against your sensitive clit. You catch a glimpse of his expression and find him with his eyes closed, he moves from your clit to your gushing hole as he basically makes out with your pussy. His nose occasionally bumps into your clit and that alone is enough to send you into an orgasm.

“Mmm..!” Your back arches and you hold on to his hair to keep him in his place.

Jungkook slows down to let you ride out your orgasm in peace, his grip on your cheeks loosen and he greedily slurps up your cum. Your legs feel like jello as they drop down from his shoulders and you lay there trying to recover from the intensity.

“Thanks for the lunch.” Jungkook grins, patting your sensitive pussy gently.

+

The apartment was filled with loud laughter and the sounds of beer bottles clinking together. Jungkook was surprisingly alone tonight, so that called for a guys night with him, Jimin, Yugyeom, and his roommate Seokjin. Beer and fried chicken were given of course.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Yugyeom slaps Jungkook on his shoulder, “Your little girlfriend be occupying all your time, she doesn’t leave any for us man.” He whines.

The others agree with nods, Jungkook simply shrugs, “I rather hang with her than with you guys, Jin I see you everyday so you don’t count.” He nonchalantly says.

“Brat.” Jimin sticks his tongue out, “Name some fun shit you and y/n do, and sex doesn’t count.” Laughter erupts around the living room.

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer, “We’re always out and about buying shit from different places, it’s fun to shop for home stuff and shit. I run errands with her, we watch anime here or at her place. We play street fighter, go out to eat,” he shrugs, “we do a bunch of shit together. Productive shit.”

The boys collectively nod and Yugyeom clears his throat to speak, “That’s cool, I see why you hang out with her now. I mean I believe Kook on this one, my girl’s friends with y/n, she says y/n’s really fun to hang out with.”

“Who? Jisoo?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah, she always tells me what they talk about and shit. I didn’t know they talked about our sex life so often, Kook she talks about you too. Jisoo called you a munch.” Yugyeom laughs, elbowing Jungkook.

Jungkook snorts, “I don’t care I eat pussy, is that a crime?” He smirks with his hands raised, “I meannnn.. If you aren’t eating her for lunch and dinner something’s wrong with you. It’s a fucking crime even,” Jungkook slaps Yugyeom on the back.

The guys laugh loudly and Seokjin manages to speak in-between his laughter, “It’s true, I probably walked in on them like three times by now. All three he’s down there gettin’ to business with her. Don’t think he’s exaggerating, not even for a damn minute.”

“Danggg I can’t get that image outta my head.” Jimin shakes his head with laughter. “What else don’t we know about you?”

“I’d eat her ass if she let me.” Jungkook shrugs. The guys laugh even louder but Jungkook doesn’t care, “She’s got a fat ass what can I say?”

+

Jungkook was hitting it from behind and all his eyes could focus on was the way your cheeks bounced and slapped against his hips. Your tight puckered hole sat so sinisterly, winking back at him as if asking him to touch, inviting even. Your moans spilled from your lips and filled the once quiet room up.

He grunted with effort and pushed the hair out of his face so he could watch your soft globes bounce in tandem with his thrusts. The sounds your pussy made were obscene, it made his gut coil in hot white pleasure. He could see a ring of white form around the base of his cock every time he pulled out.

The intrusive thoughts were winning, Jungkook found it harder to contain himself with every thrust. He bites his lip and fucks into your creamy pussy harder to distract himself, he braces his hands on either side of you as he snaps his hips upward. You let out a surprised whimper and arch your back, “Jungkook..!” Then you do the most sinful thing ever, the nail to the coffin..you reach behind you to hold your ass apart for him, whimpering about how good it felt etc.

He fucking loses it.

He swiftly pulls out of you and gets on his knees, immediately diving in with an insatiable hunger. Jungkook eats you out like a man starved, his tongue is swiping through your creamy folds, trying to get every nook and cranny. His hands replace your own and hold your cheeks apart for him.

You let out a garbled moan, head falling into the pillows as your knees shift helplessly on the bed. You shakily poke your hand down there to rub quick circles on to your throbbing clit. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind and focuses on lapping up the mess your hole made.

Your words are slurred, drool dribbles down on to the pillow you have your head laid on. Your hips stutter in their movements as you rock back to meet his tongue. “S-So good, mmm, g-gonna c-cum.” You whine.

Jungkook pulls back, spitting onto your untainted hole as he watches it dribble down. You whine louder but it’s cut short when he puts his whole fucking mouth over your rim, licking at puckered hole. It’s definitely new for you, and in the heat of the moment you let it happen as you decide to rub your clit faster.

Jungkook’s eyes are closed as he happily sucks and licks at your sensitive rim, he dips his tongue in teasingly. Your body jolts in surprise, a loud cry leaving you as your thighs begin to shake. He doesn’t even dip his tongue in any further when he suddenly feels you shudder, indicating your orgasm.

“Fuck baby. I could do this shit all day, with an ass like this you deserve it.” He slaps your cheek, not minding that he didn’t cum at all.

You pant softly, turning on your side to face him with a blotchy face, “You’re so mean..” You pout softly and make grabby hands, “Cuddles?”

He licks his lips with a teasing little grin, “Least I know baby likes getting her ass ate.” It earns him a smack on the chest but he simply curls up with you in arms, totally worth it.

HE’S BACk!

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess

[strawb3rrystar]

HII!! I absolutely ADORE your writing!! Could you please write a jellyfish!reader x helluva boss (mainly Stolas, Blitzø, Ozzie and Fizzy but if you want to add more characters that’s fine!!)

(https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/897834875718584016/)

like a reader who’s whole colour palette is blue, purple and pink which contracts the red, black and white vibe in hell and is UNDENIABLY beautiful. Like, reader is absolutely ethereal and has the jellyfish haircut!! The reader COULD rival an overlord (maybe a sin if they made deals with others!!) with their strength and the fact they could electrify, shock and sting others- the fact they’re so CALM yet so elegant is an understatement. They rarely get mad or upset and when they do, it’s so passive aggressive that its just the slight insults, leaving out the person or just harming them straight away. Btw reader would be able to glow in the dark, doesn’t have a brain but is EXTREMELY intelligent (could be immortal as some jellyfish are), doesn’t feel pain, no heart (bones or blood) and is just made of 95% water YET looks so human-like and beautiful (has the human body yet no organs etc. think of a mirage, an illusion. They are demon(human) like, they have a body but it’s completely water. Not that you could tell. Their skin is pale, almost white, they’re almost ghostly yet so beautifully created. I don’t think jellyfish can sleep either and I’d like to think that jellyfish!reader died in the water while observing jellyfish, they were so SO obsessed with jellyfish yet they died by one and I’d also like to think they would have some sort of power with water, due to the fact they’re mainly water (and electricity, poison).

How would they react to jellyfish!reader?

Don'tcha know? Jellyfish are brainless.

Pairing: Stolas, Blitzø, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli x GN! Jellyfish! Reader

Warnings: None I think, mostly platonic!

Word count: 450

✰Masterlist

Stolas thinks you look extremely cool. Lets say he saw you on one of his outings. You immediately catch his eye because of your practically see-through body. He had never seen a Sinner look like you before. Of course he has a book about jellyfish in his collection though. So he already knows a lot about them. But he'll ask you a bunch of questions and write them in a little notebook. He finds it quite interesting that you don't have a brain, but are completely capable of functioning. Though, if he really thinks about it, if you did have a brain it would just be floating around. Which would probably be very strange.

Blitzø thinks you look badass. You were one of his clients when you met. He was enthralled by your jellyfish look and your need to take revenge on the living world. Lets just say, the two of you hit it off. He might even ask you to work for I.M.P as like his assistant or something. He'll ask you a ton of questions, most of them revolving around sex... He doesn't realize you don't sleep until you stayed in the office for a full 24 hours. He then felt stupid for not taking that into consideration. Basically, you make him feel stupid because you don't have a brain, but you're smarter than him.

Asmodeus thinks you look adorable. The first time you guys met, he assumed you were from the Envy ring and was just visiting the Pride ring like him. But he was wrong, very, very wrong. To find out you were a sinner was a shock to him. Like jaw on the floor type shocked. Will buy you jellyfish themed things when he finds out you love jellyfish. Maybe he'll even get you a pet jellyfish. His trips to the Pride ring become more frequent, just to see you. When you tell him you died looking at jellyfish, he's surprised once again. Considering they were your cause of death, your love for them didn't waver.

Fizzarolli thinks you look amazing in every way. You first met at one of his shows in the Pride ring. You caught his eye with your jelly-watery body. He probably points it out during the show, mentioning how cool you looked. You were a bit shy to be the center of attention, but you still decided to come up with him after the show. You two make jokes and laugh until someone else comes up for an autograph. Years later, you meet again. And he's just as mesmerized as the day you met. He wants to know everything about you. So expect a ton of questions heading your way.

Star's notes -> Sorry I didn't add much in the fighting side of things. I completly forgot about that part :[

(Thank you, @scr4luv for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @samohxt2-0 @sunshines-bright @astrolovedy @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss | Join the taglist

[cozymoko]

You wanted requests, right? So what if it was the other way around? Yandere Siyun Baek having to take care of his girlfriend that got sick?

(I hope this requests isn't too boring, love your blog btw ❤❤)

SIYUN BAEK WITH A SICK S/O

Manhwa: “Dreaming Freedom” ~~~~!

Note: Its perfect! Thank you for requesting! Also thank you for reading, you made my day. ♡

Pairing: Siyun Baek x female! reader

Format: Headcanons; 2nd person

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, obsession, mild spoilers

Word Count: ???

It's ALLERGY and/or FLU SEASON, and unfortunately, you've fallen very ill. Best case scenario you'll have a cold and nothing more; a high fever at the worst. But either way, Siyun isn't complaining.

You can't go anywhere? Great! You feel like absolute shit and can barely move from your bed? Oh my, even better! Besides working out, Siyun doesn't have much to pass his time with. He's lonely without you, often finding himself watching the clock, counting the minutes — seconds before you return to him.

But seeing you tucked tightly beneath the pastel duvet, wrapped in a small cocoon. Your cheeks lightly flushed a rather feverish hue, as ragged breaths slipped past your dry lips. Call him crazy but you're absolutely adorable. He could hardly keep his hands to himself!

“Y'know, you look really cute like this {Name}.”

You huffed, “You almost look happy that I'm in this situation.” With a light shove, you pushed his face away from your own for what felt like the thousandth time. Finally ditching the thick sheets, you turn away from him, welcoming the chilled puffs of air to your warm skin.

“Would you be mad if I said I was?” Siyun asked, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek into the tender skin of your own. “God, you're adorable...”

“Yes. Now, let go; I'm burning up.”

Siyun is CLINGY as it is. Therefore, you being bedridden to some degree is right up his alley. Personal space has never been a thing in your relationship, and he's not going to let a little flu stop him. Embracing you, suffocating you with his body; it's all too easy! Pressing sweet, chaste kisses along the warm skin of your neck. Sneakily, dragging his slender fingers beneath the flimsy silk of your pajamas.

In all honesty, he'd rather have you stay at his house until you feel well again. It works pretty well, convenience-wise. It stops him from wrenching your door open, occupying your home with the crying of loud unwavering hinges. Or perhaps even sneaking through your window.

You being so vulnerable excites him in more ways than he'd care to admit. He truly is a pervert. Chewing on his pink lips, even digging his nails into his milky skin, no longer seems to be enough. Though his desires are anything but malicious, Siyun can't help the wandering of his young mind to many, many impure places.

Your parents already adore him, let's be honest! Thus, convincing them to let you stay the night or week should be a piece of cake. It's almost scary, the way he speaks to your parents; so polite and dare I say perfect. It's truly no surprise that he was a former idol, a famous one at that. How could your adoring mother and father not allow such a kind man to nurture and care for your well-being?

Siyun brings your head to his chest, relishing in the heat you radiate. His hands had fallen past your waist, toying with the thin band of your thin shorts. You give his chest a weak push, as a pitiful attempt to distance yourself. But it was no use, he merely pulled you closer, much to your dismay.

“Siyun...” You breathed out, weakly clawing at his slender hands. “Stop this, you're going to get sick.”

He hummed, “Is that so?” Though his hands showed no sign of leaving your waist. Instead, they tugged you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, making you tense in anticipation.

“Then I guess we're just gonna have to be sick together~!” ♡

Let's say you're a STUDENT; high school or college, it's your choice. And due to your abrupt sickness, you're bound to miss at least a handful of classes. But fret not my dear, your classmates are itching to help you out. I mean, you're dating the Siyun Baek after all, just a glance at him could send anything girl into a frenzy!

Thankfully, your teacher settled for your seatmate. A kind, extroverted guy who you got along with quite well. He had managed to get your number due to a recent project and was quick to alert you of his unexpected arrival.

[CHOI BYUNG-CHUL]

➤ Heya [Last Name], the teacher asked me to bring sum missin assignments to ur place. Is that okey with u?

SENT; 17:23

You snort at the scrambled characters, finding some charm amongst the male's easy mistakes. It wasn't something unusual as he was an infamous clutz in your class. So he was likely texting while typing, again. Your fingers hover over the luminous keyboard, before eventually sending him a simple response.

[YOU] ➤ Yeah, it's fine lol. But I'm not home so come to this address “XX XXXX Avenue/Drive/Street” SENT; 17:25

➤ Have a safe trip. :)

SENT; 17:25

While immersed in your phone, you had yet to notice a certain someone looming over you in displeasure. From lack of attention, perhaps. But you had never been one to allow technology to soak up your time, nonetheless when you're ill. So who could possibly be taking up your time? He pondered, glaring hard at the device resting on your hand.

Pulling back the covers, Siyun moved to join you beneath the spotless sheets of the mattress. The dipping of the bed didn't bother you, let alone pull you from the flashing screen of your phone. The ex-idol sighed loudly, shifting to take the pesky item from your protective grip. Only to be brushed off by a bored, dismissive hand.

He. Was. Livid.

“Babe~!” Siyun cooed, though his tone lacked even an ounce of playfulness. “What on your phone could possibly be so damn interestin—” DING DONG!

Whew! Saved by the bell.

“I'll get it.” He murmured under his breath, tossing the thick duvet to the side. The man was quick to leave in long, haste strides, but not before his eyes flicked to your stunned form one last time.

Now, Siyun had expected a lot of things, but this surely wasn't one of them. A shorter male, about five feet seven inches, no older than nineteen was at his door. His mousy brown hair was a mess, and he had a lightly tinted folder tucked tightly beneath his arm.

“H-hi, I'm one of [Last Name]'s classmates and I brought some papers to her.” Byung-Chul commenced, frantically unzipping the top of his backpack. “She — uhm, texted me this address.”

Oh, now it all made sense. The persistent flashing of your phone, snatching your attention right from his grasp. The lighthearted giggles that'd leave your mouth ever so often. Friendly, that they were. Giggles that held no sense of love; merely admiration and glee. Even so, it wasn't good enough.

One could say the latter is quite bitter. And if If looks could kill, your friend would be six — no, ten feet under! And that's being generous. But Siyun knows better than to let his bad side show. Heh, who am I kidding?

A faux smile tugged at the corner of his lips, one he was all too familiar with using. “Ah, I see. Thanks for coming...?”

“Choi Byung-Chul!” He chirped, handing the papers to the former idols' outstretched hand.

“Heh, right,” Siyun scoffs, disinterested. He lazily takes the folder from the male, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. “Since you're already here, I have a little favor for you. If you're up for it.”

“I...um — yeah, sure,” Byung-Chul stammered, looking over the time blaring from the smartwatch adorning his wrist. “I can spare a few minutes. What's up—?”

A sharp pain shot through the poor man's abdomen in mere seconds, sending him crumbling to his knees. Siyun loosely shook his wrist in the air, allowing the gentle breeze to cool the slight stinting of his knuckles. A cold, lifeless expression grazed the face of the once-beloved idol as he watched the man wither beneath his gaze.

“Stay away from [Name]. I wouldn't want anyth ing bad to happen to you~!”

[yurinaa-world]

PLEASE DO A GOJO MEMORIAL POST 🙏🙏🙏🙏ANS SOME HEADCANNON PLS ASWELL TO MEMORIALIZE OUR KING 🕊️🕊️

GOJO MEMORIAL POST

Characters: Gojo x Gender-Neutral Reader

Synopsis: enemies to lovers headcanons of teenage gojo.

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, not proof-reading angst to comfort, mentions of geto leaving, not writing for jjk!

Notes: took me 50 years to finish this but I did it :)) btw I'm just writing this because my friend was begging me. I'm not writing for JJK right now might change way later in the future. this is just going to go into my specials

𝒯𝑒𝑒𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒! 𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓊 𝒢𝑜𝒿𝑜

Teenage Gojo! Jumps at the chance to bother you; what are you busy with? well, not busy enough for him not to bother you. You always try to not give Gojo a reaction; if you're lucky, he’ll get bored and go harass someone else.

Teenage Gojo! That barges into your mission: takes all of the attention and puts it on himself, making it worse for you since the infamous Satoru Gojo from the Gojo clan is here.

Teenage Gojo!  Getting pouty and being all dramatic when you end up getting extremely mad at him, like how dare he just barge in the middle of your mission when he shouldn’t even be there? It's so frustrating now that you have to take care of him and his whiny self, asking for attention.

Teenage Gojo! Getting confused: why haven’t you shown up at school already?

Teenage Gojo! Trying to get your forgiveness by sending you loads of gifts as an apology, he’s really sorry, okay? There he said it. Please take him back, or he’ll sulk at the front door of your dorm!

Teenage Gojo! Who denies even liking you when Geto and Shoko ask? But from the evidence of him going out of his way to talk to you and giving you a gift, it’s hard to believe otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Teenage Gojo! Isn’t obsessed with you? Of course everyone would believe otherwise. You're fun to mess with, especially when you get mad. You look hot when you're mad or whenever you yell at him, your arms crossed and brows furrowed, with a glare in your eyes that would make anyone fall to their knees, even him.

Teenage Gojo! Is it more delusional to say that he doesn’t like you than to make up fake scenarios of you and him in his head, like what if you start dating each other? Once it slipped out, Goo and Shoko heard about his thoughts.

Geto and Shoko tease him, Teenage Gojo! Maybe he likes you; his heart beats so loudly around you; whenever he gets you mad, he asks for forgiveness; gives you really expensive gifts; and always wants to be around you.

Once Teenage Gojo! accepts his crush on you, it just gets worse for you, always dragging you to places like the beach or the amusement park. Worse comes to worse when he starts to flirt with you, telling you to pick up lines or calling by some weird variation of your name.

You like him well, just a little. He's a little cute, but it's just ruined by his ugly and annoying personality. If he found that out, he would never let you live it down!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Teenage Gojo! Wasn’t okay after Geto had left; he stopped talking to everyone and even stopped bothering you—no calls, no showing up at your front door, and making himself home in your house. Nothing, which made you, for the first time, go to him and comfort him.

Seeing him in such a disheveled state that his hair was in, those black glasses didn’t cover his eyes, but he was without them; they were pink, and nothing but silence. He couldn’t say anything since you already knew what happened to everybody else.

Teenage Gojo! Who immediately grabbed you and hugged you tightly, face first into your chest? You felt wet tears from Gojo on your chest; you caressed his hair, and you stayed there in silence.

That’s how you spent the next couple of days with each other, as you sort of took care of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Gojo's whole room was clean and quiet, which gave you an eerie feeling. You were in the small kitchen, making soup for Gojo, while he was in the room under the covers of his bed, just lying there in silence.

Looking at him made you sympathetic to him. You might not have liked him, but you didn’t want to see him in this state.

When the hot soup is finished, go over to the drawer, grab the metal ladle, the glass soup bowl, and the little spoon with the tray; put the bowl to the side, take the ladle, and stir around the soup before pouring it into the small bowl.

Putting the soup-filled bowl onto the tray and taking it to Gojo's room, where he was lying under the covers.

Putting the tray onto the side table beside the bed, "Gojo,” you whisper, gently shaking him, which makes him get out from under the covers, his eyes still swollen.

"I made you soup.” You grabbed the soup and put it in front of him. He hadn’t been eating for a bit now. "No, but are you going to eat this?" Taking the spoon, stirring the soup before scooping it up, blowing it, and holding the spoon in front of his mouth

He looked at you with those tired blue eyes before finally drinking the soup, and immediately sticking out his tongue, “You’re a terrible cook,” he dramatically gagged, “I’m not.” “So are!” Gojo retorted back, making you blush in embarrassment.

“I was trying my best since I was worried.” You looked sideways, and he just went silent before moving the soup to the backside table and dragging you into bed with him, basically on top of him.

“Comfort me like this and not with your terrible cooking,” he laughs. “You! I’m fine at cooking!” You banter with each other like you used to, but you're not complaining. It was better than the sad, pitiful sight of Gojo you had seen before.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Note: That's all I could come up with :P

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[lilyslemonadestand]

Hi! Can I request tieflings with touch starved Tav? 💫

touch starved.

a/n: this probably /definitely/ should've been an actual fic. i like... mixed an actual plot with headcanons IDKKK i'm new alright. at least i finished a blog for once. pat me on the back for that! also, i've never written for any of them, so lmk if you have critiques!! AND LEAVE MORE TIEF BOYS ASK I AM OBSESSED. loved this request btw!!! hope i did it justice!

warnings: nothing this is so fluffy and innocent.

rolan.

• out of the three of the tieflings, he's definitely the most touch starved.

• i mean he's literally never been touched by anyone besides his siblings, and that's mostly just them smacking him.

• after a long day of getting your ass kicked /and maybe accidentally walking into your own moonbeam once/ you decided to visit sorcerer sundries alone to check up on your old friend.

• evidently, rolan had a equally horrible day. well, it was the same as usual, but rolan was more bitchy.

• when he saw you though, all of his irritation and annoyance flooded from his body, and it seemed like he completely lit up.

• "new bruise?" she asked, watching as the corner of his lips turned upwards. a genuine, non-snarky smile was rare from rolan. he rolled his amber eyes at you, nodding regardless.

• "new scar on your nose, hm?" rolan retorted, and your hand went up to rub at the bridge of your nose. you hadn't even realized that you'd been bleeding there. huh. at least it'd be a cool place for a scar.

• before either of you realized it, rolan's hands were clasped around one of yours, his thumb rubbing circles onto your palm. you froze. who even knew how long it'd been since you'd been touched like that--- if ever. even gale brushing shoulders with you made you tense up, let alone a touch by a really cute tiefling.

• he notices your reaction and can't help but laugh, making the tip of your ears flush pink, and you glared at him. rolan's freckled cheeks are just as warm as yours.

• "i've been worried about you, you know." he blurts out, and for a second he pictured cal and lia teasing him for hours on end. they all knew he liked tav, and had ever sense their brief encounter at the grove, her fierceness leaving him staring with wide eyes and a blushed face. ever since then, they never shut up about his little crush.

• "i know." you whispered, and you finally relaxed into his touch. rolan kept looking down at your shared hands. "but i'm not the one with fresh bruises."

• rolan clicked his tongue in annoyance, wishing he wasn't completely marked up by lorroakan, but he had no say in the matter. he figured you knew why he had these marks.

• "lorroakan isn't the best teacher in the world, i'll admit. don't worry about me though." rolan grumbled out. ah yes, this tone was the rolan she remembered. the grumpy one.

• your hands move to tuck a piece of hair behind his ears before brushing your knuckles gently across the fresh bruise on his jaw. rolan turned his gaze to the ground, and you heard him whining out some form of insult as your hand grazed his skin.

• "your skin's warm," you mumble regardless. "i could always kill him, y'know. well, i'm going to anyway. but i could speed it for you. and uhm--- i know a pretty decent wizard. gale, the one you met? much better than that asshole. he'd love to train you." you slightly ramble, and rolan watches as you fidget with your left hand, so he squeezes it gently. "i mean, i'd like you to... join too."

• "thank you, tav. i'll think about it." rolan's already made up his mind. he'd work for anyone as long as it wasn't lorroakan. he pressed a few kisses along your knuckles before dropping your hand.

• rolan can guess by the way you react to his touch that you're as touch starved as him and after that, it basically becomes a competition to see who can fluster each other more. /he does not win./

dammon.

• dammon is naturally very touchy. he talks with his hands and with his tail, so usually one of two will end up on the friends he talks to.

• with you, he's a little more shy, though. more careful, one could say. anytime you spoke, his sharp blue eyes were on yours, and he concentrated more on making sure he wasn't practically wagging his damn tail at you.

• today, you had your arms folded as you sat on one of the crates in the corner of his forge. dammon was finishing up a dagger for you, /his work too heavy for your liking, but you needed an excuse to talk to him, so you'd give them to astarion/ and you had been talking his ear off about your latest adventure.

• dammon didn't mind at all, humming in acknowledgement while he finished wiping the oil off of the blade.

• "here. crafted with love and care." the teifling teased, handing you your new weapon to inspect. and it was beautiful, perhaps one of the finest daggers you'd seen, with a lovely intricate design. dammon had made you plenty before, but each weapon and armor was just as beautiful. your eyes marveled at it, smiling before rummaging around your belt for your bag of coins.

• "it's lovely as always, dammon. thank you!" you beamed and you noticed his tail flicker from behind him. "and how much do i owe you again?"

• "you brought all the material's, my friend. and you brought me company today. how about you let me take you for a walk and we call it even?"

• his words felt like he'd just asked you on a date, but you jumped up from your place on the box, nodding enthusiastically.

• the heart of baldur's gate was much more relaxing in the evening. it wasn't god awfully hot, and the sky muted to a warm fuschia. and you couldn't help but admire the way dammon looked with his work sleeves rolled up, a content smile on his face as he led you through the streets.

•honestly, it was obvious to everyone besides you two that you two liked each other. dammon was oblivious, and, well... you just figured it wasn't safe enough to get into a relationship.

• little did you know, someone named karlach accidentally shared to dammon that you may have a thing for him.

• "so... are you going to continue that story about wyll?" dammon asked sweetly and you felt his tail move up towards the small of your back. like he was holding it while you two walked. at first you tried to ignore it, but the small act of touch made your face heat up.

• dammon must have noticed because he dropped his tail, instead moving to intertwine your fingers together.

• thankfully, the story of wyll was too good to keep quiet, so you were able to lean into his touch, dammon's eyes twinkling as you started to ramble on.

• also, once dammon notices just how touch starved you are, he will literally not be able to keep his hands off of you.

• massages, hand holding, wrapping his tail around your calf, rustling your hair when you say something silly--- definitely the touchiest out of the three.

zevlor.

• zevlor is also extremely touch starved, maybe more than rolan, he's just not as obvious. unlike the two younger boys, he feels like he's too old for feelings, especially for warriors like yourself.

• and unlike the two younger boys, zevlor's much better at hiding his feelings. his tail doesn't swing behind him, he doesn't flush like rolan, and he doesn't really speak on feelings like dammon.

• zevlor does admire you though, that much is obvious from his flaming rust eyes watching you carefully as you sneaked from conversation to conversation. you were strong and a leader just like him. it made you two have a lot in common.

• zevlor was tense when you approached him. most of the younger tieflings were laughing away, dancing even, all drunk as can be. the paladin had a chalice of wine in his hand, shoved forcefully by a certain large druid, but he had not yet even taken a sip. how could he? he had much on his mind.

• "drinking tonight?" you asked brightly, your smile enticing as you peered up at him while taking a swig of your own wine. your nose scrunched in disgust at the taste; tiefling wine wasn't most people's preferred choice for alcohol.

• zevlor chuckled and shook his head, tilting his glass slightly, so she could see that it was still full.

• "i've got too much to deal with--- tomorrow's trek will not be a simple task, tav." zevlor replied, setting down the glass on the table next to them.

• you frowned. that couldn't do. if you could relax, so could he. even leaders deserve their chance to have fun.

• "you deserve one good night of fun before tomorrow." you smiled. the teifling nodded his head slowly, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

• "that'd be nice... if i'm being honest. i just can't let them down." he mumbled, the stress from the journey showing in his face.

• "and look around zev. they're all drunk anyways. nobodies watching you tonight, so just relax."

• you were right. nobody was looking at either of them. most were drunk, and the ones that weren't were chatting away with halsin. it didn't take long for a small smile to creep up to his mouth. zevlor took the cup from her, and took a drink out of it. he mirrored her nose scrunch. wow. it really was cheap wine.

• with a fleeting moment of confidence, /or alcohol/ zevlor pulled you into a hug. at first, you didn't hug back. you were shocked. you hadn't had a hug in... what? weeks? months? years? and clearly, he hadn't either. you both seemed to really have needed it, too, because you instantly melted into his arms, and his grip only tightened. you could hear his heart thumping against his chest. yours was equally loud.

• "you've done great by them. i know you'll keep them safe. but in the meantime, you need to take care of yourself too."

• zevlor laughed against your hair, your encouraging words enough to make the old paladin's eyes water. he hadn't heard words as soft as yours in a very, very long time. and it was enough to keep him going.

• he wiped the forming tears quickly away with his sleeve, not wanting to burden you any further with his emotions.

• from then on, zevlor is very comfortable hugging you. whenever he sees you, whether it's in the mind flayer colony, in baldur's gate, or anywhere else, be prepared for a very bone crushing hug. when he feels fancy, he'll even spin you a little.

• all of his touch is very polite and romantic. you both deserve and need it.

[midnightsunnyday]

Whips, Cuffs, And Edible Thongs? (Final) '*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Part One

Warnings: obviously NSFW and MDNI. Mentions of various kinks, sex toys, and cursing. MC is in a polyamorous relationship with all the brothers btw. Definitely a crack headcanon.

Belphegor, holding up a large, biologically improbable dildo: hey MC, you should buy this.

MC: Absolutely not.

Mammon, holding up a pink studded collar: Yo MC, you ever tried...something like this?

MC: Well, it is cute, but I'm not so sure it's my style.

Belphegor: hey MC, you should buy this.

MC: Uh, I'm pretty sure human organs can't stretch that far.

Belphegor: Not with that attitude.

Mammon: What the heck even is that thing, anyway?

Mynx: That's the Orfficinator 2000. For those with more...extreme tastes. Revs 850 thrusts per minutes with 15 different vibration settings. And at a whoping 12 inches in length and 5.5 in width. It'll turn even the most adamant of lovers into a weeping, begging mess.

Belphegor: a begging mess, huh?

MC: I think I felt my insides clench.

----‐-------

MC: You know, Satan. Even I think this cat obsession is going a bit too far.

Satan: What? I'm only observing it *poke*

Mynx: That's the Kitty Whisperer. Very popular with the ladies. Comes in both pink and purple.

Satan: So I see.

Mynx: But you know, not everyone who buys it is a lady, if you catch my drift.

Satan: Is...that right?

Mynx: ...

Satan: ...

MC: Really?

Satan: *blushing madly* Just let me be, alright?

---------------

MC: So...um...what kinda stuff are you guys into?

Mammon: Stuff?

MC: you know, like...kinks?

Beelzebub: oh, those? Sometimes I get them when I don't properly stretch before a workout.

Belphegor: Not those kinds of kinks, Beel.

Asmodeus: well, I don't mind sharing mine. Frankly, there are just so many to choose from. Spanking, overstimulation, bondage, wax play. Now for the more extreme ones--

Leviathan: --Enough! Enough! Otherwise, I think I might be scared for life.

Asmodeus: ok then, Levi. How about you tell us your kinks?

Leviathan: uh...reverse Uno.

Asmodeus: We're not playing Uno. Besides, then it'll just go back to me and you know what that means?

Leviathan: ah! Then it was Mammon by the bondage gear holding a pair of handcuffs!

Mammon: hey!

Satan: No need to say it, Mammon. After all, we already know the answer.

Manmon: I got no idea what you're talking about.

Leviathan: please. I bet you want MC to buy that collar you showed them so they can put it on you.

Mammon: Whhaaaat? Pfft. No.

Leviathan: Liar.

Mammon: So then what about you Mr. "I like it when you yell at me and call me worthless?"

Leviathan: I can't help it ok? It's very stimulating.

Mammon: Fine. I'll tell. I ain't chicken! So um...you know how you're getting dressed and you accidently pull your tie a little too tight--

Leviathan: --no one does that--

Mammon: --Let me finish, you ass! Anyway, it's kinda like that. So...yeah.

Satan: Interesting.

Mammon: Alright then. Tell us some of yours.

Satan: *clears throat* I'm not really...into extreme things. Or things that hurt. So, vanilla. Definitely.

Mammon: Huh. Coulda fooled me.

Asmodeus: how about you, Belphie?

Belphegor, smiles darkly: You sure you wanna know?

Satan: Why does that sound so threatening?

Beelzebub: Hmmm. Can food be kinks?

Asmodeus: Oh, you sweet summer child.

Leviathan: Maybe we should just skip on to MC.

MC: Eh. I don't know if I should share. It's kind of... intense.

Asmodeus: go on darling. This is a judgement free zone.

Beelzebub: Asmo's right. Craving and engaging in physical intimacy should not bring shame or discomfort, but breathe life and newfound sexual expression into those who practice safely and with consent.

*stunned silence*

Beelzebub: What? You know, gluttony is no further from lust as it is to greed. You should really learn your sins.

Belphegor: yeah, learn your sins.

MC: Well...sometimes I like to imagine standing over a powerful man and telling him how worthless and pathetic he is. How despite his power, he's at my feet, where he belongs. Then as he begs me to ride him, I'll laugh in his face as he watches me pleasure myself, saying he'll never be able to satisfy me better than my own hand, his erection weeping and painful. Then when I'm done, I'll push him onto his back and grind against him, denying him over and over until he's crying for release. But there will be no release. Not until his master, me, is satisfied *clears throat* So essentially, I really like the thought of being a dom.

*further stunned silence*

Belphegor: ...God, I'd let you destroy me.

MC: I know you would.

------------

Mynx: Can one of you please stop your brother from eating all my edible undies and oils? I've tried hitting him with my pipe, but it's like a love tap to this man!

Satan: Beel, the point of those is to eat them off your partner, not eat them yourself.

Beelzebub: I...don't think I trust myself doing that. I might get...too excited.

Mammon: Oof. That's an ugly picture.

Mynx: Yep. A big boy like that would definitely eat more than his fair share.

Asmodeus: Oh wow, these lollipops are shaped like a--

Beelzebub: *crunch* mmmm. They have a creamy center.

Asmodeus: ...

Beelzebub: What?

------------

Mammon, dressed in a sexy cop uniform: alright, Belphie, its the end of the line!

Leviathan, dressed as an equally sexy cop: that's right, punk! You're going away for a long time.

Belphegor, somehow talked into this and wearing a skimpy prison outfit: you pigs ain't got nothing on me! Nothing I say!

Mammon: Your partner spilled the beans, Belphie. You're looking at 40-80 years tops.

Leviathan: Now, hands where we can see em! Or this might get messy.

*Belphie, holding the Orfficinator 2000*

Mammon: He's got an automatic!

Belphegor: I'm not going back to jail!

Leviathan: Take the fucking shot!

Mynx: WILL YOU IDIOTS QUIT PLAYING WITH MY MERCHANDISE?

--------------

MC: *Places item on register*

Everyone: Ooooh.

MC: *Places another item on register*

Everyone: Aaaah.

MC: *yet another item*

Everyone: Woah!

MC: You guys are way too dramatic.

Satan: *Places item on counter*

MC: Oh. Good for you, Satan.

Satan: Enough.

----------------

Mynx: Thanks, hun. It was a pleasure doing business with ya.

MC: Thanks, Mynx. Actually, you made this whole thing a lot easier.

Mynx: It's what I do. Come back any time. Alone, preferably.

MC: Will do. Or at least will attempt to.

Asmodeus: bye, Mynxie.

Mynx: just so you all know, I'm still considering banning you all from my store.

-------------

Lucifer: There you all are. I was wondering why the house was so quiet. I was enjoying it, actually. Though I suppose nothing good lasts long.

MC: Love you too, Lucifer.

Satan: Debatable. And anyway, why are you even here?

Lucifer: You mean why am I here in the house that I pay for you to eat, sleep, and run amok through? Reading, obviously.

MC: What Satan means is--calm down, dear--aren't you suppose to be at Diavolo's fancy party?

Lucifer: Right, that. Unfortunately, the party ended abruptly when one of the Little Ds accidently set fire to King Idaman's robes.

MC: Oh.

Lucifer: Which in turn startled Prince Isa's horse, which caused a chain reaction and set everything else ablaze. It was truly a sight.

Mammon: Sounds like it all right.

Lucifer: after having to clean up such a mess, I found it best to call it a night.  So, what did you all do today? I see bags.

Beelzebub: We went to Cl--ow! I mean, we went close by.

Lucifer: Is that right?

Leviathan: Yep. We bought...all the things that shops tend to have.

Lucifer: I would assume so, yes.

Asmodeus: And now we're going to take those things to our rooms, isn't that right, Satan?

Satan: oh, yes, our rooms. Where we have nothing of interest at all.

Everyone: *runs off*

Lucifer: well, that was weird. Oh, and MC. May I have a moment?

MC: Sure.

Lucifer: a little bat told me that you all had quite the experience today.

MC: How...how is it that you know everything?

Lucifer: *laughs* it isn't complicated considering you all are horrible at hiding things, like just now. Though more importantly...*leans in closer* Devildom toys aren't exactly made for humans. You could hurt yourself.  In fact, I may need to...teach you how to properly use them. For safety reasons, naturally.

MC: is that right?

Lucifer: it is.

MC: ...

Lucifer: ...

MC: ...so...how soon are you available?

[here2bbtstrash]

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”