ihatemynewbangs

[ihatemynewbangs]

[ihatemynewbangs]

— ch_i san (m) 

— pairing; android!san × reader, 19k

— genre; sci-fi, fluff, angst, smut

— summary; it’s 2135, one hundred years after the rise of the Anarchist, a revolutionist group that tore the world in half. the creation of their andr_ids forced the poorer population to abide by the Anarchist rules or face death. you, a lowly machinery worker, leave work to find a defective model, ch_i san. you’re forced to make the decision of helping the andr_id model, or reporting it to the leading faction. of course you make the only sane choice – follow a robot into complete and utter peril.

– warnings; death mentions, blood, weapons, wounds, guns, knives, discrimination against robots?, cursing, violence, slightly political

– note; very loosely inspired by the korean film jung_e! everyone should watch its amazing ♡

Keep reading

[ihatemynewbangs]

"What about you, 'Tsumu?" Ginjima asks. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Ya mean ya don't think I'd ask fer some stupidly expensive rare high-end food, too?" the blonde replies with a wry smile as their friends laugh and Osamu rolls his eyes with playful offense.

When the laughter tapers off Atsumu says "If I could have anything in the world?...Get whatever I ask fer?..." He lets out a half-chuckle with a crooked smile and admits "I'd take the love of my life."

"Like on a date?" Ginjima asks, pleasantly surprised by the earnest answer.

"Na." Atsumu shakes his head with a cheeky grin. "Like in marriage. Like fer the rest'a ma life."

There are a few people who 'aww' in response, maybe even ask a few questions but you don't hear them or Atsumu's response, suddenly very interested in the contents of your own cup. It doesn't help that Osamu's steely gaze is scrutinizing you from across the room while all the attention is on his brother.

You slip out of the room the first chance you get.

It's not a small birthday party the twins have thrown so there's plenty of people casually filling the living room and kitchen, spilling out into the backyard where there's a fire. Ojiro and a few other guys from the team are sitting around it, talking. There's a myriad of other people from school including some mutual friends but the twins are the main reason you're here and they're unfortunately social. It means you've spent most of the party drifting along the periphery; your presence here was a condition of his parents' permission for the twins to have friends over without supervision.

You smile to yourself fondly remembering Atsumu's loud protest and insult that his parents trusted you more than their own flesh-and-blood to which they responded of course they did; you had much more common sense than a real Miya.

"Ya look like yer havin' a good time."

You don't need to see to know it's Osamu but you turn to give him a look and he chuckles.

"Okay..." He turns a palm toward you. "Maybe not."

"I'm fine." You offer a smile and ask "are you having fun?"

He shrugs. "Eh. Ya know this was mostly 'Tsumu's idea."

With narrowed eyes you retort "you can deny it all you want but you like the attention, too, 'Samu. You're just not as dramatic about it."

"That's fair," he agrees with a smirk. His gaze follows yours, sweeping over the people in the kitchen and the backyard. "Still...not such a bad time."

You give a non-committal shrug.

After a moment of quiet Osamu asks "...ya heard his answer, right?"

"Yeah," you snicker. "And?"

"Well...do ya believe me now?"

You meet his stormy eyes with a roll of your own. "No, 'Samu. All he said was he'd want to marry whoever he loves. He didn't actually say who that was."

"Ya really don't believe me," Osamu says to himself in disappointment with a shake of his head and sighs, exasperated. He falls quiet for a moment as Ojiro and the group around the fire burst into laughter and then perks up with a sudden light in his eyes. "Fine."

Your eyes narrow defensively, recognizing that look.

"Then how about this," the gray twin squarely faces you, "ask him what he wants fer his birthday" --he holds up a hand to quickly cut off your counter-- "on his own. Ask him when it's just tha two of ya an' nobody else. I promise ya he's in love with ya--"

"He's not," you argue, pushing his hand away but he just plows on.

"He is. An' I'll prove it to ya." Osamu levels you with complete sincerity. "Catch him on his own an' ask him again, just the two'a ya, an' he's gonna say tha same thing. He's gonna say it when it really counts, when no one else is lookin' and it's gonna mean somethin' else. An' if on some small odd chance that I'm wrong--which I know I'm not--I'll make bring ya lunch everyday fer the rest of tha year."

You abruptly straighten, eyes wide. "That's like six months of bento."

"If I'm wrong," he smugly replies and crosses his arms. "Which I know I'm not."

Your eyes narrow mouth watering at the tantalizing possibility of so much delicious food and you strongly consider the bet. Because there's no way he could be right.

There's no way that Miya Atsumu, the school's golden boy and nationally recognized setter to whom no one else exists unless they're on the court, the person you've pined over for an unbearably long time

could like you back.

You've seen the number of chocolates and gifts and confessions he's accepted over the years and it's exactly

zero.

"You're on," you answer with your own smug grin. Because zero are exactly the chances that Osamu's right.

Osamu's brow flicks up. "That's it? Ya don't wanna know what I want if I'm right?"

You shrug, crossing your own arms in a mocker of his confidence. "Doesn't matter. Because you're not gonna win."

Osamu leans in, dropping his voice to lay-out your wager with cunningly narrowed eyes.

It's not until the end of the party that you find him.

He's upstairs, having sneaked out to his parent's private balcony where he leans on the railing quietly sipping from a cup and watching the party in shadow.

"'Tsumu?" you quietly ask as a way to announce your arrival. "You okay?"

He turns to face you still leaning on the railing. "Yeah. You?"

You shrug. "I'm fine." You glance down--most of the people are outside now--and ask "you don't want to be with everyone?"

He mimics your shrug. "Just needed ta catch ma breath."

You join him at the railing with a nod feeling an awkward flip of your stomach.

"Somethin' ya needed?" he asks.

"I just wanted to check on you...make sure you were okay," you admit in truth. Your hands idly tap the railing as you try to figure out how to broach the subject. "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

He waves it off. "I don't need anythin'. Yer the reason we got ta have a party. That's more than enough."

"I guess..." You scrunch your face, heart start to beat a little harder in your chest. Despite your conviction that Osamu's wrong you're having trouble rising to the challenge. "Okay...so if you could have something else for your birthday..."

Atsumu tilts his head, dark brows furrowing as he scrutinizes your discomfort but he doesn't say anything.

"If..." You hesitate, battling the increasing pound of your pulse. "If you could have anything in the world..." You force yourself to meet his golden gaze. "What would you want?"

The setter goes very still. Almost defensively.

"Starting spot on a division-one team. Starting spot in the Olympics. Hell, a gold medal in the Olympics," you offer in his silence. "A billion dollars, a mansion, a yacht, the ability to fly."

He doesn't answer.

"What would you wish for?"

You assume he's just tired of being asked so

why is it so hard to look at him again?

"I'd want..." His voice is low. Tense.

Feeling the foundation of your world shifting you bring your gaze back to him and feel a tidal wave of emotion roll through your body.

"...ta marry ya."

"If I'm right," Osamu's voice echoes in your mind, "ya hafta confess."

Fuck.

Your stomach drops and your head spins as you gulp.

"Okay."

Atsumu is still for another second before he drops his cup and somehow shouts while gasping "HAAAAA?!" He reels back, looking as stunned as you feel.

You pull away, taken aback by his shock.

"WHADDYA MEAN OKAY?!" He starts flailing his arms. "YA CAN'T JUST SAY THAT! YER GONNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"

"You're the one who started it!" you shout back.

"NO! YER THE ONE WHO CORNERED ME UP HERE WITH YER CUTE...LITTLE...EVERYTHING" --he gestures at you as if you've instigated something nefarious-- "I'M JUST TRYIN'A CATCH MA BREATH AFTER ALREADY ADMITTIN' THAT IN FRONT'A YA ONCE DOWNSTAIRS!"

"Why are you still yelling?!" you shout defensively, still leaning back.

"BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TA EXPLODE!" He takes a couple heaving breaths, eyes wide and feverish.

"Are you okay?" you hesitantly ask and he braces himself on the railing, ignoring the fact that the entire party in the yard below is silent and watching.

"Just...just tryin' ta figure out what just happened."

"I think...I agreed to marry you?"

His head whips around. "Ya...Ya really mean it?"

"Yeah..." You shift uncomfortably. "I mean...I don't think we should run out right now but yeah. I'm...I'm in love with you, 'Tsumu. So when we're older and actually ready I'd like to marry y--"

The words are cut off by his lips. Pressed tightly against yours with a hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek he kisses you like he's trying to receive the words directly from your mouth.

Someone below whistles.

Someone else shouts "get a room!"

"Preferably not our parents'," adds Osamu.

There's a round of laughter but neither of you break the kiss and everyone diverts their attention when it's clear they're all intruding on a now-private moment.

Atsumu's lips take and give as if every passing moment they spend pressed against yours only makes him want you more. He chases after them, stealing a few more seconds, as you pull back and smile.

"We should get back to the party, 'Tsumu."

"But it's ma birthday," he pouts childlishly and tries to kiss you again.

You chuckle and reply "yes and I promised that I'd take care of your birthday party."

Atsumu smirks.

"What?" you ask narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

"I just realized that yer not gonna be ma parents' favorite anymore."

"Oh yeah?" You mirror his smirk. "How so?"

"'Cause. Yer gonna marry me. An' that's gonna make ya a real Miya." He grins victoriously.

"Or I could just not take your last name and remain their favorite," you point out. He gapes until you throw your arms over his shoulders and give him a grin. "Although I'd rather be your favorite so I guess it's worth it."

He grins with you. "'Course it is an' 'course ya are."

"Good." You give him another kiss and step back, quickly adding "besides, changing my last name won't make me as unreliable as you!"

Atsumu gasps, scandalized, as you run away cackling. "Calling your future husband unreliable!!?" He runs after you, shouting "and on his birthday?!"

[ihatemynewbangs]

a hazy evening

masterlist

pairing: kim hongjoong x afab!reader

w.c.: 1.8k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, reader is not gendered, they're both sososo in love

sharing the last of the earthy smoke, you bid farewell to the dying sun as the sweet scent of honey and citrus enveloped your senses.

A/N: thank you anonnie for requesting this, I really hope I was able to do your idea justice!! this, in my opinion, is the softest thing I've ever written. It left me feeling really warm and fluffy inside, so I really hope reading it will have the same effect on you! ^^

nsfw & warnings under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

warnings: cannabis use, both parties are high, cockwarming, couch sex, fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎🏼), creampie, it's really soft and slow, barely any dialogue, but they're so in love *breaks down*

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

The room was much darker than it had been when you lit the first joint, golden rays of the dying sun filtering through the half-open curtain and casting shadows over the assortment of plants your boyfriend kept bringing home, the cool spring breeze ruffling their leaves where they sat decorating the windowsill. A show you didn’t recognize played on the TV behind you, but your eyes remained fixed on the orb of light kissing the horizon, dipping lower and lower until only a fourth of it remained to colour the sky a soft pink.

A puff of smoke distorted your view, the earthy aroma flooding your lungs and casting a fog over your mind. You adjusted your position, fitting your thighs tighter around Hongjoong’s hips and resting your cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling into the material of shirt before returning your gaze to the cotton candy sky.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down on his fingers – stuffed inside you – with languid rolls of your hips. The pressure in your lower belly had been building for a while, his digits prodding at your g-spot and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Hongjoong brought his thumb down on your clit, moving it in measured circles while he curled his fingers against your walls.

“Good?” He muttered over your skin, pressing soft kisses to your heated shoulder where the collar of your shirt ended.

“So good,” you whispered back, jaw slack and a pool of drool slowly expanding over Hongjoong’s shirt.

Smoke clouded your vision again, followed by the gentle press of the joint to your bottom lip, your mouth automatically closing around it. Hongjoong’s now free hand smoothed down your back, then slid back up to cup your nape.

“You’re close,” he stated, having felt the familiar fluttering of your walls around his fingers.

You nodded, inhaling the pungent smoke before taking the joint between your index and middle fingers. You kept your mouth closed, blinking unevenly while Hongjoong drove his fingers into you, catching the faint squelching of your arousal every time he pushed in. His thrusts were slow but pointed, roughly punching into the spongy spot along your walls and nearly making you sputter around the smoke in your mouth.

“R-right there,” you sighed, watching the air around you fog up.

Hongjoong had been building you up to an orgasm since the sun first left its locus in the sky, revelling in the soft whimpers he drew out of you. Bending his head down to press his lips to your neck, he peppered kisses over the expanse of your skin while your thighs began to vibrate around him. He flattened the pad of his thumb over your clit, rubbing it from side to side, occasionally brushing his blunt nail over the sensitive nub.

When you finally reached your high, it was as though you were free falling off a cliff, the wind blowing through your hair and open fields embellished with vivid flora spread out for miles under you. Your chest heaved as you blew out the smoke in your lungs, hips jolting as you rode out your orgasm on Hongjoong’s fingers. Butterflies swarmed your insides with every kiss he planted on your skin, his lips trailing up your neck to your ears to nibble on your lobe.

Hongjoong pulled his fingers out at the first pained mewl you released into his shirt, slipping the joint out of your limp hand and bringing it to his lips. His free arm wrapped tightly around your waist while he watched the joint grow smaller and smaller, sucking in the last of it before leaning forward with your in his arms to toss it into the heaped ashtray sitting on the coffee table.

Despite his tight hold, your hands flew to his biceps and gripped them so not to fall backwards. Hongjoong remained that way, looking into your equally lidded eyes while leaning over you. Once you realized that you weren’t going anywhere with Hongjoong’s arms around you, one of your hands eased off of his upper arm, instead finding its place over the side of his face. You weren’t sure if it was the weed slowing everything down, but the time in which Hongjoong’s head moved towards yours gave you a chance to admire the softness of his features – tired, love-filled eyes, barely open as they revelled in your presence before him, the tip of his nose a bright red with the remnants of a cold he hadn’t yet fought off entirely, and his smile, laced with unconditional infatuation, forever decorating his face when you were around.

Just like everything else around you, the kiss was unhurried, lazy. Hongjoong sucked your lips between his own before slowly letting them go, only to drive back in for more. The smoke he had been holding in his mouth dissipated into the air between you, until he slotted his lips against yours, parting them with his tongue and exhaling the last of the dying joint down your throat. You choked lightly, a breathy giggle escaping Hongjoong as he watched you struggle with inhaling the smoke, a hint of mischief weaved into the pleasant sound.

Slumping back against the backrest, Hongjoong pulled at your forearms to straighten you up on his lap. He simply sat there, admiring you once again. You wondered why that was: how could someone deserving of a place in the Louvre look at you with such a gaze – one filled with unending adoration, as though you had coloured the magenta sky peeking through the fluttering curtains with nothing but a broken paintbrush? Someone so caring, giving, loving, building you a spacious home within his heart and vowing to teach you the true meaning of love. Hongjoong was love, you were sure. The man who never stopped giving until you begged him to stop, and then gave you even more. Love, comfort, safety – it all came easily to him when you were the recipient.

He maneuvered your body until his body was pressed against yours, his chest to your back while you lay on your side. The tips of Hongjoong’s fingers prodded at your mouth, gentle taps against your bottom lip until you registered the motion and allowed him access. Sliding the digits over your tongue, you whimpered at the taste of your arousal, licking over the fresh coat of nail polish on his ring fingernail. You could feel the tent in his sweatpants pressing against your lower back, reaching behind you release his cock from its confines. A soft hiss against your nape, painted nails digging into the skin of your thigh, and you were putty in Hongjoong’s hands, throwing your leg back and over his hip and leading his leaking member to your entrance.

A guttural moan ripped through Hongjoong’s chest when your warmth embraced him, his fingers slipping out of your mouth to wrap tightly around your shoulder. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, pressing himself as close and humanely possible to your body and sheathing his whole length into your pulsing cunt.

You stared at the characters moving on the screen, your lips parted and airy mewls unknowingly escaping you as Hongjoong ground his cock into you, his head brushing over your g-spot with every roll of his hips. The room spun around you, and yet it remained perfectly still, it was loud but quiet, cluttered but empty, so you used up the last of your consciousness to fixate on Hongjoong and allowed him to take over your every sense. Your chest flushed at the tender kisses he peppered onto your skin, one arm wrapped under you and across your chest, the other draped along your side to hold your thigh over his hip, mindlessly squeezing at it. You wondered if it was possible to live in this moment forever, with Hongjoong cemented to your body, warming his cock between your searing walls.

Your eyes followed the actor’s movements, and yet your body relished the leisurely drag along your walls, fucking back into you only to draw out again just as slowly. Just as much as you enjoyed the heavy presence of his cock inside you, the unhurried pace that he’d built up to felt as though you’d smoked twice as much as you actually did. Your body felt weightless and it was as though a divine being had blessed you with his touch, delicate fingers gliding over and squeezing at your heated flesh, sending burning waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Despite his own arousal and desperation, Hongjoong’s hips maintained their sluggish rhythm, ramming his full length into your dripping cunt before pulling out until only the tip remained encased within your walls. The slide back in made your toes curl, his cockhead pressing into your sweet spot and dragging over it. Hongjoong would slip out of you periodically, gliding his cock through your folds and brushing over your swollen clit before pushing back into your cunt.

You felt him breach your entrance, and you were free falling once again, colours flashing across your vision and a whispered succession of Hongjoong’s name rolling off your tongue. Sliding his hand up your trembling thigh, his fingers reached your clit, pressing into the nub and tweaking it to drag out your orgasm. Hongjoong relished the tight squeeze around his twitching cock, your cunt clamping down on him as you rode out your high, your soft moans and whimpers inspiring his next song. He pumped his cock into you once, twice, before hot ropes of cum painted your walls white, grinding into you to milk himself of every last drop.

Your eyes fluttered shut, Hongjoong’s fingers withdrawing to rest over your hip, his chest rising a falling heavily against your back, hot breath blowing onto the slick skin of your nape.

The room was immersed in darkness, the white light from the TV the only source of illumination now that the sun had gone to sleep, diving behind the tall buildings and allowing the full moon to hang in its place. Tufts of grey clouds bedecked the onyx sky, glittering with a plethora of stars dispersed across its width.

They reminded you of Hongjoong’s eyes, so dark yet so bright, full of love, hope, dreams. You couldn’t help but lose yourself within them at times, peculiarly when he was letting you in on his next project, humming the melody he had put together in his mind, his fingers strumming the invisible chords of his guitar. A single look into those dreamy, glimmering orbs and you couldn’t help but believe that you would be more than content simply existing by Hongjoong’s side.

In the stillness of the room, enveloped within Hongjoong’s warm embrace, the dense fog clouding your mind lulled you to restful slumber, carrying with you thoughts of a future permeated by the sweet scent of honey and citrus.

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[ihatemynewbangs]

I don’t think you all understand the absolute magnitude I want you and I to bother Sakusa kiyoomi.

When I say bother, I want to be an absolute nuisance. A force to be reckoned with. Because I know he would love it bc he told me himself okay 💅🏼

I want him to look up and ask whatever holy and unholy beings that are listening when you text him “please don’t be mad” at practice, why they gave him this life.

I want you to sneak into the bathroom when he’s on the toilet and paint his nails and toenails; what’s he gonna do, run?

I want you to send him the gooiest, sweetest, most ridiculous text messages that make him blush from sheer embarrassment in front of the boys; not because he’s mad, but because he likes them and he’s so mad that he does.

I want you to cling. To him. I want him to never have a moment that you’re not touching him, be it holding his hand in the store, or straight up koalaing around him at home.

If he’s away on a trip with the team, I want you to call him every night to have those cliche FaceTimes, where you’re just crying and he’s trying to be sweet but that hurts more, and it turns into you falling asleep on the phone while he does whatever; shower, eat, read, something normal and domestic.

I want him to never have a moment of peace; I want you to text him at random intervals of the day shit like “you’ve gotta promise not to be mad,” or “send ass pics?” and “im crawling in the gym walls right now” - which I absolutely KNOW he’d respond with “I can’t do this today,” “you give me grey hairs” and “go back home and sniff my pillow instead, that’s dangerous” respectfully.

I just. GOD I want to eat him alive. He’s so baby, he needs an annoying insignificant other okay, I don’t make the rules here

[ihatemynewbangs]

I got this comment on a story from my Other AO3 Account this morning.

(Info redacted because I prefer keeping these accounts separate but no one follows me on the side blog I have for that account.)

The story was posted almost a year ago and is relatively “popular” by my average statistics even though it has tropes and themes that are big turnoffs for a lot of people (hence separate accounts). This popularity is undoubtedly because it’s a Marvel Loki story and that fandom is massive.

So there is obviously an algorithm or a bot scrubbing ao3 statistics and leaving this comment on fics that meet a certain metric with the main character of the fic inserted into the comment.

I had a little time to kill this morning so I decided to investigate further. And y’all this is so predatory. Come on this journey with me. It made me mad. It may make you mad.

First, if you go to Webnovel’s website, you HAVE to choose between male lead or female lead stories before you can go any further. WTF?

And that’s weird, but this gets so much worse. This is basically a pay-to-read site that has different subscription models. Which… okay BUT! The authors don’t get paid! Look at that comment again. They’re promising a supportive and nurturing community, but zero monetary compensation. It’s basically, “post your stuff here so we can get paid and you can get… nice vibes?” I mean look at this Orwellian writing:

Using the phrase “pay-to-read model” in the same sentence as “qualitative changes in lifestyles for authors” deliberately makes you think that you can get paid and maybe even make a living on this website. But that’s not actually what it says and authors will not receive one red cent.

Oh but wait, the worst is still to come. In case this breaks containment (which I kind of hope it does) this is where I mention that I’m a lawyer in the US.

I don’t do intellectual property or copyright law but I do read and write contracts for a living. So I went to look at their terms of service. It was fun!

Highlights the first, in which Webnovel gets a license to do basically whatever they want with content you post on their site. This is how they get to be paid for people reading authors’ writing without paying them anything.

Highlights the second, in which Webnovel takes no responsibility for illegally profiting off of fan fic. This all says that the writer is 100% responsible for everything the writer posts (even though only Webnovel is making money from it).

Highlights the third which say that by posting, the author is representing that they have the legal right to use and to let Webnovel use the content according to these terms. So if a writer posts fan fiction and Webnovel makes money from people reading the fan fiction, and the House of the Mouse catches wise, these sections say that that’s ALL on the writer.

So that’s a little skeevy to start off with but the thing that is seriously shitty and made me make this post was that these assholes are coming to ao3. They are actively recruiting people in comments on their fan fiction. And they are saying they are big fans of the character you’re writing about and that they share your interests.

They are recruiting fan fiction writers and giving every impression that you can make money from posting fan fiction on their site and hiding the fact that you absolutely cannot but they can make money off of you while you try, deep in their terms of service which no one but a lawyer who writes fan fic and has some time to kill will read.

I see posts on here regularly from people who don’t understand how this stuff works, don’t understand that they (and others) can not legally make a financial profit from fan fiction. And there are tons of people who will not take the time to dig into the details.

Don’t deal with these bastards. Fuck Webnovel.

[ihatemynewbangs]

[230514] Welcome to THE OUTLAW 2023.06.16 RELEASE

[ihatemynewbangs]

ATEEZ ARE MAKING THEIR COMEBACK ON MY BIRTHDAY IM MF FERAL RIGHT NOW IM TREMBLING EYES WATERING WITH EXCITEMENT

[ihatemynewbangs]

Enjoy The Masterpiece

Title from Fire by Seventeen HHU

Rating: M (18+ IM FR) | WC: ~2.1k

Summary: College boyfie!Mingyu wants you to sit on his face. He's literally begging here.

Warnings: not proof read, non explicit body image issues, wall sex, biting, fingering, face sitting, size kink, you’re both kinda crybabies, possessiveness at the end, breeding kink, cream pie, prone bone, he wants to marry you, lmk if i forgot anything

Reader Notes: has vagina, WAP, implied plus size

AN: this fic feels really personal so pls be nice! and leave feedback im begging! lots of begging going on in this post!

“Baby, I’m literally begging you. Please sit on my face,” Mingyu pouts, lightly flexing in an attempt to build his case. You’re worried about something that hadn’t even occurred to him, something that seemed so ridiculous in his mind until it brought you to near tears. You’re worried you’ll drown him, or smother him, or just be too much for him in general, apparently, and though it’s not a concern he’s ever had, it’s not something he can just dismiss. You feel very strongly about this, and he absolutely despises seeing you cry unless it’s from him making you cum too much, so he has to tread lightly. 

However, this is as light as he knows how to tread. Asking if he can gather you up in his arms and carry you over to the wall to fuck you against it. “If I can make you cum there, would you feel more comfortable about sitting on my face? I can show you I can hold you, baby, and that if I need to move you, I can.”

You contemplate for a second before your eyes journey from biceps to dick and your decision seems to be made. Nodding resolutely, you wrap your arms around his neck and he curls his hands under your thighs. He lifts you up into his chest and bounces you once to get you situated before lumbering over to the wall and bracing you against it. Your panties are wet from the earlier hour spent making out and grinding, and all he has to do is grip them tight and pull them up to put pressure on your clit. He’s got you sitting on his knee, his muscle rippling between your legs, and he’s really considering making you make yourself cum on his thigh before he decides that this is a precarious situation not for testing. He does the work for you, grasping your hips and bringing your clothed heat back and forth over his thigh until his boxer briefs are soaked with you. You’re making the prettiest noises, the sounds just falling from your mouth, and he wants to taste them, presses his open mouth to yours so he can swallow your moans and whines. 

His fingers slide between your thighs, dipping inside your underwear to glide through your folds and find your clit. He rolls it beneath his thumb as his fingertips seek your entrance, two delving deep and spreading inside you to prepare you for a third. He’s going to fuck you after, if you want, so you need to be stretched out enough to take him. Three usually opens you up just enough for his cock to split you apart that little bit more, something the both of you love. You’ve told him before that you like the sting, like the way you have to adjust to him. He was balls deep inside you at the time and your words made him throb inside you, and your ensuing giggles nearly made him cum as your walls fluttered around him. 

They’re fluttering now and his groan sends his face into your neck, his teeth leaving little indents on whatever skin they can find. His tongue soothes you whenever you gasp, his lips traveling back up your throat to find yours as his fingers curl inside of you, your wetness seeping out to soak your panties. You always get so wet, you’re so fucking perfect for him, always, and fuck, he loves you, loves you, loves you. 

“I love you too, Gyu,” you nearly sob into his open mouth, and he realizes he’d said that out loud. He doesn’t care, you deserve to know, you should know how he feels about you. He also feels like he wants you to cum, right now, so he can perhaps maybe get you sitting on his face tonight. He won’t be upset or disappointed if you still don’t want to, but it’s been occupying his brain for long enough that he’s starting to feel a little wild with it. 

His thumb presses down hard on your clit, rubbing measured circles as three of his long fingers hook into your g-spot and pulse, squelching noises following each curl of his fingers. Your breath catches with every curl too, and he knows you’re so so so close. 

“Please cum, baby, I wanna feel you cum, please,” Mingyu begs, his voice shot and his cock dribbling precum. 

You listen, your body so attuned to him that that’s what it takes. You break apart on his fingers, wetness flooding his palm and your cries echoing around the room as you writhe in his arms. He holds you while he works you through it, his fingers never growing tired even as your pussy clenches them so fucking tightly. 

He loves how hard you cum for him, every fucking time. 

“Good, honey? Tired?” Mingyu whispers into your hair, wrapping his arms around you and carrying you back over to the bed. 

“So good, Gyu. I wan-wanna… I wanna sit on your face. Or I want to try it, at least,” you whisper back, resting your head on his chest probably so you can avoid his gaze. He allows it, near vibrating with joy that you’re willing to give it a go, and swiftly switches places with you so you’re on top of him. 

“Okay, so just scooch up-”

“I’m not scooching up, that's so embarrassing!”

“Well I doubt you wanna stand up and sit down on my face, so,” he draws the ‘o’ out, telling you without words that he can’t think of another option, when another way suddenly comes to him. 

“Alright, then you sit up on your knees, yeah, like that,” he waits for you to get into position, “And I’ll just slide down, like this,” his voice grows strained as he shuffles down the bed. 

Once he settles and checks in with you, he lets himself look at the view just inches from his face. Seeing you, breathing you in, feels so different like this. You’re so close and there’s so much of you, and you’re all he knows, all he can feel and smell and touch, and when he pulls you to sit on his tongue, all he can taste. It’s heavenly, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the only way it could get any better is if you could just relax. But, he won’t push you. He’s ecstatic this is happening at all and if you need to stay up on your knees to feel comfortable, he’ll just have to crane his neck a little bit more. 

Your panties are still in the way, he’d forgotten to ask you to take them off before rolling the two of you over, so he pushes them as far to the side as he can and licks right into you. The taste of you explodes on his tongue, so rich and decadent but light and sweet, like fucking ambrosia or something, and Mingyu knows that if he died right here and now, he’d die the happiest man on the planet. 

With your legs straddling his head, you’re fully spread open, your glistening folds split apart to show your swollen clit and your slightly open entrance. He can’t resist sliding his tongue inside to get a taste at the source, his dick twitching against his stomach when he feels your walls squeeze around him. He knows he should get his thumb on your clit, focus on making you cum, but he wants to explore, get to know every little bit of you even better than he already does, and now is the perfect time to take his time. 

He shoves his tongue in deep, slowly fucking you with it and letting his groans rumble through you. You shiver on top of him and he feels it in his bones, feels it travel from head to toe, and he gets a sudden flash of what it would feel like to have you riding his face, triggering a moan from deep in his chest. This starts a delicious feedback cycle of Mingyu making sounds into you and you physically reacting to them, until he’s whimpering into your cunt nonstop and you’re grinding down on his tongue, just like he wanted. 

He doesn’t think you’re close but he knows you feel good, can tell by the wetness gushing into his mouth and the throbbing of your clit on his nose, and that’s enough for him to keep going as he wants. Your panties are starting to annoy him though, hindering his movements and constantly obstructing him from feeling you fully, so he detaches from you long enough to ask, “Can I rip them?” 

The tears in his voice make his words near incomprehensible but you know what he’s talking about, as always, and nod frantically, lifting up enough to give him some room to work. They’re flimsy, delicate enough that all it takes is his hands clenched in the sides and a sharp jerk before you’re fully naked before him. He lets the fabric fall to the bed, returning his hands to your hips and pulling you back down to where you belong. 

It’s so much better without your panties in the way, his tongue able to glide from cunt to clit as freely as he likes and his hands able to really squeeze into the meat of your hips like he loves. You give a little grind, slowly getting back into the rhythm you’d had pre-panty ripping, and he whines loudly in encouragement, bucking his own hips up into the air out of pure reflex. He wants you so bad but he wants to feel you cum like this more, so he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly, waiting for you to squeal overhead before slipping three fingers back inside of you from behind. Prodding at your g-spot, he flicks his tongue over your clit from side to side as he sucks, and it proves to be enough, or maybe too much, for you. You buckle over him, surrounding him completely in you as you cum with a sharp whine. The tensing of your walls around his fingers and the pulsing of your clit in his mouth are almost enough to tear his own orgasm from him, one of his hands flying down to grip the base of his dick tight tight tight to stave it off. He’s never cum untouched before and though he wouldn’t mind trying it, he desperately wants to fuck you. 

He slowly slides out from under you, turning over and grasping your hips to help lower you onto the bed before laying down next to you and sweeping a hand up and down your back. You’re still face down and panting into the duvet so he gives you some time, waits until you lift your head and plop it back down facing him to speak. 

“How was it, baby? Did you like it?” Mingyu asks softly, digging his fingers into the knots he finds. 

“I loved, we can do that every night if you want, ten out of ten, great job,” you mumble, and he wonders if you’ll be too tired for him tonight. 

“Do you think maybe I could… cum inside you? I’m almost there, you wouldn’t have to do anything, I just wanna feel you.”

You perk up instantly, still obviously exhausted but more awake mentally than before, nodding and lifting your ass just enough for him to climb on top of you and slide inside. You feel better on his cock than his face, which he didn’t think was possible, but here he is, halfway inside and approximately four inches from blowing his load. He loves cumming inside of you, getting to be so close and leaving so much of himself with you, like he’s marking his territory or something. He’s never worried about that with you, but sometimes the urge still comes through, the desire to make sure you and everyone else knows that you’re his, that your perfect body is his to fuck and your flawless mind is his to love. Even further, he wants everyone to know he’s yours. Wants your ring on his finger and your last name tacked onto his, wants it all, wants everything with you. 

That can wait until he’s not about to cum so deep inside you he hopes it sticks, though. 

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[ihatemynewbangs]

Intense eye contact with mingyu during missionary

when he's on top of you, both strong arms at either side of your head holding himself up so he can stare down at you. Each one of his deep thrusts makes you shift up on the bed. Every time you open your eyes, he's staring at you. His eyes are burning into you, and his jaw is slack as he continues to look at you under him, holding himself back to not kiss just yet.

the image of you when you look back up at him tho, keeping that eye contact.....fr it would drive him fucking wild.

he will argue like his life depends on it that sometimes, missionary is the best position. how else is he supposed to show you how much he wants more of you even while being inside of you?

plus, the idea of him breaking eye contact with a smirk, leaning down and placing his lips against your ear, whispering how pretty you look when you use your legs to push him deeper inside of you

im so normal, i promise. im very normal.

[ihatemynewbangs]

Feverish

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🌡️ pairing: hongjoong x gn!reader 🌡️ genre: the fluffiest fluff, established relationship, sickfic 🌡️ summary: as you come down with a cold, hongjoong is right there to lift you back up again, be it with soup, song, presence, or all at once. 🌡️ wordcount: 2.4k 🌡️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, proper use of face masks, hongjoong in a kitchen making things, him being a worried and loving boyfriend ready to give you the world, producer joong, he is the medicine actually, discussion of illness and various symptoms, fever, fatigue, distancing 🌡️ a/n: love you @legohwas <3 this was why I was being all cryptic asking about mango milkshakes~ apologies if the lil piece is chaotic and if I disappear into the void ruminating it... but imagine a serenading Hongjoong ahah<333 Thank you so much everyone for likes, reblogs, comments notes, they are always appreciated, much love!

🌡️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @/legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt

🌡️ cannot be tagged: @hjoymyluv @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez

A heavy stillness had settled in your bedroom, so palpable, in fact, that you believed if you dared to undraw the blackout curtains which were working wonders to protect you from the city’s night lights, that you would be able to see its every fibre. Perhaps there was this benefit to you being severely under - or even squashed by, the weather; for the first time in far too long you were allowing yourself to lie still, gaze at the ceiling in the semi darkness while swaddled in the sheets and throws and nearly drowning in the pillows which you had gathered from all around your apartment as soon as you had come home from class.

It had been a growing sensation. An inkling, a suspicion, and with every passing hour a sure realisation that indeed, you were catching a cold. Or whatever it could be. Either way, you had crawled home dizzy and fatigued, shuddering from what had turned out to be an alarmingly high fever, and after cautiously peeling your outdoor clothing away to change into cosy pyjamas succumbed to your body’s screams for rest. Drifting in and out of consciousness, you had no idea for how long you had been in bed until you were jolted awake by the turning of keys in the lock of the front door, and a very familiar, albeit highly concerned and timid ‘hello?’. Feeling for your phone, you squinted and fought off the tears that sprung to your eyes from the screen brightness as you attempted to read the time, the action only bringing to a state of shock: you had just spent a precious five hours doing absolutely nothing. A pang of guilt overpowered your throbbing temples; when you had more tasks than the number of heartbeats in a day, including professional, academic and domestic endeavours, having this kind of inconvenience such as an illness was simply out of the question. You cursed yourself, your immune system and the fact that there was no way to be able to schedule ailments or cancel your subscription to them altogether.

“Y/N? You missed our call- Y/N? Y/N are you okay?” you gazed off to the side to see your boyfriend peeking into the room, still in his face mask, beanie and coat, clutching a bag tightly against his chest. 

“Hi Joong… Down with…” you tried to speak, but your voice was still laden with sleep and tiredness that had finally caught up to you. Focusing on the silhouette, you peered in Hongjoong’s general direction, hoping that you looked at least somewhat alive after dozing, and snuggled deeper into the sheets.

“What?” he stepped a little closer, tilting his head ever so slightly. You managed to catch the fast narrowing of his eyes as he most definitely caught onto your state, and the droop in what likely was his adorable shy smile behind the black material. 

“Sorry… it’s just… yeah I’m down with something.” you croaked out, only to throw your face into the pillow you had been hugging, suddenly having found your strenuous staring a little more than overwhelming. 

“Wait Y/N really?” baffled, the man stumbled over his words, and looked for a space to drop the black leather bag, choosing an empty spot by the wall, right at the entrance. Stretching out again, he pinched the end of the beanie to slide it off, revealing black hair, lightly matter and dishevelled from the pressure of the garment.

Hongjoong’s eyes darted over your form while he ruffled his hair, worry growing stronger in his chest as he took note of the items strewn around the room. Your backpack was lying at the foot of your bed, laptop peeking out - it was terribly rare that you would ever come home and not organise yourself. If anything, you would be in the middle of reprimanding him for not putting slippers on and still being in his jacket; but not a peep came from you, and instead you were curled up in the foetal position, blocking out all light, all energy, a barely noticeable tramble rushing through you as you poked your head out again to answer him.

“No, I am just being lazy,” you snapped, your voice muffled by the bedsheets that you kept lifted to cover half of your face. Unusually irritated, you simply wanted to doze off and ignore your condition, hopefully wake up refreshed and be able to go about your day as if nothing happened instead of having your boyfriend subject himself to the risk of catching whatever it was.

“I think it is the universe telling you to catch a break.”

You raised an eyebrow at the statement finding it more than amusing, considering that even when Hongjoong did convince himself or management to stay with you for longer than a couple of hours, give him some time and you would find him in a random corner of the apartment, earphones in, laptop in front of him, an artist lost in his own world. Not that you ever minded, nor wanted that to change; if anything, it was unbelievably soothing, and the occasional clicks on the trackpad or keyboard always ended up becoming your rhythm and motivation as you settled down to work on your own projects. 

But you could not type away alongside him tonight, nor even uphold some banter. You desperately wanted to be snarky in return to his call for your relaxation, wanted to throw a witty comeback his way to point out his own habits, but the words remained on the tip of your tongue as you battled your fever, too tired to care about keeping a civil conversation going. But to Hongjoong, your silence spoke a thousand words; he could practically sense what you were going to say to him, and chuckled, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“I know, I know, but do as I say. And I say rest. I’ll… I’ll call the doctor to arrange an appointment…” he trailed off as he patted his pockets, eventually finding the device and beginning to search through his contacts to find someone from medical staff attached to the company. 

His eyes shot upwards once, twice, over and over again, terrified that your state could get worse at any moment or that you would get stubborn and try to power through and force yourself to work. He was distraught, anxious, even if he would eat pickled onion instead of admitting it openly, out of the desire to keep you as calm as possible. Just as he was about to call, you whispered to him:

“I am an adult-” but your phrase was cut short as he raised his hand.

“Let me take care of you? Please?” you hold a pause, waiting for your senses and your processing to catch up to your surroundings.

“...If you keep the mask on… I am not violent but I will throw hands if you get sick.”

“Alright. Gotcha. I’ll try,” and with a goofy thumbs up, he ambled out of the room, conversing over the phone, returning once to ask you about any other symptoms.

In that moment, when you finally could concentrate on his dark eyes, clouded over with distress and wrapped in a glimmer of affection, you felt nothing but safety. In those fleeting seconds, it was easy to forget your concerns about work, about assignments, about the texts that you most definitely missed. Simply with his serenity, the gestures of his hands as he continued talking about you and then the rocking on the balls of his feet as he relayed to you the doctor’s recommendations and the time of the appointment, you felt your erratic heartbeat slow down. With a satisfied hum you agreed, and shut your eyes, letting his aura envelop you. Perhaps it was for the better that he decided to visit after all. Even when he volunteered himself as the man on dinner duty, you were comfortable - you had made soup yesterday, and hopefully, the toaster was not going to catch fire. You concentrated on his soft footsteps as he moved from one part of the apartment to another; it was easy enough to trace the steps, and you imagined him going from the door where he dropped off his outerwear, to the bathroom to wash his hands, to the kitchen where he would open the fridge and muse what he could heat up.

You were adamant on him not approaching you as much as he could, resulting in Hongjoong pushing the tray with a bowl of warm soup, bread, and oddly paired with a mango milkshake that at least explained a fraction of the crashing noises and a random blast of the blender from the kitchen, every bit like a playful cat. He had the same combination of mischief and enthusiasm in his eyes that did not falter as he watched you take a few tentative spoonfuls. He appeared to glow as you thanked him for the surprise treat, and you could see his mask move to hide what undoubtedly was his precious megawatt grin. But what you could not exactly fight against, not when you could see the long day building up on Hongjoong’s shoulders, was his request to occupy the armchair on the other side of the room in a corner, saying that it was ‘necessary just in case you needed something’, so that he would automatically be on standby and within reach.

It was unusual, letting the hours trickle past like this. Instead of filling every second with something to do, or something to check, or something to plan, you were lying in bed, noticing the time and cradling it in your mind. The ticking of the clock on the wall to your right, furthest from Hongjoong was giving you the impression of grains of sand, dropping down into the palms of your hands only to roll over the palms turned hills to the particles, and continue their fall. Inadvertently, your eyes travelled to your adorable Cromer keeper, still clad in the black mask, face illuminated by the laptop screen. Though he was isolated from reality thanks to his newest pair of airpods and unbreaking focus, you could still read his body language thanks to your brain having grown less foggy after having napped and had a shot of pleasantly sweet and sour mango, the love and effort definitely adding to the flavour.

The furrowing of his brows, the way in which he scrunched his nose and you could see him squint ever so slightly as he felt your gaze rest on him and lifted his head to meet it. The barely noticeable, gentle upward jutting of the chin when Hongjoong wanted you to update him on how you were feeling. How he merely stated, after an alarm which you had not expected him to set made his phone vibrate, that it was time to measure your temperature and see if the medication worked. How as soon as you mentioned water, he did the unthinkable and abandoned his laptop on the coffee table to get you a bottle. Your Hongjoong. The artist, the innovator, the creative genius. A little clumsy at times, unsure of himself and subtly asking for you to confirm if he was doing the right things to help you. So much so, that his enthusiasm approached comical levels, and when you tried to make your grand escape outside of your quarters, he was on full alert:

“Bed rest, hello? What are you doing up? If you needed something I could-”

“Bathroom… Joong… bathroom. I am okay enough to go there.”

“OH. Oops sorry I- I- uh- yeah- ha… ha sorry… I’ll just be right… back… there yeah okay.”

You had to restrain yourself from guffawing, the dull ache in your head reminding you that you would probably need to sleep at least twelve more hours to have a laughing fit and not faint, and instead bit your bottom lip as you openly admired Hongjoong’s growing redness in the tips of his ears, and the lowering of his shoulders as an attempt to appear smaller. It was as if the fever was returning to you once again as you desperately wanted to pat your boyfriend on his head and wrap him up in your arms. Alas, you needed to get better first, for you both - captain’s orders, but it was easy when he was the best kind of medicine. His attentiveness, his patience, his resolve in staying by your side even though you had told him that you would be fine. While you were washing your face, relishing in the sensation of cool water running over your skin, you wondered when it would be appropriate to make the joke that he was currently looking like Hala-joong, and that he should wear the wide-brimmed hat you had hidden in your wardrobe.

Upon your return, nothing changed, just like he said. He was still there, still your precious Hongjoong, still immersed in what you could guess were the finishing touches for a track as he was mouthing the lyrics. You crept back into bed, only one creak alerting him of your presence, but he did not pay it no mind, only sending a wink in your direction as a form of greeting. And you thought that this was how you were going to go back into a healing slumber, until you heard the clicking of the earphones case, and the faint notes of a song, only just beginning - a soothing introduction with a semi-acoustic guitar. As it continued, Hongjoong counted the bars with one hand, and hurriedly apologised to you:

“I was meant to record the vocals but… it felt only right to finish this to the best of my ability now. And uh… stop me if your head hurts.” you rolled your eyes, a smile breaking over your features as you cuddled into the warm blankets, supporting your head so that you could watch your beloved artist and human in his element, sharing his most valuable with you.

He sang softer than usual, careful to not hurt your sensitive eardrums, but the dulcet tones were like the life essence washing over you, lifting you above the spell of illness and immersing you in a total, ethereal bliss. Of course he was going to choose a song that was on theme, on time, lyrically balanced and heartwarming. Of course Hongjoong was going to make you want to weep from the comfort that he was providing. And of course, he was going to respect your wishes and not walk closer to you, but with his voice, with his beautiful rendition of ‘Sleep Well’ by .d4vd from the custom backing track to the added tastefully melodic rap, he carried the love, the care right over to you. Lulling you into a well deserved break from turmoil, guiding you into a better tomorrow. Because how dare a virus be the one to make the love of his life feel feverish, and not him? 

[ihatemynewbangs]

— bet on stones. / suna rintarou x f!reader.

— fluff. all fluff. (a lot of flirting and teasing.) established relationship. some cursing. pro-player!suna. post timeskip suna.

— teasing sunarin for his short hair. ggez btw.

"rin," your voice is barely above a whisper, but the corners of your lips are twitching, trying your hardest not to laugh.

and listen, while suna has the softest spot for you, the glare he gives you is well-deserved.

"don't start," he says—all warning and frowning.

"what'd—" the giggle escapes you, it can't be helped, "what'd you do to your—your hair, oh god," you almost whimper, trying to reign it in.

suna groans, reaching a hand to his hair and running over it in a ruffle. his hair—so short and barely framing his face—and he's still pretty, but it's a sight to see.

especially when he just walked in your apartment this way, avoiding your gaze the moment he stepped foot inside because he just knew; he knew that you'd be there on the couch waiting for him and for the life of you, you won't be holding back your laugh or any quick-witted comment on his hairstyle.

but then, you're standing from where you were, walking towards him by the door.

a grin decorating your face, the urge to laugh still evident by the crinkle of your eyes, and your hands reaching to cup his face. "hi, pretty boy," you greet him, thumbs over his cheeks.

he sighs. narrow, green eyes looking back at you with some exasperation, some hint of softness, all at once. he leans in, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips, before he speaks, "learn to shut up more often, yeah?"

you immediately pout, "what?" you sound offended. "i'm flirting with you, rin," you tell him cheekily, "short hair, weird-looking you—"

"ooookay," he cuts you off. it's all monotone, the way he says it. and you can't tell if you've truly annoyed him yet but with a pinch to your waist and a hand over your mouth, he's moving you, turning you over and backing you up against the door.

your eyes widen as he leans in—all six foot three and broad body over you, still in his ejp jersey—he levels his gaze with yours, watching your reaction.

he licks his lips before speaking, "y'got somethin' more to say, babe?"

you shake your head slowly. truthfully, if your weakened knees and your hands now on his arms on a tight grip is any indication; suna, even in his weird short hair, is still the prettiest person you know.

he hums in thought, like he doesn't buy your answer, but he keeps a straight face as he removes his hand from your mouth, only raising an eyebrow at you with some sort of challenge.

"who did your hair, babe?" you opt to ask instead, biting your lip to prevent a giggle.

suna's responding glare is quick, but sighs in defeat at his answer, "fuckin' atsumu miya."

the snort you let out is enough for suna to tease you for, but he lets you have it instead. besides, you let him tease you more often and let him get away with it more than you should.

you reach up to his cheeks again. with his hands still on your waist, it's a picture right out of a romcom, were anyone else to see you two.

"you lost a bet, didn't you?" you ask, already knowing the answer, "but why would you trust atsumu with your hair, rin?"

"cause," suna answers you, "he would've turned his hair rainbow—that's funnier."

"how did you lose the bet, anyway?" you tilt your head, cause you know that despite how careless your boyfriend could be, he rarely loses these.

this time though, instead of answering you, he shakes his head and picks you up—it's effortless, the way he does it, bringing you back to the couch.

"is it that bad?" he mutters while he's peppering kisses all over your neck. it's overwhelming, the sensation of his lips and his larger body over you, the clean smell of his shampoo and his skin against yours because he likes taking a shower before coming home to you.

he takes your breath away, really.

"no," you sigh, because he's lingering a kiss right against the pulse on your neck.

"actually," you start, moving to try and meet his gaze, your hands finding his soft, dark hair, massaging against his scalp. "i have a boyfriend but maybe you can tell me your name and we could go on a date?"

suna's chuckle vibrates against you, his lips tugging with a small smile. "mm, 'm not sure you're worth gettin' a fight over."

you gasp dramatically, faking offense, "i'm asking you out on a date!"

"don't you have an athlete boyfriend, though? suna, yeah? pretty sure he can fight."

you shake your head, "hmm, he likes making me happy, though. i think we can just break up if it makes me happy, right?"

he hums in thought, not too worried about his too-short hair and your teasing anymore, "don't know if you'd be a good girlfriend, though."

it's your turn to make it physical this time, tugging playfully at his hair, "that's offensive, rin. i bring a lot to the table!"

suna smirks, trying not to laugh at you, "yeah? like what?"

"well, i can cook out of love for you. i'll wear your jersey proudly for your games. i'll wait for you to come home every day. in bed—"

the list goes on. this, suna knows the best. on his end, it's the only reason why he lost the bet anyway, because there's a ring hidden in the box in his training bag he thought he would've given to you by now.

atsumu, six months ago, told him he's too chicken.

no one can really blame suna for being nervous about it, though. so nervous that now, six months later, with a bet lost and a ring he's got for you still hidden, his hair is cut short.

it's because he loves you like this.

but with the list still going on, he thinks you're right: he should take you on a date, then maybe, if you say yes, make you his wife.

[ihatemynewbangs]

do u have any mingyu fic recs c: i swear i've devoured ur fics i seriously need more

Hello love! Thank you for enjoying my fics so much. You are so sweet. ♥ I went through my personal recs and I'm going to list several here that I really enjoyed.

Local Lover Boy - @cheolism

BeReal - @onlyseokmins

The Morning - @cheolhub

Midnights to Come - @ssinboo

Fool for You - @the-boy-meets-evil

His Smile - @angelwonie

Again and Again - @lovelyhan

Birthday Love - @sluttyminghao

Good Dad, Better Daddy - @bitchlessdino

GYUGYU97 & HANNIE (Cambaby Series) - @smileysuh (Gyu & Jeonghan)

Two is Better Than One - @beahae (Meanie)

Please give these authors love as they all seriously deserve it. They are all so amazing and inspiring.

[ihatemynewbangs]

jazzy’s 4k follower celebration 🎉💜

@boyswthluv​ asked: thanxx san or fireworks san

bonus:

[ihatemynewbangs]

yungi are my favorite people

[ihatemynewbangs]

i can’t hang out tomorrow i’m too busy doing nothing alone sorry

[ihatemynewbangs]

resources masterpost

here's a list of links that i've compiled with resources to help with mental health issues, bfrbs and stress! this list is updated every now and then to add new helpful sites i find so feel free to bookmark.

➸ international helplines

➸ dealing with suicidal thoughts

➸ strategies to stop skin-picking (dermatillomania)

➸ grounding techniques (for anxiety, dissociation or distressing thoughts)

➸ ways to cope with eating disorders (includes advice from people who are recovering/have recovered)

➸ substitute activities for BFRBs (dermatillomania, trichotillomania, etc.)

➸ 50 ways to stop hair-pulling (trichotillomania)

➸ masterlist of links with help for BFRBs (dermatillomania, trichotillomania, etc.)

➸ 25 quick ways to reduce stress

➸ ways to reduce stress in 5, 10 + 30 minutes

➸ tips for coping with SAD (aka. seasonal depression/winter blues)

➸ talking/rambling audios designed to help with falling asleep