#and the research session ended up with this lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paarksunghoon · 8 days

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Jake finally taking you after months of uncertainty whether you like him or not. Pushing you against a wall, rough and passionate making out, and him being a softdom. Pleaseeeeeeee.

i imagined jake wearing glasses 😋 bonus points if the neighbors are heeseung, jay and sunghoon and they all hear jake fuck you lol

***

It all started with a stupid semester project.

Jake hates group work. He hates relying on people and he hates when his partners don’t complete their portion of the work. Jake thinks they’re lazy and good-for-nothing, even though he knows he’s being dramatic. He hates being the only person to contribute to the Google doc and he loathes it when the grade is dependent on everyone as a whole and not individually.

He meets you in Advanced Research Methods. It’s a required class for mathematical and physics majors in order to graduate, and Jake has pushed off taking it for as long as he could because he hates the idea of researching data with a partner. He knows the professor well enough to assume that there would be group work (he assumes correctly) but absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him from laying eyes on you for the first time.

When Dr. Kang announces the partners for the semester-long research project, Jake’s tapping his pen against his leg when he starts to hear names being called out. His ears perk up when he hears his own. When your name is said, Jake looks up and finds that you’re staring right at him.

You look so put together. Jake doesn’t know what it is about you that makes you look like you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe it’s because your hair looks particularly neat compared to all of the other people sitting around him. Perhaps it’s your laptop and notebook right next to it. Whatever it is, he finds himself a bit nervous to inevitably approach you in order to begin working on the project.

Dr. Kang allows the students to mingle and get to know one their project partners during the last ten minutes of class to exchange information. When you take initiative to walk to where Jake is sitting and occupy the seat next to him, he finds himself stuttering.

“H-Hey,” he says pathetically. You’re prettier up close.

“Hi! Jake, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Here’s my phone. Why don’t you put your number in.”

Jake’s hands are almost shaking as he holds your phone between his hands and settles with ‘Jake Sim - Research Methods’ as his contact so you remember him. When he hands it back to you, he watches you type away before he feels his own phone buzz.

Unknown Number: hi! it’s yn.

He saves the contact quickly before class ends and the two of you decide to wait until the next class to set a time to meet to work on the project.

Jake’s worries about group projects disappear when he begins working with you. You’re punctual, never a minute late when the two of you agree to meet after classes to work on it. You contribute to brainstorming sessions and crunch data numbers like you’re the best at it. Jake finds that he’s able to divide up the work evenly and sleeps at a decent hour because he doesn’t have to stay up late to finish an extra portion.

Your intellect is attractive to him. You’re able to explain difficult theories and statistical processes to him better than any professor he’s ever hard. Only, it becomes hard to listen to you talk because he keeps staring at your lips.

They’re so kissable. Jake wonders what they must feel like against his own. He imagines grabbing your face with his hands and planting one on you when you talk about SPSS but he doesn’t act on it, fearing that he may make you uncomfortable. Jake loves it when you start to wear shorter dresses and skirts because the weather is warming up. He likes seeing your thighs stick to the seats and watching you pull the fabric down to prevent flashing everybody.

As the months go by, he realizes he’s learned a lot about you. You’re not from around and you dream of working in astrophysics one day. You love the color green and you’re obsessed with tangerines to the point where he bought a bag just to present you with one at every session. You’re a night owl and you love all kinds of music except country, and you prefer coffee over tea.

Jake also knows that your body is gorgeous. Your legs look stunning in shorter skirts and your tits look beautiful when they almost spill out of your crop tops. He knows what your thighs look like when you sit and how your skirt rides up to accommodate the new angle you’ve put yourself in.

It messes with his head because sometimes, he swears you might like him, too.

You laugh at his corny math jokes and ask him to hang out with you on the weekends. You let him buy you coffee and meals when it’s late into the night. You let him walk you home and you even allow Jake to nap on your bed when he comes over to work on the project after long, hot days.

It all comes to a boiling point one Thursday evening when he’s alone with you in your dorm. Your roommate is gone until Monday and Jake is sitting on the bed whilst you’re sitting on the desk chair, stretching your arms above your head until your shirt rides up. He can see your skin and wonders how soft you must be.

For just a moment, Jake wonders what your bare skin would feel like against his palms. Your breasts look plush to the touch and he’d bet anything that your pussy would feel so amazing against his fingers and cock when you’re wet. He imagines sliding his dick in and out of your tight hole, pumping until he’s coming inside of you and making you messier than before.

But he regrets this thought because he’s half hard in his sweatpants and there’s no way to hide it.

“I, uh, think I’m gonna head back to my dorm,” Jake announces as he puts a notebook in front of his crotch.

“Already?” You turn around and pout at him. “But you got here thirty minutes ago.”

Jake shuffles to the door. “Sorry, Y/N. I think I’ll do my portion there.”

“Jake, I really need you here to complete my part. We’re supposed to turn in the second half of the report this week and I need your help to do it.”

God, you sound so hot when you’re asking him to stay.

He panics when you stand from your seat to approach him as he motions to open the door. The sound of your chair scraping against the floor startles him until he drops the notebook that’s been covering his semi-hard dick. You gasp.

“Are you hard?”

Bashfully, Jake sighs and tries to back away from you. “This I why I wanted to leave, okay? I…I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You look at his crotch and then back up at him. “Why are you hard?”

Jake’s face heats up even more. “I-I don’t know.”

“Jaeyun.” Your voice sounds so delicate saying his name like that.

“It’s because I like you and you’re wearing shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, okay?!” He sighs. “I’ve liked you since the second time we worked on the project because that’s when I knew I could rely on you. Everything else was just circumstance and now I need to go to my dorm so I can take care of this.”

“I can help,” you tell him. You say it just shy of confidently and he can’t tell if you feel bad for him or not.

“You don’t have to say or do anything. I already made this weird.”

You force yourself to stop looking at his cock. Knowing Jake, he’s too embarrassed to realize that your proposition is genuine and that you’ve harbored a crush on him since becoming partners with him too. So you muster up enough courage to press your lips to his and hope the message is clear.

Jake’s eyes widen against your mouth and you pull back after a few seconds to see the astonished look on his face. “I like you too, dummy. Have since you started bringing me tangerines after knowing me for two weeks.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Mhm. Can I kiss you again?”

Jake captures your mouth in a kiss the way he wants to—his hands grab your jaw and he pushes his lips against yours until he’s turning you. You feel your back hit the hard wall and gasp into the kiss, allowing Jake to lick your bottom lip with his tongue. The sensation dances across your chest and you gush out a stream of wetness at Jake’s urgency.

“Could’ve been kissing you all this time,” he mutters against your neck as he drags his lips down your skin. “Feel what you do to me.”

Without detaching himself from you, Jake puts your hand on his hardened cock and hears you whimper at the feeling. He coaxes you to squeeze him through the fabric and moans against your neck when you do.

“Such a good girl, listening to me like that.” He pulls away and pushes his hips into your palm. “I’m always hard for you.”

“R-Really?”

“You’re so hot, Y/N. You have to know that.”

Jake doesn’t let you respond. He grips your waist and pushes his plump lips back on yours and kisses you with fervor until your own lips have become swollen. The two of you emit breathy moans in the quiet of your dorm room and your free hand pushes Jake’s sweats down until his cock springs free. The hand around his dick collects the precum that has oozed from his swollen head and you smear it over his skin.

“Fuck me,” he moans to himself. “You’re perfect.”

“Your cock is perfect,” you choke. “So big.”

“Yeah? Can you spit on it for me?” You do as he says, leaning forward until a wad of it touches his slit. Jake smiles at you lustfully and squeezes your hips. “Good girl. Always so good, aren’t you? Makes me wonder how good you’ll be for me when I fuck you.”

“I’ll be so good,” you whine as you twist your hand up and down his length. Jake resumes kissing your neck and the electricity makes your pussy quiver. “I want you inside of me now.”

“Now? You think you’re wet enough?” You nod. “We’ll just have to see, now won’t we?”

Jake’s movements are hurried as he pushes your shorts down until they’re at your knees. You aren’t lying. You’re really wet. The cute baby pink panties you wear are soiled and he feels it when his fingers come in contact with the fabric.

The short whimper you let out is enough for Jake to short circuit. He doesn’t believe this is real. Even less so when you maneuver his cock until the tip it pushing against your covered core, gathering your wetness to coat his cock.

“Fuck, you really are perfect,” Jake whispers against you. He pulls back to watch as you stroke him while keeping the tip plush against you as if to coax him into fucking your hole. Jake’s mouth hangs open at the delicious sensation of the wet fabric against his cock head and decides you’re wet enough to take all of him.

He relishes in your gasp when he forces you to turn around. You push your ass towards him and Jake slaps your right ass cheek with his big hands until the sound reverberates in the room. Jake pulls your panties down until they join your shorts halfway down your legs and pushes his cock against you.

“How are you so fucking wet?” he mutters.

“It’s all for you.”

“Fuck yes it is.”

Without bothering to pull his sweatpants off, Jake uses his hand to slide the tip up and down your slit until you’re arching your back and clutching the wall to the best of your ability. The wet splashes make him even hornier and he pushes the head into you until you envelop him.

Slowly, Jake pushes into you inch by inch and holds you by the waist. He rubs your bare skin and coos at you when you wiggle your ass to get more of him. The pain feels exceptional. You can’t remember a time where you fucked someone as big as Jake and you don’t want to live without his cock inside of you like this.

Jake takes his shirt off to prevent it from obstructing the view of his cock disappearing into your pussy. He pushes himself inside of you until he’s completely sheathed and catches you by surprise. Jake silences your moan with a kiss to your mouth and rubs soothing circles on your waist, kissing you like his life depends on it while you get used to the new stretch.

He pushes his tongue against yours and uses the spit to coat his lips. You taste exactly like the pink lemonade you’ve been drinking all night and the innocent flavor makes his hips buck into you.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Jake. Don’t make me wait.”

He obliges. Jake fucks into you with all his might and his strong, muscular arms hold you in place as you push your chest against the wall and hold onto the door handle. The string of moans you let out is surely loud enough to let the neighbors know what’s happening behind the door but neither of you care about that right now. Jake wants to make you come and he’s slinging his hips into you from an upward angle, bending his knees to make sure his cock impales your g-spot.

“You’re so hot,” he moans. “I think about fucking you all the time.”

“M-Me too,” you confess.

“Yeah? What do you think about?”

“I think about—Ah!—Fingering me in class and eating my pussy.”

“Fuck yeah. I can do that for you.” Jake grips your hips tighter. “I can make you cum.”

“Make me cum, Jaeyun,” you plead, pushing your ass back. “I wanna cum on your cock.”

Jake pistons his hips into you until you’re parallel to the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. He pushes into you so hard that you’re afraid you’d fall if it weren’t for his strong grip on you. Jake pushes and pushes, saving his orgasm until you come first.

It hits you like a tidal wave crashing over the shore. Your orgasm is long and drawn out as he keeps his brutal pace. Your release seeps from between the two or you and drips down his balls. Jake bites his lip at the tingling sensation and smacks your ass when you clench around him.

“Use me to make yourself cum,” you tell him. “Please, Jake. Please cum for me.”

“Say less, Princess.”

His orgasm follows shortly behind yours. Jake pulls out after five more thrust and pumps his cock until his cum spurts all over the globes of your ass. The warm, thick liquid feels so good against your skin that you push your bare pussy against him until Jake is letting his hot cock rest on you too.

When he regains his breath, he spots a roll of paper towels and gives your cheek a quick kiss before cleaning the both of you up. His touch is gentle, juxtaposed to his fucking just a few minutes prior. Jake cleans himself up before wiping the cum off of you and wiping your pussy gently too. He coaxes you to change into fresh undergarments and lets you collapse onto the bed with your eyes on him.

“I really do like you,” Jake says. “I didn’t say that just to fuck you.”

You pull him down and kiss him until all that’s left is soft pecks and the sound of lips smacking. Jake lets you pull away to lay on top of his chest and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake #my writing*#hard thought*

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mysicklove · 1 year

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𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐄

DAY 2: SUB SPACE + MOMMY KINK

With: Satoru Gojo

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo

A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps

Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him.

But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.

And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.

It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough.

A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment?

His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.

But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”

He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”

You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.

Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”

Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now.

Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”

He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.

You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything.

He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.

You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.

He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.

You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”

You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”

He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat.

Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.

You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“Hmm?”

He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.”

You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out.

“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.

You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”

“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.

Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward.

He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.

You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”

He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.

You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.

When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.

You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”

“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.

You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”

But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.

You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.

Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 3 months

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Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, “experimented on”- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You’d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #soldier boy smut

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tblsomedoodles · 1 year

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Here's an art/info dump about this stupidly cute idea that's been rotating in my brain for three day.

(the first comic here is just how they first met. they ended up in the same alley, pestering the same cat without noticing. Then the cat left and they notice they're not alone lol)

(Second is Donnie 'talking' with Mikey for the first time. He only uses Mind Mend to communicate and is just as surprised as Mikey to find it worked on him. (it has only worked with Leo before this))

I'll put the rest under a break b/c i will be going off about this and i don't want it to take up your entire feed.

I'm jokingly calling this "Mikey's Imaginary Friends" though that might change if i continue this.

Basically it's this, the twins grew up with Draxum while Raph and Mikey grew up with Splinter. Neither set knew about the other (b/c splinter though they were dead and didn't want his two remaining kids to worry about it, and Draxum was too focused on fixing his lab to pay much attention to the twins.) So, imagine Mikey's shock when, at age 8, he's out exploring topside (having snuck out) and runs into two more mutant turtles (who also snuck out and are exploring.) Thus begins an ongoing sneaking out to meet up thing between the three b/c Mikey's excited to have new friends and the twins are just as fascinated with Mikey as he is with them.

And before you ask, "hey, why doesn't Mikey tell his family about the two other turtles?" he does. Raph thinks he just made up some imaginary friends so he plays along but doesn't believe they're real. Splinter, on the other hand, thinks he's talking to Hamato ancestors due to some very big miscommunications (that i'll probably draw out at some point b/c it's silly)

Twins background wise, i'm still thinking through a lot of it, but i'll put my thoughts down anyways.

Draxum knew that training the twins at a young age would be counterproductive, so he doesn't train them beyond some basics a few times a week. Other than those sessions, he leaves them alone with their less-than-stellar caretaker, in favor of rebuilding his lab. The caretaker doesn't do much for them beyond give them food and very basic school like lessons. Beyond that the twins are left on their own.

they come to the conclusion that the only people that will care for them is themselves. They discover Mind Meld very early as a result of this and will not talk verbally b/c they found out early on with their caretaker, that if they tried to talk, they were just ignored anyways, so what's the point.

(I'm also thinking Donnie might be deaf or hard of hearing in this, with the pair of them using Mind Meld as a way for him to temporarily hear through Leo and thus keep Drax from finding out. but i'll have to do some more research before i decide for sure/figure out the specifics)

as for Meeting Mikey

That's why they became so fascinated with mikey. B/c mikey was the first person that treated them like a person and not a job or an incomplete experiment. (He's also so happy and bright, they can't avoid getting drawn to him lol)

Mikey's probably the only one they verbally start talking to, even after they teach him mind meld. (though Leo's the one to pick up on that more than Donnie. Donnie doesn't do much talking at all outside mind meld).

They also come out of their shells (hehe) a lot as they interact more with Mikey. Before they met him, they acted more like automatons, even when alone. The more they socialize with Mikey, the sillier these two get. Leo learns about puns and starts going mad with them, Donnie starts happy stimming about thing (which he has either been suppressing or just never had the urge to do before.) Basically they stop acting like little creepy statues and start acting like kids.

Honestly, it's just a cute idea with the kiddos meeting each other and Mikey inadvertently socializing his not-well-socialized brothers.

(also, the twins wear masks b/c Donnie doesn't like the smell of the city and he's worried about germs. Not for any ninja reasons, what so ever.)

Alright, that's it for my info dump. maybe more later? Maybe not? Depends on how much longer these kids keep my attentions (though right now, they're doing a pretty good job at it lol)

#tmnt #rottmnt #my doodles #rise michelangelo #rise leonardo #rise donatello #Mikey's imaginary friends #b/c if i don't tag it with somethign now #i'll probably loose it in my mess of a blog #anyways #here you go #i should be doing a speedpaint rn #instead i drew all this #i'll do the speedpaint later today

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sgiandubh · 2 months

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News from Birmingham, part 4: last tidbits

The Highlanders 7 con ended about one hour ago. Here is the last batch of selected pics from the closing ceremony, immediately sent by the girls.

Same restrictions as yesterday: Mordorians need not apply and no stealing for X or Instagram, please - whoever you might be.

An interesting tidbit was brought by this guy, in his closing speech:

Meet Sean W. Harry, the owner of the Highlanders franchise. He took the time for a special kudos to Steve Himber and he said that when he first got the idea of organizing the convention, he didn't really know where to start. He knew, however, that Himber was 'the Number One in the US for convention casting', contacted him and told him he 'wanted the OL cast' : 'thank you, Steve, none of all this would have been possible without you'.

As mentioned by @misssophie-me, things might be more nuanced, IRL. Thank you for the research, honey and might I add a screenshot of my own, for clarity:

The guy owns two companies, on each US coast: Himber Entertainment Worldwide, in New Jersey and Himber Entertainment, in LA. He introduces himself as a 'talent manager', but I can't understand how and why his number of professional connections is so limited. Perhaps he is just like me, he doesn't like LinkedIn much - go figure:

Himber lost a trial in court, in 2007, against another LA talent manager, Holly Lebed, for 'negligent breach of contract' - no fraud, however, was retained against him:

The above go to show the plaintiff won the case and took the money. Lebed's attorney and Lebed herself, as plaintiff, were served a 'satisfaction of judgment'. This shows they received the money they were owed by Himber, who lost the case. His reputation must have been stellar, afterwards. I bet the farm.

If Himber is 'Number One in the US', I wonder who Lebed is: Number One in the entire galaxy? There is quite a difference in numbers, on LinkedIn:

Remember (LOL for years) this New Jersey convention, in 2018? Granted, it was way before my time, but hey, Internet is forever:

Neither S, nor C could attend (last minute) due to conflicting filming schedules and were replaced by Rankin and Skeleton. Something caught my eye in the very stiff statement released by Himber, at that time. Perhaps it might clarify his status as far as S and C are concerned:

'The booker who coordinated Sam's appearances between his theatrical agents and promoters such as yourself'. For sure, those guys at Creation Entertainment were mightily pissed. Himber's choice of words is peculiar, though and he lends the impression he doth protest too much. This is the kind of statement and the kind of guy that would make many people suspicious.

You make up your own mind. I think there are many things that just begin to make sense, now.

But to end on a somewhat lighter note, remember (LOL for all the rest of the season) this recent pic, at Wimbledon?

Turns out the same guy showed up at the Highlanders Con, as Skeleton's assistant for the autograph session. I have no pic to substantiate, but I was told by our girls he was helping out with post-its, etc. Weird.

Questions, questions.

#fandom #shitshow #Starfury Highlanders 7 2024

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freakshowtwopointoh · 10 months

Note

Hi!! Can I request jealous Jordan li where reader is spending a lot of time with someone else, maybe for a school project or something and Jordan notices and is like, nope, not happening, this one's mine bc they're so in love with reader and want all of the attention

Whew, that was a lot, haha,

Thank you!!!!

*not sure if u want established partners or situationship w feelings or something else, but i think imma go with situationship bc thats always the vibe for jordan lol if u want more established relationship lmk*

Debate club was a sensible extracurricular, and you had been doing it since your school stopped having model UN in 9th grade. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you liked to argue, so it worked out. This week, you were arguing the "for" case with your teammate for the semester, Blake Mathers. He's a grating sophomore with floppy hair, and telekinesis powers you've only seen him use to enable his own laziness. The head of the club was nice enough, but he was insistent on "teamwork" when you'd much rather write alone. It was exhausting, trying to filter your thoughts and opinions, and allowing others to shine was not your style.

You try to pay attention to what Blake was saying about the topic, but all you were thinking about was Jordan Li. Ever since you made out at one of Dusty's infamous parties, they had invaded your senses and your thoughts. They'd catch you staring during class, or you'd wear a tiny skirt to a party, and you'd end up in a closet, or a car, or a bedroom, all limbs and heavy breathing.

"Um, hello? Did you hear me?" You shake your head.

"Sorry. Say that again?"

"The argument we wrote yesterday. It's gone - my computer got fucked." Ah, crap. This is the second time Blake's stupidity has made you re-do work. You'd done some research at the start of the week, and he'd forgotten to mention the topic had been changed. You sigh.

"Well, fuck. Alright, let's go back to the library then." You turn around and start walking, trying not to show your disappointment. You'd been hoping to "run into" Jordan at the JitterBean - hence the tight-ass skinny jeans.

Waste of an outfit, you think bitterly, pushing open the glass doors and setting up at the table that you and Blake had been using to do your assignments. Thankfully you'd saved your notes from yesterday, so you began reconstructing your argument while Blake screwed off.

You weren't paying much attention to what he was doing until you saw him fucking with Justine. Now there's some bullying you can get behind. You giggle, and watch as he makes another paper airplane fly around her head. She glares over at him and storms out, which makes you laugh out loud. The librarian glares, and you exchange a guilty look with Blake before getting back into writing.

The afternoon goes by easily after that. You were vaguely aware of other students milling about or studying nearby, but you were in the zone. Finally, at almost 8, the argument was done, and you saved it in multiple places just in case.

You wave goodbye to Blake, happy that the session went reasonably ok and the work was done. Saturday's debate was going to be a blast.

"Have fun on your little date with Mathers?" Jordan was leaning against the outside wall of the library, expression unreadable.

"Is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?" Their eyes harden slightly.

"Not jealous, just lookin out for you. He's a moron." They begin walking beside you, not acknowledging how unhinged they were behaving. Just looking out for you? If they weren't so damn hot, you might slap them. But the fact that they were asking meant.... something, right? You ignored how that made your heart swoop and just kept walking.

"We have debate club together, and he keeps fucking shit up, that's all." You say, in spite of yourself. If you were smarter, you'd let them wonder what you were doing with him. But you couldn't keep from looking at them, and feeling disappointed you can't make out any relief in their eyes. But then, their arm is snaked around your waist and their lips are at your ear.

"You wear those skin fucking tight jeans to just study with him?" You grit your teeth, forcing your mouth to not say what you wanted so desperately to say: 'No, I wore them for you, and you're clearly the idiot if you can't tell that I am so wrapped around your finger that I will dress up just in case I see you.' and just roll your eyes instead. They let their hand slide from your waist to your back pocket, daring you to stop them. And of course you don't. With every inch their hand travels, your heart skips another beat. When they squeeze your ass ever so slightly, a whimper sneaks out before you can stop it.

And with that, you're being pressed against a tree and their lips are on your neck.

"Fuck, J." You curse as their teeth sink into your skin.

"You're mine, baby. Only mine." They murmur in your ear.

"Always have been." You say back, almost moaning as they continue their assault on your neck. They pull away at this.

"Yeah? That why you're spending all your time with Mathers and co instead of me, in such," They pause to run their hands on your hips, pulling you tight against them. "delicious clothes."

"I thought you weren't jealous." You murmur, sliding your hand up their back. "But I wore these, and what's underneath, for you and you alone. He's just a moron who's forced me to re-do my work twice this week alone."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me take you up and make everyone hear who really owns you." You barely hold back a moan as they drag you up to your dorm to fulfill their promise.

#jordan li #gen v #gen v prime #jordan li x reader #gen v smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #request #reqs open

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avocado-writing · 7 months

Note

Hello! Could I request BG3 origin companions + Halsin and Rolan reacting to you asking them to help you work out/get fit? I've just started my fitness journey (for health reasons) and motivating myself can be really hard sometimes ;-;

good luck on your fitness journey, anon! i lost a load of weight over lockdown so i know that it can be difficult but i promise you it's possible!

Astarion

he' will literally complain the whole time but will do it anyway.

he doesn't work out with you, but he will sit to the side as you exercise and shout 'encouragements' at you.

"oh that weightlifting looks like it's absolutely awful, keep it up!" or he sees you eating a protein bowl and he's like "good on you for eating that but I'm glad I only need to survive off blood"

but still let you know he's proud of you and is, overall, supportive and sweet.

Gale

I am not a 'gale has abs' truther. sorry larian he has a str 8 I'm not buying it.

still, he will really really do his best to help be your workout partner.

if he spots you with weightlifting he has to do it with a mage hand too, or my boy is not strong enough to make sure you don't hurt yourself lol

he will get so knackered trying to keep up with you but he'll do it! he wants to be a good exercise partner!

is the best for looking up dietary stuff & researching into best exercises for the parts of your body you want to focus on.

maybe he does have abs by the time of you get into a good routine...

Wyll

Wyll is the only str8 companion I buy having abs. he's a swordsman and keeps himself lean to be good in a fight.

uses his swordmanship knowledge as a fitness regime - the two of you spar every day for long periods, it's a great workout!

helps you cool down after too, shows you the best way to help ease the sting of lactic acid.

he will sit down with you and make an exercise plan for each day. if he's doing this with you you're going the whole way, not half-arsing it.

exhausting but a great workout partner!

Karlach

very excited. jumps into training with you way too fast and hard. you are exhausted after the first couple of days and go to bed aching from it.

when she realises she cuts down on what she's asking you to do and tries to build up your strength and endurance on a curve rather than all at once.

she loves getting up early and going for a jog, just the two of you.

great at weight lifting. you're able to lift far more than you could every dream of after a couple of months.

she flexes at you and you flex back, then break into laughter. she loves having someone to do this with!

Shadowheart

especially when she's still a sharran, she is very much a 'feel the burn' sort of exercise partner.

your body hurts? good. keep going. that's how you know it's working. shar wants you to feel the pain.

lots of yoga and meditation, too. helps you restore balance to yourself after a tough session.

you go to bed sore every night but she just uses heals on you the next morning before you get going again.

it works but god, it is rough.

Lae'zel

"hmm. very well, i have seen how enviously you look at my body. i will train you to have my strength."

like karlach, she throws you in to the deep end, because that is how githyanki do it. unlike karlach she does not let up.

she is brutal but you see results quickly. another one of the companions who likes sparring. will make you fight her again and again until she can see proof your muscles are developing.

one day she gives you a compliment about how well you're doing and you're glowing for the rest of the day.

Halsin

for sure uses his wildshape to help you work out, turning into bigger and bigger animals and getting you to carry them as you run.

very supportive! constantly giving you a stream of praise about how well you are doing.

suggests good plants to supply you with extra vitamins, makes sure you are drinking water and staying hydrated.

being so old he probably has his own workout routine which he adapts for you. is aware of how much you can do but also helps you increase your endurance - he is the best at planning what you're doing that day.

Rolan

will. not. shut. up. about. how. he. hates. this.

"i don't want to do this >:(" "then don't." "no wait--"

groans and whines as he jogs next to you. eventually uses a floating disk to hover next to you as you run a circuit.

when you point out he's just giving up, that incites him, and he becomes a halfway decent workout buddy - he says it's just to spite you, but you think it may be because he enjoys spending time with you...

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tddyhyck · 5 months

Note

how would dreamies react to the reader asking them to sub for the first time in the bedroom?

i’m so glad u asked 🤭🤭

i think mark would be a lil nervous bc you’ve never fully delved into dom/sub dynamics but he’s like ill do whatever u want 🥺 and he would end up loving it ,,, much to his chagrin,, i think he often feels overwhelmed and has so much on his plate that when he finally lets go and gets to be head empty it would be such a relaxing release,,, idk if that makes sense but yes

renjun either takes way too much or way too little convincing,, but once he agrees he would love it ,,, i don’t think he’s one who would be embarrassed or feel like it’s “gayyyy” to be submissive (u know how some men think it’s girly LAME ALERT) anyways he would be such a cute sub,,, i feel like he would secretly enjoy blindfolds the not knowing what’s next would just turn him on

ok jeno would be so annoying like he agrees to please you but in his head he’s like “they think they’re dominating me haha jokes on them” so he would go along but eventually fight for dominance and end up dominating you ,,, it would take like 5 sessions before he fully goes into any sort of sub space but once he did he would get the hype

you would dom hyuck like the second time you fuck let’s be honest ,,, baby loves dominating forces and if you say something a certain way to him he would whimper and fall to his knees..,, i can see him being a service top but like the whiniest,,, like he gets off pleasing his partner but also when his partner is mean to him

jaemin would probably mention it before you do imo i think he’s a full switch (him and hyuck) like he loves both aspects of dom/sub dynamics and is hyping you up more than anything,, he just wants to see you take control and edge him while you praise him 🤭

chenle shuts that shit down ,,, imo he’s a true 100% dom like if he took the bdsm test he’d score a 99 or something,,, but he would laugh in your face and then dom you lol ,,, i love him 🥺,,, but i think he also wants to make you happy so he would pretend for you but maybe in the back of his head he’s like they look so hot when they think they’re in control 🥺

lil baby jisung i think he’s curious and would be so down to try something with someone he trusts,, so if you suggest it he’s like name a time and location babes ,, i can see him doing “research” before lol i think he would be so into it to like it’s so overwhelming for him and seeing you tell him what to do would send him over the edge

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solarwonux · 2 years

Text

Business Proposal || knj (1/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 7.9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do”

m. list || next

Taehyung’s house had a certain vibe to it.

A certain–je ne sais quoi–if you will.

The young artist had easels stacked against every wall. Some finished with his own creations and some waiting patiently for the young artists’ random bursts of inspiration. Everywhere you looked there was something in relation to his God given talent. Old paint brushes above the kitchen sink drying. Paint palettes disguising themselves as coasters. If you opened any drawer in his house you’d find all sorts of paints organized by brand or color scheme.

It was a mess. An organized mess, in which you could easily navigate yourself through. A huge juxtaposition to Namjoon’s almost soulless apartment. Yet, if you knew the artist long enough you’d know that his apartment screamed Kim Taehyung, renowned, self-made artist. A charming man like no other. Who loved throwing parties just as much as he loved getting lost in his art.

A party for every occasion. And tonight’s party was an innocent friendship anniversary between you Jimin and Taehyung. Fifteen years strong, thirty percent of fifty and just as important according to Taehyung himself.

The only reason Namjoon had known about it was through the Facebook invite he had received from the party crazed menace himself. The only other reason he even knew Taehyung in the first place was through his younger step brother–Jungkook. And the only reason Jungkook came to know Taehyung was through the girl he copied his history notes from all sophomore year of college–you.

Everything always came back to you, and your ability to always be there. It’s why Namjoon decided to put a tiny pause in his research on the Metaphysics and Epistemology in some of his favorite Korean Artists’ work. Not like he could focus on it anyway. His parents were starting to get impatient, breathing down his neck, wondering when he would finally leave his life as a very eligible bachelor and settle down.

It’s not like he didn’t try to find someone. The problem was that he did. He tried everything. Blind dates, dating apps, even went out to the club a few times foolishly thinking he’d find his next wife. Everything ended in a failure which was why he was here, looking for you, and a promise made long ago. One he had agreed to.

Truthfully he had forgotten all about it until recently when he was laying down on his bed, surrounded by his navy sheets, wide awake because he had drank too much coffee. Five cups, the same amount the two of you had consumed that afternoon in the old coffee shop located just in between his apartment and your parents house.

As if on autopilot his body jolted awake again, eyes shooting wide as the memory came flooding in.

“If we aren’t married in ten years time, let’s just marry each other.” You suggested; like it was the greatest idea ever. Your hands were shaking from all the caffeine you had consumed and your eyes were red rimmed and wide from all the crying you had done. It matched his own as well.

A part of him hates that he had agreed to it, but could you blame him? He was distraught over the fact that his girlfriend of four years had blindsided him with the whole “It’s not you, it’s me,” speech; and a nice chocolate cake to soften the blow. That did anything but that, and instead he had cried until he had to meet up with you for your weekly tutoring session.

It’s where he noticed your red rimmed eyes and the watery snot coming down your nose. He didn’t ask about it, just offered you a piece of his break up cake and a listening ear when you were ready. It wasn’t until the third college algebra problem he had you doing that you broke down, and told him everything. From the moment you laid eyes on your ex. To the moment you realized you loved him and to the final heartbreaking seconds when you found him cheating on you with his calculus professor.

It was a wild revelation, one that had you spewing things out of disparity. Including the cliche marriage pact.

In truth, Namjoon wouldn’t have given it a second thought when he finally remembered that afternoon. He would’ve pushed it to the back of his head like he had for years and tried a different dating app. But just like that afternoon, he was desperate. This time for a different reason.

He was running out of time, especially after the last conversation he had with his father. His future and livelihood were on the line. Including the large sum of money and the prestigious job at his Alma Mater as the head Philosophy professor.

Now, sitting on Taehyung’s paint splattered leather couch. He hopes you remember. It’s been years since he’s last seen you. You still look the same, pretty enough to be passable but plain. There’s nothing exciting about you. Even now that he’s watching you from across the room in a short lavender dress, with white leather knee high boots. Your hair is shorter, up to your shoulders and a different color from your natural one. Your arms and chest glitter due to the body glitter you had lathered on.

Even though you sparkle underneath Taehyung’s dim lights. To Namjoon you’re still dull, lacking excitement compared to all the women he’s met in his life. Sure, he sounds like an asshole but he couldn’t deny the truth. It’s one of the reasons why he never found you attractive and also because you were Jungkook’s best friend; and Namjoon knows that there’s a rule out there which states that a brother’s best friend is strictly off limits.

He should’ve felt at least a little bit bad about your confession to him all those years ago. For a while he couldn’t get the heartbroken look on your face out of his head when he told you he didn’t feel the same. Only to be quickly replaced by anger for all the accusations you so wrongly threw at him.

Namjoon didn’t lead you on. You had read too much into things. He was nice to you because he saw you as a little sister. Not a potential partner.

Pretty ironic because now he’s hoping the joking pact made between the two of you was serious. Otherwise, accepting Taehyung’s invitation would’ve been useless.

He didn’t necessarily need a wife. Only a placeholder for a wife until further notice. To buy him enough time and get his parents off his back. He’s so desperate that he’s considering pulling out all the stops. Money, a house, and the job of your dreams.

Anything to get you to agree.

Now, all he needs to do is hope for the best, while simultaneously expecting the worst. From the small snippets of stories he hears Jungkook tell his mom. You’re still a little similar to what he remembers. Just a tiny bit more confident and outgoing. That much he could’ve figured out on his own, especially now that he’s been studying you from across the room. It should be easy enough to convince you; but of course that’s only if Namjoon lived in a perfect world.

Unfortunately he doesn’t and time is ticking and your friend–Jimin–hasn’t left your side all night. You’re on your third drink, your eyes are slightly dropping with intoxication. And with the way you keep laughing at whatever the other man keeps whispering in your ear, he assumes you’re well on your way to pure drunkeness. It makes the hold he has on his glass tighten. With A fiery hot spark coursing through his body the more you cling onto Jimin.

Namjoon isn’t aware of your relationship status. Selfishly he hopes you’re single so things run more smoothly. And seeing you make doe eyes at someone else in front of him makes him a little bit angry.

Only because he wants to avoid the drama at all costs. He values the peaceful quiet, and to be honest he doesn’t have the patience to deal with someone else’s jealousy. Fighting over women was so high school and he has better things to do than that. But he’s also stubborn and once his mind is set on something he will knock down anyone in the way.

He’s confident that by the end of the night–that’s if he gets you alone–he will leave Taehyung’s cliche artists looking humble abode with you as his fiance.

Well…Fake fiance.

The moment Namjoon stood up to use the bathroom he knew he had made a mistake. Not only was his spot on the couch taken by one of Taehyung’s artist friend; but he had broken the seal and you and that Jimin guy were nowhere to be found.

This was the third time he had to use the bathroom in the past thirty minutes. He hopes his bladder is empty enough to last him an hour or so. But Namjoon has been in this game for far too long and he knows that once the seal was broken there was no going back.

“Took you long enough.”

Namjoon’s eyes meet yours just as he’s a foot out of Taehyung’s guest bathroom. The hand he had hovering above the light switch falls down to his side. A knowing smirk makes its way onto your lips, while you push yourself off the far wall.

He’s at a loss for words because sure he’s been waiting to get you alone all night. Yet, now that he has, you’ve caught him completely off guard. What’s worse is that you’ve caught him off guard in the most vulnerable place known to mankind.

The bathroom.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to move?” The indifference lingering in your voice brings him back down to the moment at hand. He blinks a few times to regain his focus and soon enough he’s looking down at you.

You’re standing inches away from him. Close enough to smell your perfume. A scent he remembers so clearly, yet it’s slightly different because it has mingled with another one. A more masculine one. He assumes he knows who the culprit of such intrusion is, a certain individual with a crescent laugh and pillowy lips; but he chooses not to focus on that. Right now he has a chance. A gateway to a forbidden conversation and his only opportunity to just get it over with.

Namjoon mumbles a short apology while stepping to the side giving you enough room to walk in, barely grazing each other. He doesn’t get a chance to actually think his actions through before his body is responding on autopilot. Next thing he knows he’s stepping in behind you, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Your turn around, eyes full of surprise. Namjoon needs fight the smirk threatening to break across his face. You’re the one caught off guard now, in the bathroom and it gives him some sort of twisted sense of satisfaction.

Ha.

“If you weren’t done using the bathroom you could’ve just s–.”

“We need to talk.” He brushes you off, waving a hand around almost as if he were pushing your words out of the way to make room for his.

You sigh, rolling your eyes in annoyance. If it wasn’t for the few drinks you’ve already had and the taxing conversation you just finished having with Jimin about the state of your relationship–If you could even call it that. You would've fought against Namjoon. Then again he was the least of your worries, you assume he wants to talk about your past, ask how you’ve been. All that jazz. So, why not play into it?

Right?

“Fine, I mean there are other places in which we can talk. Tae’s house is pretty big.” You shrug, taking a seat on the closed toilet seat, crossing your arms in front of you. Waiting for him to start reminiscing about your past.

When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands. “So, how have you b–”

“I don’t have time for that.” Namjoon interrupts and you have to force all of the anger currently bubbling up inside of you, down. “I have a proposal for you.” He finishes, walking closer and leaning his right hip against the bathroom counter.

You squint your eyes suspiciously while looking up at him. They always say curiosity killed the cat and maybe that’s what it will do to you in the end but you urge him to continue. Slightly interested in what he has to say.

“We need to get married.” He says softly like it literally pains him to be saying those exact words out loud. Suddenly while the words are vanishing into the air between the two of you, the bathroom starts to feel hollow. He continues, “We made a pact that if we weren’t married by thirty, we’d just marry each other. You’re almost thirty and I have been thirty for a while, so, let’s just do it…wait, I mean we don’t actually have to go through with it just pretend for a while, just long enough to convince my parents an–”

Namjoon stops his not so smooth ramble. Confused is an understatement. He’s downright baffled watching you double over in laughter. A sound that used to bring a bright smile to his face. Now, as it bounces off the four walls of Taehyung’s tiny guest bathroom he can’t help but cringe.

“You c-can’t be s-serious,” You say, hand against your chest trying to calm yourself down. When you do, a snarky smirk threatens to appear on your face.

With a tilt of your head you say “How much have you had to drink?”

Namjoon scoffs. Sure he’s had a bit to drink but not enough to be drunk. Tipsy maybe, but not drunk. “Three whiskeys,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

You tongue your cheek nodding your head. “Explains why you’re out here saying utter bullshit.”

To keep himself from bursting out in anger he grips the counter with most of his strength. “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk off whiskey.”

You chuckle, giving him a side glance. “Sure you don’t. All those times you snuck into my room at three in the morning because you had too much whiskey were because you weren’t drunk.” The sarcasm laced in your voice annoys him the most.

Okay there were times in which he would have too much to drink and always ended up crashing at your place. Sneaking out before your parents woke up, but those were special circumstances. His taxi app only had your address saved for when he had to call one for you whenever you and Jungkook drank at his place. It was too much of a hassle to save his own, especially because the only time he remembered to save it was when he was drunk.

Defeated, he replies, “Whatever that’s not important, I’m serious when I say that we need to get married.” He hopes he sounds as convincing as he perceives. Though, the look on your face says otherwise. You’re confused and probably a little more upset than he can tell.

A dry laugh escapes you and you stand up shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re planning but you’re a lot smarter than this. Considering the way we parted ways and haven’t talked in years because of it, what makes you think I would agree to this?” You stand in front of him, almost sizing him up, burning your gaze into his.

“Just hear me out okay.” He puts his hands out, making space between the two of you. You raise your eyebrows in amusement and wait for him to continue. “My parents are breathing down my neck asking me when I’ll finally settle, in which I have no desire to do so anytime soon. But my dad’s health is getting worse and he says that if I don’t get married he will make sure I’m left jobless and out of the will.” He finishes, breathing out an exasperated sigh. He feels so out of breath, almost like he just finished running a marathon; but maybe that’s just because he’s awkwardly close to you.

There’s a slight pause before you’re bursting out laughing again, holding onto your stomach as you double over. Namjoon can feel the annoyance he had done so well at keeping down, threatening to leave him disguised in fiery hot words he’s kept hidden for a long time. He always hated having serious conversations with you. You never took shit seriously, it's one of the reasons why he would never see you as someone he’d be interested in romantically. More so because you’re so dramatic in every sense of the word and he has no idea how he put up with it for so long.

“Are you done?” He takes his hands out of his pockets running them multiple times through his hair before crossing his arms in front of him.

You wipe a fake tear away from the corner of your eye and straighten up. “Yeah, I’m done and the answer is no.” You roll your eyes turning to face the door. This was the icing of the cake. Not only was he adding to the long list of problems you already had, but he’s making your night worse than it already was.

Jimin and you had been secretly–not so secretly–seeing each other for a while now, in ways two childhood friends should never be seeing each other. Spending nights tangled up in each other under pale ivory sheets, and days acting like nothing was wrong. When in reality everything was wrong. It was inevitable that someone was going to start seeing the other as more than a friend. The only problem was that you had always assumed it’d be you and not him. That he’d finally be the one to break through the cold ice caging your heart in when Namjoon inexplicably broke it.

In which the latter was now playing some cruel joke on you. All you wanted to do was to go home. Escape underneath your warm sheets, and avoid the world as much as you were allowed too. Even if Jungkook had let you know ahead of time that his darling step brother was going to make an appearance. It had not prepared you for this.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide and he won’t lie, he's panicking now. “But we promised.”

“Yes Namjoon, we did. But we were young, stupid and heartbroken.” You cross your arms staring directly into his eyes. “Maybe if we were still friends my answer would be different, but we aren’t. So, my answer is no.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours Namjoon. You broke every promise you made me and you expect me to just waltz back into your arms and share a life with you?” You say ludicrously.

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Look, let's set aside our differences–”

You let out a humorless laugh, cutting him off. “You’re a smart man Namjoon, but this is literally the dumbest thing I have ever heard you say.”

Namjoon has to fight every fiber in his being to not stomp his foot on the ground like a child. He’s now realizing you aren’t the same person that he used to call best friend. You’re even more stubborn than before and kind of a bitch.

“What if I can convince you?”

“How? Are you going to take me out on a date?” You exclaim, standing up and walking towards him. “The answer is no, I’m the wine and dine type, and I’ve heard that you’re not.” You reach your hand past his body and take hold of the doorknob. You’re only able to unlock it because as soon as you try to open it, Namjoon is leaning his entire body against the door. Arms splayed out like a cactus blocking every possible way out.

“A job, I can offer you a job.” He rushes out through labored breaths, like this entire situation is causing him to lose the ability to breathe. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s forgotten how impossible you could be. Or maybe he hates the way you’re looking at him like he’s now worth your time.

The boredom on your face is replaced with intrigue. Like he’s said the magic words and now has you under his spell. It disgusts him because ever since he could remember people have only flocked to him out of personal gain. You used to be someone who made sure he was more than just his brains, looks and money. Yet, you’re standing in front of him ready to listen because now you can take from him too.

“My department is looking for a new rhetoric professor, the job is yours if you agree to this.” He finishes, watching your face light up with joy to then shut down immediately as soon as you realize the undisclosed requirement for the job.

You scoff, shaking your head. It’s tempting, it’s your dream job. As much as you want to agree. You know that working in the same vicinity as him will do more harm than good. Plus nepotism isn’t always a good look.

“No,” You say firmly pushing your side body into his to scoot him out of the way. It’s unsuccessful, he’s as still as a stone pillar and you hate that you can tell how firm he’s gotten over the years. Jungkook often told you about his gym sessions with Namjoon every other day. Now, you see that it’s not just Jungkook who’s been benefiting from them.

“I’ll pay off half of your student loans along with the job, and you can have one of the house's dad owns” He tries, sounding more hopeful than you have ever heard him sound.

Again, it’s tempting but again that would make you tied to him longer than you would like. So, this time you push against him with all the strength you can muster making him stumble as your answer. You open the door slightly and squeeze yourself out, leaving him hanging.

Namjoon is in the air and he panics, he rushes out behind you matching your sped up steps. He grabs your hand pulling you into Taehyung’s bedroom, closing the door behind him and blocking it with his body.

“God, you are so fucking annoying Namjoon. I said no, why can’t you understand that?” You whisper yell, running a hand through your hair.

“Because I need you.” He says matching your tone, sighing and relaxing against the door. “I’m supposed to have brunch with my parents on Sunday, please just think about it.” He begs, clasping his hands in front of him.

It’s the first time you see him like this, and it’s selfish of you to admit that it feels good. His entire future relies on you and only you. Maybe you will give in, but seeing him suffer a little longer feels to good, especially when you know you’re his last option.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll drop it but the job is still yours, your essay and resume were impressive.” He finishes and exits the bedroom, leaving you behind with one more thing to add to your ongoing list.

One thing is for sure.

You’re in a big mess.

Sleep didn’t come to you all night. The minute you left Namjoon behind in Taehyung’s bedroom you had left without saying goodbye to anyone. Jungkook had followed you out and walked you home without uttering a single word the entire time. Instead, he tried his best to match your heated steps. He even stayed over, taking his rightful spot on your living room couch.

He made you coffee in the morning and a small breakfast before walking to the flower shop together for your morning shifts. The silence between the two of you lasted almost an hour until he finally broke and the questions came flooding out.

You had to give him credit he was persistent. He kept going on about it, annoying both you and Yoongi. If it wasn’t for the latter threatening both of your jobs you would’ve taken the events that took place the night before to the grave.

“I think you should do it.” The flower shop owner says, shrugging his shoulders.

“No, that’s stupid, why would she want to deal with that bullshit?” Jungkook exclaims. Yoongi brushes him off, rolling his eyes. Both of them have been arguing in front of you like you didn’t exist, while you finished the last order of flower bouquets for the night. An order placed for Yoongi but instead he was sitting on the counter, reading a GQ magazine while Jungkook paced back and forth with his apron hanging from his arm.

“Well she’s single and getting a good deal out of it so why not?” He shrugs, flipping to a new page, rubbing his chin.

“She has Jimin, things are strange now but they’ll figure it out.” Jungkook is almost hopeful. Though, he was protective of you and had a few choice words to share after he caught you and Jimin together. He still preferred him over his arrogant step brother. Especially when it came to you. Jungkook had witnessed first hand what he had done to you.

“From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t have Jimin.”

You sigh, cutting the end of a rose before placing it with the rest of the flowers. “I am still here you know, does my opinion not matter?” You press your palms into the marble counter. They had been going back and forth for nearly an hour like the issue was theirs. Shutting you down whenever you wanted to get your word in and you were fed up. You had nearly ten hours to decide whether to go to Sunday brunch or not.

Even if you didn’t end up going, Namjoon had texted you that he needed to know your decision on the job by tomorrow morning. So, you were currently battling two problems at once, in which you haven’t heard any helpful advice from your best friend or coworker.

“I mean of course it does, but as much as I love him he’s an asshole who only cares about money Bunny.” Jungkook pouts, flinging his apron onto the counter and leaning against it. Yoongi sighs and closes the magazine, setting it to the side.

“Yes Kook but this is my dream job. If I have to deal with him to get to where I want to be then I will.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair, giving up on the bouquet and shoving the materials in Yoongi’s direction. Indirectly telling him it was his turn now.

Yoongi hops off the counter and walks behind you. “She’s right, our little genius deserves to do bigger and better things with that brain of hers. And I agree with her but also if he’s willing to be your sugar daddy why not?” He shrugs, grabbing the clippers and a daisy, expertly cutting the end of the stem off.

You roll your eyes, “first of all he will not be my sugar daddy and second of all I haven’t agreed to that part of the deal, just maybe the job.” You shrug, untying your apron and placing it on the coat rack behind you.

“But you want to agree to it.” Yoongi chuckles before Jungkook can get a word in. Sometimes you hate how well Yoongi can understand you in all aspects of your life. He’s only been in it for a few years and he’s able to tell you exactly what you’re thinking and articulates it way better than you. In all honesty it scares you a bit.

“Am I crazy for considering it?”

“Yes,”

“No,”

They say at the same time making you groan in frustration. The shop had closed and here the three of you were having an extensive conversation about your unfortunate personal life. When all you wanted to do was go home and eat a nice bowl of cereal on your bed.

Jungkook sends a glare in Yoongi’s direction, grabbing hold of your shoulders gently. “You know I love you and I will support you in anything you do, but this is a little crazy. And before you ask me if I trust you the answer is yes I do. But I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him to keep his distance like I know you will. He will lead you on again and then we'll be back to square one.” He squeezes your shoulders before bringing his hands down to his sides.

“Jungkook she’s not dumb, I’m sure whatever she decides to do it’s because she knows what she’s getting into.” Yoongi adds on, tying up the bouquet before handing it off to you. “For your fake mother in law.” He winks.

“What?” You say taking it from his hands.

“Namjoon requested it this morning, I just put it off because I don’t like him.” He shrugs, bringing a slight smile to your face. The flower shop might as well be named the ‘Anti Namjoon Club’ instead of ‘Euphoria’ for the amount of times Jungkook ranted about his step brother to the two of you at all hours of the day.

It's unfortunate that part of you made a decision the minute you left Namjoon alone in Taehyung’s bedroom. And it’s unfortunate that you only truly considered their opinions to justify your already made decision.

Jungkook gives you a slight smile before walking past you, shoulders dropping in defeat because he knows you’ve decided. “You better be ready by the time I come pick you up. Mom takes Sunday brunch a little too seriously so if we are a minute late she will have my head on a stake.”

Is the last thing Jungkook says before disappearing behind the curtain towards the back. You turn to Yoongi, tilting your head to the side pouting lightly.

“Don’t look at me like that, you big baby. You’re a big girl you know what you’re getting into but because Jungkook can’t completely hate his brother. If he does anything to hurt you I’ll hate him for the two of you.” He sends you a wink, clicking his tongue before turning to the cash register.

You whine, stomping your foot on the ground before mumbling “My life sucks,” which only makes Yoongi laugh.

“At some point everyones does.”

You’re nervous.

You haven’t been this nervous since you decided to intern at a preschool right after graduation.

Kids are intimidating and although Jungkook’s parents aren’t, the situation at hand feels like it. Especially when they think you’re attending Sunday brunch because Jungkook finally managed to convince you.

Not because you’re about to conspire against them for purely selfish reasons.

Despite their wealth and social status, Mr. Kim and Mrs. Jeon are the kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. They always went out of their way to make you feel like you’re part of the family. It got to the point that you would split holidays with them and your family, as they always made it a point to get you something for Christmas, your birthday or Lunar New Year.

So, it feels wrong to be helping out Mrs. Jeon and the family maid—Lia in the kitchen. It feels wrong to be laughing at the petty arguments Jungkook is having with his father in the living room. It feels wrong to have been welcomed with such bright smiles and tight hugs, because if it weren’t for Namjoon (who hasn’t arrived and is desperately blowing up your phone) you wouldn’t have been here at all.

“How many times have I told you guys to fix the doorbell?” Namjoon’s voice booms in through the living room. “I’ve been knocking for a solid five minutes.” He finishes accompanying his statement with a soft laugh. You stop chopping the carrot Lia had assigned to you, it will have to wait. You have approximately two seconds to either hide or melt into a puddle of nerves.

Mrs. Jeon squeals like a tiny school girl, gently placing the whisk she had been using to stir the pancake batter to the side. She wipes her hands against her dirty custom maid YSL apron and walks to the entrance of the kitchen.

In truth you’re frozen, knife still in your hand, shaking a little bit. It’s definitely the nerves. You should’ve planned it out a bit more. You shouldn’t have ignored the man of the hour because you were feeling a little–very–petty. He didn’t know you were here and you certainly weren’t ready for his reaction.

“Namu, we thought you weren’t coming.” You hear Mrs. Jeon say followed up by a grunt. You supposed he has been reeled into one of her bone crushing hugs. They were deadly but warm and one of your favorite things about the woman.

“I’m sorry, I meant to reply to the e-vite on Facebook but I got busy.” He replies. “I didn’t know dad knew how to do those by the way.”

“He watched a Youtube video.” Jungkook replies with a chuckle. “I was there.” He adds.

“I didn’t know you were coming either, Kook.” Namjoon says, and you can almost hear the eyebrow raise of pure confusion. If he’s as smart as he claims to be he should know why he is here. Use his highly acclaimed critical thinking skills, but he doesn’t.

Not until a couple minutes later when he walks in through the kitchen with his mother in arm, wearing possibly the most attractive outfit you have seen him in. A black skin tight turtleneck with black slacks. Coincidentally it matches your own outfit–a light white turtleneck under a black dress. It adds to the growing annoyance you feel bubbling inside of you. Even if you’ve been frozen in anticipation. You still feel it.

The second his icy stare meets yours you feel like you’re about to turn into an actual icicle. He’s surprised, that much you can tell with the way he’s stopped walking. He’s faltering. Though, just in typical Namjoon fashion he regains his composure smoothly and approaches you. Stopping right in front of you and leaning his forearms against the marble counter.

“Now I see why you haven’t been able to answer me.” He grabs one of the carrot sticks that you’ve managed to cut into perfectly, and bites into it, sending you a cheeky wink. You feel your breath catch itself in the back of your throat because why was that kind of hot. He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pushing himself away and rounding the corner. He walks behind you, his body purposely brushing against yours making you grip the knife handle.

You know he’s doing this on purpose and you want to scream at him, but that would somehow be inappropriate. Plus, he hates being confronted with the truth. You know that very well. Hence why the two of you haven’t spoken in years, because you told him the truth about his actions towards you and he hated every second of it, calling you dramatic and unworthy of romance.

Well, he didn’t necessarily say those words exactly, but they were implied.

“Sweetie, we need the carrots.” Lia’s voice brings you back down to Earth. She had just finished scolding the older menace for trying to take one of the fried tofu cubes.

You shake your head, trying your hardest to remove the whole interaction with what you suppose is now your fake fiance–from your head. You grab another full carrot. “Sorry Ms. Lia, I am almost done.”

“Aish, how many times do I have to tell you that Lia is just fine.” The maid shakes her head, turning down the heat.

Mrs. Jeon and Namjoon laugh. You smile chopping into the peeled carrot carefully.

“Don’t worry my Lia, I have been trying to get her to call me mom for years.” The older woman says, with a shroud of sympathy laced in the back of her voice.

Namjoon takes this as his cue to leave as he makes his way towards the kitchen entrance. Before he fully exits he turns around, locking eyes with you. “Don’t worry mom, I'm sure she will do so soon.” He sends you another wink and leaves.

You want to scream.

The breakfast menu for The Kims and Jeons signature Sunday Brunch is always quite special and incoherent.

Today’s menu consists of Americanos, Mimosas, Fried Tofu–a staple–Breakfast Burritos, Cinnamon Carrot Pancakes, and a plate of fruit. So far, everything has been going smoothly, except for the fact that you and Namjoon are in charge of setting the table.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” Namjoon breaks the ice first, placing the final chopsticks on top of a pastel pink napkin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” He cockily adds standing up straight and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Somehow making his very toned pecs pop out more than they already did in the stupid skin tight shirt.

You roll your eyes, placing down the plate of pancakes in the middle. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only agreeing because of the job and money.” You dust your hands when you finish and put your hands on your hips.

He squints his eyes in suspicion before nodding his head. “Sure, you are. Let’s see how long you can go without throwing yourself at me.” He voices. You truly should be considered God’s strongest warrior because how have you not killed the man in front of you yet.

Sure, that’s something that would’ve been a given back then. Now, you’re not so sure. You can barely stand being in the same room as him before wanting to jam a knife in between his perfect chest. You’re not going to lie, he is still as good looking as he was back then, maybe even more, but his shitty attitude ruins it. You also have never been the type of girl to throw herself at a man or seek their validation. Even if once upon a time that’s something you wanted from Namjoon. It’s not something you want now.

“You’re so fucking annoying. I do pray for the woman you do end up marrying.” You say lowly, looking around the perfectly set table. Though, Mrs. Jeon and Lia only told the two of you to do the silverware and plates. Your stubborn attitudes insisted otherwise and ended up doing the whole thing while they took a small break in the living room.

Namjoon snaps his fingers and closes the distance between the two of you. “Speaking of marriage, we have to tell them today.” He says low enough for only you to hear and not raise any suspicions to the incoming crowd making their way outside.

Your eyes blow up as you look up at him, “what? Namjoon no, I’m not ready. I mean we haven’t actually discussed everything sober and we barely talked about it when we were drunk.” You say alarmed, anxiety crashes through you in a strong wave. You start to panic as everyone starts to take their seats.

“I got it,” he nods, pulling out the chair and gesturing for you to sit. Jungkook takes the seat in front of you, raising his eyebrows. You know he’s silently asking if you’re okay. In which you aren’t but you can’t voice it now that everyone has found their perspective positions. You shake your head as discreetly as possible and sit down, Namjoon next to you plastering his best fake smile.

He would’ve been a damn good actor with the facade he’s quickly able to put on.

Maybe that’s what he should’ve done instead of becoming a professor.

It’s silent for a while, the only thing being heard is the clanking of utensils against the ceramic plates. That is until Mr. Kim clears his throat and Namjoon basically turns into a stone pillar next to you. Freezing in the middle of cutting into his cinnamon carrot pancakes–which were surprisingly delicious.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, especially since we have a guest joining us today.” He smiles over at you, and you offer him a grin. “I got news from the doctor yesterday and he wants me to start chemo next week.” He falters a bit before setting down his utensils and whipping his mouth with the table cloth on his lap. “I told him it was useless to just let me live my last few months or however long I have left in peace, but your mom and I argued about it and we came to a compromise.” He nods, placing a delicate hand on top of his wife’s, looking over at her with matching teary eyes.

You feel like you’re intruding and you likely are, but this revelation only makes the guilt grow. “I will do it and if the cancer shrinks then so be it, but if it doesn’t then there’s nothing I can do but live in peace.” He grins, bringing her palm up to his lips and kissing it gently, before turning to face his son.

“I don’t mean to pressure you son, I know it's difficult finding the one, but can you at least try.” He all but whispers the last part. Namjoon shrinks. You’ve never seen him so quiet in your life. Even when the two of you got along, he always had something to say. He hated pockets of silence because it always made him think. Namjoon hates thinking, unless it's about philosophy. He always said it was because his most inner thoughts always managed to break the surface whenever there was silence.

He’s looking down at his lap and you notice the way he clenches his fists before lifting his head up. “I understand.” He starts looking over at you for a second and turns his attention to his step brother and parents. “I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment to tell you both this.” He takes hold of your hand underneath the table, slipping something onto the palm of your hand and pulling away.

You take a second to look down, almost choking on your spit when you see the emerald ring staring back at you. It’s starting to feel real and Namjoon hasn’t even said anything yet. But his mothers wedding ring is staring up at you, and suddenly you’re hit with the realization of what is about to conspire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The panic builds up and you feel like you’re about to throw up. Everything is closing in on you and it only gets worse when he says the next few words. “I’m engaged, I’m getting married.”

The gasps are heard all around the outside patio. Except for Jungkook who has been quiet the entire time. Sometimes living in Namjoon’s shadow had its perks. He could get tattoos, grow out his hair, ride a motorcycle, and study whatever the fuck he wanted, because nobody expected anything from him.

He’s thankful and a little bit angry that he didn’t try hard enough to convince you to not fake a marriage with his step brother, but he knows better and stays quiet even though he’s dying to expose the scam to his parents. To show them that their perfect son was far from that and had way more demons hidden away than he let on.

“You’re what?” Mrs. Jeon says, the tears she tried so hard to keep hidden start to spill out. You suppose it’s a mixture of happiness and sadness. “Why isn’t she here, Namu, why didn’t you bring her over?” She’s about to stand up, when you lift your hand, this time adorning the ring on your finger.

You swallow, “It’s me.” You take a deep breath looking into his parents' very shocked faces. “I’m sorry I didn’t want him to tell you so soon, but you know how little patience he has.” You finish, grinning softly letting your hand fall down to your lap.

Mrs. Jeon lets out a sob before she stands up quickly, gesturing for the two of you to stand too. “Congratulations my loves, I’m so happy for the two of you.” She stops in front of you bringing you in into a bone crushing hug, making you laugh as you hug her back. “I knew the two of you were going to one day end up together, Kookie and your dad always told me I was crazy, but look who was right all along.” She says pulling back, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks and turns to face the two men still sitting down. “A mothers intuition is never wrong.” She practically scolds before moving back to her seat.

Namjoon and you stand there awkwardly for a second before sitting back down. Mr. Kim clears his throat again, patting his chest a little. Almost as if he was warming up his voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I’m just shocked.” He says before breaking out into a dimpled smile–the thing that made you fall for his son all those years ago. They were both a carbon copy of each other. With the expectation that his father was a lot warmer.

“Congratulations, wow, I’m so happy you guys are truly perfect for one another.”

“Really, I don’t see it.” Jungkook finally chimes in ruining the moment, earning a pinch to the arm from his mother. He yelps out in pain dramatically cradling his arm and pouting. “It’s the truth, they’re weird together.”

“And you’re weird for coming over every wednesday so I can do your laundry.” His mother retorts, deepening his frown. “Now, apologize.”

Jungkook squints his eyes in annoyance at his mother. He’s biting his tongue that much you can tell with the way he clenches his jaw. Though, whatever he was going to say never comes because he turns to face the two of you and puts on his best fake and convincing smile.

“Congratulations guys, even though I knew it still feels like such a surprise.” He tilts his head to the side, sending a knowing look towards his brother. “I can’t wait for the ceremony, I hope it’s soon. I really want to be the flower girl.” He finishes.

You giggle, flinching slightly when you feel Namjoon’s hand rest over yours. “That’s up to Bunny here.” He nods over to you. “But thank you guys, we’re very happy since we’ve reconnected. And you’re right mom, she is the girl for me.” He adds, and it only makes it harder. His lie makes it harder to keep your distance, but you can also play the game he is setting up, and this time you won’t lose.

“He’s the perfect guy for me.” You say in your most in love voice before leaning over and placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, making his mother squeal at the gesture. You smirk as his cheeks get a little hotter before placing your head on top of his shoulder. “We’re so happy, thank you so much guys.” You add. His father’s smile widens and nods, picking up his fork and knife and digs into his pancake.

“I’m proud of you son. You found yourself a keeper.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agrees through clenched teeth. You laugh sitting up in your seat, sending him a playful wink, making him freeze.

Maybe you too should’ve been an actress in another life. You’re putting up quite an impressive show if you do say so yourself.

a/n: thank you so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts. If you’re interested in being added to the tallest lmk.

Again, I’m not sure how often I will upload BUT I will try my hardest to upload more often.

Thank you again!

#kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts namjoon #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagines #namjoon scenarios #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff

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cornflakes7 · 1 year

Text

𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤!

Promposal with Crazy:B (seperate) x GN reader

cw: none! these headcannons are insanely sweet

𝙍𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚 𝘼𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞

he’d do the corniest, over the top promposal for sure 💀

i feel like rinne would throw rocks at your window to get your attention so he could strum his out of tune guitar while singing a sappy love song 😭

OR he’d make the rest of the members stand in a line waiting for you to come by and see them hold promposal signs while he lays there on the floor holding a rose in his mouth

it’s the thought that counts at least…

i would hope you said yes because i know bro spent DAYS thinking about the best promposal idea

you bet he’d be celebrating once you accept to go out to with him

he’d definitely tell hiiro!!! his lil bro would be just as happy as him

needless to say, rinne would feel like the happiest man on earth. you’re his one and only and he loves you to pieces

𝙃𝙞𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙪

he’d be so romantic with the promposal idk how you would say no

himeru would definitely invite you over to his house, intentions disguised as wanting you to tutor him

you’d definitely be confused too because like… why would someone like him need tutoring?

anyway, you decide to come and everything was normal at first! you helped him with his questions and also did some of your own homework in the mean time

it was until himeru asked you about a certain math problem which the two of you solved together

it was the equation to spell out the word ‘prom?’ <333

once you realize, you couldn’t help but smile at him while eagerly waits for your response

himeru had to make up this question just for the promposal 😭😭 that really is dedication

but in case you do say yes, he’d definitely be over the moon and would be smiling so much his jaws would ache… himeru was just too happy

you didn’t see this as a tutoring session but a study date lol

𝙉𝙞𝙠𝙞 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙞𝙣𝙖

i know he’d prepare you a dish hiding a little promposal note inside…

you’d be mindlessly scooping up the food until you see a small piece of white at the bottom of the bowl

curious, you decide to take the thing from your meal out with your hands

it was a folded piece of paper! after opening it, it reads ‘will you go to prom with me?’ with a small heart at the end

i hope you understood the note quickly because your future prom date would be standing behind you waiting for your answer

he’d be overjoyed if you said yes! hugging you and promising to put twice the love ingredient into his dishes for you

i also feel like he’d spend most of his time at the snack bar during prom night with you, eating while just grateful that he somehow pulled someone like you <3

𝙆𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙪 𝙊𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙬𝙖

kohaku would be the most picky with his promposals out of the 4

he already has a huge crush on you and he just wants this promposal to be perfect <3

so he’d take inspiration from the internet for sure

it was at the point where he was about to give up because nothing seemed to be perfect.. until he found a chemistry promposal experiment

he started to do some research and start preparing for the big day, calling in the members to help with the experiment

they were like his personal hype men to support him ugh my heart

when the day arrived, he had sent you a message prior to meet him at the lockers at school, where he later escorted you to the science lab

he made sure your eyes are covered and made everyone get into position

when you open your eyes, you saw all his friends pouring chemicals into beakers which had changed colors spelling out a promposal

kohaku then later went and grabbed a teddy bear handing it to you, confessing his feelings properly while the members stood there and watched, all of them looking like proud dads

bro would be on cloud 9 once you said yes to both the promposal and his confession!

he’s so happy he thought he’d cry on the spot

extra: i feel like he’d have to pay rinne for him not to mess up LMAOO

#→ Hikaru writes !#ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #crazy:b #rinne amagi x reader #himeru x reader #niki shiina x reader #kohaku oukawa x reader #rinne amagi #himeru #niki shiina #kohaku oukawa

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siltyriver · 8 months

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Get In Loser, We’re Going Ghost Hunting

(Danny Phantom DanDash Prompt #2)

Mean Girls AU in which Danny and Jazz have been homeschooled and/or taken online classes so their parents could travel the country (and sometimes abroad) to further their studies in the paranormal/clean energy (ectoplasm) but Maddie gets offered a position at a prestigious university or lab and they finally settle down enough to go to public school.

Danny is NOT Phantom (…yet?) as his parents never got around to actually building the portal (that would require a stable place of living, and their priorities shifted to ectoplasmic energy more so than ecto-entities) so he’s just plain old Danny Fenton, son of the weirdo ghost hunting scientists.

He is rightfully pretty nervous but finds himself making quick friends with Sam and Tucker who take him under their wing for the first couple of days until he gets invited to sit with the ‘A-Listers’ at lunch (Wes stops him in the middle of the cafeteria to grill him about his parents’ work and research and Dash or Paulina tell him to leave Danny alone, cue the ‘why don’t we know you?’ plastic spiel) and thus springs a revenge plot for Sam and Tucker who have both been wronged by one or multiple of the group.

They make Danny their inside man, passing along the stuff that is talked about and trying to bring the downfall of Paulina Sanchez and Dash Baxter.

But, the more time he spends with the group the more he finds himself just having fun and genuinely enjoying himself (minus the reality checks when one of them ends up bullying someone and no one in the group sticks up for the victim and get uncomfortable when Danny does so — but surprisingly Dash never bullies anyone past a few stinging words and Danny finds himself curious as to why, and maybe there’s angst later if Dash does get physical with someone that pissed him off and Danny realizes he’s not the type of guy he thought he was and Dash has to face the consequences or smth… maybe…)

He finds that Dash and Paulina aren’t actually a couple, they just pretend so that they can stay in the hierarchy of ‘power couple’ that gives them like ultimate status in the school. They’re not in love, they aren’t dating, they’re just really close friends (Paulina is in fact in love with Sam who she spread rumors about being gay in a twisted way to protect herself. Gotta love that internalized homophobia and denial.)

Which then opens the floodgates of Realization and he finds himself getting flustered around Dash, wanting to spend time with him and creating his own schemes to put the two of them together whenever he can. He knows it’s a disaster waiting to happen and he knows that it’s just going to be painful for him, but he can’t stop it from happening, especially not when Dash seems to be flirting back sometimes ???

Yada yada, maybe there’s a burn book, maybe not, maybe someone gets hit by a bus, maybe not, idk I just work here, man

(The school-wide therapy session would be hilarious and it wouldn’t just be the girls in this version which opens even more funny possibilities, but who knows?)

It obviously ends with prom and the couples getting together, finally, so woo hoo that’s a win for love and a wrap

—

(… alternate version where Danny IS Phantom and is also dealing with ghost shenanigans the entire time and trying to maintain his secret identity on top of the new battle of high school drama. enter Wes Weston who is suspicious and keeps trying to get people on board with the conspiracy lmao)

(also bonus points if Jazz actually graduated early so she doesn’t attend school with Danny and is just there for the therapy session ‘why can’t everyone just get along?’ ‘she doesn’t even go here!’ scene lol)

#mean girls au #danny phantom #danny/dash #dandash #swagger bishie #teddy ghost #danny phantom prompt #vee’s prompts #vee’s danny phantom prompts

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communistkenobi · 2 months

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would you be at all willing to talk about your experience of undergrad vs grad school? personally i struggled quite a bit in undergrad but am still always tempted to go back, and i think maybe the narrowed focus of grad school would be a little easier to handle, but i'm not sure if that would actually be the case... & perhaps your experience was something else completely and maybe this is too vague also lol, but i'm very curious about how you felt they were different!

yeah totally! My experience is doing graduate degrees (writing a thesis) in the faculty of social science in Canadian universities, so everything I’m about to say comes from that specific context. Definitely not universal lol

in my experience grad school is a lot more customised than undergrad. You still have required courses, non-course degree milestones (usually you’re required to present your work at conferences, which can get expensive and isn’t always covered by your department, as well as produce summaries of work you’ve done, research proposals, scholarship applications, etc), and standardised expectations, but you have a lot more choice in the courses you take and what topics you focus on. One university I was at was very relaxed about deadlines in grad school (I easily got extensions from profs without needing doctors notes or official accommodations, i was given the ability to redo assignments, etc), and the other was the ecact opposite (treated me like a idiot for needing extra time with work). If you’re doing a thesis project, a lot of your degree is independent work that you do in your own time - this was a huge struggle for me at the end of my masters, and I had to do “martial law” with my graduate friends at the very end, which basically meant us instituting a highly regimented schedule together made up of work sessions and breaks where we would each meet up and work on finishing our thesis (1 hour of work then 15 min break, rince and repeat, do this for four or five sessions a day every day). You are on a time crunch as you only receive funding for so many years, if you get offered funding at all.

your supervisor has a lot of control and influence over you - they are meant to guide you through the research process, develop your project, give you feedback, provide you with appropriate literature, double check your work, and help you get grants / funding. If you get a bad one it can legitimately ruin your life. I have had hilariously bad luck with supervisors (I’ve had to switch supervisors twice due to discrimination and breaches of provincial human rights law - which is not the norm to my understanding lol).

it depends on why you want to go to grad school and what you plan to do after. I want to stay in academia so that’s where most of my advice comes from. Tenure-track positions are incredibly difficult to secure and if you’re serious about staying in the academy you should be publishing your research while you’re still in graduate school, and treat every term paper as a draft of something you’re going to publish. I also have backup jobs I know I can apply for outside of academia if I don’t get any academic offers.

it’s relatively common for students to join a two or four year grad program but take way more time than that to finish. Usually if you get any funding packages, they only cover the official allotted years (in my experience, two for a master’s, four for PhD), meaning that if you need extra time, you could be finishing your degree with no funding and no guaranteed employment. If your supervisor is cool/connected they might have money they can swing your way, but it’s a tenuous and scary way to live if you have no other source of income.

funding usually comes from 1) grants your department gives you (they will tell you if they’re giving you money on your acceptance letter), 2) teaching assistant positions (I was/am required to be a TA, which usually involves grading undergraduate work, running labs, or leading teaching sessions/“tutorials”) and 3) federal scholarships that you are required to apply for. You need to write applications for these scholarships, usually including a research proposal, a CV/resume, a transcript of your grades, and recently, they’ve added a requirement for a diversity statement explaining any minority statuses you have and how that affects your education. TA work has an uneven workload from week to week, and usually most of the work is towards the end of the term when you’re grading final essays/exams, which creates crunch periods where you’re both working on your own coursework and grading undergrad work.

again a lot of this might not apply to your particular discipline or university or country. Usually universities list a lot of this info on their website, which can help you figure out what’s required of you. Grad school is structured like a full time job and it doesn’t pay very well even if you are funded. I lived with my parents for most of my master’s which gave me the financial stability to complete it. It’s not easy and it takes up most of your waking time, and it can leave you in a financially precarious position with a lot of debt. It’s definitely not something I would recommend for fun unless you have a lot of money and time to burn

#asks

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vidavalor · 4 months

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So I'm on a bit of a roll from just having finished some writing (probably post in the next day or two), so have some random thoughts!

Legit can't remember whether or not your linguistic analysis of Bildad the Shuhite touched on 'cobbler' as Cockney rhyming slang for either testicles (as in 'kick in the...') or nonsense (as in 'load of old cobblers') -- the latter meaning especially feels kind of appropriate!

What kind of 'madeleine memories' might an amnesiac Aziraphale get from a roast beef sandwich???

Do you think actual madeleines are likely to appear on screen in some capacity in S3?

Tiramisu has coffee, chocolate and alcohol, and thus feels like a VERY Ineffable-Husbands-speak dessert :D

Was poking around the Royal Albert Hall website for research purposes and found this: https://www.royalalberthall.com/tickets/tours-and-exhibitions/afternoon-tea/ Not quite as hyper-fancy as the Ritz, perhaps, but lots of little bits of Ineffable-speak meaningfulness in the food as well as being potentially a lovely little engagement celebration date???

Ehehehe

Hi, luv. Looking forward to reading your new writing! So many goodies to ponder here! 😍I actually have some madeleines today. And good coffee. It's raining here and ah, this is all a heavenly combination. 😊 Throwing this under a cut because your mention of tiramisu led me to write about two, related words in Ineffable Husbands Speak that I've noticed repeated: might and found...

We'll do the sea ties to insinuate while we're at it... 🐟

1- Cobbler: I need to do a whole thing on cobbler actually and will add & credit the findings you shared to you. I mainly just wanted to quickly make a post about how cobbler connects to sherry but there's actually a whole web of overlapping words they're using. It also ties to the root kob-- which quite literally means "good omens." 😊 I'll put a longer post on cobbler on the list.

2- Roast beef sandwich madeleine memories?:

*Bildad voice* You tell me... 😉

3- Madeleines on screen in S3?: I'm not expecting it but it would be fun. Would actually also go with the theme of the literal-and-the-figurative, especially with the food, so I guess it might actually be more likely than some other things. I mainly just want Aziraphale to eat something because he had a sherry and a couple of sips of tea in the present in S2 and that's why everything went sideways, really. That angel needs a sandwich in the worst way and in both ways that you can read that sentence.

4- Tiramisu: Yes. It actually also has one of my favorite meanings for any food, as it means a "pick-me-up" in Italian, which is very cute, no? It is very Ineffable Husbands-y for the reasons you mentioned and now you've got me going on about a word that we haven't heard them say lol but I can connect it to two words that they have said, so...

Tiramisu (originally from "tireme su") is thought to have been invented by the owner of a brothel in Treviso sometime around 1800. This innovative Mrs. Sandwich would offer it to clients as an aphrodisiac or as an after-treat and it was basically considered the Viagra of the 1800s in Italy. Coffee, alcohol, chocolate, as you pointed out... food + seamstressing = no way this isn't an Ineffable Husbands Speak thing.

It is perishable, as we know, and it was invented in a time before mainstream refrigeration so it originally wasn't as available outside of bigger cities, which is why it was often offered at the end of a client session as well, before the clients were sent home-- yeah, medicinal tiramisu was a thing. 😲 The actual origins of the dessert apparently weren't really discussed publicly until sometime around the 1980s as, once it became easier to keep things chilled, generations of Italian ladies were making tiramisu constantly and it got a bit awkward to acknowledge that all these adorable old nonnas for generations were passing down how to make this sexy dessert that was created in the first place by a lady bordello owner for, um, reasons...

But tiramisu would, by The Ineffable Husbands' wordplay rules, mix the origins and meanings of the word with its phonetic soundings in English and, as we've seen, French... so, it would also be spoken as: "tier a me sous."

A tier is an arrangement of things in an order and, also, in keeping with our amusing seamstressing origins of the dessert, rows of overlapping trim on a dress. Sous (the last s is silent) means under and/or below in French. In that way, expressing a desire for some tiramisu is expressing a desire for a tier in which you are sous your partner.

[Sidebar but this is reminding me that the sous vide style of cooking translates literally from French as "under/below the vacuum" and... I feel like Crowley does not have the willpower to have never not connected this to Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets in some way 😂... *doesn't look up from his book* "Oh, the Whickber Street Monthly Whatzit's getting takeaway? Gonna get the sous vide chicken this time, angel?"]

Tiramisu means a "pick me up"-- a mood-booster-- but "pick me up" is also obviously both tongue-in-cheek expression of wanting to be seduced and a request to be quite literally picked up, as in lifted off the floor... which is how you know that tiramisu is likely a dessert that Crowley thinks is the tops.

Since we're taking apart a word not in the series, I'll give you two others that tie to it that on their little vocab list: might and found.

There are at least two scenes that I've noticed so far where one of them is using the word might as innuendo in reference to Aziraphale. Might falls into the category of words like wily, thwart, smitten, etc..-- words that are amusing in how they have wildly different, often contradicting, definitions, and where at least one definition is a bit suggestive, allowing them to use it around angels or demons or in public with one definition on the surface and the flirtier one underneath.

On the one hand, might is the past tense of may and involves gentle suggestions or polite requests asking permission. On the other hand, the word might also has a real oomph when used in its other definition, which is to express the strength and power of a nation, a natural force, or a person.

It's basically Aziraphale in a word-- unfailingly polite and gentle on one level and full of raw strength on another.

The other word is found, which can be, uh, found lol, in the Crowley-penned Aziraphale entry in 'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings...'. The sentence is actually constructed around the inclusion of 'found' and what makes that extra-amusing is that it suggests Crowley was eager to get the word in there, likely because of its nautical definition.

In seafaring terms, for a ship to be described as found is a very positive thing and, to be defined as such, it must meet both of two requirements:

The ship must be both well-equipped (*cough*) and, equally important, fully stocked.

A person who is stocked or stocky is, as we know, one who is broader, more shoulders and chest than height, and of a fuller and thicker build in thighs and arms. Someone like Aziraphale, who is physically strong and brawny and who would not have much difficulty picking up what would be being thrown down if Crowley were to order a tiramisu for dessert, if ya get mah drift...

Insinuate: To subtly introduce slowly into hearts and minds; to maneuver someone or something into a desired position; to thrust in, push in, or wind one's way into; to introduce with torturous slowness; and, of course, the best one: to hint at obliquely (ha!)

The sinu part of the word comes from sinus, a word that I've *achoo* been cursing all damn week because the gorgeous trees and plants are trying to kill me but which is Latin for all sorts of things a lot more pleasant than 'the part of the head that is often pounding during Spring.'

English-language writers of the dreamy sort-- the poets who call rainstorms "tempests", like a certain red-headed demon we know-- would also use sinus back in the day to describe a gulf, a bay, or "the arm of the sea", as well as any hole or cavity in the Earth.

Insinuate = In sinu ate. In the sea, eating. 😂

Why ever [eve/"temptation"/"sin"] would [wood] Aziraphale insinuate that Crowley might [mmm strong] possibly [which shares roots with potent] want [to want; also contains ant, the humans in the insect analogy] something [so/sew, me, thin; opposite of might]? = the actual dessert isn't invented yet in this scene in 1601 but seems like Crowley wants to get tiramisu'd something fierce...

5- Royal Albert Hall: Love this idea. It reminds me of how The British Museum also has an afternoon tea but how they've met in the cafe and how they've probably both wanted to get tea there. While I was on the Royal Albert Hall website, I was laughing over the copy on the menu for the box service, especially the *very* rare modern use of rhubarb in this way:

Choose from a wide range of canapés, sandwiches and sharing plates, finishing your meal with sweet treats. All food is prepared with the finest seasonal ingredients and is always presented with signature rhubarb style.

Aziraphale, back away from the copywriters... 😂

Cheers as always for the amusing stuff to think about @jotun-philosopher 💕

Original posts regarding fish, madeleines and memory, for anyone who might read this and is confuzzled and wondering wtf we're on about:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziracrow #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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