HIOOOOOOO It's A Need To Have A Jungwon Atp Man I Hate Y'all Why Am I Reading This At 3am

not hoon breaking the ribbon 😭

putting a ribbon on their biceps trend.

ᙏ̤̫ 엔하이픈 + femreader （ ？） fluff established relationship warning not-proofread skinship pet-names & 500 —⠀ bookshelf

notes. requested!

heeseung would wear the ethereal smile of his when you bring the idea up, as the big fans of trend from this silly social media: he'd try to discreetly make the thought of doing it reach your head by making allusions to it, “oh look at that ribbon!” (you'd see right through him). he'd barely be able to stay still as you tie the ribbon around his biceps, his already short sleeves rolled and his beautiful skin exposed to the work. “show my face,” he tells you while you film— excited to be showed off on your account.

jongseong would have his eyes widen, flabbergast taking all over him as you sit next to him and roll up his sleeves; “wow.. why so eager, princess?” he'd tell you with a flirty smile and you'd stop in your motion, giving him a ‘shut up, idiot’ look perfectly accompanied with a charming smile of yours. he'd let you do your thing, enjoying whatever you are enjoying as-well. he'd just sit there and flex his biceps when you tell him to..

jaeyun would bite down his lips, enthusiasm washing all over him: both because you want to do a coupe trend with him and because he loves to show off what he worked so hard on to achieve. he'd even start flexing his biceps as soon as you start to tie the fabric around his muscle. “give it a kiss, so the mark would stain” he'd tell you before you start recording. unable to keep it any longer, you'd hear his giggles with lana del rey in the background.

sunghoon would feel himself to the maximum, with they way he loves to show his biceps at whenever chance he gets— and, because he has never dreamed of anything but doing trends with you. he is the type of boyfriend to flex his biceps so much, the ribbon would break; therefore the end of the video would show sunghoon laughing, a bit blurry, still, as you move the camera to his face.

seonwoo would be a tiniest bit taken aback when you start to tie the ribbon around his biceps— but it's not like he wouldn't be used to your weird antics already. nonetheless, he'd still be a bit curious of what the reason of this might be, “what does that even mean?” he'd ask you, fingers tips brushing against the pink fabric, “it's a trend, we are supposed to put a ribbon around what is ours” he'd flush as soon as the words leaves your mouth ><

jungwon would surprise you with the knowledge of the trend, already rolling up his sleeves when he sees you coming with the ribbon— he'd wear a smile that screams ‘i have been waiting for this’. if you feel like being teasing and humbling him a bit, which you would, you'd ignore him and put it in your hair. “oh, please,” he'd say with his hands appearing on your waist while you stand next to his sitting self. you'd end up sitting on his laps, tying another ribbon around his biceps.

riki would enjoy having a ribbon; he wouldn't know if it's because it's cute or just because you are the one putting it on his biceps.. ^^' seeing that he likes it, you'd end up putting ribbons all over him: hair strands, biceps, even might as-well wrap one around his tiny waist. and, with a content smile on his face, he wouldn't complain about it all.

nets @k-films @kflixnet @/k-labels taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @oldjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches

🧡_🧡

[ 3:47 PM ] — jay looks at you as he rests on the passenger seat. you were silent which was so unlikely. jay feels uncomfortable with the silent tension, wanting to talk to you. but you were obviously giving him the cold shoulder, keeping your eyes on the road. jay doesn’t know how long you’re going to keep this up, but he also doesn’t know that you can’t resist him.

“what the hell were you thinking, jongseong?” you said, pretending to be mad, but you were just so worried for your poor boyfriend.

“…you?“ he softly chuckles and he sees your hand become whiter as you tighten your grip on the wheel. “i’m sorry, i don’t want you to break up with me?”

“why the hell would i break up with you?” you say.

“you seem to love cats so much, so i thought if you find out i’m allergic, you would get bored at me because i can’t take care of your cats with you, bring you to cat cafes, all cat related stuff!” jay says with a small frown on his lips.

stupid boyfriend, sigh.

stupid adorable boyfriend with such pure heart.

you asked jay if he can take care of your cat along with your dad’s cats with you. he said yes. unknown to you he was allergic as fuck and that he prepared his anti-allergies and more allergy medicines. he started to sneeze after an hour, running to your bathroom with his bag until one of the medicines fall off his bag and you saw.

“jay,” you softly sigh. “it doesn’t matter. i love you no matter what. it’s especially not worth it if you’re going to be hospitalized every damn time!”

“but—“

“no.”

jay frowns and you sigh. “i appreciate it, okay? i really do, jay. it’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, but don’t do it again, okay?” you say and jay sighs.

“you’re not breaking up with—“

“oh my god.” you say and he sheepishly chuckles. “nothing will ever make me breakup with you, okay?” 

“okay.” he softly says. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you smile.

you really do.

— rbs, likes and feedback are highly appreciated !! drop a hi in my inbox if u want <3

my softie babi ueueueue

Rainy mornings — Oikawa tooru

-haikyuu

Synopsis: a morning with your dramatic bf | oikawa x female reader, fluff

~1k words | my masterlist for haikyu|

The soft patter of rain against the window was the first thing you noticed when you stirred awake. The gray morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a cool, muted glow over the room. You shifted slightly under the blanket, the warmth beside you making it impossible to move too far.

Oikawa lay next to you, half-asleep, his messy brown hair sticking up in different directions. His face was relaxed, lips slightly parted, and his breathing slow and steady. One of his arms was lazily draped over your waist, holding you close as if he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

You turned slightly, brushing a hand through his soft hair, and he made a sleepy sound of protest, nuzzling his face into the pillow.

“Mmm… too early,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Stay here.”

“It’s already morning,” you whispered, smiling.

Oikawa cracked one eye open, barely, before shutting it again. “Morning doesn’t exist when it’s raining,” he mumbled, tightening his hold on you. “It’s the law. We have to sleep in.”

You chuckled, feeling the vibrations of his voice against your skin. “Oh? And who made that law?”

“Me.” His voice was smug, but drowsy, the last syllable dragging as he tried to keep from slipping back into sleep.

You sighed dramatically. “Well, if it’s a law, I guess I have no choice.” Oikawa hummed in approval, a soft smile playing at his lips as he buried his face against your shoulder.

The rain continued to fall outside, and with Oikawa holding you close, the world beyond the warmth of the bed could wait just a little longer.

"still sore from yesterday's match tooru?" you asked after a while. Oikawa let out a low whine, burying his face deeper into your shoulder. “Don’t remind me,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin.

You ran a hand gently down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles even through the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll take that as a yes,” you said, amused.

He sighed dramatically, shifting just enough to peek up at you through half-lidded eyes. “My legs feel like they’re made of lead. My back is stiff. And worst of all,” he paused, lips curling into a pout, “you’re bullying me first thing in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m not bullying you. I’m being a very loving and concerned partner.”

Oikawa let out a sleepy chuckle, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your waist. “Then as my very loving and concerned partner, shouldn’t you be taking care of me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly does His Highness want?”

He hummed, clearly enjoying your attention. “A massage,” he declared, stretching slightly before groaning at the soreness in his body. “And maybe some breakfast in bed. And cuddles. Lots of cuddles.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re so needy in the morning.”

Oikawa only smiled, eyes fluttering shut again as he nuzzled closer. “Only because I have the best person to be needy with.”

You sighed dramatically, dragging your fingers through his messy hair. "Fine, fine. I’ll give you a massage, but breakfast in bed is pushing it."

Oikawa let out a satisfied hum, shifting onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. “Mmm, That’s my good girl.”

Shaking your head, you straddled his lower back, your hands smoothing over his tense shoulders. The rain outside only added to the cozy atmosphere as you slowly began working the knots out of his muscles, pressing your thumbs into the stiff areas.

He let out a deep groan, his whole body melting beneath your touch. "That feels so good,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

You smirked. "What would you do without me, Tooru?"

"Wither away,” he said dramatically, turning his head to the side so he could look up at you with tired, pleading eyes. “You’re the only thing keeping me alive right now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at your lips. "You're so dramatic."

"And you're perfect darling," he shot back, his voice softer now, laced with genuine affection.

Your heart fluttered at how effortlessly he said it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You softened your touch, kneading the sore spots on his back more gently this time. The rain outside kept falling in a rhythmic patter, and the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both like a warm blanket.

Oikawa sighed contentedly. "You know," he murmured, voice thick with drowsiness again, "if you keep spoiling me like this, I might just fall back asleep with you."

You leaned down, letting your lips ghost against his ear. "Then who's going to make us breakfast?"

He groaned, turning onto his side so he could face you, his brown eyes still heavy with sleep. "Can't we just stay like this all day?"

You smiled, brushing his hair away from his face. "Tempting, but you’d probably complain about being hungry within the hour."

Oikawa gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "You make me sound so predictable."

"You are predictable," you teased, poking his forehead.

He pouted before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you down against his chest. "Fine. Five more minutes, and then we can get up," he bargained.

You sighed, knowing full well that "five minutes" would turn into ten, then twenty. But as the rain continued to fall, and Oikawa held you close, warm and content, you figured there was no harm in staying just a little longer.

Soft Oikawa hours

Pregnancy: Atsumu

You’re two months pregnant and absolutely glowing. There’s a nervous excitement in your every breath, your hand constantly drifting over your still-flat belly as if to check that it’s real. That there’s really a little life growing inside you. A little Miya, curled up and getting bigger by the day.

You’re in the passenger seat of the car, heading toward your very first ultrasound appointment. The windows are down, and the soft spring breeze is curling through your hair as the late morning sun streams through the windshield. Everything feels light. Hopeful. Surreal.

Atsumu is driving one-handed, his other resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles against your leggings. He hums quietly to the radio, lips twitching into a smile every time he glances over at you.

“Y’know,” he says after a moment, “I been thinkin’ about what kind of nose they’ll have. Hopefully yours. Mine’s too pointy.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. “As long as they don’t have your drama.”

“Hey!” he protests, though he’s still smiling as he squeezes your leg. “They’re allowed a little flair. They are mine, after all.”

You roll your eyes fondly, fingers tangling with his at the next red light. He lifts your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles before driving on.

When you pull into the clinic parking lot, your nerves start to set in—low and creeping. It’s your first time seeing the baby. Hearing a heartbeat. It makes everything feel suddenly, painfully real.

The waiting room is quiet, with soft instrumental music playing and the smell of hand sanitizer hanging in the air. You’re seated beside Atsumu, your knees bouncing ever so slightly as your mind races ahead. His hand is still in yours, firm and grounding.

When the nurse finally calls your name, you squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

The exam room is dimly lit, calm, with a monitor beside the table and soft instructions given as you lie back. You wince slightly at the cold gel, heart pounding in your ears as the technician glides the wand over your stomach.

She squints at the screen. Tilts her head.

Then her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

You stiffen. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

She’s quick to reassure you. “No, no—everything looks good. It’s just... you’re having twins.”

Silence.

Atsumu leans in closer, eyes squinting at the screen. “Twins?”

“Twins,” the technician repeats, pointing to two distinct little shapes. “You see here? Two sacs. Two heartbeats.”

Your gaze locks onto the screen. Two. Not one. Not the tiny flutter you’d been preparing for, but two.

A sudden wave of panic crashes over you.

“Two?” you echo, your voice a shaky whisper. “Like... two babies? At the same time?”

The technician gently clears her throat. "Well, it’s a little early to know for sure if they’re fraternal or identical, but yes—twins."

You feel your breath hitch, the room growing smaller around you. “That’s two car seats. Two cribs. Two births. Two newborns crying at once—”

Your hand grips Atsumu’s forearm, eyes wide as your mind races. “I don’t—I wasn’t ready for two. I barely wrapped my head around one.”

You’re still staring at the screen when Atsumu shifts closer to the bed, his hand still resting lightly on yours.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe for me, okay?”

You turn toward him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Tsumu... that’s two babies. That’s two of everything. What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough for both of them?”

“You are,” he says instantly, without hesitation. “You will be. We will.”

But your hand flails toward his forearm like it needs something to latch onto. “This is your fault. You and Osamu. You cursed me with twin genes!”

He stares at you, stunned. “What?! How is this my fault?”

“Because you’re a twin! That’s how!”

The technician offers a gentle smile, still watching the monitor. “Actually, twins are likely influenced by the mother’s genetics. So if anyone ‘passed it down,’ it’s likely you.”

You blink slowly. “So... it’s me?”

Atsumu exhales—relieved. “See? I didn’t do this! You doubled down on your own.”

Your head snaps toward the technician, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, a storm of disbelief swirling behind them. You don’t say anything—but your look says plenty.

The technician catches the expression immediately and offers a placating smile, lifting her hands lightly. "I’ll give you two a minute," she says gently, already stepping toward the door, and quietly slips out of the room, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.

You drop your head back onto the exam pillow with a muffled groan. “I don’t know how to do one baby. Let alone two. That’s double the crying. Double the diapers. Double the college funds.”

Atsumu leans down until his forehead presses softly to yours. His hand finds yours again, grounding you with the warmth of his palm and the way his thumb strokes soothingly across your skin.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and gentle. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

You don’t answer right away, eyes still locked on the monitor where two flickering heartbeats pulse in rhythm.

He kisses your forehead, slow and reassuring. “We’ll go one diaper at a time. One bottle at a time. One late-night rocking session at a time. We’re gonna be okay.”

Your lip trembles. “Are we?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. You’re stuck with me, baby. Me, and the two little monsters we made.”

You laugh wetly, a mix of shock and affection tangled in your chest. He leans down and kisses you again—cheek, then jaw, then temple—before turning to look back at the screen.

And in the glow of that monitor, with two tiny heartbeats tapping out the rhythm of your future, Atsumu squeezes your hand and whispers:

“They’ve already got the best mom in the world. The rest’ll be easy.”

You sit up slightly and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, your chin resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

He looks so bf omg

i need a jay, man 😞

❅ — ww. day 18: pjs. ✦ ₊˚

day eighteen: ❝ going shopping with jay cause he loves spoiling ❞

⟢ pairing : jay x reader ➖ genre : fluff ➖ requested : no ➖ warnings : no prns used but it is implied that reader visits sephora

glancing around the mall, you looked for yet another clothing store. not that you wanted to spend all of your boyfriend’s money, you just needed a new winter coat.

speaking of him, jay had two bags on each arm as he followed close behind. he’d said he would carry your bags and buy everything you got while you were out today. including food.

and it’s not like you willingly took the offer. he insisted on the fact that he’d spoil you today.

“what’re you looking for, love?” he asked, bringing you out of your frantic glances.

“h&m.”

“h&m?”

“uh huh, i need a new coat.” you said, continuing your search.

he hummed, watching you do your thing.

“honey, i think it’s this way.” he said smiling slightly, pointing straight.

and he was right. there was the bright red ‘H&M’ logo.

“ah, you’re a lifesaver.” you turned, placing your hands on the sides of his face to give him a quick peck.

running towards the store with a smile on your face, you went straight for the coat rack and whatever else you liked.

jay eventually caught up, standing a few inches behind you. he still had a smile on his face, seeing you all excited about certain things made him happy. especially if it meant he could get them for you.

you looked in the store for about ten minutes after picking out the cutest coat you could find.

“is there anything else you want, baby? any other store you wanna go to before we leave?”

“umm.. no, but i do wanna check out sephora again.” you bit your lip, thinking of any other stores to visit but only choosing one.

“if that’s okay with you.”

“of course it’s okay, that’s why i asked.”

“jay, i don’t wanna be the reason you go bankrupt, you know i could spend hours in here.”

“i know. and i also don’t care,” he kissed the side of your head. “if i go bankrupt, at least it’s because of you.”

❅ ❅ ❅

milan’s note: short n sweet 😽

PERM. TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @m1ko-xu @keiipopped (message or comment to be added)

WW. TAGLIST: @keiipopped @luvjongseong (message or comment to be added)

© KAIROOT 2023 — please do not steal, translate, or repost my work.

winter wonderland masterlist

I can't believe I read this first thing as I opened this app 😭 This was cute and funny, though (this just validated my fear of pregnancy–still hell no to this and hell yeah to being single and non‐pregnant ¿ 🙏). Super love u, Daichi 😭🤍

Pregnancy: Daichi (NSFW)

You were officially forty-one weeks pregnant.

Forty-one weeks. Not thirty-nine. Not even the neat, ominous weight of forty. No, you had blown straight past your due date like a train with no brakes and were now living in the swollen purgatory of maternity hell—bloated, achy, short-tempered, and so fed up with your body that you would’ve gladly traded it in for a paper bag and a nap.

Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache. Your back felt like it had been used as a trampoline in the night. Your hips were stiff. Your feet looked like they belonged to someone who’d spent ten hours standing in a swamp. And your belly? Your belly felt like it had become its own planet, stretching your skin so taut you were convinced you could drum a beat on it.

Nothing fit anymore. Not your clothes. Not your shoes. Not even your own skin, if you were honest. Your maternity leggings had officially waved the white flag. Your bras were lost causes. Your wedding rings had been stashed in a drawer weeks ago, too tight to slide over even a knuckle. And the seatbelt? Daichi had to adjust it for you now, like you were precious cargo—though to be fair, at this point, you basically were. He was careful and considerate and just a little too cheerful about it all, which made it even more infuriating.

“Got everything?” he asked softly, adjusting the strap of your maternity bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t smile. You didn’t even grunt. You groaned—a long, low, theatrical sound of suffering as you slowly lowered yourself into the passenger seat like an elephant easing into a beanbag chair.

He took it in stride. He’d stopped taking anything personally around week thirty-seven.

Still, he reached across and placed his warm palm on your thigh once you were settled, rubbing his thumb in slow, steady circles. You didn’t push it away. You rested your hand on top of his and gave him a tired look that said, If I have to live in this body one more day, I will cry.

The car ride to the clinic was mostly quiet. You sighed a lot. Adjusted the air vents. Rolled down the window. Rolled it back up. Turned the A/C colder. Then warmer. Daichi drove patiently, sneaking occasional glances at you like he wanted to say something encouraging but also very much wanted to survive the day.

The clinic’s waiting room was somehow worse than usual. The chairs were uncomfortable, the light was too bright, and the cheerful wall art—baby elephants, pastel hearts, encouraging quotes in cursive—made you want to scream. You stared at the pamphlet beside you titled “Smiling Through the Third Trimester” with a level of disdain typically reserved for war crimes.

Daichi sat beside you flipping through a magazine that he absolutely wasn’t reading, occasionally peeking at you with quiet concern while trying not to make eye contact with the receptionist, who kept looking at you like you were a ticking time bomb.

When the nurse finally called your name, you heaved yourself up with a groan and waddled toward the hallway like a warrior going into battle. Daichi followed at a polite distance, like a man who knew better than to walk too close to a woman this pregnant and this pissed.

The exam room felt like a refrigerator. You plopped down on the crinkly paper with another long sigh, then glared at the stirrups like they’d personally wronged you. Daichi sat in the chair next to the table and gently rubbed your back, his thumb tracing light circles over your spine.

“Almost there,” he murmured, ever the optimist. “Just hang in a little longer.”

You turned your head to him, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and fury. “I swear to god, Daichi. If one more person tells me I’m almost there, I will throw something. Possibly this table. Possibly you.”

He only smiled through it, squeezing your hand like he hadn’t just been threatened with airborne furniture.

When the doctor entered, she was all serene smiles and clinical calm, her tone chipper and maddeningly upbeat.

“Well,” she said after a quick check, “good news is you’re making progress. The baby’s definitely settling into position. But you’re still not quite there yet. I’d give it another few days.”

You stared at her like she’d just told you the world had been cancelled.

“More days?” you repeated, your voice a cracked whisper. “As in, plural? Like… multiple?”

The doctor gave a warm little chuckle. “It’s different for everyone, but yes, could be a few more. You’re doing great, though.”

Your jaw dropped. You made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, your hands clenching the edge of the table like it might steady you.

The doctor handed Daichi a brightly colored handout titled “Natural Ways to Encourage Labor.” It had illustrations of smiling pregnant women doing yoga and eating pineapple.

“Try some of these at home,” she said kindly. “Spicy food, gentle movement, maybe a warm bath. You’re almost there.”

Daichi nodded like the polite, helpful husband he was, tucking the paper into your maternity bag as you stood slowly, moving with the weary determination of someone who had carried life for too damn long.

The walk back to the car was slow and tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at anyone. The receptionist offered a cheery “Good luck!” as you left and you very nearly flipped her off.

When Daichi helped you into the car again and got you buckled in, you exhaled long and hard, the sound more like a groan of existential dread than a sigh.

“I’m going to die pregnant,” you said flatly, head tipping back against the seat as your eyes glazed over. “This is it. This is how it ends for me. Swollen and sweaty in the passenger seat of a Toyota.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently, lips twitching as he reached over to adjust your seatbelt one last time. “You’re going to give birth soon, and then this will all feel like a weird dream.”

You turned your head just enough to shoot him a dry look. “A weird dream where my hips feel like they’re being sawed in half and I haven’t seen my own feet in two months?”

He chuckled under his breath, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m just saying, you’re doing amazing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, though your voice lacked real venom. “I look like a pufferfish and I cry every time I drop something on the floor because I can’t pick it up anymore.”

“I pick it up for you,” he said, unbothered.

“Yeah, and I still cry!” You groaned louder, tossing your head back again. “I’m like a feral raccoon in maternity leggings. I can’t keep living like this.”

“You’re not a raccoon,” he said with a straight face. “You’re majestic. Fearsome. A hormonal goddess.”

You snorted so hard it startled a hiccup out of you. “Oh my god.”

“And soon,” he added, leaning closer to kiss your temple, “you’ll be holding the baby and none of this will matter.”

You didn’t move. You just stared up at the ceiling.

“Watch me die pregnant,” you said again. “They’ll write it on my tombstone.”

--

By the time you made it home, your mood had not improved. You kicked your shoes off at the door, grumbling as you peeled off your coat and waddled into the kitchen, leaving Daichi to trail behind you, pamphlet in hand and hope still stubbornly etched into his expression.

“Okay,” he said as you slumped down at the kitchen table, head in your hands. “Let’s try some of these. Worst case, they don’t work. Best case? Maybe we’ll get things moving.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just groaned into your palms.

He set the paper down gently in front of you. “It says spicy food might help. We could start there?”

You looked up with bloodshot eyes. “I want something violent. Like pepper-spray levels of spice.”

Daichi raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got extra hot chili ramen packets. You could probably weaponize them.”

“Perfect,” you growled. “Boil ‘em.”

Ten minutes later, you were perched on the couch with a bowl of nuclear noodles while Daichi sat beside you with his own, bravely taking a bite. He lasted all of three seconds before coughing into his fist, eyes watering.

“Oh my god—this hurts,” he rasped.

You, completely unaffected, slurped up another bite. “Nothing. Not even a twinge.”

He blinked at you, face red. “I’m going to need milk. And possibly CPR.”

You sighed and set the bowl aside. “Next idea.”

And so began the ridiculous journey.

You drank herbal teas that smelled like dirt and despair. You choked down thick slices of pineapple while muttering curses under your breath. You did the hip-opening stretches the pamphlet suggested, groaning with effort and telling Daichi that if this didn’t work you were going to shove a yoga ball down the stairs. He helped you do slow laps around the living room, hand on your lower back while you walked in increasingly impatient circles.

You even tried the dreaded castor oil. One teaspoon. Two. Mixed into orange juice so it wouldn’t taste like paint thinner. You gagged, glared, and gagged again. Daichi looked horrified but held the glass steady like he was assisting with a medical emergency.

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky. You had tried every single item on the pamphlet short of hiring a witch to chant over your uterus. And yet—nothing. No contractions. No discomfort. No sign the baby had any plans of evacuating. Just the same heavy weight in your belly and the constant ache of your ribs.

You threw yourself back onto the couch with a long, miserable sigh, your belly rising and falling like a dramatic mountain of defeat.

“This baby,” you declared, voice scratchy with exhaustion, “is never coming out. This is it. They’ve made a permanent home. They’re going to graduate college still inside me.”

Daichi, kneeling next to the couch, chuckled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you blame them?” he murmured. “You’ve made them a pretty amazing home.”

You blinked at him, half-touched and half-annoyed. “That’s not helpful.”

He grinned and sat back on his heels, picking the pamphlet up again with exaggerated patience. “Well, if they’re not leaving on their own, we’re gonna have to evict them.”

You groaned dramatically. “We’ve tried everything. I’ve eaten enough pineapple to singlehandedly wipe out Hawaii’s exports. I drank that weird tea that tastes like boiled weeds. I took castor oil, Daichi. Castor. Oil. Nothing works.”

He hummed, eyes skimming down the page.

Then he paused.

You watched as his brow arched just slightly.

“…What?” you said slowly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, technically… we haven’t tried everything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He turned the pamphlet toward you and pointed at a single line with a very straight face.

“Intercourse may help induce labor.”

You stared. Then looked at him. Then back at the pamphlet.

Your eyes narrowed, your lips pressing into a line as the wheels in your head began to turn. For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. But something changed—visibly, unmistakably. Your posture shifted. Your breath stilled. Your entire demeanor settled into something focused, determined, just a little bit unhinged.

Daichi saw it immediately. He watched the transformation like someone witnessing a weather shift, like a man who’d seen the sky turn before a storm. His back straightened. His eyes went wide. He held up one hand as if you were a wild animal and he needed to de-escalate the situation.

“Babe—let’s just think this through—”

You sat up slowly. Deliberately. Every movement a signal.

Your voice dropped, calm but commanding, your eyes locked on his.

“…Get upstairs.”

Daichi followed you up the stairs like a man walking toward something both holy and terrifying.

You didn’t speak. Just kept your back straight, your breath steady, your feet deliberate on the steps. Every part of you radiated heat—rage, desperation, need. By the time you reached the bedroom, you were already tugging off your shirt, grumbling under your breath as it got stuck around your chest. You were a force of nature, belly full and breasts heavy, skin flushed with exertion and irritation.

“Help me,” you snapped, voice breathless.

Daichi was at your side in a second, pulling the fabric over your head, his hands lingering for just a second too long on the bare curve of your shoulder. It had been a while since the two of you had made love—between the fatigue, the constant discomfort, and the way your body had become less your own and more a vessel of life, intimacy had taken a quiet backseat. You missed it. Missed him. And he missed you—his touch tentative and reverent, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. You turned to him, eyes burning.

“This baby is coming out tonight,” you said, voice low and deadly serious. “So get on the bed.”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to. God, did he want to. But his eyes kept flicking to your belly, the way it rounded out so full and taut, the faint sheen of sweat already glistening along your collarbone.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hand resting against your waist, careful and reverent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you said, grabbing him by the wrist and guiding him toward the mattress. “And if you do, I won’t care. I need this.”

He let out a shaky breath as you pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. The tension between you was thick, every inch of skin electric. Months of abstaining made everything heightened—your nerves tingled where his fingers grazed your hips, and his breathing hitched every time you shifted above him. His hands went instinctively to your thighs as you straddled him, palms warm and wide and trembling just slightly.

You leaned down to kiss him, hard and fast, teeth scraping his bottom lip as you ground your hips against his crotch. He gasped, his body already responding beneath you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you muttered, dragging your fingers down his chest. “Then we’ll die together.”

He chuckled breathlessly, then hooked his fingers in your waistband, easing your underwear off your hips with slow, reverent care. When he touched you, his fingertips sliding through the wet heat between your thighs, he exhaled like he was in awe.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, voice tight, eyes dark with restraint.

“I’m ready,” you breathed, rolling your hips into his touch.

He didn’t argue. He pushed his boxers down and kicked them off, his cock thick and flushed against his stomach. He gripped it at the base, ready to guide himself in, but you brushed his hand aside and positioned yourself with shaking thighs.

“Let me,” you murmured.

And then you sank down, slow and deep, the stretch sharp enough to make you gasp. Your hands clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you took him all the way in, inch by aching inch.

Daichi groaned, low and guttural, his head tipping back against the pillows. “Jesus, you’re so tight—fuck—”

You paused, hips resting flush against his, just breathing. The fullness was overwhelming, perfect, exactly what you needed.

When you started to move, it was unhurried. The sensitivity of not having touched like this in weeks made every motion feel magnified—every grind, every squeeze, every brush of skin set fire to your nerves. You both gasped more than once, surprised by how much you'd missed this, missed each other. Deep, rolling thrusts that had you grinding down with every motion, drawing small sounds from your throat as your body adjusted to the rhythm.

Daichi’s hands moved to your waist, holding you steady, thumbs stroking gentle circles along your skin.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “You’re carrying our baby, and you still want me like this?”

“I don’t want you,” you corrected breathlessly. “I need you.”

Your pace picked up, just slightly, each roll of your hips drawing gasps from both of you. The bed creaked under the rhythm, your swollen belly brushing against his chest every time you leaned in to kiss him, desperate and messy and aching.

He slid one hand up to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you arched into him. Your moan was sharp, needy, your body clenching tight around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers tightening on your hip. “You’re so—god, you feel so good.”

You chased the friction, riding him harder, faster, the pressure building between your legs in thick, pulsing waves. He met your thrusts now, his hips lifting off the bed, his face buried against your neck as he groaned into your skin.

When your orgasm hit, it slammed through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up around him as you gasped his name, trembling all over. He held you through it, rocking you gently, murmuring praise into your shoulder until your shudders turned to aftershocks.

Then he flipped you gently onto your back, careful with your belly, bracing himself above you as he drove into you with long, deep strokes, chasing his own edge.

You watched him through hooded eyes, heart racing, mouth parted in a soft, dazed smile. He looked wrecked—sweat-damp hair, flushed cheeks, jaw clenched with restraint as he fucked you slow and deep.

“I’m close,” he warned, voice fraying. 

You cupped his face, nodding, heart still thudding from your own climax. “It’s okay. Come inside me. I want to feel you.”

With a broken sound, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came, thick pulses filling you, his body trembling with release. You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed slowly beside you, one arm still curled protectively across your middle, his breath hot against your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything for a long while. The room was warm and quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing. His hand smoothed over your belly, the rise and fall of it still unsteady. You were both flushed, glistening with sweat, chests heaving.

You turned your head toward him slightly, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Well… at least I feel better.”

Daichi huffed a laugh, his voice still rough. “Honestly? Same. Not sure if we jumpstarted labor or just obliterated our spines, though.”

You both lay there for a beat longer, catching your breath, limbs tangled, and the faint hum of calm settling over you.

Eventually, you shifted, groaning softly as you sat up on your elbows. “Okay,” you said, voice still breathy, “I should probably clean up—”

And then it happened.

A sudden, warm rush.

You blinked. Froze. Looked down.

“…Oh my god,” you whispered. “Daichi.”

He sat up slowly, still half-lost in the afterglow. “Hmm?”

You stared at the sheets beneath you, soaked through in a way that was definitely not from sex.

“My water broke,” you said, blinking again. The shock in your voice cut through the air.

Daichi’s head snapped toward you.

“My water broke,” you repeated, louder this time, voice rising in panic. “Daichi, my fucking water broke.”

The adrenaline that had left your limbs warm and loose now twisted into pure, electric panic.

He was moving before you could spiral further, sitting up and cupping your face with both hands.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” he said quickly, steadying your breathing with his voice. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, dazed, still processing the rush of adrenaline and disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been begging for something to happen—for anything to finally signal the end. And now that it had, now that it was really happening, your heart felt like it might explode with the sheer weight of it. You had wanted this so badly. You had cursed the waiting. And yet now, the second it arrived, you were caught somewhere between terror and awe.

“I wanted this,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I wanted this to happen.”

Daichi brushed a strand of damp hair away from your face, smiling warmly. “You did. And now it’s happening.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh, voice cracking. “I’m terrified.”

“I know,” he said, cupping your cheek with a hand as steady as his voice. “Me too. But we’re ready. You’re ready.”

You nodded again, tears welling in your eyes, this time from joy—not just from fear or exhaustion. You were going to meet your baby. Tonight. Maybe in just a few hours.

Daichi pressed a kiss to your forehead before swinging his legs off the bed, already grabbing the overnight bag he had packed and repacked a dozen times.

“Let’s go meet our baby,” he said, voice warm and certain.

And this time, you smiled through the chaos. Because it was finally happening—and you weren’t doing it alone.

I'm so in love with this man and this is mot helping

that feeling when.

엔하이픈 성훈 ୨୧ female reader three hundred for iuiu fluff established relationship + cw. not proof-read skinship kissing ( other )

your boyfriend has an obsession with your hands. he is not able to place when and where it started, neither why or how. but when sunghoon feels the weight of your fingertips against his skin, he can assure you that it is the only thing he has ever known.

he loves when your run your fingers through his hair, a giggle leaving his mouth when you put them away from his eyes. and when your hand slips in his as you walk next to each other or when your leave soft taps on his palm as you talk to him, there is nothing in the world that matters to him, except you. although he is used to these antics of yours, warmth fills his body whenever your knuckles brush against his cheek, the tip of your finger touching one of his moles, your thumb caressing his lips.

when you cup his face, he has an excuse to turn his head to your hand. nose brushing your palm, breathing your delicate scent before landing a kiss on it. his eyes closed as he leans into your touch, then looking back at you while your rub his skin with your thumb. he see stars and they would reflect in his ‘you-thirsty’ gaze as he looks at you.

lovesick and adoring, hand holding yours as you talk. softly connecting his skin with your fingertips. trailing kisses all over your hand before going up to your forearm. he finds his lips on your shoulder at some point, everything that falls out of your mouth being the only thing he can understand at the moment. the feeling of his kisses finding your neck tickles and makes you chuckle.

sunghoon pulls away at the dulcet and angelic sound, smiling at you. eyes scrunched and fangs showing off. he holds your waist firmly before kissing you.

this was supposed to be a thought, which is why it might be confusing to read .. also wrote this in ten minutes after seeing a hoon edit hhh ㅠㅠ comment ‘potatotes’ and reblog with ‘yippie’ if you enjoyed >0<

♡ enhypen’s hyung line reaction to their s/o pranking them by not saying ‘i love you’ back

✰ heeseung

“babe, i’m leaving now. i’ll be back in a few hours.” “m’kay...” “i love you!” “take care baby!”

literally snaps his head to where you were, pausing from closing the door to the apartment unit with a frown pulling at his brows. “i love you,” he repeats once more hoping to hear the usual loving response from you. yet heeseung received a reply that he doesn't particularly like. “you’ll be late, hee.” and in an instant, he was beside you; pouty and all. “i said i love you.” “i heard you perfectly the first time love.” he frowns even more at this. heeseung takes your hands, grabbing onto them gently as he crouches beside the couch in front of you. “are we... are we okay?” his gaze was glossy, wide eyes staring at you with worry. “did i do something wrong?” but before anything could escalate any further, you wrap your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses, apologizing and telling him it was merely a prank. it was safe to say he didn't leave you alone after that. don't this to your man ladies, please.

✰ jay

“hey babe, i’m heading to the grocery store right now do you want me to get you anything?” “no, i’m okay baby.” “aight, be back in a few. i love you.” “mhm, drive safe!”

suspiciously raises a left eyebrow while picking up his car keys from the table. “i love you...” he tries again. you turn your head from your book to glance at him, stifling your laugh as you smiled. “i know babe.” however, you aren't as slick as you thought you were. jay, spotting your phone behind the fruits basket was enough for him to calculate the situation. if you think you can play this game with him, then he can for sure win this one. with brisk steps, he approaches you just as you turned around to read. jay cups your left cheek, gently turning your head to pull you in for a kiss. “i love you,” he mutters, a light smirk forming on his lips noticing you lean in for more. “i love you jay...” “see? wasn't so hard to say now wasn't it?”

✰ jake

“i’ll see you at dinner babe. i love you.” “okay, take care of yourself jakey. don't overwork yourself.” “i know babe, i love you.” “mhm...”

this cutie automatically assumes for the worst. racing thoughts that caused this sudden change in you filled his mind as he stood by the foyer of the apartment. the keys of his car dangles on his finger as he vacantly stares at you for a good moment, and you'd think he already left hadn't you turned around to look. “jake?” he shakes his head, pursing his lips a little before timidly making his way towards you on the couch. there was no words from him, just his arms embracing around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. “are you upset with me?” his sentence came out muffled but you understood him nonetheless. you felt bad doing this prank on him immediately after his hug tightened before he added, “if i ever did something to upset you, i’m sorry... can we... can we talk about this now? i can’t leave you here like this if we're not in good terms i-” you just showered him with kisses and admitting to doing the petty prank. jake wasn't upset, he was just glad you weren't angry at him or something.

✰ sunghoon

“call me if you need anything doll.” “got it mr. park.” “right, well i’m leaving now.” “...!?”

and he closes the door. this guy knew about your plans—your plan to prank him. it was due to the fact that he was using your tiktok account that was logged in in his phone the day before and found something in your favorites. that something being the ‘not saying i love you back to your s/o’ so sunghoon was pretty much prepared for the war. with the slight tilt of his lips, he waited in front of his car that was parked in front of the house; smirking with his arms crossed over his chest. he mentally counted 1-10 and as predicted, you came bursting through the doors while still in your pajamas. “where’s my i love you!?” sunghoon chuckles before scooping you up in his arms and kissing the crown of your head. “you should take your tiktok account off my phone doll, your pranks aren't working anymore.” he says smugly before planting a soft kiss on your lips. “but i love you. anyways”