no-laughing-matter

was in class today. girl sat next to me as usual. didn’t say much to me throughout the class, just at one point where it doesn’t really matter. she laughed at stuff i said in class but so did everyone else. she doesn’t give a shit about me, at least not any more of a shit about me than she does anybody else in the class.

i’m free.

anonymous asked:

lets flip it a bit! what if the phantom's s/o was jealous? How would the phantom react?

I suspect he’d gawk unattractively at his s/o, completely frozen in what he was doing, and then burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. As his laughter dies off when he realises his s/o was being completely serious, he’d choke out a, “That’s a new one,” and cough awkwardly to clear his throat, and then rush to reassure his s/o that he only has eyes for them and wouldn’t ever so much as contemplate another person in the same way. I mean, really, taming the Opera Ghost’s heart for your own is no laughing matter. Over the next few days he’d dote on his s/o more than he already does, just to reaffirm it. You may also find him crying when he thinks you’re asleep because it’s almost as if your jealousy really hit home for him just how loved he is. Although, let’s be fair - was there ever any doubt?

Phantom of the Opera: @liemarce @bingewatchingmylifegoby@sky-the-llama @suddenlyitisntwhatitusedtobe @phangirl-ofthe-operra @phantom-of-the-keurig @oddybutgoodie @starwarsandstufff @shingeki-no-julchen @keithmoonmoon @wolfwithabook @morningisnotalright @sanity-is-overratedxp @phantom-triumphant @daaerik

JUST Erik: @amariscorvo  @allthatyoudreamedicould

Imagine Lance being a total dork in his and Keith’s relationship.

Like the very first day they start dating and he and Keith are holding hands. Lance pauses, glancing down at Keith with an impish grin that already he’s fond of.

“Hey Keith, you ready to take the next step in this relationship?”

And Keith is obviously flustered because “Jesus lance we only just started dating-”

But he breaks off as Lance walks a pace; takes a legitimate ‘step’ forward.

“Hah,” he chortles. “First step in the relationship.”

“Oh my god,” Keith groans as he moves to follow Lance.

“Woah, another step! Geez Keith, better slow down-”

“You’re the worst,” Keith says, but he’s smiling nonetheless

And on it goes. Each new milestone, every little accomplishment: another step. And it’s always Lance to do it. Always him to walk them forward, mostly literally, sometimes metaphorically. 

Keith let’s him, and each time he laughs, no matter how many steps Lance has had them take now; no matter how many times he’s done the same bit.

Because Keith loves it, quite frankly, and he loves Lance. 

Finally, they’re relaxing after the war is over, days into the galaxy wide celebrations, and Lance and Keith have found a quiet corner to have for themselves, free from the revelries of the parties next door. 

And Lance is being his usual self; playing with Keith’s fingers and making his joke about taking the next step.

Only Keith holds him back. Prevents Lance from completing his joke.

“Actually, Lance, I don’t want to take the next step. I think I wanna try something else.” 

And he get’s down on one knee, clasping Lance’s hand in his own and withdrawing a small silver band from his pocket. Lance is watching with a comical mixture of awe and surprise; tears beginning to form in his ducts.

“Lance, will you marry me?”

And then Lance is laughing, and it startles Keith for a moment until Lance himself is kneeling, pulling out his own ring from his pocket, and grinning as wet droplets cascade down his cheeks.

“I was just about to ask you that,” he chuckles, and now Keith is beaming as well. “You stole my bit.”

“Yeah well,” Keith replies, shuffling closer. “Say yes, and what’s yours becomes mine.”

Lance follows suite, until their foreheads are touching and the words they share are heard only by them.

“Pretty sure it’s ‘what’s mine is yours’.”

And Keith feels his eyes begin to shut; tilting his jaw upwards to meet Lance halfway.

“It already was,” he breathes. “Ever since that first step.”




They don’t go back to the party after that.

Basically, This is Basically What Every Dr. Phil Episode is Basically Like Basically
  • Dr. Phil: Hello, I am Doctor Philip, and today we'll be tackling an issue that is very widespread, but rarely spoken about. Gaming addiction. Now, I know many of you know at least one person in your life who plays video games, whether that be a child or, in some cases, a spouse.
  • Audience: *laughs*
  • Dr. Phil: But, when unregulated, gaming can lead to serious addiction. Today I have with me a mother who's home life has been torn apart as her very own son descended into gaming addiction.
  • Mother: *sniffing and wiping tears away* Hello, doctor. Will you cure my son?
  • Dr. Phil: Well, dear, that's... uhh. Let's just bring the boy out already.
  • *dramatic music plays*
  • Gamer: My name is Gregg, I'm 19 years old, I'm a gaming addict, and I don't give a f*ck.
  • Audience: *gasps*
  • Gamer: Yeah, I game for 19 to 20 hours a day and the other four hours I use for looking up sick gaming strats or beating it to anime porn. I once sucked off a dude because he offered me minecraft diamonds. I don't give a sh*t, I would've sucked him off even if he didn't have the diamonds.
  • Audience: *gasps louder*
  • Gamer: Do I hate women? Yes, I hate women. I've emailed Anita Sarkeesian my address. She knows where I am if she wants to fight me. Feminists, square the fuck up. People always ask why I don't do anything other than gaming. I ask them why don't they mind their own f*cking business. I don't think I have a problem. Dr. Phil can honestly eat my whole an*s.
  • Gamer: *walks out onto the stage*
  • Audience: *boos*
  • Gamer: F*ck all y'all! I don't give a f*ck! *flips off the audience*
  • Dr. Phil: Please take a seat, son.
  • Gamer: *sits very disrespectfully*
  • Mother: *starts bawling*
  • Dr. Phil: Son, do you think that was acceptable behavior?
  • Gamer: The only behavior I care about is the behavioral patterns for enemies in the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series. I love video games: Master chief, Mario, uhm, Blinx the Cat... Blasto. Love those guys!
  • Audience: *boos*
  • Gamer: I don't care! You think I care! F*ck all y'all!
  • Dr. Phil: All these people are booing you, doesn't that make you feel bad?
  • Gamer: Are you deaf? Have I not articulated the fact that I absolutely 100% do not care about anything except for video games? I. DON'T. GIVE. A. F*CK.
  • Mother: He's always like this, there's no changing him. It didn't used to be this way... just *starts bawling harder*
  • Dr. Phil: I think there is a way to change him, and we'll find out more about that after these messages.
  • *Dr. Phil theme plays*
  • *The lights dim and every goes empty eyed and slack-jawed*
  • Gamer: Heh, this is weird. *nudges mom and whispers to her* Hey, we're getting paid for this, right. Hey, mom? ...Mom?
  • Mother: *completely unresponsive*
  • Dr. Phil: *completely unresponsive*
  • Audience: *completely unresponsive*
  • Gamer: Heh... this is REALLY weird. *looks around nervously*
  • Audience member: Hey!
  • Gamer: Huh?
  • Audience Member: I'm in the audience! Over here! My arms are strapped to the chair! You have to help me!
  • Gamer: *runs to the audience member*
  • Audience Member: Thank god, I thought I was the only one here left with any brains.
  • Gamer: *hastily undoing the straps* What the fuck is going on?
  • Audience Member: I don't know, but this definitely isn't Dr. Phil's show.
  • Gamer: Then what is it?
  • Audience Member: No clue, but we have to get out of here before the commercial breaks ends.
  • Gamer: *successfully undoes the straps*
  • Audience Member: C'mon! Let's go. *grabs the gamer by the arm*
  • Gamer: *resists* Wait a fucking minute. Why am I supposed to trust you?
  • Audience Member: Because I'm normal and everyone else is braindead if you haven't noticed.
  • Gamer: Yeah, but I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on. Being on Dr. Phil is a huge opportunity for me to, y'know, advertise my brand. I'm a gamer if you haven't noticed.
  • Audience Member: Are you insane? Have you had a look around you? Does this anything happening right now seem normal to you? Who cares about your "brand". Do you even remember how you got here?
  • Gamer: Well... now that you mention, I can't really remember exactly.
  • Audience Member: Yeah, now let's get the fuck out of here.
  • *the gamer and audience member run through the back exit into the hallways*
  • *the Dr. Phil theme blares as the show returns from commercial break*
  • Gamer: My ears!
  • Audience Member: Move it! *jerks gamer's arm*
  • Gamer: Okay, calm down.
  • *the entire audience screams in unison*
  • Gamer: What the fuck is that!?
  • Audience Member: It's the reason we're running! Quick, in here!
  • *the duo duck into a cramped broom closest*
  • Gamer: Listen, you have to tell me what the fuck is going on right now!
  • Audience Member: Shh.
  • Gamer: Don't shush me!
  • Audience Member: *covers the gamer's mouth*
  • *agonized screaming and violently rumbling passes by the broom closest*
  • Gamer: Holy shit!
  • Audience Member: Stop yelling.
  • Gamer: How can I not yell when it sounds the gates of hell just passed by us!
  • Audience Member: You want it to turn back around and find us?
  • Gamer: Alright. I'll calm down... I'll. *start sobbing*
  • Audience Member: Please, please stop crying. You're too loud.
  • Gamer: I can't! I'm under a lot of stress!
  • Audience Member: You'll be dead if you don't shut the fuck.
  • Gamer: I never wanted any of this, I just wanted to go on Dr. Phil so people would recognize me on YouTube and I could become a popular Let's Player!
  • Audience Member: If you don't shut up right now, I'll-
  • *a snake bites the audience member's neck*
  • Audience Member: *eyes roll up*
  • Gamer: *screams like a baby*
  • *snakes slither under the closet door*
  • Gamer: *stumbles out of the closet and falls into hallway covered with snakes* Fuck me! Fuck me!
  • Gamer: *attempts to run away but falls beneath the snakes and into and empty void*
  • *agonized screaming echoes from all around*
  • Gamer: Am I in hell? I have to be in hell. You don't fall through a pool of snakes and wind up anywhere else but hell.
  • Dr. Phil: THERE IS NO HELL.
  • Gamer: Doc, is that you? If this isn't hell then where am I?
  • Dr. Phil: YOU'RE IN MY REALM SON. *Dr. Phil's face appears glowing in the distance, his eyes are empty sockets and his mouth hangs open*
  • Gamer: What the fuck are you?
  • Dr. Phil: I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.
  • Gamer: You're not Dr. Phil!
  • Dr. Phil: I NEVER SAID I WAS, SON. *a wall of gray human bodies lights up surrounding Dr. Phil's massive head, dr. phil's giant snake body slithers towards the gamer and opens its third eye* I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.
  • *the wall of bodies screams in unison as Dr. Phil devours the gamer*
  • *Dr. Phil theme plays loudly*
  • Dr. Phil: THE NEXT EPISODE IS STARTING. I'M LATE. *slithers into the wall of bodies and his snake body slowly transforms into a normal Dr. Phil's body*
  • Dr. Phil: *crawls onto the stage*
  • Dr. Phil: *dusts himself off* Woo, I went on quite an adventure.
  • Audience: *laughs*
  • Dr. Phil: I'm glad we can all find some time in our lives to laugh, but today's episode is covering something that is most certainly not a laughing matter. It's one of the most serious addictions striking America today and it's rarely talked about. I'm talking about people who love to pee on their mattresses and then pay people exorbitant amounts of money to suck their disgusting mattresses clean.
  • Audience: ... *someone clears their throat*
  • Dr. Phil: What's the matter?
  • Cameraguy: Spsss, Doc. That's not what the episode is about. It's about people with terrible gambling issues.
  • Dr. Phil: Oh, ah, fuck! Cut to commercial!
— aquiver | 01 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing— min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings— mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language
words— 10,110

:: summary— Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

note— inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the main character’s past occupation haha

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07

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A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
Noctis laughing
Final Fantasy XV
Noctis laughing

Noctis: *laughing* Oh man. That’s hilarious!  an adorable laugh  (ᗒᗨᗕ)

Ignis: This is no laughing matter.  (  3`д3´)

It's not just the food that's revolting.

(long story)

Back in my college days, I lived on campus and ate the 20-meals-a-week meal plan at the cafeteria. It was… terrible. Seriously. I know people complain about their college cafeteria all the time, but they still gain their “freshman 15”. I lost mine. The food was disgusting. Sunday spaghetti was made from tomato sauce and Saturday’s cheap hamburgers. One week they didn’t bother ripping up the hamburgers: watery, sauce-tinted, overcooked noodles garnished with dry, leathery, two-day-old hamburger patties. It was still better than the other options. At first, they had a “make your own pizza” line, but removed it because everyone was using it, and “bread isn’t cheap.” I remember seeing a real salad in their “healthy eats” line and getting excited, because it’s hard to screw up salads, only to realize that it was literally floating in oil. The salad on the actual salad bar was not an option; it was changed out every morning, whether it needed it or not. Oh, sorry, I meant the ice in the salad bar. Not the salad, no. A student wrote his initials in the tuna and it remained for a solid week. Sometimes the salad would grow its own salad.

They had a big board set up for student complaints, and they would write responses back. Oddly enough, the board rarely had bad things to say; the manager, may he be haunted by a thousand bedbugs, confessed that he didn’t have time to answer every complaint, but he did read every one, and took the complaints into consideration. And, as far as we could tell, threw away all the ones he didn’t like.

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Manners (Jimin smut)

Originally posted by kookiyoon

Description: Jimin is your best friend’s roommate, and to say you get on each other’s nerves would be an understatement. Jimin decides it is his mission to teach you some ‘manners’.

This fic includes: Explicit smut, ‘good girl’ term, dominance games, hate love type dynamic, light spanking, ‘teaching of manners’ lmfaoo

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jimin x You (ft Yoongi and Taehyung)

Word count: 4.5k

You lazily played a game on Yoongi’s phone, your eyes peering up every now and then to look at the TV screen, displaying a movie utterly boring to you. You let out an unintentional sigh; you were considering getting up to scour for food.

“Why are you here if you’re so bored?” Jimin asked from the other side of Yoongi, whose lap your head lay upon. You sat up to match Jimin’s glare.

“Jimin.” You heard Yoongi scold under his breath. Deciding not to waste your energy, you ignored Jimin and got up to search through their fridge. Yoongi thought you couldn’t hear him once you were in the kitchen, and you barely could, but his low and deep voice rung through the practically silent dorm “I’m so sick of you being such a dick to Y/N. Go say sorry.”

“What?” Jimin laughed. “I’m not a child.”

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice was so stern you got goose bumps.

“Whatever.” Jimin mumbled, his light footsteps approaching the kitchen. You quickly stuffed your head in the fridge, acting like you were very busy. When you looked up, closing the fridge door with a muffin in your hand, Jimin is leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle frown on his face. 

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home.” Jimin says, his eyes pointing at the treat in your hands. You smile tauntingly, not breaking eye contact as you take an excessively big bite.

“Thanks.” You mumble through your full mouth.

“Gosh, did no one ever teach you manners?” He asks with a serious expression.

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