Im So Whipped For This Man

I’m so whipped for this man

lee know x newsade

SPENDING HALLOWEEN WITH THEM — FT.HAIKUUU

[❤︎] — Miya Atsumu, Issei Matsukawa & Suna Rintaro

warnings: you guys have kids, killer clowns (1), mentions of not pulling out in Suna’s

authors note: Happy Halloween my sweets <3 Enjoy these very long domestic Halloween headcannons!! Once again this is gender neutral so all my male + readers can enjoy being parents too <3

MIYA ATSUMU ༢

Atsumu runs around chasing your daughter as you and your sons start getting your shoes ok. “D/n, put your costume back on!” Atsumu yells as he disappears into the living room.” “Sissy’s being bad, she doesn’t get any candy!” Your youngest son pouts, upset his sister is making him wait. “Yea, I’ll eat all her candy!” You eldest agrees. “Don’t be mean sweets, you were like that when you were babies too. Sissy just doesn’t understand what’s happening. Will you two be good big brothers and help her tonight?” You tell your son’s as you finish zipping up your jacket. “I’ll help her ___!” Your eldest exclaims and your youngest shakes his head in agreement. “Ok, who’s ready?” Atsumu huffs, hair devilish and sweat glistening his forehead but he carries his little girl over his shoulder and she has her costume on. “Me, me, me!” Your son's scream and your rowdy daughter starts kicking her fathers chest when she sees her brothers jumping in excitement. Atsumu locks eyes with you, love practically exploding out of his chest because right now, in the corridor of your dream house, all the rooms in the house messy, with clothes and face paint all over the floors, he couldn’t be any happier.

ISSEI MATSUKAWA ༢

Issei walks back from one of the houses that was handing out candy with his daughter, once it starts to get too crowded for his liking, he grabs her small hand but immediately lets go when she lets out a piercing scream. “What’s wrong baby?” He looks down confused, but he instantly finds the answer to his question. That this little girl is in fact not his daughter, but another little girl in the same costume. The little girl scurries over to what looks like a big sister, who glares at him before pulling her away. Issei starts to panic when he looks to his other side and still doesn’t see his daughter, the worst possibility going through his mind. That a killer clown snatched her up, fuck fûck fuck! Issei uses his height to his advantage as he screams his daughter's name. Why is everyone dressed as a goddamn princess! “Issei?” You call from behind him and Issei feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown on him. He didn’t just lose his baby, he lost your baby. “Yes?” He answers but doesn’t turn towards you and counties to look at the face of every princess. “Are you looking for someone?” You question, tugging on his hand so he faces you. “Who are you looking for daddy?” He hears his little girls voice and he could cry for relief. Turning around he sees D/n in your arms. Ignoring how she got to you, he wraps his arms around the both of you, his girls. “How ‘bout we go home and watch a movie now? I’ll order pizza.”

SUNA RINTARO ༢

Suna throws himself on the couch, groaning in relief. “I’ve never walked that much in my life.” He mumbles into the throw pillow. “Move daddy, I wanna sit down too!” D/n cries out, hitting her fathers head until he’s sitting up with another groan. The couch is immediately filled up with bodies, you sitting on his left side and three other bodies on his right. “Too many kids.” He grumbles, laying his head on your shoulder. “And who’s fault is it that, mister ‘I promise I’ll pull out’ ?” You ask, whispering the last part in his ear. “Shhhh, you don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘think the sugar is seeping into your brain.” He chuckles into your neck before lifting his head and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Did you have fun?” You ask against his lips. “As much fun as you can have while chasing kids around in the dark and reteaching them manners every time they forget to say thank you.” He answers with an eye roll, But you can see the light in his eyes brighten like he’s remembering the moments that happened in the last hour. “___ can we eat some candy, please.” Your son begs. “You can get a few pieces, but let daddy and I check them before you eat it.” You answer as your daughter crawls on Suna’s lap. “Daddy?” She asks, rubbing her sticky hands all over him. “Yes, dirty girl?” “Is it Christmas now?”

NSFW!!

sakusa eats pussy messily. you never thought it would be something you’d experience with the way he is, but the quiet ones are always full of surprises.

sakusa takes extra precautions with everything. he can’t even do skin-to-skin contact for too long, so you assumed that’s how your sex life would be when you started dating him. 

you were pleasantly mistaken, nonetheless. 

this man is absolutely in awe when you spread your legs wide for him, pussy practically glistening, and he’s trying his best not to go completely feral. it starts with little licks up and down your slit, but when you start to whimper, whine, and rock your hips against his face. he can’t help it.

he spits directly onto your clit before licking it eagerly, ensuring nothing drips. then he hooks his arms under your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth till he can’t breathe in anything but your scent. his tongue moves viciously over your bud, stimulating something inside you. he wants to slow down when hearing your breath hitch and feeling your legs begin to shake, but it all makes his cock twitch a little too much. it’s exciting, and he can’t stop now, not when your delicious juices are about to spread all across his face.

when you do cum he doesn’t stop there, he laps up your juices and begins slobbering on your sensitive bud, tongue prodding at your hole, and he’d even occasionally give the lips a little suck. you beg for him to stop, it’s truly too much, but he’s in his own world. you then have to push his head away from your sore cunt for him to get the hint and when he sits up to look and your post-nut figure, he smiles proudly. you, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. 

a mix of spit and your juices cover his chin, and when your eyes peer down at his sweatpants, you can’t hide the smirk. the little dark spot and pulsing bulge told you more than you needed to know, and you wanted him in your mouth right then and there.

HURT/COMFORT

scenarios- bulleted

when they think you left them (Kenma, Ushijima, Oikawa)

when they think you left them (Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Akaashi)

when they think you left them (Bokuto, Kuroo, Tsukishima)

sleeping on the couch after an argument (Akaashi, Iwaizumi)

sleeping on the couch after an argument (Atsumu, Oikawa, Bokuto)

sleeping on the couch after an argument (Kuroo, Suna)

sleeping on the couch after an argument (Osamu, Sakusa)

sleeping on the couch after an argument (Ushijima, Kenma, Kageyama)

scenarios- paragraphs

forgetting date night (Sakusa, Bokuto, Hinata, Atsumu)

“we’re gonna be okay, right?” (Sakusa, Oikawa, Suna)

“we’re gonna be okay, right?” (Atsumu, Bokuto, Akaashi)

when you think they’re leaving you (Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Atsumu)

not telling them you’re sick/injured (Iwaizumi, Atsumu)

“why am I even trying” (Kuroo, Oikawa)

birthday woes and wishes (Osamu, Atsumu)

drabbles/fics

irrational (Akaashi)

falling out (Kuroo)

falling for a rebound (Sakusa)

only human | msby 4

genre: fluff, comfort

wordcount: 1.3k

warnings: descriptions of depression and its physical symptoms

a/n: this is a work I'm salvaging from my OLD blog that I recently deleted. I really loved it and couldn't bear to have it gone forever so I'm posting it here. I am the original author!!!

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The second you walk through the door of the gym the day after msby had lost a tournament, the team knows something is wrong. You're their light, you keep them sane, you are usually the one taking care of them. The recent loss is hard on everyone and you're sent into full stress mode. Your mental health problems are no secret but no one on the team expects you to take the blame, considering yourself a distraction to them. Hinata's big brother instincts kick in and he starts to give up portions of his lunch so you eat something. Sakusa spends more time fussing over everyone's health and paying extra attention to you, Atsumu constantly tries to bring a smile to everyone's faces and Bokuto is the clingiest he's ever been. Everyone seems to get closer to each other in this troubled time, except for you.

You begin to push them away, you stop annoying Sakusa into paying you attention and rambling his ear off, You stop hanging off of Bokuto and showering him in affection, you start to brush Atsumu off of you when he leans in for a hug and when you walk through the exit of the refurbished gym with an uncharacteristically empty expression,they all knew something was up.

This corpse-like feeling hits you out of nowhere and you don't want to burden your family with your problems. It's not that you don't want to tell them and confide in them, it's that you can't; your 'inner demons' are so loud screaming constant reminders of your insignificance and how little people care for you. Whenever you see your boys the only thing you can think of is how much you're probably irritating them. Carrying around these demons is becoming frustrating.

You lock yourself away in your room for days. Thinking it's better that you can't burden them. You're flipping from one side to the other and contemplating whether or not peeing is worth getting up when you hear a few knocks at your door. They're loud and make a recognisable rhythm but they aren't frantic. Atsumu. It's not soft enough to be Sakusa or frantic enough to be Hinata. You're closer to Bokuto than the other boys, so he has a key.

"Y/N open up sweetie, please, you're killing us here"

us?

"Yeah! We love you Y/N, please let us in" Hinata's sweet voice rings through your house. You can't find the will to go to the toilet let alone the will to go all the way downstairs to let them in. Turns out, it isn't necessary as the lock clicks and your door swings open.

"Y/N!" Bokuto's voice momentarily distracts you from the physical pain. No one talks about the physical effects of depression; the headaches and stomach pains from dehydration, the dizziness from fatigue, the muscle aches and stiffness from not using them. It's agony. You hear several sets of heavy footsteps up your staircase and hear someone rummaging around in your bathroom cabinet. Sakusa. They had all come, your boys all cared enough to come and help. You can't hold back the tears anymore, your choked sob alerts them to your whereabouts. You're lifted up and placed in the warm lap of who you assume is Bokuto.

"Let it all out Y/N" says Sakusa. He sounds off, like he doesn't really know what to say. It's now that you have a form of relief that your attention is really brought to the physical pains you're feeling. You have a tendency in this state to ignore your body in favour of torturing your mind.

"my legs hurt... and my shoulders" you hum, curling up tighter to Bokuto who immediately starts to rub your shoulders. You hear more footsteps cross the threshold of your bedroom.

"hey y/n, we brought you some water and tsumu brought you some light food that'll be easier to keep down." Hinata's voice is soft and careful, a complete one eighty from his usual tone, It almost sets off the waterworks again. Another pang of pain in your stomach alerts you to the fact that you haven't gone to the bathroom in two days and you desperately need it. You wrestle with your conflict for a while, ultimately deciding it would be less embarrassing to ask for help than piss yourself on Bokuto's lap.

"can you help me?" you murmur, your voice is so quiet but they're paying so much attention to you that they never could have missed it. All of them hum or nod in response. "can one of you help me to the bathroom?"

For a moment youre irrationally scared that they're going to laugh or ignore you but they all seem deadly serious. Even Atsumu, who is first to offer you a hand. Bokuto helps you stabilize as you get up from his lap and you grab Atsumus arm. Atsumu helps you walk to the bathroom and holds the door open so that you can waddle your way to the toilet and shakily push your volleyball shorts down. Atsumu lets a few tears slip while you're in the bathroom. Atsumu has always been an emotional person and god did he hate that right now. He doesn’t want you to think you had upset him, you don't need that right now. He tries to pull himself together while you're busy trying to lean over and put pressure on the right spot for you to actually go.

When you're finsihed, Atsumu helps you walk back to the bedroom where Bokuto and the others are waiting. Bokuto looks scared, this was the quietest hes ever been around you. You lean into him as he goes back to massaging your aching muscles. You bury your face into his neck and mumble a thank you. You dont realise Hinata left the room until he comes back.

" I, uh, I ran you a bath"

"Kou?" you ask against his skin Bokuto hums in reply, still not really talking. He's over emotional, you know that. Seeing his best friend in this state is painful. "Can you help me".

He doesn't answer, instead getting up with you firmly in his arms and carrying you into the bathroom. He helps you strip down per your own request and basically lifts you into the tub. He uses the opportunity to continue working on your sore muscles as this time he can get to them properly. You let out an appreciative noise as he works out the tension in your shoulders. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, a show of affection that you don't think much of. Bokuto has always stirred up particular feelings inside you but you gather that he doesn't feel that way towards you. You wonder what would happen if you confessed but you're snapped out of a potential downward spiral by Bokuto himself.

"I love you Y/N and it hurts to see you like this. I had no idea how bad it was, I'm sorry I let you go through this. I will fight all of your shitty feelings from now on so that they can't hurt you." You chuckle at the image of Bokuto trying to physically fight your emotions. You feel two arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze you a little. Bokuto returns to massaging shampoo into your hair and puts all his focus onto taking care of you.

When you finish, Bokuto helps you dry off and change. He's respectful, being careful not to touch you anywhere that could be deemed inappropriate and apologised afterward for seeing you naked. He doesn't need to apologise though, you trust him not to be a creep. Bokuto guides you to your living room, being extra patient with you, and sits you on the couch where Hinata and Atsumu are setting food on the coffee table for you. Sakusa has gotten painkillers to ease your muscle pains and headaches and offers to help you clean your room. You eat what was given to you and settle back on the couch in between Atsumu and Bokuto, both of whom cuddle into you.

"You can talk about it y'know. We all love and care for you" says Atsumu patting your leg and kissing the top of your head.

Maybe, just maybe, it will all be okay.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. after weeks of phone calls, you get to know Atsumu, which makes pretending a little more difficult. | wc. 2.3k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, phone sex, video sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, reader wears glasses, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader

ও an. I want to start by saying thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter and this series! It’s more than I expected for this self-indulgent fic:’) It motivated me to get this chapter out earlier than I anticipated, so enjoy! Also thank you @sookisaurus for brainstorming with me T^T | series m. list

You get absolutely nothing done for the remainder of the afternoon, simply staring blankly at the study sheets you promised Professor Ackbar you’d have finished before Monday—slow-burning mortification only slightly mollified by stress and the lack of sleep. 

At least there’s that.

On the bright side, you don’t have to face Atsumu until class next Tuesday, which is enough time to come up with a solution.

Not that he’d even be aware of his pivotal shift in your life.

But he can’t know, for your sake, more than his.

The reasoning behind it is pretty reasonable; at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself while you’ve been brimming with internal panic. Because what if Atsumu doesn’t like what he sees once he finds out you’re the girl on the other end of the phone? What if you don’t match up to whatever picture he’s painted of you in his head?

Which is equally devastating as it is likely. 

Or worse yet. 

You don’t believe he would stoop so low, but what if he makes fun of you or tells people you work for a sex hotline on campus?

You’d die, you think. Maybe not literally, but deep-core embarrassment could come relatively close.

Then there’s that small voice in the back of your head that suggests: but what if he does? Like you, that is. 

Obviously, that’s only wishful thinking. Nobody goes out of their way to talk to the know-it-all who sits by herself at the back of the class, not unless it’s regarding homework or study hours—including Atsumu, who hasn’t done either.

You groan, head falling into your arms folded over your desk. These study sheets are never getting done.

By the time Atsumu calls again, exactly nine days after the incident (that’s what you’ve called it), you resolve to act like it never happened. Which turns out to be more difficult than you thought because now there's a face to the voice you've been listening to for weeks, and better yet, it's the guy you have a big fat crush on. 

So when you answer the phone, you sit there, saying nothing. Jaw working, swallowing around the desert that is now your mouth.

“Hello?”

Again, your lips move, but no sound can be pulled from your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Sorry, I was, um—” you eventually say, barely above a squeak, trying to devise an actually believable excuse “—studying.”

He hums, almost like he isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t question it. “Hey, can we just…talk tonight?”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you sure? That you want to talk, I mean,” you babble. “You wouldn’t be getting your money’s worth and—”

“I want to.”

To say that you’re taken aback by this sudden change of events is putting it lightly, and it’s the second time Atsumu has left your entire being shifted on its axis in the span of a week. Because did he really just pay you (not that his call alone gives you much) solely to talk?

After a moment of hesitation, you relent. “Okay.” And then the sound of car horns on his end makes your brows furrow curiously. “Are you outside?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m walking home.”

“Oh?” You’re unsure how much you can ask, yet he tells you anyway.

“My fraternity is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary or whatever, and I had to go. It’s honestly just an excuse to get shit-faced.”

“Oh,” you say again. 

You’re surprised that he would relay this bit of information to someone he shouldn’t. Of course, this isn’t news to you, but still, you covet it like you’re learning about it for the first time. 

“Aren’t the parties supposed to be, you know, the best part about a fraternity?”

He huffs out a small laugh. “They start to feel the same after you’ve been to a few. Maybe I’ll take you to one sometime.”

He’s joking, clearly. 

Clearly.

Although, your body doesn’t seem to get the memo as your stomach swoops, resembling that feeling you get whenever you go down that first drop on a roller-coaster.

You clear your throat. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So, what is your thing?”

“Besides working for a sex hotline?”

You’re pretty sure he’s smiling when he says, “yeah.”

“I don’t know,” you pick at a loose thread on your shirt. “I like to read and work on research projects, I guess.” 

Atsumu makes a noise that almost resembles a snort. “I didn’t know I was talking to a little nerd.” 

Embarrassment swallows you whole, and suddenly you wish you could eat your words. God, how could you sound so lame? Of course, he wouldn’t find this attractive—

“I think it’s cute,” he offers before you try to take what you said back or sputter out a lie to make yourself sound more interesting.

You purse your lips and huff out a breath to hopefully hide any residual nerves from your voice. “Well, what about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Other than talk to you?”

A furious blush spreads across your face. “Sure.”

“Hm, I like to play sports.”

Volleyball. You know this.

The rest of your conversation goes back and forth like this—him asking random questions and you revealing that you’ve read ‘1984’’ several times, well twice…semantics—until he lets you know he’s home. You think this is probably the part where you should hang up. Only…you don’t. Neither does he, and you faintly hear keys jingling, followed by a door opening and closing.

“You know…” you pause because you shouldn’t say what you’re about to say. 

It’s bad enough that you already know who he is. It’s bad enough that you offer anyway.

Your mouth starts moving, and words are spilling out before you can properly think them through. “You don’t have to pay me if you need someone to talk to, er, like regular talking, not…well, you know, what we normally do.” 

At his continued silence, you start to panic, your hand shakily gripping your phone a little tighter.

“Only if you want to! I mean, that was stupid to suggest, right? Giving someone your phone number that you hardly know because—”

“I’d like that.”

“...Okay.” 

It’s hard to say how long the silly smile stays on your face after he hangs up, but you can’t be bothered in any capacity to know for sure. Just that your cheeks are a little sore right before you go to bed.

You’ve decided that giving Atsumu your phone number doesn’t turn out to be entirely a bad idea.

He’s actually easier to talk to like this. Aside from the side of him you’ve gotten to know quite intimately. But it’s nice, you find, learning about other sides of him too. 

The first time he messages you, it’s as you are walking through the supermarket with Kay, looking for something to make for your bi-weekly movie nights.

Pineapple on pizza. Yes or no?

You bite your lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a grin.

Yes.

His response is almost immediate.

I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because I like you.

“Are you smiling at your phone?”

You jerk your head up as Kay makes her way toward you to throw an avocado in your basket.

“No,” you lie, locking your phone before she can see the screen.

She arches a brow, skeptical and nosy in that way Kay can often be, before tossing two limes into your basket—the topic obviously shelved until she can prod you about it later.

Hopefully, she forgets.

He talks to you about random things, innocent things, until one day, he sends you a message with an image attached to it that makes you stumble up the last step to your floor.

Because on your screen is a picture of Atsumu—well, half of him—posing shirtless in front of what is clearly a gym mirror, a sheen of sweat covering long stretches of tan muscle. Worst of all, the hand not holding his phone skims the waistband of his black shorts, as if he’d been about to edge beneath them. 

And just below that—

Oh.

You’re still staring at your phone when you accidentally bump into Miss Rosa from the apartment across the hall. The older woman hardly likes you, although you’re pretty sure she doesn’t like anyone, and no amount of apologizing erases the glare from her face until you’re safely inside your apartment.

He still calls you, though it’s no longer through the hotline, and there are no longer nerve-wracking expectations hanging over your head. Not that you think there ever were in the first place.

Except for tonight, it’s different.

He’s more earnest than usual, uninhibited.

"Can we try something? Please—Fuck." 

It takes a moment for the words to sink in.

Surely, he doesn’t mean—

"I really want to see you. Can I?"

"I…I don't know…" you stammer, shocked at what Atsumu obviously feels comfortable suggesting—that he wants more than the phone calls. Where he can see you. Right here, on your bed, surrounded by books and your laptop, with your hand working your sticky-wet clit. 

"We don't have to show each other's faces if you don't want to," he tells you hurriedly. "S-shit, I'm sorry if this sounds perverted, but I want to watch you touch yourself. It's all I can think about."

You swallow so loudly that he can probably hear it.

As he said, he doesn’t have to see your face, and you can keep this thing between you anonymous. So it’s fine, really.

Really.

You tell yourself this as you prop your phone against the textbooks lying on your bed, as you shimmy up your sheets, so you’re leaning against your headboard and clutching your t-shirt a little tighter than you need to between your fingers.

Then you turn your camera on, ensuring your face isn’t visible, while your heart flutters wildly.

Though you don’t have to wait long for his screen to turn on, too, and the first thought that flies through your head is that he’s…big. Just like the rest of him. 

You actually feel your clit throb watching him wrap a large hand around his cock where it lays heavy and twitching against his stomach—a tiny pearl of pre-cum dripping down the side that he smooths away with his thumb. It’s flushed red from base to tip and roped with angry-looking veins that make it seem almost intimidating.

Almost, if not for how your cunt clenches shamelessly, just thinking about how he’d have to get you all soft and pliant to help make it fit or that there’d be this dull ache you’d feel between your legs after.

And yes, you think, it’s much better than the gym short impression that you swore you merely peeked at the other day.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, his chest heaving as he takes you in. “Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty, just like I knew you’d be.”

The words make your ears burn, your voice hitching in your chest when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Spread your little pussy,” he pleads. “Lemme see.”

You move your shirt out of the way before slipping two fingers over your slick folds, sock-covered toes digging into your comforter as you reveal your achy-hot clit to the cool air in your bedroom. 

“Just like that. You’re so good, baby.” His fist strokes his cock, stopping with every upstroke to squeeze around the tip. “So good.”

A noise escapes you at the praise, some awful little hiccup that catches on the back of your tongue when you subtly grind against the heel of your palm. It’s unfulfilling, just shy of not enough, your heartbeat throbbing in your pussy.

Maybe if you—

Your fingers start moving before he can tell you to.

“O-oh,” you stammer as you rub quick, right circles into your clit. It’s different from all of the times you’ve done this before. To do it while he’s watching, seeing as his cock jumps in his hand at the soft, breathy moans you can’t hold in with your fingers working desperately between your legs. And you watch Atumu’s adam’s apple bob when he groans, the sound of it making you squirm needily against your hand.

“That’s it, good girl,” his cock slides through his fist a little faster. “Now, stretch that pretty little pussy for me.”

“Shit,” you hiss, “shit,” and your walls tighten around the two fingers you slip inside (easy with how wet you are), fluttering, pulling them deeper, wishing they were thicker.

“Hey, you’re that girl from class, the tutor, right?”

Your eyes instantly flit up from the notes you were working on to find Atsumu leaning against the chair in front of you, and you think your heart starts palpitating.

“Yep,” you squeak, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. “That’s me.”

The smile he gives you is disarming, bright and wide, with a hint of a dimple on one cheek. “I was wondering if you could help me with the test we have on Friday since I have practice all week.”

“Um, yeah,” you manage to say, subconsciously pushing your glasses up that slipped down your nose. “I’m free tomorrow around noon. Does the campus Brew Stop work?”

“Yeah, thanks. I owe ya one.”

You want to tell him that this is your job, that he doesn’t owe you anything. Instead, your gaze is drawn to the book he’s holding while walking away.

‘1984.’

The one you mentioned…It makes something inside you feel warm and fuzzy, and not for the second time will you have to explain to Professor Ackbar why you were late finishing the work he gave you.