#<- that is for me to find this post again

[therealstacyfakename]

literally a picture of them

sorry another bald tshirt post that came to me last night

[gurugirl]

DILF [2] | older!harry

→ MAIN MASTERLIST ←

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again months later on Valentine's Day. It's unexpected, but very much welcome.

A/N: First part here! This isn't really super focused on Valentine's Day, it just happens to takes place on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light), spanking, a touch of jealousrry

. .

Y/n wasn't big on Valentine's Day. She'd never dated anyone long enough for it to be of much importance. Though she did fondly remember the little heart-shaped candies and tiny Valentine's cards that would get shared in school when she was little, things were different as an adult.

So, instead of celebrating the holiday (if it could be called a holiday), she'd be going out with her single girlfriends and celebrating being a single girl instead. A single girl with a few drinks in her belly and a little dancing to get the blood flowing. Tara tried to do some kind of seductive dip to the beat of the song while Warren and Y/n laughed.

"This is how you do it!" Warren shouted over the loud club music and grooved her way down with the beat. She was the one with all the rhythm. Y/n and Tara were fighting for their lives to keep rhythm, but they were having fun, nonetheless.

"Priya commented on the post. Look…" Tara held her phone out to Y/n to look at the comment on her Instagram account.

"J said Y/n's looking yummy tonight!"

Y/n laughed and looked at Tara. "J? Oh my god, I haven't talked to him in ages. Let me respond!"

She took Tara's phone and typed a comment.

"You both should come out with us!"

After another round of drinks and dancing, Priya and J had joined the group at the club. Y/n wasn't necessarily interested in J. In fact, she hadn't really been interested in anyone since Harry. It'd been a couple of months since she'd seen him. Their night together was engraved under her skin and in her brain. She thought that with some time she'd forget about the older man, but her fingertips tingled and her chest grew tight whenever she thought about him, which was daily.

She didn't know why she had never called him. Maybe she was just stubborn, hoping he'd find her somehow and reach out himself. She had his number, but he didn't have hers. When he dropped her off at her place the morning after, he gave it to her and told her to call him.

And the more time that had passed, the more awkward it felt to randomly reach out to him. Now the window was surely closed, and she'd blown it. Which she regretted. She regretted that she was stubborn and wanted him to chase her that time. Wanted him to work to find her—which wouldn't have been all that hard. She had every social media account known to man, and everything was public. All he had to do was type her name into a Google search bar, and he'd find a dozen ways to contact her.

But she didn't call, and he didn't search her up, and that felt like the end of that. Unfortunately. It was unfortunate because he'd been so good. So exceptional compared to every other man she'd been with (if she could even call anyone who came before Harry a man). She was way more into him than she realized. Of course, by the time she realized it was too late, and now she was kicking herself.

"Hey, you here with us?" Tara took Y/n's hand and moved her away from the dance floor.

"Yeah. What do you mean?"

"You were zoned out there for a sec. Staring off toward the exit. You okay?"

Blinking her eyes and looking around, she nodded. "I'm good. Just started thinking. Sorry. Maybe I need a water. Probably should slow down a little anyway."

"Of course. Yeah, go get water. And stop thinking. I know who you're thinking about. He's in the past now. Okay?"

Tara knew that Y/n was kind of stuck on Harry. She'd confided in her a couple of weeks later. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was eating away at her.

"You're right. I'll be right back."

No sooner had she stepped away from Tara than J was on her heels. "I'll come with you!"

The oak bar was cast in reds and pinks for Valentine's Day. A sappy, upbeat song played loudly as she waved toward the bartender to order a water. J stood next to her, leaned into the veneered wood. "Just water?"

Yn nodded. "Need to cool off a little. Not interested in getting sloppy, ya know?"

She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, turning her head to peer around the space and pretend she wasn't aware of where his eyes were wandering. She could deal with J. He was nice enough, and she knew he wouldn't push or anything. He was a bit too mild for that.

When her water was handed to her, the pink straw inside was tucked next to a stirrer with a heart at the top. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she took a drink as J slid in a little closer. "Do you wanna dance?"

She really didn't want to, not with him. It wasn't that he was ugly or unlikable or anything… she just didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Leading men on wasn't her style.

But before she even had the chance to tell him no, she saw a familiar hand attached to a familiar arm placed down on the bar next to her. She slowly turned, looking upward at the man whom she'd just been thinking about. He wasn't smiling as he leaned closer to speak. "You never called."

Turning so she could face him, she placed her elbows behind her on the bar top and lifted her brows in an attempt to feign complete control and calm. "Correct."

She watched as Harry looked past her to J and then back down at her. "Who's this?"

"A friend. Why? Jealous?"

She didn't know what angle she was going for with her hard-to-get act, but that's all it was—an act. Deep down, under her cool facade, she wanted to finish unbuttoning his shirt, the top three buttons already free, so anyone could see what he was working with underneath.

"Jealous of a boy? No."

Y/n reached for his button and pressed at it, her eyes on his. "Now, Harry. Honestly… He's my age. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to find someone my age. Thought you'd be happy for me."

"Thought you said he was just a friend."

She laughed and looked back at J, who was just standing by silently, looking between Harry and Y/n. Far too mild. She turned back to Harry. "See? You are jealous."

"Why didn't you call?"

Clearing her throat, she shifted her footing to get a little closer. "Because I wanted you to find me. I worked so hard to get you to crack that night we met and thought maybe you could put in a little effort if you were interested."

"That's not how it works," he spoke as he dipped his head closer, placing his other palm down on the edge of the bar to cage her in. "I gave you my number. You didn't give me any of your contact info. Didn't want to overstep. Ball was in your court."

"I'm easy to find, Harry. All you had to do was Google my name."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Saw your post on Instagram."

She lifted her brows, and a smile pulled at her mouth. "Is that so? And did you select this outfit just for me?" She reached again for his shirt, letting her pointer finger trail down the cotton edge along the button slits before she ran the pad of her finger on his warm skin.

Harry looked down at her hand and then back into her eyes. "Was gonna go on a date tonight. That's why I'm dressed like this."

She blinked, moving her hand away.

"Hey, uh… should we like… go back? Or, uh…" J spoke tentatively as he stepped closer.

"She's with me. You're welcome to go wherever you please, though," Harry responded, his gaze locked on Y/n's.

"I think—actually, um…" J stumbled on his words.

Y/n lifted her hand and looked over at J. "It's fine. Harry and I have a lot to discuss. You can go back to our table."

J opened his mouth and searched Harry's face, then looking back at Y/n and nodding, he scuttled away like a dog with his tail between his legs. She felt a little bad. Clearly, he thought he might have had a chance even though he never did.

"See? A boy. Couldn't even form a sentence. What are you doing with him anyway?"

"We were having fun is what we were doing. Hanging out with people my age. Why do you care anyway? You said you were gonna go on a date. Where is she?"

"I don't know where she is. Maybe at home. I didn't want to go out with her, so I cancelled."

"Then why did you plan a date?"

"So I could try and move on from you."

She hadn't expected that level of honesty from him, but his confession had her heart thumping hard in her chest.

"Coming here to find me doesn't make it seem like you want to move on."

He shook his head, his eyes shifting downward over her dress before pinning them back on hers. "I didn't think we were done yet. Really expected you to call."

"And I really expected you to figure out how to find me. Should have been easy."

"You like the chase, then. Is that what you want? For me to chase you? Follow you around like a puppy dog?"

She laughed softly. "I don't think being a puppy is quite your style. But I do like that you came all this way just to see me."

He edged his hand toward her arm, running a thumb over her skin. "I'm too old to play games, Y/n. If you expect me to run after you, jump through hoops just to see you, and beg you for your time, then I'm not your guy."

"But you came here to see me."

"Yes, I did. Consider this your freebie cause I won't do something like this again. Ball's in your court now. What do you want? To go back and play with that little boy I sent away? Or to stop fucking around and come back home with me tonight again?"

Her lips parted as heat rose up her spine. A wanton need wrapped itself around her throat as she swallowed thickly. She enjoyed being the one with all the power and feeling like she was in charge. But it was different with Harry. Despite everything, he was the one calling the shots. And she wanted him so bad she could taste it. After all, he'd ditched a date so he could come find her.

"You like me." She grinned.

The tension outlining his posture softened as he rolled his eyes, and she watched as the edge of his lips turned upward. "What gave it away?"

"I like you, too. But my place is closer this time."

Y/n's friends were already watching the whole thing go down before she returned and told them she was heading out. Tara smiled. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Her apartment was only a few minutes' drive away. The small talk they'd been making before they stepped inside her place all but vanished the moment Harry pushed her to the wall and placed his knee between her thighs with a desperate kiss.

She even gasped in surprise when he moved her and she felt the plaster of her wall behind her back. He ran a rough palm up her bare thigh, the skirt of her dress shifting upward until the stretchy material was at her hips and he groped her ass.

"Wanted to do this the second I saw you standing at the bar. Show everyone who's taking you home…" he spoke against her mouth as his thumb caught on the slinky elastic string of her thong. She felt his thigh inching up between her legs as he moved in closer.

She was pinned to the wall as he worked his mouth down her neck and continued kneading at her ass. But then she felt the material of his pants against the crotch of her panties as his thigh pressed solidly into her.

A small, weak-sounding whimper fell from her mouth when he nudged against her, signaling for her to move her hips. The spot where his mouth kissed and sucked over her throat had her head spinning and it was almost involuntary as she began to rub herself on his thigh. She gripped onto his shoulders when he began to guide her hips.

It was kind of pathetic, the way they hadn't even made it into her bedroom. Barely'd made it past her door before they were all over one another. And now, there she was, grinding her pussy against his thigh like she was in some kind of dire need, a pitiful girl so wrapped up in desperation that she was reduced to humping his thigh like a pup in heat.

The most embarrassing thing was how good it felt. His lips on her skin, his thick thigh pressed against her, his hands on her ass. "Oh god…"

Harry moved his face and looked down at her with a smirk. "Making a mess, Y/n. Guess your tough girl act was all fake. Now look at you…"

Slowing her hips, she reached up to his face. "You started it."

A boyish dimple scored into his cheek as he lifted his brows. "Did I now? Clearly, you like it. Soaking right through my pants."

"Mmm… You like it too, though. Love how wet I get, don't you?"

He licked his lips and shook his head like he couldn't believe how tenacious she was, even when pinned against her wall. "So sure of yourself, Y/n. When my day started, I imagined I'd be doing this with someone else by the end of it. Bet she'd get just as wet for me."

Y/n let out a serrated breath, though she never stopped grinding over his thigh. "Doubtful. You wanted me. Practically dragged me out of the club 'cause you knew that other chick wouldn't do it for you like I can."

"Do what for me? Huh? Hump my thigh like a desperate, horny little girl?" He teased as she moaned at the way he nudged his leg up harder.

"You wanted me a little desperate, and that's what you got. You knew nothing was gonna feel as good as me. You missed it."

"Maybe. Maybe I kept imagining you every time I got off for the past two months. Maybe the only reason I agreed to a date with that other woman was because she kind of resembled you. Wanted to pretend I was fucking you again."

Y/n let out a moan. "I want you to fuck me."

"Do you deserve that, Y/n? After that little stunt you pulled? Huh? Leaving me high and dry like that? Wasn't nice."

"I wanted to call you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Hmm… but you wanted to play games. Not sure sorry cuts it."

He moved his leg away, and Y/n stumbled forward, her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her dress back down over her thighs.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" She looked at him with rounded eyes, hoping that he wasn't changing his mind as he pushed away and took a step back.

"Not sure. Maybe that's something you're gonna have to have to figure out. This is a lot of work, you know? Telling you what to do and how to do it. Might be nice for you to try and use that brain of yours for once."

She scoffed as he grinned at her. She knew he was mocking her, and it was meant to be playful, but still. "For once? You don't think I use my brain?"

He shrugged as he paced into her living room, and she watched him look around like he was assessing. Following behind him, she kept her eyes on his strong build and turned a light on. It was clear he was sporting a thick erection under his pants at that point. She smiled when she stepped toward him.

Taking his belt, she gripped at the leather and pulled it through the buckle before she opened his pants and cupped around his length. "You can fuck my mouth. I won't even complain. I'll let you use me however you want."

She got onto her knees and kept her eyes on his as she peeled his underwear down. His big cock had been straining against the material of his boxers and it nearly hit her in the face when it was released. She cooed and gripped around the base of him to lift it upward and began kissing gently along the underside and down to his sac.

Harry stitched his brows together, and his lips parted as he watched her. He placed a hand at the back of her head and moaned. He didn't really care about an apology, but he was going to make damn sure she understood he wasn't into the little games. He'd had plenty of that kind of thing when he was younger. When he was closer to her age, and he'd never been a fan of it.

If she really did want to be with him, or at least date a while, she'd need to learn that he wanted things clear and well communicated. "That's a good girl. Keep going."

She stroked from root to tip as she tongued along his skin, making a wet path as she went. But suddenly, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back before he shoved his thick head past her lips and slid it down her tongue, bumping against the roof of her mouth as he went. She steadied herself, quickly, gripping his muscled thighs as he held the back of her head and worked himself in and out.

He was going easy on her, not pressing his full length down her throat. Not yet. "Let's put that pretty mouth to good use. Show me you can work for it, yeah?"

Harry thrust in, his mushroomed crown glided over her tongue and back out to her soft lips before he did it again, a little deeper that time, the slit of his cock kissing the back of her mouth just before it curved into her throat. He kept his eyes on her face and the way her lips wrapped around him just right.

"Fuck you're so pretty, Y/n." He thumbed at the edge of her lip as he drove into her, feeling the saliva from her mouth coating his cock. He moaned when she blinked her eyes up at him. "Didn't want anyone else to suck my cock but you. Didn't want to even touch anyone else. Know that?"

She hummed over him in answer as he pushed deeper, making her gag lightly as the metal on his buckle clanked with his movements. "I know you know that. Proved it to you by making a fool of myself, stalking your Instagram so I knew where you were gonna be. Got me all wrapped up in you after just one goddamn night."

Y/n felt her eyes blur as tears roll down her cheeks when he nuzzled his dick in deeper and she swallowed around his tip with an embarrassing wet spluttering sound. She'd let him choke her with his cock if that's what it took. After hearing his confession, she only wanted to show him how much she had missed him and how sorry she was for not calling.

So, she leaned into him further, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to force the rest of him into her throat. The gagging and gargling noises she made were loud. It sounded like someone was being waterboarded.

"Fuck…" he gasped as she sputtered around him. He bent his knees the slightest as he let her suck and swallow around him. She was treating his cock so good he didn't know if he should just let her continue milking him like that until he was nutting down her throat or if he should reward her by returning the favor.

But damn did she feel good on his dick. She was giving it her all, and he'd decided she was forgiven.

Pulling her back, his wet dick slid past her lips and hung heavy in front of her face as he helped her stand up. She inhaled sharp breaths between little coughs as she wiped her face. "Was it okay?"

"Better than okay. You're a fuckin' star, Y/n. I need you in your bed, though. Got a condom?"

Knocking her head up and down affirmatively, she blinked her bleary eyes. Harry followed her to her bedroom and watched as she pulled a small box of condoms from her underwear drawer, and he took it from it before he pointed at her dress. "Clothes off. Then get your ass on the bed."

The thrill of having him there made her shaky. She yanked at her dress and removed the fabric before shedding the rest of her underthings.

Harry kicked his pants and his boxers off before his shirt joined the pile of clothes on the floor. He watched her climb onto her bed and sit at the middle in wait. He tossed the box of condoms onto her mattress (secretly pleased it was unopened, unused) and crawled after her on the bed, adjusting her legs and pushing her thighs apart before he thumbed her clit smoothly.

"Do you deserve to come? Think you deserve my cock?"

Y/n blinked at him as she nodded. "Yes. I just want to be good. Make you come too. Please…"

He grinned as he let his eyes coast down her denuded body. She rolled into his thumb before he took his other hand and pressed his middle finger inside. Everything that touched her pussy was glistening wet. The gushy sound his finger made as he fucked into her was lewd. She spread her legs apart further for him and dropped her mouth open as she kept her eyes on his.

She was so pretty like that. Naked and spread apart for him, lusting for him, wanting him. He added another finger and pumped into her harder. Her tits swayed as her pussy swallowed his fingers whole. She was so confident and bold it had his insides pulsing with need.

With his eyes pinned to hers he dipped down to replace his thumb on her clit with his lips and his tongue. Y/n fell backward to her mattress and moaned from the pleasure. His tongue stroked her clit and pressed flat over it before he pulled at it and repeated all while he fucked her as deep as his fingers could reach.

He held her down as she arched her back. His chin and his nose were wet, slurping and groaning into her as he worked her so close to the edge she was already seeing stars. "Yes… right there… right there…"

But he suddenly moved away. His fingers, his mouth, his body. She sat up to look at him and watched in satisfaction as she saw him digging into the box of condoms. His face was flushed and matched the shade of heat on his heaving chest.

He rolled the tight rubber down his shaft and then looked at her with dark eyes. "Turn over. Hands and knees."

With a smirk, she got to her knees and made sure to let her eyes linger on his cock before she turned and placed her palms flat onto the mattress. "Like this?" She wiggled her ass at him.

Harry moaned deeply and placed his hands on the curve of her hips, smoothing his palms over every inch slowly. "Exactly like this."

She felt him lean over her back, his mouth at her ear as he palmed at her tit. "How do you feel about me spanking you a little?" His dick was warm between her thighs as she pushed back against him.

"Whatever you do, I'm gonna love." She reared back again and turned her face to look at him as he sat back. She watched him raise his arm before his palm struck her bum with a sting.

She keened sharply and jolted forward. He did it again in the same spot as he locked his irises with hers. "Other side now."

As promised, he landed his hand over the globe of her ass again, once and then twice, a burning sensation left behind making her inhale sharply.

Then he kneed in closer and she felt him line up his dick with her entrance, fitting himself into her slowly before he plowed in with one thick, harsh thud that had her bending forward face down.

She yelped into the soft comforter when he issued her another spanking, one to each side, as he began to thrust in and out of her, long and languid with heavy palms burning into her skin.

The bite of pain blossomed with heat and curled outward, spreading along her flesh until she could almost feel the detail of his fingerprints searing into her, marking her. He groaned as he drove in deep, glutes flexing as he forced his cock through her sensitive insides.

Her bottom was stinging, aching, burning with every smack of his hand… until it wasn't. Until the gooey, pleasurable warmth of her walls that stretched around his cock deliciously melded with the sharp barbed pain of his swats… That was—it felt like her body was thrumming with a lusty, satisfying ecstasy that sent liquid fire through her veins.

"Fuck, oh god, fuck…" she mumbled into the blankets as her body was spanked and fucked and swatted and pounded. She loved it.

Harry halted, planting his palms down on the mattress to catch his breath, cock buried whole into her. They were both panting, reeling… Y/n's muffled moans pulled a smile onto his lips.

"Apology accepted," he spoke quietly as he kissed the center of her back between her shoulder blades and then reached forward to gently wrap his big hand around the front of her neck to lift her head.

"Hear me?" His deep voice sounded in her ear.

She nodded, the column of her throat bobbing into his palm, eyes still closed as she let out a feminine grunt that was probably meant to mean yes.

"You okay?"

Again, she nodded slowly, this time her eyes fluttered open. "Mmhmm. Yes."

"Hurt?" He punctuated his question with a rock of his hips forward, nudging into the end of her sharply.

She hissed, and her spine bowed. "Yes."

Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding out and in when he felt her swallow thickly before her moans vibrated into his palm. She was dripping. Every time his hips met her skin, it wetted his lap and the front of his thighs.

She had been all he wanted. Ever since the morning he dropped her off. Thought for sure he'd hear from her by the way she was acting around him. All flustered and soft and dreamy-eyed as she looked at him. Pouted when he said he couldn't come in but gave her his number. And then she just never called.

That was a hit to his ego. That he thought he somehow had the upper hand with her. But now he had her drooling, moaning, and sobbing his name as he railed her deep. He would see to it that she didn't leave him hanging like that again. He'd give it to her so good she wouldn't be able to even think about another man. At least for a little while.

But Y/n was feeling the same kind of way about him. And now he was at her place, in her bed, fucking her with his big cock like he had something to prove.

"Mmm… Harry…"

"Yeah?" He pushed in firmly, swiveling his hips to let her feel all of him. "Is that good?"

"Fuck… it's deep—sh…shit!"

Letting go of her neck, Harry used both hands to guide her rhythm as he fucked into her, tilting her into an angle that had the big crown of his cock hitting a tender spot inside her. She tensed and clawed at the blankets in response to how he commanded her movements.

He loved watching her pussy slickly spread apart on his cock, how tight it wrapped around him, how wet she made everything, the way her ass wobbled. He was tempted to give her another swat but thought better of it, knowing that he'd already done a number on her backside. Her skin was raised just enough that he could feel the small welts from his hands. He didn't want to break the skin.

His abs clenched as he plowed his dick through her, their bodies clapping together, her bed wrenching under them from the force of his thrusts. She was mumbling nonsense, straining to keep herself steady as he worked her over him with his hands gripping the meat of her hips tight.

But he slowed his motions, loosening his hold on her as he pushed in deep and stilled. He stared down at the space where they were connected as he thumbed softly at the flesh of her ass. When he was buried in like that, he couldn't see the end of the condom at the base of his shaft, so it looked like he wasn't wearing one. The dirty thought trickled warm down his chest and made his cock throb before he pulled himself out.

He pulled her up and helped her turn before he positioned her flat on her back, her tits spreading softly as she looked up at him with a dazed expression. He sat back on his haunches. "Still okay?"

She nodded, a smile slowly turned her lips upward. "I'm fantastic."

"Good. Gonna pull you up like this…" He took her thighs and dragged her up so her hips were off the bed and the backs of her thighs were draped over the tops of his. "Fuck you nice and deep, work your clit til you come. How's that sound?"

"Mmm…" Y/n nodded and squeezed her tits as she bucked her hips upward. "Yes."

He grinned down at her. He loved how confident she was. How unashamed of her body she seemed to be. Liked the way she carried herself. It was sexy to see a woman happy in her own skin.

He reached down and slowly stroked her clit, eyes connected to hers to watch her expression soften and then her brows arch as she parted her lips and moaned. "Yeah?" He murmured with a grin.

"Yes… You're so good. Fuck…" she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, a soft gasp fell from her lips as he slid his fingers in circles on her clit and mushed into her swollen hood. She pushed her breasts together and arched her back before shifting her head to look back up at him. "Fuck me. Please."

"Want my cock, Y/n?" He nudged his hips forward, poking his condom-covered tip to the tight ring of muscle that would stretch nicely around him once he pushed his way back in.

"I need it," she pleaded in a breath, canting her hip toward him.

The harsh line of his brow as he took all of her in, spread out for him, was that of a man ready to devour. Y/n watched as he wrapped his long fingers around his base and shifted his pelvis, dipping his thick cock head just inside of her.

"Fffuck…" she stretched her neck and moaned as she took every inch he fed into her.

He slid deeper, taking his time as if he hadn't just been pounding into her and pushing her to her limit moments before. He moved his thumb over her bud as he went, her arousal smeared filthy on his fingers and all over her pussy lips.

Y/n shifted her sight to Harry's face, admiring his handsome features and the way his lips parted, how his muscles tensed as he rolled into her. He was enjoying her body, reveling in the way he felt inside of her. "Does it feel good? My pussy's good for you?"

"Your pussy feels incredible. Even with this fucking condom…" he laughed softly. "The kind of pussy I'd chase after and make a fool of myself for."

With their eyes connected, Y/n felt her heart ravaging behind her ribcage. She understood what he meant. Because, while she didn't think he'd made a fool of himself, he had chased after her to find her at the club. And he said that wasn't something he normally did. She was grateful he had, though.

His rough palm pushed her hand to the side so he could grope her tit. He continued working at her clit as he stuffed himself in to the brim and they both panted hot breaths as their connected bodies throbbed in unison.

He pressed down as he circled her wet bud, and the extra friction had her skin buzzing, pulsing with desire. Heat stretched over her thighs and curled viciously through her insides.

Harry slowly inched back and then pushed in deeper, his thighs flexing as he plunged wetly, gently smacking into her. A breathless sob fell from her mouth as she took him to his root over and over again.

His slow thrusts were deliberate, calculated. Every stroke of his rigid cock through her soft walls, every press of his thumb on her sensitive clit, every brush of his fingertips on her nipple had her rippling around him, trembling. The luscious stretch of her pussy around him as he drove in and dragged out made his tip leak into his condom.

Y/n began circling her hips to press harder into his thumb, using her leverage to get him deeper, to feel the biting pressure of his thumbprint. The soft, wet spread of her pussy around his shaft ached and squeezed and slushed.

His moan vibrated deep from his chest as he felt his balls tighten when he buried in and pressed himself flush to her. The shadows in her bedroom cast a moody expression over his features. He tilted his neck back, angling his face toward her ceiling as if he were in ecstasy.

And the languid thrusting suddenly turned into a heated pace. Harry's eyes darkened on hers when he looked back down at the girl he was fucking. He stroked her clit and released her breast, yanking her hip to meet his powerful thrusts. He battered her tender insides with his brutally thick column of rigid flesh. The sounds of plapping skin, her mattress springs bouncing, Harry's rhythmic grunts and groans as he drove in faded to a white noise as Y/n realized she was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside her.

She cried his name and her body shivered with every harsh plunge of his cock, the orgasm dotting white stars behind her eyes. Harry's own desperate moans were a giveaway that he was about to come just as hard.

"Fuck!"

Her body bounced and gushed as he drove in and in. The deep, ragged sounds he made were erotic, and a convulsive shudder wracked his powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. His cock jerked inside her and then he was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into her clutching cunt.

Somehow, she'd found herself lying on top of him. He'd brought them to lie back together, and her chest was pressed to his. She felt his hand on her naked back, slowly caressing her skin as their hearts began to slow and calm.

"Mmm…" Y/n smiled as she nuzzled into his chest.

His hand drew down over her ass gently. "How's this feel?"

Lifting her head to press her chin into his pec, she raised her brows. "Sore. But that's what you wanted. To show me I was a bad girl. I deserved it."

Harry pushed a breath through his nose. "You're not a bad girl. Just stubborn. But now you know better than to play games."

Y/n shifted her gaze toward the edge of the room and pushed herself up from him as Harry watched her get off her bed and traipse to her dresser. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him and lifted her phone before pressing a few buttons, and then Harry's phone rang from his pants.

"There. Now you have my number, too. We've got no excuses anymore."

He reached his hand out toward her as she walked back to her bed and curled up next to him. "You shouldn't need an excuse. If you want to see me, then that should be enough."

She placed her palm on his chest and angled her head back to look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I mean it when I say that. I regretted not reaching out. I promise no more games."

"Mmm…" He ran his hand down the back of her head. "Sounds like I finally fucked some sense into you then."

Y/n laughed. "Guess I needed that, too."

"I think you did. So did I, to be honest."

"You needed some sense fucked into you?"

Harry chuckled, his handsome smile making her heart flutter as he shook his head. "No. I meant I needed to fuck some sense into you. I'm already chock full of good sense. Don't need any more."

"Can't argue with that. So what now? You gonna stay the night with me?"

"Yep. Then, tomorrow, we'll make plans for a date. A real one."

"Why not make plans now?"

"Because we're gonna do it tomorrow. Cause I said."

"What if I'm busy tomorrow?" Y/n teased and bit her lip.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He grinned.

"Hmm… It looks like all my plans have suddenly been canceled. Guess I'm all yours."

. .

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[shinonart]

Whirld Islands

Recently I decided to try making foldable fans with my artwork and I actually had to create some designs specifically to fit the template.

Lugia my beloved, I will never get tired of painting it. This is the third and last one of the little set I made. I had so much fun painting the waves even though going over those swirls over and over again made me a bit dizzy at times.

Everything is done by hand in inks.

Prints available on INPRNT! At the time of posting this INPRNT is offering 40% off of all prints!

Find me and my art elsewhere!    

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hey guys! The time has come to post the demo of Day 1 to the 80s Ford game. It's tacked on to the end of the day 0 version, so you do have to go through it again if you don't have a save file to load. I hope I havent broken anything in the process. (Please let me know if I have.)

If you've already gone through day 0 and want the map to Ford's lab so you can quickly catch up to day 1, you can find that here.

I hope you all have fun with it :)

[talisidekick]

Someone tagged this with the following and I actually want to talk about this:

This isn't the first response like this. I've had comments, asks, tags like this one, reblogs, and even comments on other platforms where this has spread to that bring up racism and xenophobia. Whether thats accusing me of being racist or hating immigrants (despite coming from a family if immigrants) or just pointing out, like this person did, the inherent xenophobic attitude the world has for my pharmacist to want to change his first name to an English sounding name. And it gets worse, I was given an English name at birth because my mother wanted me to "have a name that fit in". They weren't English, my last name was German, my great-grandmother who was a pillar in the family used German and Norweigan words mixed in her English that carried into my life and still does to this day. And because I wasn't "English", I still got picked on at school to the point I filtered out the german/norweigan in my vocabulary and learned to mimick accents to remove any germanic lilt I had in my speech.

Point being, I made this post recognizing the inherent xenophobia present. That's one of the reasons I told my pharmacist he didn't need to do that for my sake. I kind of suspected he wasn't just being kind. The way he said it had intent. The next time I saw him, nametag out, proud, it was touching to see the name I was given to protect me from xenophobia going to protect someone else, but also a bit bitter that I know part of the reason for wanting to find an English name was the pressure to blend in and sidestep a LOT of bullshit.

My name now is Germanic, my middle name Italian, my last name Ukrainian, and my nickname I use everywhere to make peoples lives easier is Talia or Tali <- To which I've learned "Tali" is a common short-hand/nickname or name for some in the middle-east (I didn't know, I just mashed up my middle name with my childhood nickname 'T' to get it so my friends would have an easier time transitioning over to my new name and it stuck. I just recently found out from a co-worker who just got back from a trip to the middle east and asked me about it). I'm no longer side-stepping the bullshit, I have noticed a difference in treatment. If people don't know me, and haven't seen me, like when it's over the phone or in email, it takes much longer and I have to be more precise with my wording. In fact, I've noticed it a bit when in person too. Next to my English named co-workers, I am treated by some like I know less and I'm scruitinized a bit more. Now obviously if I was a woman of colour and not off-white canvas, this would be 10-times worse in ways I'm not qualified or experienced to explain or get into. I'll leave that to someone WITH that kind of experience to get into.

I've never mentioned whether my pharmacist is a coloured man or not, and I never will. It's not that it "doesn't matter", every aspect of that man shapes his existence and experience of this life. I'm just not clarifying because the moment I do, I know some of you are going to solely focus on his race and miss the nuance of everything this post is about. It's about transgender positivity, discrimination, humour, and the kind-hearted actions of an incredible man in his journey of immigration. By leaving him faceless, every one of you brings something of yourself to this post. Be it simple joy, or further commentary.

The person who tagged this post is one of many who've accurately pointed out one underlying truth about this post. Not everyone is treated equally in society. This happened in Canada. Do you begin to understand the depths this post goes to with all that I've said here? With what you now know about me? Because I think some of you should now re-read the post again.

A while back my pharmacist saw my deadname on my profile and accidentially called it out, he corrected and deleted my deadname from the system so only my preferred name shows up now. There was a crowd of people behind me, so as he hands over the pills he apologized, in equal tone and volume as when he called my deadname and lied saying it's been a long day and he didn't mean to call out -his own- name. I quietly told him it was fine and he didn't need to do that for my sake.

His response: "No, it's my name now."

I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he's immigrating and in the process he's changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That's why he's now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: "It's mine now. Not yours. I'm taking." His tone indicated that decision is final.

Bro literally deadnamed me once, and has committed to flat out stealing my deadname. It's his now. Legally. Officially. I over heard his co-workers call him by the name.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Boyfriend Privileges Pairing: Mingyu x gn(femme presenting)!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship Wordcount: 9.9k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: The ten times Mingyu has shown off his "boyfriend privileges"

Warnings: suggestive content not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, food mention, pet names, reader presents as feminine at one point (wearing a dress) but it still reads as gender neutral, slight angst, bathing together

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Masterlists

You're not sure exactly when it began or what prompted it, but a few months into your relationship, Mingyu started asking you to do little tasks for him. They're always small, often tedious things. Whenever you hesitate, he flashes a charming smile and invokes "boyfriend privileges." Maybe it's the playful way he says it or the endearing look in his eyes, but you always end up giving in.

Mingyu, ever perceptive, has noticed this and teeters on the brink of abusing his "powers." But it doesn't bother you. You'd happily indulge your boyfriend's privileges.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 1. Overgrown puppy cuddles

Mingyu is a large puppy that just doesn’t understand how big he is. At least, that's how you see him. Whenever your boyfriend comes home from an especially rough day at work, he wants cuddles. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he'll pout and beg until you sit down on the couch and let him cuddle up in your lap.

"You're crushing me," you mutter.

You're sitting with your legs over the couch cushions, your back against the armrest. Mingyu's laying over your body like a human blanket—one of those electrical blankets that people use in winter. The man is warm.

"Boyfriend privileges," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You sigh because you know he's right, you'd let him do this even if he's crushing your bones. Letting your fingers tangle in his hair, Mingyu let's out a sound of approval and nuzzles his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His arms are around your torso, making sure that you don't even try to move. Not that you would.

"Did you have a long day?" you ask softly and he hums. "My poor baby..."

You coo at him, and he whines—he's relishing in being doted on. Mingyu's arms squeeze you a little, a silent sign that he wants you to continue.

"You work so hard, don't you?" You wait for Mingyu to nod before you coo again, "My hardworking Gyu, you're doing such a good job. People love you, you know that? They appreciate your work. So do I."

Mingyu tilts his head up, his eyebrows raised as he silently asks for confirmation. "I really do," you add.

"Thank you..." He puts his forehead against your chest and sighs. "I needed this... needed you."

"I know, puppy." You smile and ruffle his hair.

Mingyu groans and lifts his upper body off of you, his arms resting on the armrest behind you. "Oh, finally! I can breathe!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry," he mutters.

You cup his face in your hands. "I was kidding. I don't mind." You lean in and press a kiss on his pouty lips. "You're like my blanket... or like a Saint Bernard who's forgotten he's not a puppy anymore."

Mingyu smiles at that, before leaning in to litter your face with pecks that have you giggling and squealing.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 2. Random massages

You're in line for a ride at an amusement park when Mingyu suddenly turns to you. It's been at least five minutes since you started waiting, and you can tell he's getting impatient. His foot taps rhythmically on the ground, and he keeps glancing at his watch.

"Can you give me a massage? My shoulder's stiff," he huffs, rubbing the offending spot for emphasis.

"Again?" Your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Gyu, you should really go see a specialist..."

Mingyu pretends to ponder this suggestion, then shakes his head with a playful grin. "I don't need a specialist if I have you."

You sigh and roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at his pleading expression. His big, puppy-like eyes, the way his smile showcases his adorable canines, and his hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer make it impossible to refuse. "Sure," you mutter, already resigning yourself to his request.

The line moves a little, and you both shuffle forward a few steps. You're momentarily distracted by the imposing structure of the rollercoaster ahead, watching as the cart sends passengers hurtling through loops and dips at breakneck speed. Your reverie is interrupted by Mingyu poking your side.

"What?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Please?" he repeats, his tone even more imploring.

"Now?" You glance around at the crowd surrounding you—though no one seems to be paying attention, you feel self-conscious.

"Now," Mingyu insists, nodding earnestly.

"Babe, I can't massage you here. You know you shouldn't take off your shirt in public, right? Even if we do find somewhere private, I don't have any oils—"

"Not a big one." He interrupts, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb inches apart. "A small one. Just on the spot on my shoulder."

"Gyu—"

"Boyfriend privileges," he pleads quietly, eyes wide and hopeful.

You can't say no to him when he gets like this. With a resigned sigh, you motion for him to turn around. He does so eagerly, bending his knees slightly to give you better access to his shoulder. Placing one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, you begin to work your thumb into the knot you find there.

Mingyu lets out a soft, contented sigh, only audible to your ears, as he relaxes almost immediately under your touch. The tension in his shoulder melts away, and his head drops forward slightly, eyes closing in relief. The gentle hum of the amusement park, the chatter of the crowd, and the distant screams from the rollercoaster all fade into the background as you focus on easing his discomfort.

Despite the oddity of the situation, there's something intimate and endearing about the moment. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making. And as you massage Mingyu's shoulder, you can't help but feel a warm rush of affection for him and his silly, endearing ways.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 3. Sharing food

The restaurant is alive with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. However, all of this fades into a distant background as you focus intently on Chan's story. It's a rare opportunity to meet the members in person, despite your boyfriend working so closely with them, so you want to make the most of every second.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is lost in his own world. Ever since he finished his meal, he’s been zoned out—leaning back in his chair with a distant look in his eyes. You can't decide if he's impatiently waiting for Chan to finish or if he's just succumbed to a food coma. But when he casually reaches over and steals a fry from your plate, your doubts about the food coma vanish. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze with a small, mischievous smile before grabbing another fry. You let him.

A sudden gasp beside you snaps you back, and you turn to see Jun staring at you with mock jealousy from across the table. You smile and tilt your head questioningly.

"What?" you ask, bemused.

"You hit my hand when I tried to borrow a fry from you," Jun accuses, his eyes narrowed at you.

"First of all, I gently slapped it," you correct him. "Second of all, you were stealing, not borrowing. Don't try to make your crime sound better."

Jun huffs dramatically, and you can't help but grin. Meanwhile, Mingyu, taking advantage of the distraction, nabs another fry from your plate. There are almost none left now. As Jun reaches out to make another attempt, you slap his hand away with a swift motion.

"But he—" Jun starts to protest.

"Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu interjects smoothly, popping the last two fries into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

You hear a collective groan from the others at the table, but you just chuckle at Mingyu’s proud expression. "Mhm, boyfriend privileges," you repeat softly, unable to suppress a smile.

You lift a hand to gently brush the hair out of Mingyu's face, and he looks at you with a loving smile that makes your heart flutter. The warm feeling in your stomach is more than just the satisfaction from the delicious food you've eaten.

"Can I finish telling my story now?" Chan interrupts, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You pull your gaze away from Mingyu and refocus on Chan, giving him your full attention once again. "Go on," you say, eager to hear the rest of his tale.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 4. Seeing you first thing in the morning

The feeling of someone's soft breaths feathering against your face makes you scrunch your nose in sleepy annoyance. Mingyu's warm hands travel to your waist with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a million times before. And he has. His touch is intimate and assured, sliding over your skin with practiced ease. He knows you're awake now, evident by the low hum you let out, so he presses a few tender kisses on the bare skin of your clavicle, each one like a gentle spark of warmth.

"G'morning," you mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep, the words blending into a sigh.

"Good morning," he whispers softly, his breath tickling your skin.

You recognize his morning voice—his "I just woke up" voice—so you can tell he’s been up for a while. His voice sounds clearer, more alert, like he’s had time to turn around and take a sip of the water he always leaves on his bedside table.

"Have you been awake for long?" you ask, your words barely above a whisper as his lips continue their gentle exploration, each kiss a tender reminder of his affection.

"Since eight-thirty," he answers between kisses, each one a delicate attempt to keep you as close as possible.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost nine already. "Babe, you've been awake for half an hour... why didn’t you wake me up?"

Mingyu pauses his kisses to look up at you, his expression soft and affectionate, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Turning his head slightly, he looks over at the clock and hums thoughtfully.

"I was busy," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. He nestles his head back in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you, but doesn’t resume his kisses, much to your dismay.

"Busy doing what?" you murmur, curiosity piqued, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.

"Looking at you," he admits with a giggle, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze is filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, and he's trying his best to hold back a big grin. "It's my boyfriend privilege. Only I get to see you like this."

"It's a privilege to see my bed head?" You snort, but Mingyu stays serious, his eyes unwavering, his hand gently stroking your cheek.

"Everyday," he replies softly, his voice a tender caress.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but smile. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for a soft, lingering kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, the kiss deepening with the love and tenderness that has grown between you over the months. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment.

When you finally pull back, Mingyu's eyes are half-lidded, his expression content and serene. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch light and loving. "I love these quiet mornings with you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

"Me too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection, your eyes locked with his.

You snuggle closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The world outside can wait a little longer as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the quiet intimacy of the morning making everything else fade away. Mingyu's hands continue their gentle caresses, his fingers tracing soft lines over your skin. You feel utterly cherished, each touch and kiss a testament to the love you share. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the warmth of his body against yours create a cocoon of contentment that you never want to leave.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 5. Showing you off

"Gyu!" you shout from the bathroom, "What time is it?"

The sound of his long steps come closer and closer until the bathroom door pushes open. Mingyu's head peeks through the gap in the door, and smiles as soon as he sees you. You're wearing the new dress he bought you, the cute sundress that couldn't help himself from buying when he saw you looking at it.

"You're pretty," he murmurs and slinks into the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around you, your back relaxing into his chest. "Mingyu," you repeat.

"What?" He pulls his eyes away from the dress to meet your eyes.

"What time is it?" you ask again with a teasing smile.

"Oh, it's around three-thirty." His hands find your waist. "We should leave in half an hour."

You nod and start packing up your make up. "Good, I think I'm done anyway... do you think I look okay?"

Mingyu lets go of you, spinning you around to face him. You can only grin while he studies you carefully with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in focus. After a few seconds, he nods—satisfied with what he's seen.

"Perfect." He puts his hand right below your jaw, careful not to disturb the make up on your face. "You look perfect, baby."

His smile remains radiant as you arrive at his family's get-together, a constant beam of joy that lights up the entire evening. Mingyu keeps you close, his arm possessively yet gently wrapped around you, presenting you to the members of his family you haven't yet met. Every introduction is accompanied by a glowing remark about you, his voice brimming with pride. You feel like a movie star at a film premiere—the constant pampering, the way his eyes sparkle every time he looks at you, and the sneaky photos he snaps when he thinks you're not looking.

Mingyu can't seem to stop showering you with compliments. "This is my partner," he says, beaming, as he introduces you to yet another relative. "They're incredible, you know. Smart, kind, and absolutely stunning." He turns his head to you, trying to contain his big smile by biting down on his bottom lip.

You blush, murmuring polite responses, but his praise never ceases. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and the way he never lets go of your hand, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture.

Throughout the evening, Mingyu is a constant presence by your side, his touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of social interactions. His family is warm and welcoming, their smiles genuine as they embrace you into their fold. The air is filled with laughter and conversation, the smell of delicious food wafting through the house, creating an atmosphere of warmth and togetherness.

Mingyu’s playful nature shines through as he snaps candid photos of you, his grin widening each time you catch him in the act. "You’re just too beautiful not to capture," he explains with a cheeky smile, earning a soft laugh from you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself growing more and more flustered under the weight of his unending compliments. Yet, there's a thrill in it—a heady mixture of embarrassment and joy at being the center of his universe. His family notices, and they tease him gently about his lovesick behavior, but it only makes him hold you closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that make your heart flutter.

By the time the evening winds down, you’re overwhelmed with affection, feeling cherished and adored in a way that leaves you breathless. The warmth of Mingyu’s family, combined with his constant praise and tender glances, has wrapped you in a cocoon of love and contentment. As you prepare to leave, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close for a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with genuine gratitude. "You made everything perfect."

You smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Thank you for taking me along... I don't think I've seen you like this before," you admit, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet of the night.

"What do you mean?" He cocks his head, his eyes curious and endearing, making you laugh softly at his obliviousness.

"You were trying to show me off all night," you explain, a playful note in your voice. Seeing his slightly worried expression, you quickly add, "It was sweet, Gyu. Really, it was."

Relief floods his features, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft, lingering a second longer than it should, filling you with a warmth that spreads through your entire body. "It's my boyfriend privilege to get to show you off," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You groan playfully, rolling your eyes at his words as he starts giggling, the sound infectious and heartwarming. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the cab he's ordered to take you home. The night air is cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, but Mingyu's hand in yours keeps you warm.

As you approach the cab, he pauses for a moment, turning to look at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. "You know," he says softly, brushing a stray hair from your face, "You should wear that dress more often."

"Oh yeah?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words as he pulls you into a tight embrace. "Yeah," he whispers.

With one last lingering kiss, you both get into the cab, his arm never leaving your shoulders. As the city lights blur past the window, you lean into Mingyu, feeling his warmth envelop you.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 6. A shoulder to cry on

When you enter the apartment, none of the lights are turned on. You worked late that day, but not so late that Mingyu would've gone to sleep already. The apartment is eerily quiet, devoid of the usual warmth and liveliness. Toeing off your shoes and putting away your outerwear in their rightful places, you start to wonder if he's not home. He usually texts you when he gets home, but you haven't received any messages.

Concern etches between your brows as you walk further into the apartment. The kitchen is spotless, with no pots or pans on the stove—not that you always expect Mingyu to cook, but he had told you earlier today that he'd have something ready for you when you got home. You open the fridge, finding it just as you left it this morning. The absence of any signs of recent activity deepens your worry.

As you pass the bathroom by the guest room, you flick on the lights, casting a warm glow to see the path to your shared bedroom. By the ajar door, you notice a piece of fabric slumped together on the floor. Picking it up, you realize it's Mingyu's jacket. You drape it over your arm and continue to the bedroom, your heart pounding with unease.

He's not there, but you see that the light in your bathroom is on, a soft glow seeping through the cracks in the door. You place his jacket on the edge of the bed before approaching the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

You knock softly, pressing your ear against the door. "Mingyu, I'm home... are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," he replies, but his voice is thick with tears. "Sorry, I didn't have time to make you dinner... I think there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"Please, open the door." Ignoring his suggestion about dinner, you grab the door handle. "I can hear that you're not okay."

You hear him sigh, and his footsteps approach the door. Stepping back, you wait as the door swings open. The first thing you see is his bloodshot eyes and red nose. He sniffles and looks away, trying to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm..." He hesitates, torn between lying and being honest.

Before he can decide, you engulf him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Oh, baby..."

The dam breaks as a sob bubbles up Mingyu's throat, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that shatters the silence. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt. You can feel the wet warmth of his tears spreading, a tangible sign of his anguish.

You rub his back soothingly, your hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Each sob wracks his body, causing his shoulders to tremble violently. His fingers clutch at your shirt, holding on as if he might drown without this anchor.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with his sorrow, until finally, his sobs begin to subside. His shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing slowly evens out, though occasional hiccups still break through. Only then do you loosen your embrace, though you don't fully let go. Instead, you gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that cling to his skin. His eyes are red and swollen, filled with a mixture of lingering sadness and gratitude.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

"...can I tell you later? I'll start crying again if I tell you now." He lets out a choked laugh, trying to relieve the tension, but your frown remains.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

You gently wipe away Mingyu’s tears, your thumb brushing over his cheeks with tender care. His skin is warm and damp, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his sorrow. Your touch is gentle and reassuring as you guide him to change into more comfortable clothes. You help him out of his work attire, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers, and replacing it with a soft, worn-in t-shirt that brings him comfort. Each movement is deliberate, designed to soothe and calm him. You then help him into a pair of loose, cozy sweatpants, ensuring he's enveloped in softness and warmth.

Once he’s settled, you guide him to the couch in the living room, your arm around his waist, supporting his slow and heavy movements. The weight of his exhaustion is impossible to miss, his shoulders slumped and his steps dragging. He collapses onto the couch with a weary sigh, sinking into the cushions as if they might absorb some of his burden.

You start to leave for the kitchen, intending to get him something to eat or drink, but he grabs your hand. His grip is firm yet desperate, his fingers curling around yours with a silent plea for you to stay.

You turn back to him, your heart aching at the sight of his vulnerable expression. Mingyu looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and need. "Don't leave," he whispers.

"I'm going to heat up some leftovers," you explain. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Mingyu shakes his head no and lets go of your hand. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around the kitchen, quickly putting something together. It's not fancy, and it's nothing like what he usually makes you, but it's enough for the two of you right now.

When you return to his side, you give him his bowl before settling down next to him. You eat in silence, letting Mingyu sit as close to you as he pleases. When you're done, you take the dishes to the kitchen. Although you want him to sit still and rest, he follows you—his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time.

It's hard to move around, but you don't complain. Soon enough, the dishes are done and you're back on the couch. Mingyu has his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lay on top of him.

"Thank you," he mutters.

"You don't have to thank me." You lean up to look him in the eye. "Me taking care of you is your boyfriend privilege."

He smiles and presses a chaste kiss on your lips before closing his eyes. The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch on accident. But your stiff body is worth it when you get to see Mingyu smiling at you the next morning.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 7. A shoulder to nap on

On the flight back home from a much-needed vacation, Mingyu booked the two of you first-class seats. It was partly because he loves spoiling you, but also so you could sleep comfortably on the way home. The plush seats and extra legroom were a perfect idea, promising a restful journey, but right now, that comfort feels like a far-off dream.

The flight was delayed by a few hours, leaving you and Mingyu stuck at the gate. The airport buzzes with the quiet hum of late-night travelers, the occasional announcement crackling over the PA system. The two of you sit in the lounge, surrounded by weary passengers slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed with fatigue. The smell of coffee and cleaning agents lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of newspapers and the muted clatter of luggage wheels.

Mingyu tries to make the best of the situation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the weariness. "Just a little longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the delay, his presence is a comforting anchor in the sea of exhaustion, his voice a soft murmur that calms your racing thoughts.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly. The soft lighting of the lounge casts a warm glow, but it does little to chase away the tiredness settling into your bones. Mingyu's fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, each stroke a silent promise of love and comfort.

"I can't wait to be home in my bed," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with exhaustion.

Mingyu leans his head on your shoulder, his soft hair brushing against your cheek as he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. The weight and warmth of his head against your shoulder provide an unexpected comfort, grounding you in the moment. "This is enough for me," he says softly, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin.

"My shoulder?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, feeling the vibration of his chuckle through the closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his tone earnest and affectionate. His closeness feels intimate and safe, a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the airport.

"And why should I let you have my shoulder?" you tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you relish the closeness.

"Boyfriend privileges," he replies matter-of-factly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. The slight pressure of his lips against your skin sends a wave of warmth through you.

You sigh, a mixture of amusement and tenderness filling your heart. The playful banter and the sincere love in his voice make your heart swell. You tilt your head to rest against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world around you fades into a comforting blur, the distant chatter of the airport and the mechanical hum of the environment becoming mere background noise.

For a moment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth and love. His presence is a cocoon of safety and affection, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully in his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft, warm pressure of his head against yours create a symphony of comfort that lulls you into a peaceful state.

Your peace is soon interrupted, however. Finally, the boarding announcement crackles through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence of anticipation and sparking a collective sigh of relief that ripples through the gate area. The weariness of the long wait begins to lift as passengers gather their belongings. Mingyu helps you gather your things, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way to the boarding line. His touch is a reassuring anchor, grounding you amidst the bustling crowd.

"Almost there," Mingyu whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank goodness," you reply, offering him a tired smile.

The atmosphere shifts as you step onto the jet bridge, a mix of excitement and fatigue hanging in the air. The cool, conditioned air of the plane greets you as you board, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffy terminal. The flight attendants greet you with warm smiles, guiding you toward the plush sanctuary of first class.

Settling into your spacious seats, the world outside begins to fade away. The soft cushions envelop you in comfort, and the generous legroom allows you to stretch out and relax. Mingyu stows your carry-ons in the overhead compartment with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

As he sits down beside you, the overhead lights cast a gentle glow. "This is so much better," you murmur.

Mingyu smiles, reaching over to adjust your blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness that melts your heart. "I told you it would be worth the wait," he says softly, his eyes filled with affection.

You can't help but smile at the thought of curling up next to him, the hum of the plane's engines a soothing backdrop. "You always know how to spoil me," you whisper, leaning into his touch.

"It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Besides, you deserve it."

As the plane takes off, you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The world outside the window shrinks to a distant blur, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

"Thank you, Gyu," you murmur, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

"For what?" he asks, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"For everything. For this. For you," you whisper, your words trailing off as sleep begins to claim you.

"Always," he replies softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Sleep well, my love."

Wrapped in the comfort of his love and care, you drift off, the promise of restful sleep finally within reach. The gentle touch of his fingers lulls you into a peaceful slumber

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 8. Lunch boxes

When someone called out for lunchtime, the members collectively let out a big sigh of relief. With tired limbs, they make their way to the cafeteria. While everyone else lines up to buy something, Mingyu heads straight to the fridge and retrieves a carefully prepared meal. He sits down at a table, placing the metal box with a wooden lid in front of him. A pink, stretchy band adorned with tiny red strawberries holds the spoon in place. His face lights up with a smile as he spots the small note on the lid.

Hope practice is going well! I know you're working hard, so please enjoy your lunch and eat well! Can't wait for you to come home♡(>ᴗ•)

Mingyu carefully folds the pink post-it and tucks it into his phone case, a cherished reminder of your thoughtfulness. By then, people have started sitting down beside him, their eyes subtly glancing at the box in front of him. Nobody says anything—they already know what it is—until he opens it.

Inside the box is a beautifully arranged Korean lunchbox. The main compartment holds perfectly steamed white rice, topped with a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. Nestled beside it is a portion of crispy fried chicken, golden brown and glistening with a light coating of sweet and spicy sauce. The other sections are filled with a variety of colorful banchan: neatly sliced kimchi, lightly seasoned spinach, sweet and tangy pickled radish, and tender strips of stir-fried beef bulgogi. There’s even a small section of rolled omelette, its yellow hue bright and inviting.

The delicious aroma wafts up, drawing envious glances from his fellow members. The savory scent of fried chicken and the tangy hint of kimchi fill the air, making everyone's mouths water.

"Did Y/N make you another lunchbox?" Seokmin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, they were working from home yesterday, so they had some extra time on their hands," Mingyu replies, a small smile playing on his lips as he inspects the beautifully arranged food.

"It's not fair that only you get homemade lunches from Y/N!" Seungkwan whines, his tone a mix of genuine envy and playful teasing.

Mingyu responds by sticking his tongue out at Seungkwan, making the younger man groan in exasperation. "Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu states proudly, his grin widening.

As he digs in, Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, savoring the flavors and the love that went into preparing his meal. The meat is perfectly seasoned, the rice fluffy, and the banchan vibrant and flavorful. Each bite is a reminder of your care and effort, making the meal taste even better. The members watch with a mix of admiration and envy as Mingyu enjoys his lunch.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 9. Bath buddy

As you walk the last bit to the door of your apartment building, you notice a figure in the distance. A tall man, vaguely boyfriend-shaped, waving both of his arms over his head with enthusiasm. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile matches Mingyu's as you break into a run, closing the gap between you. He’s sweaty from the gym, his skin glistening in the fading light, but you don’t mind. You launch yourself into his embrace, pressing yourself as close as possible, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of his body.

"Are you trying to squeeze me to death?" he asks jokingly, his voice vibrating against your ear.

You loosen your grip slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. "You have no idea how much I've missed you today."

Instead of teasing you, Mingyu gently pats your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a comforting touch. He sees the weariness in your eyes and the way your hair seems to stick out in all the wrong places, evidence of a long, hard day. "Bad day, hun?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

The moment he speaks, you feel your guard drop completely. Your lips naturally fall into a pout, and your hands grip the material of his shirt a little tighter. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the exhaustion you feel. Mingyu coos at you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment, offering silent comfort. He then guides you to the door, his hand resting on the small of your back, a steadying presence.

"Do you want to take a bath with me?" he asks as he opens the door for you, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Okay," you murmur.

Once inside, the apartment feels like a sanctuary, the chaos of the outside world fading away as the door clicks shut behind you. The familiar scent of home, mingled with Mingyu's comforting presence, immediately begins to soothe your frazzled nerves. He leads you to the bathroom, his touch a constant, reassuring anchor as he guides you down the softly lit hallway. The gentle hum of the apartment envelops you, creating a cocoon of tranquility.

In the bathroom, Mingyu starts running the bath, the sound of water filling the room like a calming symphony. You watch as he carefully adds your favorite bath salts, the granules dissolving into the warm water and releasing a soothing aroma. The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air, creating a spa-like atmosphere that begins to unwind the knots of tension coiled within you.

Mingyu helps you undress with tender, loving movements, his touch feather-light yet filled with purpose. His fingers trace the contours of your body with a delicate touch, each gesture a silent reassurance of his love and care. The way his hands glide over your skin, unhurried and gentle, sends a wave of warmth through you, dispelling the day’s weariness.

He sheds his own clothes with practiced ease, the fabric slipping off his toned frame effortlessly. The sight of his familiar form, strong and comforting, brings a sense of security and warmth. His skin, slightly glistening from the exertion of the day, catches the soft light, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the contours of his body. There's a serene beauty in the way he moves, each action unhurried and filled with quiet confidence.

Stepping into the bath first, Mingyu eases himself into the steaming water with a sigh of contentment, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into the tub, the water enveloping him like a warm embrace. His eyes, inviting and filled with affection, lock onto yours as he extends his hand towards you. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent invitation wrapped in love and intimacy.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip as he helps you into the tub. The water envelops you in a gentle embrace, its warmth soothing your tired muscles. You settle between his legs, leaning back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby against your back.

As you relax into his embrace, Mingyu's arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands begin to gently massage your shoulders, his fingers working out the knots of tension with skillful precision. The sensation is both relaxing and intimate, his touch a balm to your weary soul. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling the stress of the day melt away under his tender ministrations.

The soft glow of the bathroom light casts a golden hue over everything, enhancing the sense of intimacy and warmth. Shadows dance along the walls, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. The only sounds are the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice soft and content.

"I love you too," he replies, his lips brushing against your ear.

You stay like that for a while, the water lapping gently around you, the only sounds the occasional drip from the faucet and the steady rhythm of Mingyu's breathing. It’s a perfect moment of peace and connection, wrapped in the comfort and love that only he can provide.

After a few minutes, Mingyu shifts slightly behind you, his movements gentle yet purposeful. "Can you wash my hair?" he asks softly, his voice laced with a boyish charm that makes your heart flutter.

You smile, turning slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Of course," you reply, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hands you the shampoo, and you pour a generous amount into your palm. Mingyu dips his head back into the water, wetting his hair thoroughly before leaning forward to give you better access. The rich, lathering scent of his shampoo fills the air, mingling with the soothing aromas of the bath salts, creating a calming symphony of fragrances.

Your fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. The silky strands slip through your fingers, and you take your time, ensuring each section of his hair is coated with the fragrant lather. Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, his body visibly relaxing under your ministrations.

"This feels amazing," he murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum that sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, continuing your careful work. "You deserve it," you say softly. "It's your boyfriend privilege, isn't it?"

Mingyu chuckles, the sound a soft, comforting vibration against your chest. Before he can respond, you pick up the shower head, adjusting the temperature before gently rinsing out the shampoo. Tilting his head back with a gentle hand, you let the warm water cascade through his hair, washing away the suds and leaving his hair clean and soft.

He leans back against you once more, his hair damp and silky against your skin. His eyes are half-lidded with contentment, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and affection.

"Anytime," you reply, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment create a cocoon around you, shutting out the rest of the world. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm that syncs with your own. Mingyu's hands rest gently on your arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the tranquility of the bath.

The two of you stay like that, cocooned in warmth, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a golden hue over everything. The sounds of the water and your synchronized breathing create a peaceful ambiance.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 10. Tie-fixer

You were already in your pajamas, nestled comfortably in bed with your book, when Mingyu walked in, still dressed in his suit but without his tie. The crisp white shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the slight dishevelment of his attire made him look irresistibly charming. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to his effortlessly handsome appearance. He didn't have to say anything; the moment your eyes met his, you were already putting your book to the side and swinging your legs out of bed, the anticipation of helping him a welcome routine.

"Where's your tie?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice, tilting your head slightly.

Mingyu pulls the piece of fabric from his pocket and hands it to you, a weary yet appreciative smile playing on his lips. The tie is cool and smooth in your hands, its silk gliding between your fingers. Rising to your feet, you step close to him, your fingers deftly slipping the tie around his neck. The familiar action feels intimate, almost like a ritual between the two of you, a small moment of connection in your busy lives.

As you slowly begin to tie it, your fingers working methodically, you glance up at him. "How long is the event?" you ask, your voice soft and caring, eyes meeting his with genuine concern.

"I probably won't be home until after two," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his long night ahead settles in. The lines of fatigue on his face tug at your heart.

"It's okay. I want you to have fun," you murmur, focusing on the tie but feeling the sincerity of your words. "I'll be busy with dinner and my book anyway."

Mingyu watches you, his eyes softening as he takes in your familiar, comforting presence. "I wish you could come with me," he says quietly, his hands gently resting on your hips as you finish tying the knot. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent promise of his affection.

You tighten the tie and smooth it down, patting his chest gently. "You know I'd love to, but someone's got to hold down the fort here," you reply jokingly, your smile warm and reassuring.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, resonating in the quiet of the room. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Let's not find out," you whisper, your cheek pressed against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Mingyu hugs you tightly, savoring the closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the comforting smell of home. When he finally pulls back, he looks down at you with a mix of love and reluctance. "I really should go," he says, though he doesn't make a move to leave just yet.

"I know," you reply, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place. "You'll be amazing, as always."

"Mm, especially with such a well-tied tie," he smiles playfully at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so lucky for my boyfriend privilege."

You chuckle softly, resting your hands on his chest. "Yes, you're very privileged," you tease. "Just remember that when you're out there charming everyone."

Mingyu grins, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. "How could I forget? My number one fan is waiting for me at home."

You roll your eyes, but your smile is fond. "Just don't let it go to your head."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "No promises... I'll miss you," he says, his voice softening as he cups your face in his hands.

"I'll miss you too," you reply, covering his hands with yours.

He gives you one last lingering kiss, his lips warm and tender against yours, a promise of his return. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can," he promises, his voice filled with genuine affection, his hand squeezing yours gently.

"I'll be waiting," you say softly, watching as he finally turns to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels a little emptier without him, but you return to bed, your book waiting patiently. For a moment, you just sit there, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence and the subtle ache of his absence, already looking forward to his return.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ... 11?

The winter chill had settled in, but the warmth of Valentine's Day wrapped the city in a blanket of love and excitement. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of snow, mingling with the fragrance of roses that seemed to bloom on every corner. Everywhere you looked, couples were bundled up in cozy scarves and gloves, holding hands, sharing tender smiles, and exchanging sweet nothings. The city streets were transformed into a romantic wonderland, with heart-shaped lights casting a soft, warm glow on the cobblestone paths, creating a dreamy ambiance that made everything feel just a little more magical.

Mingyu had planned the entire day with meticulous care, wanting to make every moment special for you. The day began with the gentle sound of his voice waking you, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, holding a tray with breakfast in bed—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with fresh berries, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. The sweet aroma filled the room, and as you shared the meal, you couldn't help but smile at how perfectly the day had started.

The afternoon was spent strolling through the city, the two of you arm in arm as you visited all your favorite spots. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the holiday, but for you, time seemed to slow down, every moment stretching into something memorable. You laughed over shared memories, pointing out familiar landmarks and reliving inside jokes that only the two of you understood. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but it was no match for the warmth of Mingyu's hand holding yours, or the way his laughter seemed to melt the chill away.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the city, Mingyu surprised you with dinner at the restaurant where you’d had your first date. The sight of the familiar entrance made your heart skip a beat, and when you stepped inside, the ambiance was perfect—low lights that cast a gentle glow over the intimate setting, soft music playing in the background, and a table tucked away in a quiet corner just for the two of you. Mingyu looked absolutely perfect, the flickering candlelight highlighting his features, making his eyes sparkle with a warmth that mirrored the love in your heart.

He was wearing the turtleneck you had gotten him last December, the deep burgundy color standing out beautifully under his sleek black coat. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, made you fall in love with him all over again.

The dinner was delicious, every bite savored as you reminisced about that first date and how far you'd come since then. But as the evening went on, you noticed a certain tension in Mingyu—a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was attentive as always, but his hand gripped yours just a little tighter, and his eyes, though filled with affection, seemed to hold something more—an emotion he hadn’t yet put into words.

When dessert was finished and the check was paid, Mingyu suggested a walk through the park. The idea seemed simple, but there was something in his tone that made your heart flutter with anticipation. The park was beautifully decorated for the holiday, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the branches. The path was dusted with a light layer of snow, which crunched softly underfoot as you walked side by side, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of other couples enjoying the night.

The cold nipped at your nose, but Mingyu’s presence kept you warm. He walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours with every step, and as you made your way deeper into the park, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet he had become. His hand, warm and reassuring in yours, was steady, but there was a nervous energy beneath the surface, a sense of something important hanging in the air between you.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the world around you gradually fading into the background as you simply enjoyed being together. The park was peaceful, the night air crisp and clear, with the soft crunch of snow underfoot being the only sound between you. The distant twinkle of lights reflected off the lake's surface, casting a serene, almost magical glow over the scene. The sky above was an expanse of deep navy, dotted with stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

As you approached a secluded bench near the lake, Mingyu began to slow down, his footsteps becoming more deliberate. His breath was visible in the cold air, curling upward in soft, white puffs. The quietude around you seemed to intensify, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Mingyu stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights strung up in the trees, making them look like they were sparkling with unshed emotions.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he pulled you closer. Without waiting for your response, he wrapped his coat around you, his touch protective and warm.

"Not with you here," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. But as you looked up at him, you noticed something different, a subtle tension in his expression. "... you're unusually quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Mingyu smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "There's something I've been wanting to say all day," he began, his tone serious but laced with affection, each word carefully chosen. "Valentine's Day is all about celebrating love, right?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued, your gaze never leaving his. "Right..."

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs before he released it slowly, his hands still holding yours, their warmth grounding you both. His expression softened, and the affection in his eyes deepened, becoming almost palpable. "Well, I wanted to celebrate us... You know how I've always said I'm lucky to have boyfriend privileges?" His lips curled into a small, playful smile, the familiar phrase bringing a rush of warmth to your chest. It was an inside joke that had grown between you, a phrase that had come to symbolize the depth of his love.

You laughed lightly, nodding, your heart fluttering. "You've mentioned it a time or two."

"Well," he continued, the playful edge in his voice giving way to something more serious, more profound. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot about what that really means. About how much I love you, and how my life has been so much better with you in it. I don't just want boyfriend privileges anymore. I want... something more."

The air around you seemed to still, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Mingyu's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"Mingyu... what are you saying?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his eyes, hoping for confirmation of what you suspected.

"... I want husband privileges," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. The words tumbled out like a secret he had been holding close to his heart, and as they settled between you, the weight of them was almost overwhelming.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in, sending a rush of emotion through your entire being. Before you could fully process what was happening, Mingyu reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The deep burgundy of the box stood out against the black fabric of his coat, catching the faint light from the lanterns around you. Your breath caught in your throat as he dropped to one knee, the world around you dissolving into a blur. The soft glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, making them shine with a love so intense it took your breath away.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, each word laced with raw emotion. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you, and being your forever? I want to be your husband, not just today, not just tomorrow, but every day for the rest of our lives."

The sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the ring, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made tears well up in your eyes. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest as the magnitude of the moment hit you. The world seemed to stop, the night holding its breath as you looked down at him, his expression filled with hope, love, and adoration.

"Mingyu," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion, each word carrying the weight of your love for him. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tension in his shoulders melted away as his face broke into the widest smile, relief and joy flooding his features. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent. The ring was perfect—simple, elegant, and exactly what you would have chosen. It glimmered softly in the light, a tangible symbol of the promise you had just made to each other.

Without hesitation, Mingyu stood up, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off your feet. He spun you around in a joyful whirl, the cold air forgotten as you both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet park. The night seemed to come alive with your happiness, the trees around you swaying gently as if to share in your joy.

When he finally set you down, his arms remained around you, pulling you into a kiss. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks, his touch warm and steady. The tenderness in his grip made your heart swell, and as he leaned in, you could feel his breath mingling with yours, a soft, shared anticipation hanging in the air. When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time itself slowed. The kiss was soft at first, a delicate, reverent connection that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

But then, it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a slow, purposeful intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Each movement was deliberate, filled with a passion that burned through you, igniting every nerve. His kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a vow sealed with every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. You could feel his love in the way his hands held you, not too tight, but firm enough that you knew he never wanted to let go.

As his lips molded perfectly against yours, the rest of the world faded into oblivion. The cold night air, the distant sounds of the city, even the twinkling lights around you—all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the rapid beat of your heart, and the overwhelming flood of emotion between you. It was as if the two of you existed in your own universe, a moment suspended in time where nothing else mattered.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with reverence and devotion, as if the words were sacred.

Tears still glistening in your eyes, you smiled up at him, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you too, Mingyu. I hope you're ready for all the husband privileges."

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, resonating with the happiness that radiated from him. It was a laugh that spoke of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless more moments like this. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "This is the best Valentine’s Day of my life," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

"It’s just the beginning, baby," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you looked up at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every line that spoke of his love for you.

The two of you stood there in the park, wrapped in each other’s arms as the lights twinkled around you, the cold air nipping at your cheeks but failing to penetrate the warmth that enveloped you both. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt like it would last forever.

As you walked back home, hand in hand, the silence between you was filled with contentment and the unspoken promises of what was to come. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger. The excitement of what lay ahead filled you with warmth, and as you leaned into Mingyu, you knew that your life together would be filled with endless love, laughter, and, of course, husband privileges.

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[heartsriki]

CANDY HEARTS ⌇마음

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Sim Jaeyun | Next

pairing ᝰ jake x fem!reader | word count: 4.0k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ co-workers to lovers, fluff, kissing, light teasing, semi-oblivious reader.

synopsis — You and Jake are co-workers at a candy shop. You are content by just doing your job, until someone leaves little candy hearts with cheesy, cryptic messages for you every shift. At first, You think it’s just a quirky joke—until the messages start feeling a little too personal, and you begin to wonder if this is more than just fun and games.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys this might be my favorite fic Ive written.. may this love find me (PLEASEUHH)

The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it.

It was a slow afternoon at Sugar Rush, the tiny candy shop where you worked part-time. The scent of warm caramel and melted chocolate clung to the air, mixing with the faint tartness of fruit gummies from the bins near the register. You were restocking a jar of cinnamon drops when you noticed a small candy heart sitting beside the cash register, pastel pink with tiny white letters stamped across it.

You Make Me Melt.

You assumed it had fallen out of a bag, maybe left behind by a customer. It wasn’t unusual for people to sneak a piece or two while browsing, even though there were very clear “NO SAMPLES” signs posted all over the place. With a shrug, you popped it into your pocket and moved on.

The second time, you started to wonder.

This time, the candy heart was perched on the tip jar, wedged between a crumpled dollar bill and some loose quarters. It was green, a little faded, and read: You’re My Favorite Treat.

You frowned, glancing around the shop. Jake was a few feet away, lazily refilling a bin of sour belts. He had a bad habit of getting distracted, usually by sneaking a few pieces for himself, but at the moment, he seemed content just swaying along to the pop song playing through the store’s speakers.

“Hey, Jake,” you called, holding up the tiny candy. “Did you leave this here?”

He turned, eyebrows raised, then took a few steps closer, peering at the candy heart in your palm. “Hmm,” he hummed, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “Looks like someone’s got a secret admirer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Because nothing screams romance like mass-produced sugar with weird messages on them.”

Jake grinned. “Hey, don’t underestimate the power of candy. Love and sugar go hand in hand.”

You huffed, but didn’t push further. Maybe someone really had left it there by accident. Or maybe Jake was just messing with you—he was the type to do something like that just to see how long it would take you to notice. Either way, you tossed the heart aside and got back to work.

But then it kept happening.

Every shift, without fail, another candy heart would appear. Sometimes on the register, sometimes on the shelf beside the fudge display, once even in your apron pocket. They were never the generic ‘Be Mine’ messages. No, these were different. More… personal and sometimes they even came with notes.

Bet You Think This is a Coincidence.

You hum when you count the register, did you notice that?

Your nose scrunches when you’re trying not to laugh.

I like the way you say my name.

That last one made you stop.

You turned the tiny candy over between your fingers, a slow warmth creeping up your neck. This wasn’t just a random joke anymore. Whoever was leaving these wasn’t playing around.

the message was staring back at you like it was waiting for you to put the pieces together. But you didn’t. It was just a dumb piece of candy, right? A quirky prank, maybe. Nothing more.

Still, the words lingered longer than you wanted them to.

Shaking it off, you shoved the candy into your apron pocket and turned your attention back to the shelves. The display of chocolate truffles had gotten messy again—probably thanks to the group of kids who’d come in earlier, pressing their sticky fingers against the glass case while begging their parents for more sweets. You crouched down, carefully rearranging the rows, making sure each piece was perfectly aligned.

From behind you, Jake’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the shop.

“You know, you’re really dedicated to those chocolates.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t turn around. “Well, considering I work here, yeah. Kind of comes with the job.”

Jake chuckled. “Sure, but I’ve never seen someone so passionate about symmetry. It’s almost impressive.”

You heard the sound of a stool scraping against the floor and knew without looking that he’d made himself comfortable on the other side of the counter. He had a habit of doing that—watching you work instead of doing his own tasks. Not that he was lazy. If anything, Jake was weirdly good at his job when he actually put in the effort. But more often than not, he liked to hover, cracking jokes and tossing gummy bears in the air like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of stocking the licorice again,” you muttered.

“Maybe.” His tone was light, teasing. “Or maybe I just enjoy watching you concentrate so hard. It’s like… adorable but also kind of terrifying.”

You scoffed and finally turned to look at him. He was perched on the stool, elbow resting against the counter, his fingers idly spinning a wrapped caramel. His brown eyes glinted with amusement, but there was something else there too—something unreadable.

For half a second, you wondered—

No.

No, this was Jake. The same guy who once spent an entire shift trying to convince you that the gummy worms were alive. The same guy who had gotten his hand stuck in a taffy machine and acted like it was the funniest thing in the world. The same guy who—

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m not.”

Jake smirked. “Pretty handsome, right?”

“Shut up.” You huffed and turned back to your chocolates, determined to ignore him. “Go do your job, Jake.”

“Yes, boss,” he said, and you could hear the laughter in his voice.

As you straightened up, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye—a tiny, heart-shaped candy resting near the caramel display, just barely visible behind a stack of boxes. A fresh one.

You swallowed, glancing toward Jake, who was now whistling as he walked toward the licorice section.

You shook your head. No way.

It was probably just a coincidence.

The rest of the shift passed in a comfortable rhythm—restocking shelves, ringing up customers, and trying not to get roped into one of Jake’s ridiculous debates (this time, he was insisting that caramel was superior to chocolate.).

But by the time the evening rush hit, you were starting to feel it. The weight of the long day pressed into your shoulders, your feet aching from standing too long. You weren’t about to complain, though. It wasn’t like working there was particularly difficult—just repetitive.

Jake, on the other hand, seemed as energetic as ever. He practically bounced between tasks, chatting with customers, sneaking pieces of candy when he thought you weren’t looking, and somehow still managing to keep things running smoothly. It was unfair, really, how effortless he made everything seem.

You were wiping down the counter when a little girl, maybe six or seven, shyly approached the register, clutching a bag of chocolate coins. She barely reached over the counter, her curly pigtails bobbing as she peeked up at you with wide eyes.

“Hi there,” you greeted, offering her a small smile. “Is this everything for you?”

She nodded, then hesitated. “Um… I don’t think I have enough money.”

You glanced at the bag in her hands and then at the crumpled bills she carefully pulled from her pocket. She was short by at least a dollar.

Before you could say anything, Jake swooped in, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, crouching down slightly to her level. “You know what? Today’s your lucky day. We’ve got a special deal going on.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “A deal?”

Jake nodded solemnly. “Yep. It’s called the ‘Awesome Kid Discount.’” He plucked the bag from her hands, scanned it, and subtly covered the difference with a few coins from his own pocket. “And guess what? You totally qualify.”

Her face broke into the biggest grin. “Really?”

“Really,” Jake confirmed, handing her the bag. “But you gotta promise me one thing.”

She leaned in, waiting eagerly.

“Make sure you enjoy every single piece, okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I will! Thank you, mister!”

Jake grinned as she ran off toward her waiting parents, practically bouncing with excitement. When he straightened, he caught you staring.

“What?” he asked, flashing that boyish smirk of his.

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “That was… really sweet of you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing, reaching for the spray bottle to wipe down the counter. “Eh, it’s just a couple of coins. Besides, how could I say no to that face?”

You didn’t respond right away. It wasn’t about the money, and you both knew it. Jake had a way of making people feel special, like they mattered. Whether it was an old customer who’d been coming in for years or a little kid with a few crumpled dollars, he always made time for them.

You turned back to the register, but your stomach felt strangely warm.

It was probably just the sugar in the air.

Right?

By the time the shop started winding down for the night, you were exhausted. There was still closing work to do—mopping the floors, refilling displays, making sure the candy bins were sealed properly—but just thinking about it made your muscles ache.

Jake must have noticed because the moment you sighed, he grabbed the mop from the back closet and waved you off.

“Go sit,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “I got this.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He jerked his chin toward the counter. “Seriously. Go. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

You frowned. “So have you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t complain about it,” he teased.

“I wasn’t—”

He raised a brow, daring you to argue.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine. But just for a minute.”

Jake smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and got to work. And as much as you wanted to be stubborn, you had to admit—it was kind of nice, watching him take over without question, moving easily through the store like he belonged there. Like he was looking out for you.

You wouldn’t think too much about that, though.

You were just tired. That was all.

You walked into the store to find Jake already behind the counter, spinning a lollipop between his fingers like he had nothing better to do. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, and he glanced up, his face lighting up like it always did when he saw you.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the counter. “I thought you called out.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your bag into the back room before tying your apron around your waist. “You act like I’m late.”

“No, but you are predictable. Same routine, same time, same sigh when you walk through that door.”

You blinked at him. “I don’t sigh.”

“You do sigh,” Jake insisted, leaning against the counter. “It’s like a little huff, right before you clock in. Like you’re mentally preparing yourself for another day of dealing with me.”

You snorted. “I am mentally preparing myself for that.”

Jake clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. It was always like this with Jake—teasing, effortless, like the two of you had been friends forever instead of just co-workers.

As you stepped behind the counter, something caught your eye. Right beside the register, nestled between a stack of receipt paper and a jar of lollipops, sat another tiny candy heart.

You froze.

It was pale yellow this time, stamped with the words: Did You Miss Me?

Your fingers twitched at your side.

It had been a couple of days since the last one. You’d almost forgotten about them, chalking it up to some random prank or a coincidence you didn’t care enough to figure out. But now, seeing another one sitting there so blatantly—like it had been waiting for you—you couldn’t ignore it.

Jake’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You okay?”

You glanced up to find him watching you, head tilted, curiosity flickering in his warm brown eyes.

You quickly scooped up the candy heart, rolling it between your fingers. “Yeah, just… found another one of these.”

Jake’s gaze flickered to the tiny candy in your palm, then back up to your face. His lips twitched, but he said nothing.

You sighed. “Are you sure you don’t know where these are coming from?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe you do have a secret admirer.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Jake leaned in slightly, resting his elbows on the counter. “What? You don’t think someone could have a little crush on you?”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it. His tone was teasing, but there was something else behind it—something softer, something unreadable.

You swallowed, glancing back down at the candy heart.

If this was some secret admirer situation… why did it feel like Jake was the only person who could possibly be behind it?

The shift passed in a blur of ringing up customers, restocking shelves, and dodging Jake’s ridiculous antics. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to that tiny candy heart still sitting in your apron pocket.

Jake had definitely been smirking when you asked about it. And the way he said secret admirer? That lingering tone, the way his eyes stayed on you a beat too long—it was messing with your head.

But this was Jake. Your annoying, playful, way-too-charming-for-his-own-good co-worker. He flirted with everyone. Right?

So why did it feel different when it was you?

You were restocking a shelf of assorted chocolate bars when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn, Jake reached over your shoulder, grabbing a candy bar from the top shelf. His arm brushed yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back.

“Need help?” His voice was low, teasing, way too close to your ear.

You tensed. “I’m literally already doing it.”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d make myself useful.”

You glanced over your shoulder—big mistake. He was close, leaning in just enough that you could see the faint dimple in his cheek, the warm brown of his eyes focused solely on you.

Your stomach flipped.

He was definitely messing with you.

You huffed, grabbing the candy bar from his hand and shoving it back on the shelf. “If you’re so desperate to be useful, go clean up the display case.”

Jake chuckled but stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The worst part? He wasn’t even really flirting. At least, not in a way that would make it obvious. He was just being Jake—close, playful, always toeing the line between teasing and something else.

Your first mistake was answering Jake’s messages.

Your second mistake was letting him talk you into whatever this was.

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” you grumbled as you trudged alongside him down the sidewalk.

Jake stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, a lazy grin on his face. “It’s simple. I called, you answered, I suggested we hang out, and boom—here we are.”

“You ambushed me.”

He scoffed. “Ambushed? No. Strategically intercepted? Maybe.”

You shot him a look. He had definitely intercepted you. One minute, you were leaving the bookstore with a new novel tucked under your arm, and the next, Jake appeared out of nowhere, falling into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He had gasped dramatically upon seeing you. “Fancy running into you here. What a coincidence! What are the odds?”

(Zero. The odds were zero. He had texted earlier asking what you were doing, and like a fool, you told him.)

Now, you were headed toward some vague destination he refused to tell you about, half-annoyed, half… intrigued.

“Seriously, where are we going?” you asked as you dodged a crack in the pavement.

Jake grinned. “You’ll see.”

Not long after, you arrived at a small, tucked-away arcade nestled between two larger buildings. The neon sign flickered slightly, and through the glass doors, you could see rows of game machines blinking with colorful lights.

You raised a brow. “An arcade?”

Jake shrugged. “Figured we could use a break from all the sophisticated, mature work we do at the candy shop.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, stacking chocolate bars is so top notch.”

He laughed, holding the door open for you. “C’mon, humor me.”

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia—the hum of machines, the occasional chime of a jackpot, the sound of kids groaning in defeat.

Jake immediately made a beeline for the change machine, exchanging a few bills for a handful of tokens. He tossed one in your direction.

“You are playing,” he said before you could protest.

You sighed but pocketed the token. “Fine. But I’m picking the game.”

Jake smirked. “Deal.”

It turned out, you were ridiculously good at air hockey.

Jake, however, refused to take his losses with grace.

“No way,” he said as you sent the puck flying past him for the fifth time in a row. “You’re cheating.”

You smirked, resting your mallet on the table. “I’m winning.”

He pointed at you. “Same thing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe you’re just bad at this.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Okay, you know what? New challenge.”

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the claw machines.

You stumbled slightly at the sudden contact, your pulse skipping for reasons you refused to acknowledge. “What—”

“You think you’re good? Let’s see you win something from here.”

You scoffed. “Oh, this is how you’re gonna redeem yourself? A game literally designed to scam people?”

Jake grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

With a sigh, you stepped up to the machine. The glass case was filled with plushies, some cuter than others. One in particular caught your eye—a small, stuffed bear with a red bow.

You fed a token into the slot, gripping the joystick. Jake leaned in closer, watching intently.

“Alright,” he murmured. “No pressure.”

His shoulder brushed yours, the warmth of him distracting in a way that should not have mattered. You tried to ignore it, focusing on maneuvering the claw just right.

You pressed the button, holding your breath as the claw descended… grabbed… lifted…

And dropped the bear at the last second.

You groaned. “I hate this game.”

Jake laughed. “Alright, alright. Move aside, rookie.”

You stepped back, crossing your arms as he took his turn. He was all confidence, cracking his knuckles like this was some grand mission. You watched as he carefully maneuvered the claw, his brows furrowed in concentration.

He pressed the button. The claw dropped, grabbed the bear…

And actually held onto it.

Your jaw dropped. “No way.”

Jake turned to you, smug. “See? Just takes skill.”

You rolled your eyes. “Or dumb luck.”

Ignoring you, he retrieved the plushie and—without hesitation—pressed it into your hands.

Your fingers curled around the soft fabric. “What…?”

Jake stuffed his hands back into his pockets, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “You wanted it, right?”

Your heart stuttered.

It was such a simple thing, really. Just a stuffed bear. Just a silly arcade game.

But the way he had given it to you—so casual, so Jake—made something warm settle in your chest.

You swallowed. “Thanks.”

Jake shot you a lopsided grin, the tension slipping away. “Don’t mention it.”

An hour later, after too many games and way too much laughter, you found yourself sitting on the curb outside, sipping a milkshake while Jake scrolled through his phone beside you.

“This was fun,” you admitted, surprising even yourself.

Jake glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He smirked. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get a big head about it.”

Jake chuckled, then took a long sip of his drink. After a moment, he said, “So… if this was a date—”

“It wasn’t.”

“—but if it was,” he continued, ignoring you, “would it have been a good one?”

You hesitated, then glanced at the stuffed bear still tucked under your arm.

You exhaled, tilting your head at him. “Maybe.”

Jake grinned. “I’ll take it.”

The next shift started like any other—except now, you couldn’t unsee it.

The teasing, the little moments that lingered just a second too long, the way Jake always seemed to be watching you with some kind of quiet amusement.

And, of course, the candy hearts.

You found one waiting for you by the register as soon as you clocked in. Soft pink, with the words:

You Think About Me, Don’t You?

Your stomach flipped.

It was getting harder to ignore the truth.

The candy hearts weren’t random. They weren’t some inside joke or coincidence.

They were from Jake.

And you were pretty sure he wanted you to figure it out.

Halfway through your shift, you decided you were going to catch him in the act.

For weeks, he had been slipping those candy hearts into your space without you noticing. That meant he had to be sneaky—waiting until you were distracted, picking moments when your back was turned.

So, you planned accordingly.

You made yourself look busy, stacking lollipops near the front, organizing shelves that were already perfectly fine. But out of the corner of your eye, you watched him.

And sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, he made his move.

You saw it happen in real time—Jake, casually leaning against the counter, fiddling with a bag of chocolates while you pretended not to notice. Then, when he thought you weren’t looking, he reached into his pocket and slipped a tiny candy heart onto the counter beside your register.

Gotcha.

You whirled around just as he was about to step away. “You!”

Jake froze mid-step. “Me?”

You pointed at the candy heart. “You.”

He glanced at the heart on the counter, then back at you, face unreadable. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, really? So that just magically appeared out of nowhere?”

Jake shrugged, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Maybe the candy shop is haunted.”

You snorted. “Yeah, haunted by you.”

Jake grinned, but there was something different about it this time—something softer. “Alright, fine. You caught me.”

Your breath hitched slightly. Even though you had known, hearing him admit it sent a strange, fluttery feeling through your chest.

“So… all this time?” you asked, voice quieter.

Jake nodded. “All this time.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He held your gaze, something unreadable in his eyes. “What do you think?”

You didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but saying it out loud felt like too much.

Jake must have sensed it, because instead of pushing, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out another candy heart.

He held it up between two fingers, letting you read the words stamped across the surface.

Kiss Me.

The air between you changed.

Jake meant it as a joke—probably. His smirk was still there, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his breathing slowed just a fraction.

He wasn’t expecting you to take him seriously.

Which is exactly why you did.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, grabbed the front of his apron, and pressed your lips against his.

Jake made a startled noise against your mouth—like he hadn’t actually thought this far ahead—but then he melted into it, his hands instinctively finding your waist.

It was sweet, a little clumsy, the faint taste of sugar lingering between you.

When you finally pulled away, Jake just… stared at you.

Completely caught off guard. Completely flustered.

You had never seen him speechless before. It was kind of amazing.

Finally, after a long moment, he blinked.

“…So, uh,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “You did get the message.”

You smirked. “Took me long enough.”

Jake exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You just kissed me in the middle of our shift.”

“You literally asked me to.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You shrugged, turning back to the register like your heart wasn’t racing. “Well, maybe next time, don’t challenge me.”

Jake just watched you, a dazed smile on his face.

“…Next time, huh?”

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[woozinhos]

Doing it raw first time with mingyu after getting married + P.s I always wait for your post😭🥹🫂

Notes: awww anon thank you so much I’m happy to have got back into writing hope you enjoy !!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Mingyu held you close as you both lay on the bed, your wedding clothes discarded on the floor. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window. He looked at you with a mixture of love and desire, his eyes roaming over your body. "I can't believe you're mine," he whispered, tracing his fingers along your curves. "I'm so lucky to have you as my wife."

You blushed at his words, still in disbelief that you were now officially married to the man you loved. "I'm the lucky one," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "You're everything I've ever wanted and more." Mingyu smiled and kissed the top of your head. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he said, his hands moving lower to caress your thighs. "I've wanted to make you mine in every way possible." You could feel his arousal pressing against you, hard and insistent. Mingyu's touch was becoming more urgent, his lips finding their way to your neck and collarbone.

"I want you," he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. "I want to claim you as mine completely, with no barriers between us." You shivered at his words, your body responding to his touch and his possessiveness. "I want that too," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair. "I want to feel you inside me, all of you."

Mingyu groaned and flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust. "There's no going back once we do this." You nodded, looking up at him with trust and desire. "I'm sure," you said firmly. "I want to feel you raw, to be connected to you in every way." Mingyu smiled and kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours. He positioned himself between your legs, his cock throbbing with need. "I love you," he murmured against your lips as he began to push into you.

You gasped as he entered you, the feeling of his bare cock stretching you open completely new and intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slowly filled you to the hilt. Mingyu let out a low moan, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel so good, baby," he said, his voice strained. "You're so tight and wet for me." Mingyu had to stop for a moment, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He had never felt anything like this before, the sensation of being inside you without a condom was overwhelming.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I don't think I'm going to last long like this." You smiled up at him, understanding the effect you were having on him. "It's okay," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "We have all night. Just let go and enjoy it." Mingyu nodded, his eyes locking onto yours as he began to move again. His thrusts were slow and deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. "I love you," he repeated, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "I love you so much." You moaned his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. The feeling of him moving inside you was pure ecstasy, every nerve ending in your body alight with pleasure.

Mingyu was losing himself in the sensation, his control slipping as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged. "I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, baby." Mingyu thrust into you with a fierce intensity, his hips slamming against yours as he reached his peak. With a deep groan, he spilled himself inside you, his hot cum coating your walls. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, pumping you full of his seed. You held him close, your body shaking from the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

"You came so much," you whispered, your voice filled with awe. "I can feel it all inside me." Mingyu chuckled, nuzzling your neck. "I think I've found my new addiction," he admitted. "I love the feeling of being inside you, bare and raw."

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Tweets from hors d'oeuvres (horse divorce) (@/ corviiid).

On Sep 4: anyway the real dichotomy in ace attorney is narumitsu who dance around being effectively married on the soulmate plane for 30 years before having a tearful revelation in the middle of a murder-conspiracy vs klapollo who are like wanna go on a date after work yeah okay sure

phoenix is alike apollo. take it from me, a married man. ur love life Will be torrid for 2 decades. 3 if u count the years when u were 8 and working out the connecting b/w homosexuality and court but it Will be worth it. apollo is like klavier is bringing thai food to my apartment

On May 12, 2019: judge: well then, mr wright? what is this decisive evidence? phoenix: (this is it... i can't afford to get this wong!) phoenix: Take That! everyone: ... ... ... judge: this is your wedding ring phoenix: yeah. miles please help edgeworth, standing at the opposite bench:

On Nov 5, 2021: kay: you gotta put yourself out there mr edgeworth i mean you never know! mr right could be just around the corner edgeworth: ? no, it's a work day. he'll be in his office downtown. kay: what? edgeworth: what?

On Sep 7: klapollo. is so good and so funny. diva rock-star prosecutor who is like human form of the concept of vtubers. net worth of a small nation state. has his own barbie doll. dating: man who has invented a category called "most normal person on earth" and is trying so hard to win it

apollo is like klavier i cant date you i would feel guilty if we were dating but i didnt support you by watching you new reality/lifestyle show but i cant because it's on at the same time as the local news and i have to write the forecast in my pocket notebook every night

klavier is like ach i understand boyfriend forehead. you are too insecure to join me on the red carpet. i assure you that everyone will find your suit that you bought from target as charming as i do and apollo is like no i know that

On Aug 30: thinking about phoenix wright getting his badge back after eight long years and immediately taking on a case without checking who his client is and then when he finds out his client is an actual fucking orca he's like Aw brother. Golly gee. Well this might as well happen

On Oct 12: trucy, mouth full of pocky: so you'd think klavier is the cool one in the relationship but actually he get excited about well drafted contracts. it's not him phoenix letting trucy give him a pedicure: so it's apollo? trucy: no phoenix: well, that's all the options trucy: yeah

On Jan 21, 2020: naming one child kristoph and one child klavier is really like going these are my two cats this one is named geoffrey and this one is named placemat

On Sep 5: does anyone remember that one tumblr post about what if there was an anime where every episode is the protagonist dodging the first episode of another anime because she wants to be just some guy. realising that that's apollo justice

orphaned when his father died in a fire and mother disappeared and lost her memory? that's just how it is, won't look into that. raised in a foreign country by a guy who becomes an infamous insurgent? don't want to talk about it. will never bring it up. i want to be a solicitor

On May 3, 2021: phoenix becoming an attorney to see miles again proving he's been thinking about miles for 15+ years and never stops and then in investigations miles proving that he thinks about phoenix like eight times a day every time anything happens but never by name that's too intimate

just a whole ass relationship of miles microwaving a lasagne and thinking This microwave lasagne, once so cold, is now warm to the touch. Much like my heart, which was changed by... that attorney

maya voice That's why you bought out the grocery store's entire supply of bratwurst? To meet Edgeworth?! and then edgeworth doesn't even like bratwurst

halfhearted bratworth joke

(miles edgeworth tripping over a crack in the sidewalk) That's right... I could have fallen so much farther if I had not been caught by a certain /End ID]

in honour of twitter violently lowering itself into a pit of lava, i’ve started saving some of my favourite tweets from my twitter account in case it all goes down. i guess i’ll start posting them here on tumblr in chunks - the ace attorney ones go here, though i know i haven’t been all that active lately!

this is also a heads up that i’ve made a new general blog @corviiids for all the yammering that’s been on twitter up until now. if you’re INTERESTED in yammering, you’re very welcome to come over and follow me there too.

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[berfgrimm]

no hands | choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, praise kink, sextape (kinda? whoops), mentions of violence, very brief allusion to suicide, vaping, semi-public, fluff.

note: surprise for all of us, because i was worried I wouldn’t be able to post again so quickly lol. this was technically a request that i think i tweaked a little after someone sent that one tiktok a few days ago.

———————

You can already feel his eyes on you from across the club, burning into the back of your head. You spare a casual glance over your shoulder to see if your senses were correct and, yeah, he’s staring. His jaw is set firmly in place, scowling at you, his vape clutched in his hand so hard that you feel it could break. He’s definitely pissed off.

Initially, you aren’t sure what exactly it is that you’ve done to set him off like this. All you’re doing is ordering another drink at the bar, and talking idly to another patron. Maybe that’s what it is? Is he jealous?

This guy who stands next to you, talking about how he loves coming to this club, is just that: a guy. He’s not your type, by any means. He seems annoying and frankly boring, but you are nothing if not polite, so you humor his conversation.

“I love it here, too,” you smile, focusing on the man in front of you again.

“You come here a lot,” he says, resting his arm on the bar to lean a little closer towards you. “I’ve seen you here before.”

“I feel like we should buy stock in the place, we’re here so often,” you laugh.

“‘We’?” the man asks.

“Me and my boyfriend,” you say, weakly gesturing behind you. “And his friends, usually.”

“Ah, boyfriend,” he nods, a look of disappointment on his face. “I should have come over to speak with you the first night I saw you. Maybe we could have changed that.”

“Oh,” you say, simply. You’re thankful for the dim lighting in the club because you’re sure that you blush when it hits you that he’s flirting with you, and you’ve been foolishly welcoming it.

“You know, we still could change it,” the man continues. “Which one is your boyfriend? I can win in a fight, I’m sure.” You scoff at his claim, because there’s no way this guy could take your boyfriend on and win without any extenuating circumstances in play.

“Sorry,” you say, still finding yourself trapped by your instinct to be polite. “I doubt that you could. He likes to fight.”

It’s not untrue; Su-bong has gotten into several physical altercations since you’ve been with him, but it wasn’t as though he sought them out. It sounds silly when you say it out loud, so you break eye contact with him and look at the bartender, checking on your drink.

“I should get back soon…” you say. “I’m sure they’re wondering where I am.”

“Am I making you nervous?” the man asks, taking a small step closer to you. “Or is your boyfriend one of those guys who needs to know where you are at all times?” You laugh, as the bartender sets your drink on the bar in front of you.

Su-bong does not control you like this stranger implies. He has a healthy amount of jealousy within him, but he doesn’t often let it out. Generally, if he catches another guy so much as looking in your direction, he will pull you closer or hold you tighter as a reminder. But men have never flirted openly with you in front of him.

“Is he?” the man pushes.

He’s not aggressive, thankfully, but more persistent in his advances. Foolishly, you haven’t given him any obvious signs of disinterest, though you thought that mentioning your boyfriend would have been indication enough. Even if you weren’t with Su-bong, you would not be interested in pursuing anything with this man — now if you could only make that clear to him.

“No, I guess not,” you say, with a laugh, unsure of how to react beyond maintaining your politeness.

“MG Coin.” Your boyfriend’s voice comes from behind you, and immediately he slips past you, placing himself in the space between yourself and the stranger. “You must not be thinking straight,” Su-bong says. “Do you need me to knock some sense into you again? We know how that went the last time you thought you could take something from me.”

Fuck, you think. This is Myung-gi.

You’d never seen him before, but you should have recognized his voice from how often you’d overhear Su-bong watching one of his videos. There was a time where you thought that you were going to lose your boyfriend to this guy, because he spent more time watching MG Coin videos than he did with you. Unfortunately, it took a significant financial loss for Su-bong to realize that it was a waste, but you were both past that, and moving to a happier life.

“I didn’t take anything from you before,” Myung-gi says. “You held out for more money.” You can notice from your position behind Su-bong that he immediately tenses up, so you place your hand on his back to try to calm him. “I never thought you’d have anything that I’d want,” Myung-gi continues, a small smirk on his lips. “But I have to say…I’m tempted.”

Su-bong straightens his back, trying to make himself look taller, but you grab a handful of his shirt to keep him from making a decision he’ll regret. He takes a hit of his vape, locked in a stare with Myung-gi, who shows no signs of backing down.

“What do you think?” Myung-gi asks, looking past Su-bong and locking his gaze onto you.

“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Su-bong says, firmly, catching the other man’s attention again. “You don’t get to look at her.” The tone of Su-bong’s voice is different. You know he’s a little jealous, but this is beyond him being territorial — he’s furious. “You should consider yourself lucky that she’s here,” Su-bong continues. “Right now, her hand on my back is the only thing keeping me from bouncing your head off of the floor.”

“Your attitude hasn’t changed since the last time I saw you,” Myung-gi laughs. “I almost missed this, Thanos.”

“Since you’re so busy pushing up on my girl, that must mean your little pregnant sweetheart must have finally ditched you.”

“I’m glad we’re able to have this chat, though,” Myung-gi says, with a smirk, not appearing to be affected by Su-bong’s jab. “After the games, I would have expected you to end up on that bridge again.”

“Hey!” you snap, reaching past Su-bong and shoving Myung-gi by his chest. He takes a few stumbled steps backwards, and you move past your boyfriend to place yourself between him and his enemy. “Do not talk to him like that,” you say. “You wanted to cause some problems tonight, well, now you get to experience my attitude.” Myung-gi appears a little stunned by the way you speak to him, but you continue. “I had zero interest in you from the start, so let’s clear that up first,” you say. “He already told you that I’m the only reason he hasn’t put his hands on you yet, and now I’m more inclined to let him do what he wants.”

“Hmm, well, aren’t you two perfect for each other,” Myung-gi laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s right!” Su-bong says, proudly, slinging his arm over you from behind and leaning forward to point at Myung-gi. “So, run along, MG Coin. Find someone else to scam.”

Su-bong waves his hand dismissively in Myung-gi’s face, and the other man rolls his eyes as he takes his leave. Su-bong leans harder against you, pulling you closer to him as you hear the crackling of him hitting his vape. You grab your drink from the bar, keeping your body relatively stiff to hold the extra weight your boyfriend has put on your shoulders. You take a sip of your drink, and set the glass down again just as Su-bong’s arm that is draped over you lifts so he can grasp your chin. You feel him stand upright again, and he tilts your head to the side so he can look into your eyes.

“That was sexy,” Su-bong mutters, pressing a kiss to your lips. “But you shouldn’t have been talking to him to begin with.”

“Oh, I’m not allowed to talk to other men?” you scoff, shoving his hand away from your face.

“Not ones I hate.”

“Well, make me a list of their names so I’ll know in the future,” you joke, trying to pull away, but Su-bong wraps his other arm around you now, trapping you against his body.

“Where you going, huh?” he mumbles, with his mouth against your ear. “Running after your new boyfriend or something?”

“Ya’know, maybe I should,” you reply, pushing his face away from you. “I bet he’ll dance with me, since you never want to.” Su-bong unwraps his arms from you, and grabs your drink from the bar, quickly drinking the rest and setting the glass back down.

“After you, my feisty girl.” you can hear Su-bong smirking as he speaks, standing behind you.

You make your way to the dance floor with your boyfriend hot on your trail. You settle on a spot near the edge of the crowd and Su-bong slides into place in front of you, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you against him immediately.

Su-bong likes showing up at this club when a specific DJ is there because he knows that he would play what he deemed ‘good music’. Tonight is one of those nights and you slowly begin to grind against your boyfriend to a song that hasn't been popular in at least ten years. Su-bong’s hands stay on your hips, but you know that won’t last long; he usually won’t dance with you at the club because he can’t contain himself when he feels you grinding on him. Judging from the look on his face, tonight is no different.

One of his hands presses to the small of your back, getting you even closer to him, and you can feel that he’s already starting to get hard. You press your hands against his chest and lick your lips, peering into his eyes with the most innocent look you can muster.

Su-bong smirks, leaning in towards you as if he’s going to kiss you, but you slip your tongue from your mouth and flick the tip over his lips to tease him. He bites his lip, but you can still see how wide he smirks, his eyes now dropping between your bodies to watch your hips sway.

One of Su-bong’s hands grasps your thigh, pulling your leg to pinning it against his hip so you can feel him getting harder. Your arms wrap around his midsection now, holding yourself closer to him so you can press yourself against his bulge.

“You’re hard already?” you ask, noticing Su-bong’s is fixated on your lips.

He doesn’t answer you, but instead pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He holds it above your heads at an angle so he can snap a picture of you both. Quickly, he releases your leg as the song overhead begins to transition into another one of his favorites. Su-bong spins you around and yanks your body against his again, pressing himself against your ass as he takes hold of your hips again.

You feel that he still has his phone in his hand, as it’s pressed to your hip, so you slip it from his grasp and start to record a video. You grind yourself against him harder now, putting on a show for the camera as you flutter your eyelashes. You can see in the phone screen that Su-bong watches between you bodies for a moment, his lips moving to the lyrics of the song. When he looks up at the camera, he flashes his middle finger, playing at being tough like he loves.

Su-bong’s arms wrap around your body, and he leans against your back, pressing his head against yours. You both continue to play it up for his camera: he sticks his tongue out and uses one hand to cup your breast over your shirt, while you reach behind you to grab his shirt to keep him snug against you.

You hand his phone to him and focus on your dancing. You get lost in the song, grinding and swaying, and when you don’t feel Su-bong’s hands on your hips you throw a glance over your shoulder to see him vaping while aiming the camera of the phone between your bodies.

“My girl’s nasty,” Su-bong says to the camera while laughing. He points the camera towards you and you place your hands on your knees, bumping and grinding harder against him. “Fuck, that’s good!”

When the song begins to transition again, you feel his hands snaking around your waist, pulling your back flush against him. One of his hands begins to work up the front of your skirt, and for a moment you allow him to think he’s being sneaky. When his fingers make contact with your panties, you grab both of his hands and lace your fingers together.

“C’mon, baby,” Su-bong laments. “I know you can feel how hard you’ve got me. No one’s looking, so we can just—”

“I’m not letting you finger me in public,” you say, reaching over your shoulder to place your hand on the back of his head, fingers threading through his short hair. He nudges your head so you angle to meet him for a kiss; Su-bong thinks that he’s sneaky, because you can feel his hand making another attempt to reach under your skirt. “If you keep trying,” you mutter against his lips. “I won’t let you touch me for a week.”

“You wouldn’t be able to make it even two days without begging me to touch you,” Su-bong laughs, and you can’t help but join him because he’s right. “You don’t want me to touch you right now because you got wet thinking about me stomping MG Coin’s head in,” he teases. “You liked watching me get jealous over you.”

“Your voice gets deeper when you’re jealous,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his, still grinding against him, although not as voraciously.

One of Su-bong’s hands makes its way up your body, cradling your chin so he can hold you in place to kiss you again. When he breaks the kiss, he traces his fingers over your lips, and you can’t help yourself: you part your lips, hoping he takes the hint. With a smirk, he slips his index and middle fingers into your mouth, shallow, not even to his first knuckles. You keep your mouth open so he can watch you twirl your tongue around his digits; he can’t look away.

“Didn’t you drive us here tonight?” Su-bong asks, his voice deep and thick as your mouth now closes around his fingers, sucking softly.

“Mmhm,” you hum.

“I don’t think anybody will miss us…” he trails off, letting you come to your own conclusion as to what he’s implying. You smile around his fingers, slowly pulling them from your mouth. “Twenty minutes,” he adds, grinning.

You take hold of his hand, dragging him behind you through the club towards the exit. When you step outside, you become aware of how hot you are when the cold night air hits your skin; it makes you realize just how bad you want Su-bong. You both hurry across the street towards the parking structure, taking the stairs to the second floor where you parked, the whole time slapping Su-bong’s hands away from your thighs.

When you reach the car, Su-bong hurries into the backseat first, scooting over and motioning for you to follow. You immediately straddle him, grinding your now soaked panties against him, grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss. You’re very aware of how hard you’re breathing against him, overwhelmed with desire for him. One of Su-bong’s hands rests on your hip, while the other slips between your thighs, pushing your panties to the side so he can touch your clit.

“Mmm,” you hum, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “I didn’t come out here for you to tease me.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re ready for me, baby,” he chuckles, his other hand moving to free himself from his pants. “Shit, I don’t have a condom,” Su-bong says, the realization suddenly hitting him.

“I don’t care,” you say, reaching between your bodies and pulling your panties to the side to give him the access he needs. “Fuck me anyway.”

“I love you,” he laughs, guiding his cock inside of you. “Jesus, you always feel so good.”

“So do you,” you reply, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can settle down to bury him all the way inside of you. You stay still, feeling him throbbing inside of you, thick, causing you to ache; you sigh weakly because you could stay just like this for the rest of your life.

“Now who’s teasing?” Su-bong asks, slipping his hands up your shirt, pushing it above your breasts. “The way you’re clenching around me…”

“Can’t take it?” you tease, closing your eyes and licking your lips.

“You won’t be able to take what I’ll do to you if you keep this up,” Su-bong returns, and you both chuckle softly. You start to circle your hips in his lap, wide slow circles to get some friction to your clit. “Come here,” he whispered, pressing his hand to your back to force you to lean towards him. He holds you there, and uses his free hand to tug the cup of your bra away from your breast so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

“Mmm, we can’t help but tease, can we?” you giggle. Su-bong hums in response, quickly switching to play with your other nipple now. You shift your hips forward now, then rock them back, wanting to feel him all over; the movement makes him pull back and settle against the seat again.

Su-bong, likely tired of the teasing, sets his hands onto your hips, urging you to lift off of him. You raise up until only his tip is left inside of you, and you give another circle of your hips, for one last tease. Su-bong laughs breathlessly, but yanks you down again, burying inside of you to the hilt. You moan, gripping his shoulders more firmly as he lifts you again only to bring you down harder.

“Let me do it, baby,” you whisper. “Let me take care of my man for coming to my rescue.” Su-bong gives a smug smirk, loosening his grip on your hips to allow you to take the lead.

You love this version of Su-bong. He gives you a taste of Thanos, smug and overconfident, and you give him what he wants: a girlfriend who is obsessed with him. It turns you on because it’s almost like a roleplay; sure, you love Su-bong, and you express your admiration for him often, but when you fawn over him, it’s different.

“Thank you for letting me ride you,” you whisper, very slowly starting to rock yourself back and forth in his lap. “I’m so lucky that I get to feel this big cock stretching me out.” The smirk on his face grows, his eyes trained in your lips while you speak. “Fuck, it feels so good,” you whine, making your voice sound needier.

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Su-bong mutters, yanking your hips faster so you can take the hint and start properly fucking him. “You love the way it makes you feel?”

“Mhm,” you hum, taking his hands and lacing your fingers together so you can use his hands for leverage to start moving faster. “No one makes me feel like this. No one can get me off like you do.” Su-bong pulls in a sharp breath, yanking you towards him and wrapping his arms around you so that he holds your arms behind your back with your bodies pressed together.

“I’d better be the only one getting you off,” he whispers, leaving a few soft bites on your jaw. “No one else is even allowed to look at you.” He speaks through his teeth and it makes your stomach flip.

“Are you gonna kick their ass if they do?” You rock your hips faster, shifting to put some weight onto Su-bong's thighs so you can get him deeper as you move.

“I’ll destroy them,” he breathes. “You’re all mine.”

You moan, because you picture it. Some scumbag laying on the ground beat to hell, with Su-bong standing over them, knuckles bloody and a split lip. It makes you giddy, almost feral thinking about him being so desperate to keep you to himself that he would fight someone. You’re sure that’s something to unpack later, but you have to stay in the moment where Su-bong pulls you forward to lean your torso against him.

“I felt you just now,” he breathes in your ear, letting go of your hands so you can brace yourself on the seat behind him. “Clenching because you were thinking about me fighting for you, weren’t you?” You whimper, nodding your head as you keep rocking your hips forward as best as you can at this new position.

Su-bong grabs the back of your thighs firmly, holding you still as he starts to thrust into you. All you can do is moan, dropping your head against his shoulder because he fucks you so deep like this. You breathe hard against him, moaning from deep inside of you.

“No one has ever fucked me like you can,” you mutter against his shirt, and he moves faster in response. You cup his cheek with one hand turning his head towards you so you can kiss him, feeling his moan rattle in your mouth.

Su-bong’s thrusts get sloppy, losing momentum. You break your kiss and sit up in his lap again so you can take over again. His hands rest on top of your thighs now, allowing you to control the pace at which you start to bounce in his lap.

“You’re so tight,” Su-bong groans. “You feel good like this. I don’t think I’m going to use a condom ever again.”

“The only way you can do that,” you begin, breathless as you still bounce on him. “Is if you’re not fucking anyone else.”

To be fair, you know he’s not sleeping with anyone else, and you have no issue with him not using a condom. But you want to keep playing, teasing. From the look on Su-bong’s face, a smug smirk and a quirked eyebrow, he feels the same.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he says, as though he’s actually thinking about what you said. “I may not be able to make that promise. The ladies love to throw themselves at me, and I’m a gentleman.” You slow your movements until you stop, Su-bong halfway inside of you and a look of confusion.

“Maybe you’d rather have one of them finish you off then, ladies man.”

Su-bong grins now, realizing what you’re doing. When you begin to climb off of him, he grabs your thighs with both hands, flipping you over so you’re laying on your back, flat on the seat. He settles on his knees between your legs, supporting his weight on the back of the seat with one hand and the door of the car with the other.

“You called my bluff,” he laughs, thrusting deep into you, and you have to press your hand to the door to stop your head from bumping against it. “With pussy this good, I don’t need to go anywhere else.”

“If anyone even tried with you, I’d fucking kill them,” you reply and Su-bong’s smirk spreads when he lets out a growl in response to you.

Maybe you both have some things to unpack.

Su-bong fucks you hard and deep, his hips moving faster with each thrust. The car shakes and creaks with his movements and you’re sure that anyone outside would surely know what’s happening if they walk by, but you don't care. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in as he moves.

With your legs now around him, you feel his phone in his pocket and get an idea. You slip your hand into his pocket and remove the phone, giving him a quick look to ask for approval, which he gives you with a smirk and a nod. You start recording, aiming the camera between your bodies first to focus on the way he fucks you.

“You’re so big, baby,” you whine. “I love how you stretch me out.” Su-bong moans, plowing harder into you.

“This pussy is so fucking tight,” Su-bong grinds out, and you aim the camera at his face to record the way he bites his lip, and furrows his brow in concentration. “Who knows how to make you come?”

You know what he’s asking. You told him a long time ago that before him, the only person to make you come was yourself. He was the first one to take enough care to actually get you off, and it felt better than you ever made yourself feel. And now he wants you to tell him again.

“You do, baby,” you moan. “You’re the only one who knows how to make me come. You’re the best I ever fucking had.”

Su-bong goes harder and harder, rolling his hip and angling into you so he can push you closer to your climax. You hold the phone up above you to be able to record both of you as best as you can. He lets go of the door and slips his hand under your skirt to rub your clit. You use your legs that are still wrapped around his waist to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, feeling your orgasm approaching.

Your panting and moaning echoes through the car as you reach your climax. Su-bong fucks you through it, finding his own orgasm from how firmly you clench around him. Your body starts trembling and you lose your grip on the phone so it clatters to the floor, your hands wrapping around his torso to pull him against you.

“Fuck, baby, I love you so much,” Su-bong pants in your ear, still rocking his hips against you as he fills you up.

“I love you, I love you,” you repeat it because fuck you’re so caught up in how good you feel, you can’t ground yourself. He kisses you, sloppy and passionate, his hips slowing to a stop. “Fuck,” you whisper, as his weight drops onto you and you thread your fingers through his sweaty hair. “That was hot.”

“Mhm,” Su-bong hums, kissing along your jaw. “The windows are fogged up.” You angle your head to look at the foggy glass, and you laugh at how silly it seems. When he leans back, peering down at your face, he smiles, his hand blindly feeling around on the floorboard for the phone. “You look gorgeous,” he whispers, pointing the camera at your face. “I’ll make this my lock screen.”

“You’re a freak,” you laugh, embarrassed by the way he looks at you, so you shove the phone away from your face. You grab him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss, and you know he angles the phone to film it. “I love you,” you mutter against his lips.

“I love you, too.”

Su-bong finally stops filming and slowly climbs off of you, tucking himself back into his pants. He rubs his hand soothingly over your thigh as he takes another hit from his vape.

“One day, I’ll convince you to let me fuck you in the club,” he grins, his hand gently fixing your panties and smoothing out your skirt. You laugh, sitting up beside him and adjusting your shirt now.

“Maybe for your birthday,” you quip.

“You always say that,” Su-bong replies, with a small scoff. “The list of birthday sex promises is growing, babe. I hope you can make good on them because I'm ready to wear you out.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Quickie?

Summary: Reader wants to sneak in a quickie before the BAU takes off again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FBI fem!reader

Category: fluff, suggestive (16+)

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content, secret relationship, reader works at FBI but not BAU

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is much more positive than the last post :)

main masterlist

You and Spencer have been secretly seeing each other for a few months now. Since you work in a different department, you don’t get to see him as often as you’d like, and you never have the chance to join him on cases. 

The moment you see the news that the BAU is heading out on another case, your heart sinks just a little. You understand that Spencer’s job is demanding—he’s always chasing criminals across the country, putting his mind to work in ways that save lives. But it doesn’t make it any easier when he’s gone for days at a time, leaving you to miss him in silence.

With a quiet sigh, you pull out your phone and type out a message:

Meet me upstairs before you go?

You don’t have to say where. You both know. The fifth-floor office—empty, forgotten, your little sanctuary within the walls of the FBI. It had started as a joke, just a place to escape prying eyes when work got overwhelming, but over time, it had turned into something more. A safe space for the two of you.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Give me five minutes.

You don’t hesitate, pushing away from your desk and making your way to the stairs instead of the elevator. The anticipation sits heavy in your chest, a mixture of excitement and something almost desperate.

By the time you push open the office door, Spencer is already there, leaning against the desk, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours.

“You’re fast,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t going to waste any time,” he murmurs, already reaching for you. His hands find your wrists, pulling you closer as he stays seated on the desk. His touch is warm and grounding, even through the layers of clothing.

Your fingers drift up to the collar of his cardigan, playing with the fabric as you let yourself relax in his presence. “I hate that you have to go.”

“I know.” He sighs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate it too. But I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

You nod, though it doesn’t really make it easier. “I just wish we had more time.”

His hand moves to your waist and tightens ever so slightly. “Me too.” There’s a pause, a hesitation in his expression, before he adds, “I think about you all the time when I’m gone.”

Your heart stutters at his confession, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah?”

Spencer huffs out a soft, shy laugh. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face. “Then you better come back to me in one piece.”

You lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to Spencer’s lips—soft, slow, something that feels like a promise. When you pull away, he stays close, murmuring against your mouth, “Always.”

Something about Spencer’s breath ghosting across your lips sends a shiver down your spine. The soft pink hue creeping down his neck is so endearing that it stokes a fire deep in your stomach, pooling heat beneath your skin. You lean in for another kiss, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he melts beneath your touch. One hand threads gently through his hair, fingers curling lightly at the roots, while the other traces delicate patterns against his chest, nails just barely scratching over the fabric between you.

Spencer gets lost for a moment, his mind short-circuiting as he tries to process the reality of you—of your lips on his, of your hands in his hair, of the way you look at him like he’s something to be devoured. It still feels surreal, like a dream he’s half-convinced he’ll wake up from because someone as beautiful as you want him like this doesn’t seem possible.

But then reality crashes back in—the fluorescent hum of the office lights, the distant chatter from the floors below, the ever-present risk of someone walking in. His fingers tighten briefly against your waist before he forces himself to gently push against your shoulders.

“Wait…wait,” he murmurs, his voice breathless and uneven as he tries to collect himself. “We can’t do this here.”

Your lips are already trailing along his neck, warm and teasing, and the way you hum against his skin makes his resolve waver.

“Do what?” you tease, your voice laced with mischief as you press another slow, deliberate kiss just beneath his jaw.

Spencer exhales sharply, his head tipping back slightly before he forces himself to lean away, his cheeks flushed as he fumbles for words. “Um… this.”

Your fingers curl at the nape of his neck, holding him close, your voice dipping into something dangerously sweet.

“What are we doing, baby?” you whisper, letting the words linger between you, daring him to say it.

Spencer’s breath stutters as he struggles to find the right words, his hands hovering uselessly over your hips as if he can't decide whether to pull you closer or push you away. His face is already flushed, the color creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I—I’m… Y/N, I’m going to… uh, get—” He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries and fails to look anywhere but at you. Finally, he forces the word out in a near whisper as if saying it any louder might make it worse. “Hard.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you tilt your head slightly, fingers still tracing lazy patterns along his chest. His honesty is endearing, his nervousness downright intoxicating, and the way his voice wavers only makes the fire in your stomach burn hotter.

“Oh,” you murmur, feigning innocence as your hand moves just the slightest bit lower. “Is that a problem?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, exhaling sharply through his nose like he's gathering every ounce of self-control he has left.

“Yes,” he says, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest. “We’re at work.”

“And?” you press, leaning in just enough to let your lips ghost over his jaw.

He shudders, his grip on your waist tightening. “And… I can’t walk out of here like that.”

“Who says you’ll have to leave here hard?” you murmur, your voice dripping with mischief, your fingers still dancing lightly over his chest.

Spencer’s breath hitches, his body stiff as your words' weight settles over him. His pupils dilate, and for a brief second, you see the internal war flashing across his face—temptation battling with logic, desire against reason.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely above a whisper, shaky and uneven, like he’s already losing control. His fingers dig into your waist as if anchoring himself, but it’s no use—you can feel him unraveling beneath your touch.

Still, he shakes his head, his resolve clinging to the last fragile thread of professionalism he has left. “No, we can’t—not here.”

But his voice lacks conviction, and the way he’s looking at you, lips parted, breath shallow, tells you he wants nothing more than to give in.

You pout, tilting your head as your fingers trace slow, lazy circles against his chest. “Not here?” you echo, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame… I was really looking forward to helping you with your little problem.”

Spencer exhales sharply through his nose, gripping your hips a little tighter like he's trying to physically keep himself in check. “It’s not—” He swallows, glancing toward the closed door like he’s calculating the risk. “It’s not a little problem.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you press closer, feeling the way his breath stutters at the contact. “Oh?” you tease, letting your hand trail just a little lower—not too much, just enough to make him squirm. “Is it a big problem, then?”

Spencer groans, tilting his head back in exasperation. “Y/N…” he warns, though his grip on you doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens.

You press a quick, teasing kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse hammers beneath your lips. “I just think it’s kind of unfair,” you say innocently. “You’re about to leave for who knows how long, and I won’t even get to see you. The least I could do is make sure you’re… comfortable before you go.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather every ounce of restraint he has left. “You are not making this easy.”

You hum, dragging your nails lightly over the fabric of his shirt. “You told me you didn’t want it to be hard.”

His breath catches, and he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—just frustration laced with something darker, something wanting. “You cannot say things like that.”

“Why not?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “You’re the one who admitted to getting hard at work.”

Spencer groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder like he’s conceding defeat. “You’re evil.”

You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. “But you like it.”

He huffs out a breath against your neck, warm and shaky. “Unfortunately.”

You grin, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of his face before pulling back just enough to look at him properly. “Relax, baby,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over his chest. “I wouldn’t actually do anything here.” You lean in, your lips brushing against his in the softest tease of a kiss. “I just like making you squirm.”

Spencer exhales a laugh, shaking his head, but you can see how his eyes have darkened and how his fingers are still gripping your waist. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice lower than before. “I noticed.”

You smirk, pressing one last playful kiss to his lips before pulling away completely, smoothing out your shirt like nothing had happened. “Well,” you say cheerfully, stepping back toward the door. “Have fun on your case.”

Spencer stares at you like he’s still recovering as if he’s not entirely sure if he should be frustrated or turned on. Probably both.

“You’re evil,” he repeats, though the way he’s looking at you says he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[imaginespazzi]

All Fell Down ~ Part 3 ~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

* masterlist in collaboration with @azzibuckets *

summary: paige and azzi have never really been just best friends

a/n: Hello, hello my lovies <3 I'm so sorry; I literally just fully forgot to post this part yesterday because life has been so very hectic. But I think having an Azzi Fudd masterclass before this chapter is probably ideal. As always let me know your thoughts my loves!

Azzi should have expected the deafening silence that follows Paige’s name leaving her lips. If it wasn’t for the sound of the other girl’s breathing -staggered and heavy- she’d have thought perhaps it was a phantom call with no one on the other end of the line. And really Azzi doesn’t know what she was expecting; doesn’t know why she’d expected anything but exactly this when she’d picked up her phone. But when Paige’s CallerID had flashed on the screen, the buzzing of the ringtone cutting into Azzi’s pity party, there hadn’t been much else in her brain other than this sudden burst of hope. It had taken barely two rings before she was scrambling across her bed, grabbing her phone and hitting the green answer button with far too much vigor. It was one syllable but she’d wrapped Paige’s name in a desperate mixture of i just miss talking to you and please can can we fix this. And she’d gotten nothing in return.

“Paige?” she tries again, fighting the fresh new set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes; she’s lost count of how many times she’s cried tonight. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end but still no response and whatever thin string had been holding the remnants of Azzi’s heart together seems to fray even more.

“Okay,” she breathes out, closing her eyes as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “okay Paige,” she repeats, her tone resigned and ready to accept something that feels a little too much like defeat, “I get it. I guess this was um- this was an accident or something so I’ll uh- I’ll hang-”

“Canyoucomepickmeup?” Paige’s words come out hoarse and slurred together as she cuts Azzi off.

“What?” the brunette’s eyes widen, unsure if she’s heard wrong. 

Azzi hears Paige gulp; can almost picture the blonde chewing at her lips like she usually does when she’s nervous, “I asked if- if you could um- can you come pick me up?”

“I-”

Paige begins to ramble before she can say anything, “it’s just uh- it’s just that the rest of team seems to be having a lotta fun and I- I think maybe I drank too much and my head’s throbbing and Evina says I should go home but-”

“Okay.”

“I can’t drive myself and I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin anybody else’s night-” Paige cuts herself mid sentence, taking a second to process what Azzi had just said, “wait- okay?”

The brunette has already slipped off her bed, rummaging around her bedside table for her car keys. She thinks she’s probably giving in a little too easily, thinks she should probably be more pissed at Paige’s audacity to not speak to her for two weeks and then call her out of nowhere to ask for a mundane favor. But it’s Paige. Her Paige. And Azzi knows that if the blonde asked her to show her the stars, she’d find a way to steal the whole night sky for her.

“Okay,” Azzi confirms as she slips into her sneakers, “I should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re actually coming,” Paige’s voice is slightly dazed. 

There’s a pang in Azzi’s chest at the slight surprise in her best friend’s tone. It’s a testament to how much has changed between them. Those unspoken promises of we’ll always be there for each other that had been the solid foundation of their relationship seem to be clouded by fears of are we still the same us? It hits her then the depth of the abyss between them. They’re stranded on opposite sides of it and Azzi just hopes they still have enough strength to build a bridge over it and get to each other again. 

“Do you still want me to come?” she asks timidly as she steps out into the wintry Storrs air. It’s freezing cold but Azzi thinks it’s nothing compared to the way she knows her heart will ice over if Paige says no. 

That familiar silence lingers between them as Azzi waits for Paige to say something. It feels like that’s all she’s done for the past two weeks. Waited. She’d waited for the answers to her list of ever-growing questions as Paige had pulled further and further away from her. She’d waited to catch her best friend’s avoidant eyes so she could try and decipher the storm brewing in them. She’d waited, arms outstretched, for her Paige to come back to her. But she thinks that if Paige says no now, if Paige decides to keep building this wretched wall between them instead of helping Azzi tear it down, then she won’t wait again. Because the weight of waiting is just too much and there’s only so much longer that Azzi can hold on. 

“Evina said to go home,” Paige’s voice trembles when she finally speaks, “she said to go home and all I could think of- was you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers. 

“Azzi,” and that same desperation from before echoes in Paige’s tone, “please come take me home.”

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.5

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 wordcount: 2039

The Monaco paddock was a chaotic mess of media, team personnel, and VIPs swarming every corner. You were supposed to be here—dropping off something personally for Lando. It wasn’t just something, it was the Richard Mille x Louis Vuitton Monaco release watch. You were holding almost a million dollars in your hand. You walked through McLaren hospitality, everyone eyeing you eagerly. Lando had texted you he was in his driver’s room.

You walked in, the door clicking shut behind you.

Lando stood by the small counter, shirtless, toweling off his damp hair from the post-qualifying sweat. His race suit was tied low around his hips, the fireproofs clinging to his torso in a way that was frankly unfair.

His eyes flicked up when he noticed you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Special delivery for me, stylist?”

You huffed, trying to keep your gaze above his collarbones. “I have the watch.” You held up the box for emphasis. “I’ll leave now.”

Lando, predictably, didn’t move aside. He leaned back against the counter instead, arms crossing over his chest. “You in a rush?”

Yes.

Very much yes.

Because the way he was looking at you—like he was thinking about Monaco nights and zippers and everything you shouldn’t be doing right now—was making it very hard to breathe.

You tried for casual, gesturing toward the door. “People are around.”

He shrugged. “Door’s locked.”

“Lando.”

He grinned at your warning tone, like he enjoyed hearing his name in your voice a little too much. “Say it like that again, and we’ll have a real problem.”

Your stomach flipped. He was too close now, close enough that if you reached out, you could pull at the fireproofs, drag him forward. You weren’t going to. You were stronger than that.

But then his fingers brushed yours where you still held the box, and your resolve wavered.

His other hand grabbed your waist, pressing your back against the closed door behind you. A sharp inhale was all you managed before his mouth was on yours, urgent and claiming. His hands moved, tracing down your hips, gripping tight as he pressed into you, his body hot and solid against yours. His fireproofs did nothing to hide the way he was pressing into you, hard and wanting, his breath heavy against your skin as his lips trailed down your jaw.

A small sound escaped you when his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, fingertips pressing possessively. He exhaled sharply against your neck. 

Then—three sharp knocks on the door.

“Lando, hurry up! Media’s waiting.”

Max. Of course.

You startled, stepping away quickly. Lando barely blinked, just exhaled sharply, muttering, “Fucking timing.”

You shot him a look. “Maybe don’t try to feel up your stylist in the middle of the paddock.”

He just smirked, grabbing a fresh shirt from the garment bag. “I wasn’t trying. If I was trying, you wouldn’t have left.”

You opened the door before you could react to that, nearly running into Max, who took one look at your flustered state, then at Lando’s smug expression, and sighed.

“Seriously?”

‘’Thanks for the watch, I’ll find a way to repay you another time’’ he smirked.

You didn’t stay to hear the rest.

That’s when the sneaking around officially started. You felt bad about it, to Flo, professionally. But you couldn’t stop. It was so easy. Fitting rooms, toilets, hotel rooms. It was an unspoken agreement. 

-

You were back in London after the Monaco chaos. The texts continued, you dreaded telling Flo, but you knew you had to.

You were supposed to catch up.

But you weren’t listening. Not really.

Flo was mid-sentence about a horse-riding competition, when she suddenly narrowed her eyes at you. “Okay,” she said, setting her cup down with a little too much force. “What’s up with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She tilted her head. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“You’re stirring your coffee like it personally offended you.”

You glanced down at the spoon in your hand, realizing you’d been absentmindedly spinning it in circles for the last five minutes. You dropped it with a sigh.

Flo’s gaze sharpened. “Oh, God. It’s a boy, isn’t it?”

Your silence was all the confirmation she needed. She leaned forward, eyes lighting up with interest. “Wait. Who? Do I know him?”

You hesitated, then exhaled sharply, looking away. “Flo… I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to say it so I’m just going to say it. It’s... Lando.”

A beat of silence. Then—

Flo burst out laughing.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she wheezed, trying and failing to hold it together. “It’s just—you hated him.”

“I did not hate him,” you muttered.

Flo gave you a look. “When you were at Quadrant, you once said, and I quote, ‘If I have to hear him interfere about the designs one more time, I will throw myself into oncoming traffic.’”

You winced. “Okay, fine. But it was different working together at LV, things changed.”

Flo smirked, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, I’ll bet they did.”

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the table. “I really hope you’re not mad. It’s nothing... serious. Just something casual..”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it. It’s just—fun. That’s all.”

Flo raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that?”

You hesitated for a second too long, glaring at her. You weren’t worried about a famous F1 driver, but for her, of course it was still her brother. 

Flo’s smirk faded slightly. “Oh, babe.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “No, don’t ‘oh, babe’ me. It’s fine. We’re clearly just messing around. It’s not a thing.”

Flo watched you carefully, like she was picking apart every single word. “Okay.. As long as I don’t have to hear any details about it and I’m still your favorite Norris”

You could finally let out a laugh. ‘’You will always be my favorite Norris’’

‘’Thought F1 wasn’t really your scene’’ she want back to teasing. ‘’Who would’ve thought’’

You buried your face in your arms on the table. ‘’Wouldn’t it have been better to go for Lewis?’’ she continued jokingly when you didn’t reply. 

-

You were working in the London LV office when you got a text. 

Lando: I’m in London. What are you doing?

You frowned at your phone, the message popping up between work emails. He wasn’t at a race weekend, so he was either back in Monaco or in London.

You: Working. Why?

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then came back.

Lando: Doesn’t your work involve me?

You rolled your eyes.

Before you could tell him off, another text came through.

Lando: I’ll come help you with that.

Your stomach did an involuntary flip, even though you knew you should have expected this by now.

You: You don’t even know where I am.

Lando: I do, actually. Showroom, right?

You didn’t reply.

Lando: See you soon :)

And just like that, you knew you wouldn’t be getting any more work done.

He arrived half an hour later, strolling into the showroom like he belonged there.

You gave him an unimpressed look from your seat behind your laptop. “I knew I should’ve turned off my location sharing after Monaco.”

Lando just grinned. “Too late.” He plopped into the seat across from you, looking far too comfortable. “So, what’s up?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m working”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

You exhaled sharply. “Why are you here?”

Lando hesitated, then smirked. “I was in London and wanted to see you. Shouldn’t we go to your place? I still haven’t seen your apartment.”

You raised a brow. “And?”

“And that’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” He tilted his head. “I mean, you’ve seen my place. Seems unfair.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because you live in Monaco, and I don’t.”

“Still. I think it’s my turn.”

You scoffed. “Why do you even care?”

Lando shrugged, like it didn’t matter. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. “Maybe I just wanna know where you go when you’re not with me.”

That statement alone made you pause for half a second too long.

Lando didn’t push, just watched you carefully as you exhaled and shut your laptop. “Fine. But only because I need to leave soon anyway.”

“Perfect.” He grinned, standing up. “Lead the way.”

-

Lando followed you into your building like he’d done it a hundred times before, hands in his pockets, an easy smirk on his face.

You, on the other hand, were suddenly hyperaware of everything—of the way your apartment probably wasn’t as put-together as the places he was used to, and how you had left it behind. 

You pushed the thought away as you unlocked the door. “It’s small, so don’t be judgy.”

Lando stepped in first, looking around. “You’re acting like I live in a palace.”

“You do.”

“Okay, fair.” He walked further in, turning in a slow circle as he took everything in. “This is really nice, though.”

You shut the door, crossing your arms. “You sound surprised.”

Lando grinned, plopping onto your couch without hesitation. “I just thought maybe you were hiding something.”

You sighed, dropping your bag. “Yeah, my massive collection of Lando Norris merch.”

“I knew it.” He stretched out, getting comfortable. “So where’s my shrine?”

You rolled your eyes, heading into the kitchen. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“Sure. What are my options?”

You opened the fridge. “Water, juice, or the wine I was saving for a night that doesn’t involve you.”

Lando grinned. “I’ll take the wine.”

You huffed but grabbed the bottle anyway, bringing it over with two glasses. Lando took one, watching you as you sat down beside him.

There was a moment of quiet as he sipped, eyes still trailing over your space.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just… feels kinda nice.”

You frowned. “My apartment?”

Lando hummed. “Yeah. Feels like you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just took a sip of your wine, letting the warmth settle.

Lando turned to you fully, propping his elbow against the back of the couch. “So, do I get the tour?”

You laughed. “Lando, there’s like two rooms.”

“Yeah, and I wanna see them.” He nodded toward the hallway. “Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but stood up anyway, leading him toward your bedroom. 

Lando grinned as he stepped in, scanning the space. His gaze landed on your nightstand, where a book was sitting, spine cracked. He picked it up, raising a brow. “Didn’t take you for the romance novel type.”

You snatched it back. “It’s not a romance novel.”

“No judgment.” He held up his hands, still smiling. “Just getting to know you better.”

You scoffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

Then, as you moved to set the book down, you felt his hands brush your waist, casual and unhurried.

Your breath caught.

Lando leaned in, voice low. “So, how long do I have before you kick me out?”

You swallowed. “That depends.”

He smirked “On?”

“On if you’re actually just here for a tour.”

Lando hummed, fingers grazing your hip. “I think we both know I’m not.”

Your heart pounded as you turned to face him, eyes locking.

Lando leaned in, slow and deliberate. “So?”

You exhaled. Then reached for him first.

The moment your lips met, his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth moved against yours, slow at first, teasing, before his grip firmed, deepening the kiss. You felt the warmth of his palms slide beneath your top, fingertips skimming over your lower back. His hands exploring, slipping under fabric, teasing. His fingers curled at your waist, urging you backward step by step until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Lando’s lips found yours again as he guided you down, his weight settling over you in a way that sent a thrill through your spine. His hands roamed, his touch slow but deliberate, exploring like he had all the time in the world.

“You still gonna kick me out?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement against your lips.

You answered by pulling him closer, fingers tangled in his hair, his quiet laugh dissolving into another heated kiss as he pressed you deeper into the sheets.

WN: hahah the whole story seems just them hooking up now, but dont worry mwahahha, love the black suits and testing livery, this new picture in the fireproofs goes perfect with this chapter, pure coincidence because I had already written this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07@n3versatisfied @anayaverse @tvdtw4ever

[dduane]

Unusual creative moments

So this is why when work circumstances force you to drop a digital-art project in mid-production, you leave yourself some kind of goddamn note as to what it was about and where you were going with it.

...Briefly: Some weeks ago, for some damn reason, I picked up the Daz Genesis 8 figure that appears in the middle of this scene. I think it was discounted, and it amused me, and I had an idea of maybe finding it useful down the line. So I grabbed it.

Then time went by and I got very busy with some other things, and last night I was going through some render files looking for something else, and I ran across the file that underlies this and thought "WTF is this...?" and opened it.

...Well. Don't ask me what happened, or why I set it up in the middle of a duplicate of the render in this post, which some of us have seen before. Possibly I set it up after we got home some night in late December or thereabouts after having a few at the pub. (Or because I'd been doing something to the file that day, and knew the lighting in this one was pretty good, and wanted to see how the figure behaved.)

But it's certainly... a take. A sight gag, anyway. And made me laugh very hard in the middle of the evening, thus doubtless causing some confusion upstairs. :)

(Disclosure: As it happens, I've actually soft-pitched to Henson a couple times over the years. Once at their London offices, just after Spock's World came out, as part of the general (and frankly ridiculous) buzz of Oh look, who knew a woman can write space opera full of surprisingly hard science and respectable-quality prose?! that for some reason surrounded the UK launch while I was doing press there. And once in their old LA studios in the... late 80s, I think? when there was some interest there in the Young Wizards books. Nothing came of either visit, but it was nice to be invited.

Not sure if they'd invite me again after seeing the above, though. Oh well. ...In any case, the polycule is plainly still in shambles.) :)

[muqingslover]

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.