#Keep in mind this is still a big ''Maybe''

[sai-int]

fucking shy!simon for the first time

shy!simon who overthinks it to death. it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he does,. he wants it so badly the thought of your sweet, tight cunt keeps him up at night—but he gets stuck in his own head. he’s big and oafish, maybe a little dumb in this department, rough around the edges, and this is you. he’s terrified of messing it up, of ruining something he doesn’t even know how to name.

shy!simon who (when you finally, FINALLY corner him in the mess and drag him back to your quarters) hesitates every time his hands skim over your skin, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. and when you don’t, when you lean into him instead, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

shy!simon who freezes the first time your tiny, warm hands slip under his shirt and skim over his bare skin. muscles tensing, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. he’s shaking and he swears under his breath, cheeks burning, but he doesn’t stop you.

shy!simon who still asks, "you sure?" when his cock is lined up with your dripping hole, in this quiet, almost broken way, because some part of him still doesn’t believe this is real. and when you tell him—beg him "please just put it in", when you tug his chest flush to yours in instead of pushing him away, something in him finally gives.

shy!simon who starts off so damn careful, like he’s convinced he’ll hurt you if he’s not. you take him easily despite his girth because you just need him that badly, but despite that, he thrusts so slow and hesitant into you, like he’s waiting for some kind of sign to let go.

shy!simon who is absolutely weak for praise. tell him how good his cock feels , that you want him, that you've never been fucked this good before in your life (even though he's barely moving. he's just the perfect size) and he completely loses himself in you, lips letting loose as he babbles your name into the crooks of your neck, grip tightening around your waist and ass as he slobbers against your skin like he can't help it.

shy!simon who is completely gone, pussydrunk off you within minutes. whatever restraint he had disappears, replaced by something raw and aching. he’s still careful, still treating you like something worth holding onto, but now he’s just desperate with it, humping his cock into you until you're whining from overstimulation and until he cums deep inside your tummy with a shudder and wet eyelashes.

shy!simon who doesn’t say much after, but his hands never stop moving, tracing slow circles against your hips, fingers running through your hair. he might not be able to tell you how much he loves you yet, but the way his thumb brushes over your cheek says it all.

[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.

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01,

@loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag,

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz,

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@kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1 @iamawkwardandshy, @wonuskie

[girlbeatings]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who you hooked up with during your experimental phase in college, giving you for sure the best orgasm of your comphet life, and yet you still fall for a douchbag guy that doesn't treat you as well as you thought he would. poor thing.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that helps you get ready for your wedding with said douchbag, forcing a smile and making sure you looked the part of a future lobotomised, white picket fence house wife. she felt bad for you, you had no idea what you were signing up for by accepting this ring as a sign of your 'love' and 'fidelity'. you'd probably realize way too late in life, maybe late 30s, that this is not what you wanted.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that feels just so sorry for you, that she holds you close and tells you how pretty you look today, the happiest day of your life. "always knew you'd make such a pretty little bride.. i mean, look at you..." her voice trails off as she tilts your chin up to guide your attention to the full length mirror. you did look pretty, the fancy white dress, perfect makeup and hair. perfect.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who stares at you through the reflection and gets an idea. a trip down memory lane, before you walk down the aisle.

"this fucking dress... makes you look so cute," she mumbles, her voice slightly forced as she stares at the lewd scene in the mirror. you pant and tremble, white heels dangling off your toes and the dress bunched up at your hips.

abby groans as she watches your cunt leak around two of her thick fingers, sat between her spread thighs and your back against her chest as you struggle to keep yourself together. "does he fuck you this good, baby? bet his dick isn't as big as mine, huh."

it wasn't, you know that much. abby's fingers with girthy, just two of them made you writhe and squelch, and that fucking strap she whipped out a few years ago had your sexual fantazies in a chokehold. the way you were so soaked that it just slipped in and out of your pussy without any struggle at all, the faux veins rippling against your insides and hitting all the right spots until you couldn't take it— and what did abby do then? she held you down and made you cum over and over.

your fiancé couldn't compare even if he tried, which he didn't. you were lucky if he even looked at your clit, never mind the sort of tricks abby was doing on it now.

"my pretty little girl, all dressed in white..." she murmurs, her fingers tapping firmly on your clit before rubbing in circles, watching your face scrunch up and your hips roll against her hand. "he's such a lucky man."

there's jealousy clear in her tone, because god she wants you. not just your body, she wants your fucking soul. your dna intertwined with her own. but she can't have that, because you don't like girls.

though, your face says different when her fingers stuff you full again. your head's empty at this point, so there's no lame excuse as to why you were happily letting your best friend fuck you minutes before your wedding, your soon to be husband already stood at the altar.

her fingers curl up to find that spot, smiling when your body almost lurches forward off the bed at the singeing pleasure that spikes through you. luckily, abby's arm is locked around your waist, and you stay pressed against her as she finger fucks you just how you remember— maybe even better. she clearly had more experience now. are you jealous?

"gonna fuck every vow out of that empty head." she promises, her thumb starting to abuse your clit in time with her plunging fingers, tears starting to bubble in your eyes as you writhe.

"a-abs, i'm— mmph, abby.."

"i know, wifey... pretty pussy's missed me so much, hasn't she?" she whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck as her hand continues to work perfectly between your spread legs. you know you'd think about this on your honeymoon, you'd think about her when your laid next to your husband, unhappy and yearning for her to come save you. and who knows? maybe after a few glasses of wine with your old college friend, she fucks you until you ruin that marital mattress for good.

happy valentine's day !!

⏦ﾟ♡︎ taglist !

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @2012wannabe @jaywritessometimes @jinxedbambi @tohoko @sapphicloverwlw @shadowmythe @fict1onallyobsessed @pornoangelz @milanyas @powderpinkandsweeet @femmecannibal @aeroti @eatencupcak3 @lils-1979 @sobersonder @dozybunny @fawncritter @nahcala @lesbones @sapphicantichrist @ethereaally @ruelezz @90yearoldbear

[cryptidwithaninternetconnection]

Victor trudged into the generic corner store, the flickering lights making him flinch lightly, with nobody at the counter. Shrugging, he goes to the chip section of the dark store to find what he wanted: chips, and a cheap energy drink, but given that nobody is here, Victor will probably just steal the things he wants, fuck big corporations and all that.

As Victor walks, he can’t help but feel watched.. Victor draws his shoulders together in his acid washed green hoodie, and he ignores the feeling, too tired to deal with whatever is making the good ol anxiety act up.

“aha” Victor mutters to himself, finding the chips in a particularly humid and dark area, and while yes Victor doesn’t like how this place feels, a guy needs some fuel for late nights, and it’s finals season. Carrying on, Victor looks at the moderate sized chip isle and looks at his options, all of them being generic brands clearly riffing on more known brands.

Click clack

“whuh-“ Victor blurts, whirling at the sound of something clicking on the floor, when he sees it.

Two red glowing bug-like eyes, staring right at Victor.

“uhm.. hey, just passing through, don’t mind me” Victor says to what he’s assuming is some kind of cryptid, maybe Mothman if the rumors are true and this dingy part of town is haunted by a weird moth-guy-thing. Victor keeps an eye on the eyes and carries on, picking out a barbecue chip bag, casting one glance at the eyes, and leaving the isle

Click clack

Oh it’s following him, great, perfect even, just what Victor needs at 3am. He quickly finds the soda isle, which is more bright due to the fridges having functioning lighting. Casting a wary glance at the thing, which is still shrouded in darkness, before getting closer to the light, and the energy drinks, with little clicking footsteps right behind him.

It’s almost surreal, the hum of the fridge, the static of a broken radio, the flickering lights, all combining with the knowledge that something inhuman is tagging along his snack run creates a perfect experience that Victor will probably chalk up to a dream once finals are done.

Victor spots exactly what he’s looking for- a monster energy, the first actual name brand he’s seen since coming here.

“Siiiick, that’s the stuff” he mutters, grabbing one from the fridge, hesitating, then grabbing another, and turning around.

Mothman is looming in front of the exit out of the isle, looking right at Victor. The cryptid staring him down is massive, its presence almost suffocating with how much power it radiates. With two massive wings like shards of void spread out behind it, two massively oversized red eyes (which Victor realizes are actually just bug eyes, not human ones) perched on a moth-like head and body, with disturbingly human legs and arms, which are muscly and clash against the almost plushie-like body it possesses.

Now how does Victor go about this? He can’t really.. go around mothman, does… does it accept bribes?

Victor tentatively inches forward, offering one of his monsters to the beast, and for a long, excruciating moment, it feels like Victor is going to suffocate from the pressure building in the store.

But finally, Mothman inches foreword, and grabs the energy drink, Victor doesn’t see its mouth, but he somehow knows Mothman will get some use out of it. Speaking of which, Mothman has since turned around, and trudged away, leaving Victor to breath out a sigh of relief, blink back tears of terror, and make his way out of the store, not stoping to pay, because nobody is at the counter.

And Victor can see why

Lookin for a midnight treat

[konigofmyheart]

long way down

MDNI .ᐟ

you sent risky pictures to your ex, but könig found them instead…

implied age gap, references to manipulation (on ex’s side), virgin fem!reader, suggestive!

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

könig groaned, pausing to rub his back as he bent to pick up an envelope right outside his office door, that pesky twinge in his right side reappearing due to having been sat in his office all day, sorting through piles of paperwork. he’d have complained about whoever was on mail duty, except… this letter clearly wasn’t for him. it was face down, its contents poking out: a pretty pink paper and a couple of polaroids?? the only letters he received were bills or work related.

maybe he shouldn’t have, but he took a peek at the pictures, and gott im himmel, they took his breath away. there you are, captured in film, soft shy smiles and silk and lace, such delicate looking lingerie hugging your curves…

he quickly shoves the pictures back in the envelope as his pants get uncomfortably tight, his face warming. say what you will about him, but he’s only human! he unfolds the letter, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the cute stationary and lip stick prints at the bottom of the page. without even reading a word he can tell you must really care for this guy, or else you wouldn’t have put that much effort into this letter. what he wouldn’t give to receive even a fraction of this attention, and here’s someone being so careless with gold like this!

könig slides the letter in the envelope, checking the front. stevens??? lucky bastard, he thinks as he heads to the barracks, begrudgingly intending to reunite it with the rightful owner. you’re a cute girl, you wouldn’t want some old dog salivating over your photos, right? plus, stevens isn’t that bad, a wide eyed recruit as könig himself once was, maybe he accidentally dropped this and has been searching for it frantically. turning into the barracks, he hears loud voices and barks of laughter coming from the rec room, and sure enough, there’s stevens playing a game of cards with three other rookies. they’ve got a fair amount of beer bottles stacked to the side, the losing rookie seemingly having emptied more than the others. they make to stand when their colonel enters the room, though a quick wave from könig has them relaxing back into their seats, breathing sighs of relief.

“stevens, you must have dropped this” he says, holding out your letter, happy to almost be done with his good deed of the month. imagine his surprise when stevens shares a look with his friends before responding with a flippant, slurred “ ‘m sorry about that, sir, i meant to throw that rubbish away… ‘s nothing important”, unsteadily rising to his feet and reaching for the envelope. “in that case, i’ll toss it for you. carry on with your game, men,” könig says between gritted teeth, dismissively clapping stevens on the shoulder, hard enough to make him plop back down on the chair with a grunt, before heading out.

how could stevens not care about such a gift?? unless könig got the wrong read on you… he briskly walked to his private quarters, kicking off his boots at the door and hanging his mask on the wall before settling on his bed. he plucked your letter out, opting to leave the dangerously tempting polaroids in the envelope to keep a clear head. slipping on his reading glasses, he began to read your neat script:

“happy valentine’s day, benji,

i’m really hoping this’ll arrive close enough to valentine’s day or else it’ll just be weird… look, i know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but i’m really sorry. i shouldn’t have made such a big deal about you sleeping with rebeca. i now see that you’re entirely right: it was my fault for not being mature enough for you. you have needs, and you couldn’t help it if i wasn’t there to tend to those needs. i’ve thought a lot about it, and i’ve made up my mind. i’m ready to prove my love to you. i’m still nervous, but like you said, you’re a man, and you need more than just hand holding and boring kisses, and it is getting pretty embarrassing to still be a virgin in my mid 20’s… it’s about time, i just had to realize that. i hope you like the pictures i included. i felt kinda ridiculous taking them, but i wanted to to show you just how serious i am about you, and for you to see what i bought to wear for you when you come home, as your late valentine’s day gift… would you please unblock me? i miss your voice a lot… at least text me? i can’t wait to see you again, if you’ll still have me.

p.s. will you be my valentine? please? <3

p.p.s. in case you lost it, my number is-”

and there, printed clearly, is your number. now könig’s getting the full picture. you’re a sweet girl, far too good for an arschloch like stevens and his manipulations. könig feels such anger to find out that jackass filled your head with such nonsense, pressuring you like some desperate teenager, making you feel insecure and guilty like that. stevens is definitely getting picked for every one of könig’s hand to hand demonstrations, no doubt about it. könig would give anything to have someone like you, and he’s willing to do so, to treat you right, as a lovely thing like you deserves. he takes a deep breath, dialing your number and setting with his back against the wall as the line trills. how he’ll convince you to give him a chance, he doesn’t know, but he does know he’ll do whatever it takes...

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[revelboo]

Revel! I know it's late and Valentine's is almost over, but may I please request Armada Starscream? Maybe about him missing Valentine's because he was so busy and then learning what it is nd making it up to reader. 👉👈

Valentine’s Oneshot- Starscream

Armada Starscream x Reader

• ‘Oh, come on, Alexis. Share.’ Head turning to where the boys are trying to convince Alexis to share little red and pink boxes of treats, he vents softly in amusement. ‘Who took my notebook?’ One of the other boys grumbles digging in his bag. Has no idea what they’re up to, but they’re getting noisy. Heading back to his habsuite, he lets himself in, optics immediately searching you out. And stilling when you look up, face red. “You’re early,” you say, holding up something for him. Leaning down to see what you have in your hands, it’s a folded sheet of paper with a shape drawn on the front. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something for Valentine’s Day.” Valentine’s? A human holiday of some sort?

• It’s not nearly enough and you know it. Can’t even come close to conveying how much you appreciate him. He’d saved you. Taken care of you when he didn’t have to. Still is. Touching the tip of a servo to the crude card you’re holding up, you smile uncertainly up at him. Does he hate it? He’s not saying anything at all. “You made this for me?” He asks and you nod, now unable to look at him as your face heats and you fold the card up.

• A gift. Made by those little hands just for him. Spark warming, his servos flex, wanting to reach for you. Touch you. And your head lowers as you fidget with the gift, looking unhappy. Afraid he’s unhappy with your gift. Primus, you’re so unbelievably sweet. Wants to see those eyes. For you to smile up at him. He’s never sure what to say to you, how to coax you. To explain that he wants you, when he’s sure you couldn’t ever feel that way about him.

• “Sorry, I know it’s stupid.” He’s just staring. Your art skills leaving a lot to be desired. Maybe he’s embarrassed for you. You’re embarrassed for you right now. “Just, never mind.” And he just shrinks to make the mini-cons chirp excitedly, and you stumble back, eyes wide. Because he can shrink? Holding out his hands, you reluctantly hand over the card and watch him inspect it as your heart races like crazy. Still startled that he can become closer to your size, still towering over you, but not as badly.

• “You made this. For me,” he repeats, spark warming as he subspaces it to keep with him and catches your wrist to tug you into his frame. His other hand tipping your head up, wanting to see those eyes. And they’d been gorgeous before, but closer to your size, he’s picking out details he’d missed. Getting lost in those eyes. Do you have any idea how much this means to him. It doesn’t matter what you’d given him, only that you’d thought of him. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

• He’s so close, a big hand cupping your cheek. Can’t explain that saving you was a gift you can never begin to repay him for. That you owe him so much. Owe him everything. Hesitant, you reach to touch the back of his hand. Those optics watching you intently. And he moves so slowly like he’s afraid of spooking you. Leaning down to brush his helm against your forehead as his other arm curls around you to pull you into his warm frame. Holding you in his arms in a way you’d never imagined possible. “That’s okay,” you whisper breathlessly.

[ivyues]

Echos of Home: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O not being close with their parents

Bang Chan

The front door clicks shut, quieter than usual, but it’s enough for Chris to hear from the living room. He frowns, glancing at the time on his phone. You weren’t supposed to be back for another few hours.

“Babe?” His voice carries through the apartment as he stands up, walking toward the entryway. When he sees you, his expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You’re back early.”

You nod, setting your bag down a little too carefully, like you’re keeping yourself in check. “Yeah. I’m back.”

He studies you for a moment, his head tilting slightly the way it does when he’s trying to piece something together. He knows – has always known – that things with your parents aren’t exactly smooth. There’s no big, dramatic fallout, no abusive history, just a constant, lingering sense of not quite fitting in with them. Conversations that feel like walking through a minefield, small comments that chip away at you, a love that never feels warm enough.

Chris takes a step closer, reaching for your hand. “What happened?”

You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. “Nothing new.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding, patient. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He just tugs you into his arms, wrapping you up in a hug that is nothing like the ones you get from your parents – half-hearted, obligatory. No, this one is firm, warm, steady. You melt into it before you even realize how much you needed it.

His chin rests atop your head, his voice gentle. “You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, right?”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “I know.”

“And you know that no matter what, you always have a home here with me?”

Your throat tightens, but in a good way. In a way that makes you feel safe. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I know.”

Chris squeezes you a little tighter before swaying side to side, humming softly. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

Lee Know

It wasn’t unusual for you to be at his parent’s house; in fact, it was almost expected at this point. His parents had practically adopted you into their family, treating you like one of their own. His mom always insisted you stay for dinner, and his dad would ask you about school or work like he would his own son. With the cats curling at your side, it felt warm here – comfortable, safe.

That’s why, when Lee Know casually mentioned, “You know, I think you spend more time at my parents’ house than at your own parents’,” with a teasing smile, he didn’t expect the way your body tensed ever so slightly.

It was brief, almost imperceptible, but he caught it.

You let out a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe you're right.”

He didn’t press, not yet, but the thought lingered in his mind. And then, as if the idea had just struck him, he said, “Maybe next time, I should come over to your place. Your parents probably think I don’t exist.”

Your reaction was immediate. A flicker of hesitation crossed your face, and for a moment, you looked like you wanted to say something – anything – but then, you just shrugged. “They’re busy,” you said vaguely. “They wouldn’t really care.”

That didn’t sit right with him. You had always been good at avoiding certain topics, but this one was different. This wasn’t just avoidance – it was reluctance, something deeper.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice softening. “You never really talk about them.”

You forced a smile. “There’s not much to talk about.”

Lee Know didn’t push. He knew you well enough to understand that if he did, you’d only retreat further into yourself. Instead, he nudged your arm lightly. “Well, if they’re too busy, you know that you can come over any time. I start to think that my mom already likes you better than me.”

Changbin

Changbin slumped onto the couch beside you, letting out a dramatic sigh. “When was the last time you even visited your parents?” he joked, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Oh, you know,” you said with heavy sarcasm, “got yelled at for every life decision I’ve ever made. Good times.”

The teasing glint in Changbin’s eyes disappeared in an instant. He frowned, tilting his head to get a better look at your expression, but you avoided his gaze, pretending to scroll through your phone. His heart sank at the forced nonchalance in your voice.

“Wait… what do you mean?” His voice softened, laced with concern.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “You know how they are. Nothing I do is ever right. I could be a literal millionaire and they’d still find a way to tell me I messed up.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “It’s just how it is.”

Changbin didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “That’s not how it should be, though,” he murmured. “You deserve better than that.”

You blinked at his sincerity, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s fine, Bin. I’m used to it.”

He sighed, shifting closer so your shoulders touched. “That doesn’t make it okay,” he countered, his brows knitting together in frustration. 

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I wonder if I could ever be a good mom,” you admitted. “like… I never really got to experience what having a good mom feels like. What if I mess up the way they did?”

Changbin’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Hey,” he said firmly. “You are already so full of love and care. The fact that you worry about that proves you’re going to be amazing. You won’t be like them. You get to choose the kind of parent you want to be.”

Your heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through your chest. You had always carried the weight of your strained relationship with your parents alone.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I know.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had never been one to push too hard when it came to personal matters. He understood boundaries, respected them even. But every time the topic of parents came up – his or yours – you always managed to steer the conversation elsewhere. And most importantly, you had never once mentioned introducing him to them.

At first, he brushed it off, thinking you were just taking things slow. But after nearly a year together, it stung. It made him wonder if there was a reason, a reason that had everything to do with him.

That thought festered in his chest until one evening, it finally slipped out.

“Do you not want me to meet your parents?” His voice was soft, uncertain.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean… we’ve been together for a while now, but you never bring it up.” He forced a small chuckle, trying to keep his tone light even though it felt anything but. “I just… I guess I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me.”

Your heart sank at the vulnerability in his voice. “Hyunjin—”

“Is it because I’m an idol?” He cut in before you could explain. “I know that might be weird for some parents, and if that’s the case, I get it. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. It feels like you don’t want to include me in that part of your life.”

You swallowed hard, guilt settling in.

“Hyunjin, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them,” you said carefully, fingers gripping the fabric of your sleeves. “It’s just… my relationship with my parents isn’t great. It’s complicated.”

His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering across his face. “Complicated how?”

You hesitated. “We don’t really… talk much. When we do, it’s tense. We just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

Hyunjin’s expression softened slightly. “Then why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Because I didn’t want to talk about it,” you admitted. “It’s messy and frustrating, and I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

“But I want to be dragged into it,” he said, leaning forward. “I want to understand what’s going on in your life. That includes the bad parts, too.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling in. “I guess… I was embarrassed.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “Embarrassed?”

“I don’t have the kind of parents who are loving and supportive,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “And I didn’t want you to see that and think less of me.”

“Y/N, I would never think less of you because of something like that.” He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “I just wanted to understand. I thought… I thought you didn’t want me to meet them because of me.”

You exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

Hyunjin shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a breath. “I just want you to trust me enough to talk to me about these things.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I just… I didn’t know how.”

Han

"So you don’t want me to meet your parents?" Han repeated, his voice softer than you expected. Not quite hurt or offended – just… concerned.

You swallowed hard, nodding. "It’s not that I don’t want you to. I just— I don’t think it’s a good idea."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Can you tell me why?"

You hesitated. Han had always been so good at making you feel safe, but there was still a deep-rooted instinct inside you that told you to keep this part of your life locked away. It wasn’t that your parents were abusive, not in the way people might think, but they had never really seen you. Not truly. Their love came with conditions, with expectations you could never quite meet.

"I just… I don’t want to put you in a situation where you're not treated well," you admitted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "They don’t respect me, Han. And since you’re with me, they won’t respect you either. I don’t want that for you."

"I get it," he said quietly, his voice steady. "And I love that you’re thinking about me. But, baby… you don’t have to protect me from them."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head before you could.

"I’m not saying we have to go to a family dinner or anything," he continued. "But you don’t have to carry this alone. I know it’s complicated, and I know it sucks. But I don’t want you to think that you have to shield me from this part of your life just because you’ve been dealing with it alone for so long."

Your throat tightened. "But they’ll—"

"They can think whatever they want about me," he interrupted gently. "What matters is what you think. And if they don’t respect you, that’s on them. That’s not a reflection of who you are, and it’s definitely not going to change how I see you."

You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to let you meet them. I've spent too much time hoping they'll change."

Han smiled, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "That’s okay. We’ll take it at your pace. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I want to be here for you. For everything."

Felix

Felix stretched his arms, groaning slightly as he leaned back against the couch. The two of you had been catching up on life the whole evening. He had just been telling you about his latest video call with his parents, laughing about how his mom still worried if he was eating enough.

"Honestly," he said between bites of the cookies he had brought over, "I think I see my parents more often than you see yours."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug of tea you were holding. The playful lilt in his voice made it clear that he hadn’t meant any harm, but the words hit you harder than you expected. Your mind ran through the last time you had actually visited your parents.

Felix must have noticed your sudden stillness, because when you looked up at him, his brows were slightly furrowed, eyes searching yours. 

"You’re not wrong," you admitted quietly, sipping your tea to avoid his gaze. "I think you really do."

"Oh. I— I didn’t mean to... I was just joking."

"I know," offering him a small smile. "It’s just… true."

A beat of silence stretched between you. Felix set his cookie down, shifting closer until his knee bumped against yours. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you never talked about your parents, but it always felt exhausting to explain the complicated mess that was your relationship with them. They weren’t cruel or absent, just distant – close enough to be in your life, but never truly present.

"Not much to say, really," you murmured. "We just don’t talk much. It’s always… weird. Like we don’t know how to be around each other."

Felix listened, nodding. "That sounds really lonely."

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the simple truth in his words. "Yeah," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It kinda is."

Felix didn’t say anything at first. "You know," he said, voice warm and sure, "family doesn’t have to be just the people you’re born with."

Your chest tightened, not with sadness, but with something gentler.

Felix grinned, before nudging you playfully. "Well, for what it’s worth, my parents love adopting people into the family. You might already be part of it without knowing."

Seungmin

The living room was quiet except for the occasional tapping of Seungmin’s phone as he scrolled, stretched out comfortably on your couch. You sat beside him, your head resting against the couch cushion, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you. 

Then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Mom flashed across the screen.

Seungmin glanced at it briefly before looking at you, expecting you to reach for it. But instead, you pressed decline without a second thought.

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "You’re not gonna answer?"

You shrugged. "Nope."

He sat up a little, setting his phone down. "Why not? It could be important."

"Unlikely," you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

The confusion on his face lingered for a moment before realization set in. "You don’t really talk to her much, do you?"

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Not if I can help it."

Seungmin didn’t respond right away, just watched you carefully. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "You guys don’t get along?"

"Not really," you admitted. "We just... don’t see things the same way. Talking always turns into a disagreement, and honestly, it’s exhausting. It’s easier to just not deal with it."

Seungmin hummed, a quiet sound of understanding. 

For a moment, he just sat there, thinking. Then, without warning, he leaned over and lightly nudged your shoulder with his own. "You don’t have to pretend you’re fine."

You glanced at him, surprised by how easily he saw through you.

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable yet undeniably gentle. "You’re allowed to be upset about it. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you."

Something in your chest loosened. You hadn’t even realized how much tension you’d been carrying until now.

"Thanks," you murmured.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime." 

I.N

You sighed as you scrolled through your messages, the same feeling of disappointment creeping in. Your parents had sent another message in the family group chat – one of their usual updates about your sibling, filled with admiration and excitement. You were happy for them, truly. But every time you saw their name being praised while yours was barely acknowledged, the ache in your chest deepened.

I.N sat beside you on the couch, watching your face shift from neutral to something more distant. He nudged your arm gently. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You hesitated before tilting your phone toward him. He skimmed the messages, his features tightening as he put the pieces together. He already knew the story – how your relationship with your parents had grown distant ever since you chose a different path, how they seemed to relate more to your sibling, leaving you feeling like an outsider in your own family. He also knew you weren’t looking for pity.

Instead of offering empty words, I.N put your phone aside. “Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “A little,” you admitted. “I mean, I moved out as soon as I could, and I’ve been independent for a while, so I shouldn’t care so much. But… it’s like no matter what I do, I’m not enough for them.”

I.N frowned. “That’s not true. You are enough. They just… don’t see you the way they should, and that’s on them, not you.”

You looked at him, feeling a flicker of warmth in his gaze. He wasn’t trying to fix it. He wasn’t telling you to move on or pretend it didn’t matter. 

“You’ve built a life for yourself that you love, haven’t you?” he continued. “That takes courage. And just because they don’t recognize it doesn’t make it any less real.”

A small, wobbly smile broke through your somber expression.

I.N grinned, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “I just know you. And I know that you deserve to be seen, to be valued. Even if they don’t show it, I will.”

You exhaled, leaning into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Innie.”

masterlist

[girlyhornywriter]

Pushing her buttons...

Imagine having a button you could press that magically makes you fatter, by like +1 pound. That'd be neat, right? I wonder where you would draw the line and finally stop pressing it.

I mean, the first dozen presses would just be so you can test if it's actually working. One or two probably wouldn't feel like much, but by the time you hit the double-digits of extra pounds gained, you'd probably feel the extra tightness in your pants. Maybe your shirt would ride up a little bit because your belly and tits have grown a little bigger, but it wouldn't be anything *crazy*. Even after 12 presses, you'd still basically feel the same. Maybe your balance would be a little off with the extra weight, but nothing you can't deal with. If you put a hand on your midriff, you'd notice it bulging out more, and that it's softer and fleshier than you're used to, but all in a good way.

Being realistic though, you wouldn't stop there, would you? You've dreamed of stuff like this. An opportunity to make yourself *so* much fatter is just too tempting for you to pass up. Maybe you'd try to resist the temptation for a while, but we both know you'd fold under the pressure and start pressing it again. Fast.

You'd get undressed and stand in front of a mirror so you could watch your figure swell with dozens of extra pounds of soft, pale blubber. You'd hold your belly in one hand while you press the button with the other. Press after press, you feel it push out just a little bit further. It'd feel softer and softer in your hands as your gut grows heavier and jigglier.

Now you're thirty pounds heavier than you started, and you're *really* starting to notice the results now. Your belly hangs over your thighs quite a lot further than you remember, and your ass is looking so fat when you get a good look at yourself from the side. Stopping now crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it; your tits might be bigger, but they're not really big enough yet, and you're still only at "BBW" size anyway. You can handle some more pressing.

Click by click, you feel yourself growing heavier. Your belly has gotten so big and blubbery that it starts to fold into two thick rolls, giving you a definite double-belly that you can't wait to show off to your girlfriend when she gets home. In the meantime though, you keep pressing the button. You've lost track of the exact number at this point, but you think you're somewhere around 60 pounds heavier than when you started (it's actually closer to 80). You look at your doughy belly and thighs being groped by your hand in the mirror, and notice how much pudgier and softer your hand is starting to look. Nothing is immune to the weight you're piling on, and that just makes you even hornier. You resume clicking it.

Another thirty pounds make their way onto your figure when you stop again, this time because your gaze drifted upwards towards your face. Your cheeks look so much fuller now, giving your face a decidedly rounder shape. Your double-chin is much more pronounced than it used to be; your jawline is completely buried under a thick layer of chubbiness at this point, and you can't help but smile about it. It feels so good to be so much more... *plush*.

You tell yourself that you'll give yourself twenty more presses, then you'll quit. But once you get there, you decide... maybe just a few more. So you press it *another* ten times. Then you notice how close your breasts are to touching when you're sitting down, and can't help but want to see them finally become big enough to rub against each other as you walk. So you keep pressing it. Not really paying attention to the number any more, just to your breasts, as they get heavier and softer and rounder with every click.

Finally, it happens.

Not your breasts touching, like you were waiting for. The chair you were sitting on breaks instead. You hadn't heard it creaking as your fat ass grew ever fatter and heavier with every click of the button. It just hadn't crossed your mind that your furniture had already been struggling against your mass before you got this button. Now though, it had finally given up...

You decided this was your sign to call it quits - you should dust yourself off and think yourself lucky that you didn't do something stupid and make yourself absolutely massive. You drag yourself up onto your feet with a lot more difficulty than you expected, then push the shattered remains of the chair aside with your foot. You check your ass and thighs for any damage, but aside from the massive amount of extra cellulite now occupying them, and the angry red stretchmarks that have suddenly become even more omnipresent across your body, you seem to be fine. You look down for the button, but can't see it anywhere among the debris. You look around the room, when you finally spot it.

Your girlfriend is in the doorway, holding it in her hand.

"I like what you've done to yourself, babe" she says with a smile, her gaze travelling up and down your now much fatter figure, eyeing your new curves and rolls with glee. She licks her lips. "I wonder how you got so big, so fast, princess... Could it be this, maybe?" She presses the button.

Maybe you could have denied the effect the button had just had on you, if it wasn't for the fact that at that moment, the panties you had been wearing finally gave up, shredded by your immense girth with an audible rip and leaving you exposed to your girlfriend in more ways than one. The smile on her face broadens.

"I think I get the picture... Well, shall we see what this thing can do?" She starts clicking the button as fast as her fingers are capable of. Ten pounds, twenty pounds, thirty pounds, you feel your body swelling with the extra mass second by second as she starts to giggle. You try to run towards her, but you're far too fat now to move so quickly, so all you can do is waddle gracelessly towards her as she easily evaded your attempts to grab the button from her hand. You reach the doorway and look down at your expanding body, in awe at just how much of the weight seems to be going straight to your belly rolls. Your thickening paunch slaps against your thickened thighs as you keep trying to pursue your mischievous girlfriend. She escapes into the living room, and you follow her, your steps growing heavier with every click that echoes through your ears.

By the time you corner her in front of the couch, the click count must be at 250 by now, and you're feeling every ounce of the blubber she has poured onto your body. You're exhausted and breathless from trying to catch her, and she can see you're close to collapsing. She speeds up the pace of her clicking, holding the button high above her head where you have no hope of reaching it. You make one final lunge, hoping to swipe it from her hand before you're too fat to stand...

But you miss.

You lose your balance and stumble towards the couch, where you drop heavily onto the straining frame. Your ass takes up far more of space than you're used to and you sink deep into the soft cushions, hearing creak as it settles under your immense bulk. Your girlfriend stands over you, victorious.

"I think that couch had a max weight rating of 800 lbs, didn't it? Shall we test that?"

As much as you struggle against your own fattened figure, you can't haul your fat ass and gut off of the couch. You're just too heavy, and only getting heavier as she presses the button over and over and over again. Your thighs press together even as you try to spread them as wide as possible; your belly fills your entire lap and just keeps spilling out further and further over the edge of the couch; and your tits keep swelling too, easily exceeding G-cups in size with no signs of stopping.

Eventually, inevitably, the couch gives way to your blubber-laden body. You sink down even further as the couch breaks right down the middle, leaving you in a V-shaped dip, helplessly trapped by your hundreds of new pounds of fat and cellulite. Your hands grope your thick rolls of flab and you feel a strange mix of horror and arousal at how soft and jiggly you are now, *all over*.

Your girlfriend looks very pleased with herself.

"I hope you're comfy, big girl, because you're not going to be doing much walking from now on. I was always hoping I could get you to fatten up for me, to turn you into my stay-at-home piggy, too fat to do anything but make herself even fatter. It was always just a pipe dream, but apparently, dreams really *do* come true...

"I'll let you stay like this until I can find us a bed that can handle the massive whale of a girl like you've become. Once I've got you settled there though, I'm going to give this thing a couple hundred more clicks.

"You'll be so helpless and useless, but don't worry, princess. I'll make sure you know how much I love every single inch of you."

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ too hot to handle (송민기 ♡ s.mg)

your neighbor has more to give than you bargained for.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!mingi x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, light fluff, neighbor!mingi, fem!reader, big dick, like monster cock level she can't do anything with it, sub!mingi, like super sub, dom!reader, teasing, praise, heavy use of good boy/perfect boy etc., makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, face riding, lots of dirty talk, dick on clit action, controlled orgasms, edging and overstim, eventual piv notes: this has been on the brain for longer than i could ever tell you so hopefully it's a fun one x

[masterlist]

The problem with your neighbor isn’t that he’s hot. It isn’t that he’s funny and charming, and it definitely isn’t the crush bubbling between the both of you. Those would be normal problems, problems you tell your best friends about. 

The problem with your neighbor is that his dick is too big. 

You find that out at the same time you find out this giant who lives next door to you with the deep voice and a penchant for calling you “pretty girl” is actually not the dominant you assumed he would be.

Mingi is actually shockingly, surprisingly submissive. 

And you shockingly, surprisingly, love that more than you ever could have guessed. 

You figure that out while you’re straddling him on the couch, and when you roll your hips just right you feel the impressive hardness of him and hear the neediest whimper you’ve ever heard from a man at the exact same time. 

It takes you thirty minutes more of making out and shedding clothes for you to get a good look at his cock, and when you do it grinds the whole almost-fuck to a stop.

And -

“I know,” He breathes, his eyes softening, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going.” 

You blink at him, unable to hide the trepidation in your eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to try,” 

“It’s okay,” He sounds dejected, but also like this has happened to him before and that fills you with nothing but sharp determination. 

“Hang on,” You lay a hand over his bare chest, still straddling his lap, the impressive length and girth of his cock standing between you. 

“Listen,” He sighs, “I get it,” 

“Mingi,” You interrupt him, “I’m not kicking you out,” 

“You’re not?” His eyebrows raise. 

“No,” You smile, “I do think we should maybe… work up to things,” 

“Of course,” He rushes to agree, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“It’s just,” You grimace, “I haven’t had sex in a long time, like a really long, kind of embarrassing amount of time,” 

“That’s okay,” He soothes. 

“I’d be lying if I said I thought I could take you,” You sigh, “but Mingi, I’d really, really like to work up to it,” 

“Yeah?” He grins like he just won the lottery. 

“Uh-huh,” You swallow a little nervously, “just maybe not tonight?” 

“Right,” He nods, “anything you want,” 

“Is that okay?” You check, sliding closer to him, his bare cock brushing against your abdomen. 

“Okay?” He nods, “Of course, it’s… I mean, I like you. I want to do whatever you want, that’s what I want,” 

He’s a little flustered, still walking a nervous line like you might change your mind, or he’s worried about coming on too strong, and you take him in for a moment. 

Somewhere inside, you find the boldness to ask the question you’ve wanted to ask since you heard his first whimpered moan, “Mingi,” You murmur, “is that what you’re into? Doing what I want?”

His eyes flick over your face, but you don’t miss the way they darken up at the idea and he nods, “If you’re into that,” he says, “but I can take over if you need me to,” 

You wonder how many girls have begged him to be more dominant. How many girls have pushed him to go to a place that isn’t entirely comfortable for him, when he clearly wants the opposite. 

“I’m into that,” You tell him, “don’t worry,” 

You both click together like kinky little puzzle pieces, and despite the fact that you’ve never had his dick properly inside you, you’ve been having sex for weeks. 

You get creative. 

Mingi and his giant cock seem to love nothing more than making you feel good, especially when you use his big body to get yourself off. 

The first few times you hook up it’s the basics, getting to know each other, getting to know each other's bodies and what makes each other tick… but by the fourth time? The fifth? 

The fourth time you’re a horny mess, probably a breath away from ovulating and ready to climb his tall ass like a tree, and so all the hesitation you’ve had about being too much for each other flies right out the window. 

With him pinned to your bed you ride his thigh like it’s a pillow, barely looking at him as you get yourself off, and when you’re done all he can do is beg you to do that again, but on his face. 

He whimpers when his tongue first slips inside your folds, when he feels the weight of your body sink onto him. His hands grip your ass and between sucks and moans he begs you to ride him, to fuck his face and never stop. 

With your hands on the headboard you take it just like before, eyes closed, head thrown back, your moans spilling out into the room . 

He comes untouched that time, ropes and ropes of his hot cum painting his chest and stomach, panting apologies into your thighs, and that’s when everything changes. 

Now you tell him when to come. How to come. Where to come. 

You discover that he loves to be edged and you love to be overstimulated. 

A perfect combination of opposites. 

You make him beg for things, ache for things, his cock leaking against your lips as he whines. 

“Please, please, just a taste, just a lick, please, god, please,” 

And sometimes you let him have it, but most of the time you don’t. 

He seems to like that even more. 

Mingi and his big cock have found so many other ways to get off that you almost never want to give into having him inside you, because what if your dynamic changes? The anticipation is the delicious part, the denial, the almost-almosts. 

The way he begs when he’s on his knees between your splayed thighs, his shaft rubbing against your slick folds, sliding over your clit - that’s when you almost break. 

“You f-feel so good,” He shudders, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth so that his cock slides up and down your aching center. 

“Mm,” You sigh, relaxing into the mattress, “good boy,” 

His cock twitches at that, “Thank you, thank you,” 

“Go faster, baby,” You beckon him down with a come-hither motion, “fuck me like you mean it,” 

He freezes, “I-inside?” 

“Did I say inside?” You counter. 

“No, no, of course, I’m sorry,” He stumbles past that assumption and shakes his head, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. 

You nod, a silent push to get him to move faster, and he scrambles to comply. 

He braces himself over your spread form on the bed, your hips slotting more tightly together, and then he braces his forearms on either side of you and starts to thrust. 

“Faster,” 

His hips speedup. 

Every brush of his shaft over your swollen clit makes you want to writhe and moan beneath him, but keeping control is the fun part for him, so you stay focused. 

“That’s it, baby,” You brush your fingers through his shaggy locks, “such a good boy,” 

He moans, but keeps the pace. 

“Mm,” You sigh through an almost moan, “baby, your cock feels so good inside me,” 

His hips jerk, a stammered groan on his lips. 

The tease was meant for him, a reminder of where his cock isn’t, but heat spreads through your belly at the idea of what he might feel stretching you open for real. 

“Say it,” You open your legs wider, angling your hips to get the sensation right. 

“Your pussy feels so good,” He pants. 

“Don’t stop,” You direct him again. 

“So tight,” He whines, “so wet,” 

“More, baby.” 

“S-so perfect,” He shudders, his eyes tightly closed, “thank you for l-letting me fuck you,�� 

“Oh,” You murmur warmly, “that’s my good boy.” 

He chokes, his thrusts getting harder, a relentless rut of his wet cock against your dripping pussy and you bite down on your tongue at the impulse to beg him to fuck you for real. You’re dizzy, orgasm drunk, and your nails dig into his hips to hold yourself steady. 

“Please,” He pants suddenly, eyes flashing open to find yours, “please, may I come?” 

You’re too close for that, “Hold it, baby,” 

His expression tightens in tense control, “P-please,”

“I’m close,” You tell him, “hold it,”

Tears prick at his eyes and you feel the wet string of his precum on your belly, but he listens. 

A moan pulls free from your chest then, your pleasure fast approaching, and you breathe in hot fits and starts. 

“Come on my cock,” He begs, pleads, “I’m so good for you,” 

Your orgasm crashes into you sideways, the relentless stroke over your clit sending you into pleasured little shakes. 

“Please, I c-can’t, I can’t hold it,” He fists the sheets, his voice a thready wet pant. 

“Come,” You give him all the permission he needs, “come inside me, baby, fill me up,” 

He shudders, thrusting hard twice more, and with groaning moans he spills his release all across your belly, spattering you both in hot cum. 

He’s shaking, trembling, but you run your fingers through his hair and soothe him soft like always. He’s your good boy, your perfect boy, your most obedient boy. 

In the aftermath, when you both come down from your messy, full body pleasure, you find each other in the sheets. 

With kisses across his knuckles you nuzzle into him. 

“Next time, I want you for real,” 

He’s hesitant at first, but you’re ready, you’re sure. 

The next time, you play softer. You’ve learned each other so well, but this time it’s your turn to be vulnerable with your body and he doesn’t let you down for a second. 

It’s a slow process, full of sweetness and foreplay. He’s learned how to make your body sing over weeks and weeks of hookups, and he knows he can make you wet enough, relaxed enough to take him. 

The stretch is achingly delicious. 

And once he’s finally inside you for the first time, your bodies connected in every possible way, you realize he was worth the wait. 

And you fit together in more ways than one. 

As it turns out, your boyfriend’s big dick isn’t such a problem after all. 

[lockandkeyblade]

@dclovesdanny since you asked to be pinged if people did stuff with your prompts

Hey so- what exactly just happened?

This is the question Danny doesn't have an answer to, and it really doesn't seem like Red Hood has an answer either. He'd thought he was running into the middle of a gang fight-- had definitely heard the scream of a child, which was the tipping point to, y'know, running into said fight, rather than away.

There had been a kid, and sure, there'd been a few heads to knock together for a few minutes. But the moment booted feet slammed into the ground heavily enough for the sound to carry, everyone stopped. They looked.

One of the guys he'd headbutted grins, even though he's missing a tooth. In the time it takes for Red Hood to walk up to Danny, everyone else scatters. And they seem happy about it.

"...That's not the usual response you get, right? Like, sure, the running, but the-" Smiles? Danny thinks he can be excuse for not realizing just how close the man had gotten by that point, so when he turns around he almost winds up pressing his nose into kevlar.

It does absolutely nothing to hide the scent of the man wearing it, which is-- yeah sure, poetic description of all the underlying nuances of said scent go here. The guy smells like gunpowder and sweat, is what he smells like.

Danny tries his damndest to hide the fact that he has to swallow in order to keep talking. Who gets a mouth full of saliva over B.O and guns? He does, apparently.

"Joker's not back out, is he? No whacky new toxins we should be worried about? 'Cause that wasn't normal."

"Sure wasn't." Red Hood agrees. It should be impossible to tell, with the helmet and all, but Danny feels the second those eyes stop surveying the scene, and start surveying him. "I'll handle it." "Sure, big guy. You do that." His Haunt-- his terf, his responsibility. That's the thing he likes about Hood the most; he takes that responsibility seriously.

Seriously enough to have Danny smiling dumbly up at him like a lovesick puppy for a hot minute, until his brain catches up. Then he takes a step back, Red Hood's gaze rooted on him all the while.

That shouldn't be attractive too. It absolutely is.

"Alright, well- see you 'round, Hood." He offers the man a lazy salute, turning on his heel while consciously thinking about how he is going to walk away normally, he is not going to preen. He is not going to try for something that leaves his hips a little looser. He's-

"Y'know, Scrappy," Hood calls after him. That nickname is awful. Danny loves it. "You ever feel like running from me with a smile on your face, call me."

He turns back around, cautious but maybe a little more dry in the mouth than he was a few seconds ago. Hood's still just standing there, completely relaxed. It's not a threat, or a claim. He's not about to just pounce after him, even if Danny did decide to take flight.

Hood's not that kind of alpha. Danny already knew that. But he'd have to be a brick wall not to pick up what's being offered, slowly tilting his head to the side. Purposefully baring a little more of his neck than he needs to, really.

"I'm not that kind of omega, mister Hood." He isn't. He really, really isn't. But-- "But I'll keep that in mind." --He's actually tempted to be, for once.

When he finally does walk away, with the goofiest smile on his face, Danny thinks he sees something in the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

It looks like a kid pumping their fist in the air?

The stupid smile gets wider.

Dead on main x omegaverse

Danny had met plenty of knot head alphas who had either flirted with him since he was an omega or bullied him since he was a male omega. He had resigned himself to being alone, especially since he had died.

Then, he met Red Hood, an Alpha who was known for not putting up with knot heads in his haunt, known for protecting omegas on the run from knot heads who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Danny had to fight back a blush.

Jason had met plenty of omegas in his life who acted like fainting flowers, reinforcing the stereotypes that people like Bruce and Dick had to fight to break through for most of their lives. He hated those kinds of omegas.

Then, he met Danny, a scrappy omega who broke the Joker’s nose during their first meeting and protected a bunch of street kids by volunteering to be dosed with fear gas during their second meeting. Jason was never so glad he wore a helmet.

Crime Alley knew that the new scrappy meta had a crush on Red Hood. All of Red Hood’s goons knew Red Hood had a crush on the meta who bit Scarecrow on one occasion.

It was everyone’s mission to get those two together.

[wandering-gambler]

I can see Wanderer and Reader being friends for multiple years, but everyone else just thought you were a couple, but you guys didn't see it

you walk close, you sit together everywhere. Wherever you see one, the other follows close behind

You’ve gone to a hot springs together and sat questionably close together that it would be basically considered his lap, yet claimed you were still friends

Hell, when Wanderer comes over to your place to study for his academiya classes (even though he probably doesn't need to research shit, but he helps you anyway), he’ll occasionally (most of the time) let you rest on his chest or lap as you read or write

Oh, it's raining? Well, we can't have you getting sick under his watch! Get under his hat quickly, and no, you cannot talk your way out. You must be covered (if you did ever get sick under his watch, he’d internally panic and take care of yourself the entire time but scold you for not being more careful)

Are your hands cold? Let him hold one, or hell, even both! Oh, they aren't cold? Well, they feel freezing to him, so of course they are…

Did You get him a gift? You’ll see it in his room weeks later, or if it's a wearable gift, then you’ll see it on his person somewhere, and anyone who asks about it gets the pleasure of seeing him tense up and glare at him while trying to explain its from the person he is 100% down bad for but is too scared to admit it his friend

Wanna spar? Well, he’s more than willing to fight with you, but he in no way, shape, or form will use anything close to his full strength, and if he did harm you? Well, then get ready for him acting like half the world exploded but scolding you and himself for what happened

Have a drink together while you Yap to him about random stuff? Sure! But keep in mind that he's listening to everything, so you won't want to slip up anywhere.

On the getting-a-drink note, if you bring him tea on the occasions you wanna meet with him, it’ll eventually become a habit… and he has some great memory, so if you're early or late or even worse if you don't show up, you will be questioned to no end

It's your birthday? You may not have told him at any point in your time together, but he knows for some reason (Nahida), and he’s already planned to take you somewhere!

(Now, this one is purely self-indulgent because it's my birthday today and the day before Valentine's Day.) If you have a birthday near any holiday, he might complain that it's a waste and a money grab for humans. Well, it's hard to take that seriously when he’s out actively shopping with you for both your birthday and the holiday and taking you on an outing in twenty minutes that he swears to anyone who asks that it is not a date…

Are you tired while you are watching the stars with him? Oh, no worries, rest on his chest, and he’ll ramble about the constellations until you sleep

On the very slim chance he opens up to you, which would likely be late at night, maybe even when you guys were watching the stars or done studying, he’ll, for once in his life, let you hold him. Still, you’d have to be highly close to that. I feel like he would start small at first, like with his past names, then maybe some places he's been, then more about who he was, and then eventually the betrayals now if you choose to listen to him opening up (please do it's a big step into a more significant relationship and makes him feel like he can trust you more) then when he gets more into the personal things like the betrayals or what dottore did to him he’ll more than likely just be held by you for the next few hours— you won't be able to see his face. Still, your shirt feels wet, and when it's finally time to leave, his eyes are pretty red…don’t question it, though, unless you wanna be avoided for the rest of the night until tomorrow at lunch

And yet, you’ll still be ‘friends’ after all that. Eventually, Nahida tries to nudge him in the right direction to set you both up. When do you both get together? Well, not much changes besides the fact you now have the privilege to smother him in affection and a few… other things

[devixxish]

Synopsis: A dive into Gojo's mentality after your inevitable break up. Can be read as a follow up to this.

Word Count: 1,101

Tags: angst, emotional distress, self blame, basically he's going thru it after y'alls breakup.

A/N: while taking a break from working on main pieces, I came up with this lil sumn. Enjoy? <33

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The kind of quiet that made his own breathing sound too loud, made the walls feel like they were closing in on him. Suffocating. Yet his apartment felt too big without you in it. Too still.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His fingers twitched, restless. Like they were searching, yearning for something to hold onto. But there was nothing. There hadn't been anything for a while now, and it was all his own fault.

The lamp in the corner buzzed faintly, lighting the room in a dull, yellow glow. It didn't quite reach the far corners. It barely reached the shadows creeping in from the hallway, long and unmoving. The air was cold and stale, heavy with the scent of something old, but not really. Something faint, something familiar. Your perfume still clung to the fabric of his bedsheets, to every little thing you had touched in his apartment. Too light to be real, too strong to ignore.

He should open a window. Or maybe turn the heater on. He should just do something to make the place feel less empty, less quiet, less.. Less like you. But all he did was sit there, wallowing in his own regrets.

The apartment still looked like you might walk in at any moment. His bedsheets still messy from the last time you were there; he hadn't touched them. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink. A forgotten sweater draped over the chair by the window. A book you never got to finish, spine-up on the nightstand. Little pieces of you, scattered everywhere. He told himself he should put it all away, or maybe send them over to you, save you the trouble of coming over to pick them up. But the thought of erasing you like that, of making it truly final made him sick in his stomach.

The silence was almost deafening, louder than any argument you had ever had.

It had been a few days, maybe a week since he let go. Or maybe since you let go. Since everything slipped through his fingers and he just let it happen. Not because you wanted to leave. Not because you got tired of him, or fell out of love. But because he was the one who pushed you away in the worst way possible.

He didn't mean to. God, he didn't mean to.

But how do you hold onto something real when you're still haunted by a ghost?

He thought he had time. He thought you'd always be there, waiting for him to open his eyes, to see what was right in front of him. Thought he had time to figure his shit out. He thought you understood. How selfish of him. People aren't placeholders; he figured you eventually realized that. You realized you weren't what he wanted. Not really.

And by the time he did want you - really want you - it was too late. You were already gone.

A car drove by outside. Muffled voices sounded from somewhere down the street. The neighbor's dog barked. Life kept moving on without him. No one knew he was there, sitting in his apartment that still reminded him of you, wishing he could undo the last few months of his life.

A sharp exhale left his chest, shaky, unsteady. With a shake of his head, he let out a small laugh, a bitter sound. A few years ago, he would've scoffed at the thought of himself like this- sitting alone in his freezing apartment, alone, a mess, waiting for someone to notice he was fucking miserable. He was always the one who didn't need anyone. The strongest; nothing could touch him.

But look at him now.

Drenched in sorrow, full of regrets, rethinking his every decision. Silently begging for someone to care.

And still, no one did.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples. His mind hazy and his body heavy, keeping him stuck on this moment, on this feeling. The memories came in flashes. The way your eyes used to light up when you smiled at him. The way you'd hold onto his hand, laughing at something stupid he said. The way you looked at him that last night; hurt, exhausted, waiting for him to say something that never came.

His eyes drifted over to the place you used to sit, curled in on yourself, or wrapped around him. The place where you talked or read, or simply existed in the unique way you did. Now, it was just messy sheets, a dent in the mattress and silence. Another ghost.

He missed you. God, he really did. Not just the version of you in his head, but you. The real you. The one who did wait for him, maybe longer than you should have. The one who tried to love him even when he couldn't love you back properly. The one he let slip away because he was too caught up in someone else who belonged in his past. Because he had been too blind, too fucking selfish to see what he had until it was already gone.

People don't just wake up and decide they'll leave. They leave when they realize they were never really chosen.

And he had let you walk away thinking you never meant anything.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight as he let out a slow exhale.

You were better now, away from him. At least, he hoped you were. You deserved that much and even more. And he- he didn't know what he deserved anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he deserved. Nights like this, stuck inside his own head, replaying every moment, every second of whatever went wrong.

How pathetic.

How fucking human.

The apartment felt smaller now. Like the walls were shrinking, ready to swallow him whole. His ribs felt like they were closing in on him, pressing against his already aching heart.

He needed to move, to do something. Maybe go to bed, or take a walk, or just do something other than sit there drowning in this feeling. His body refused to cooperate, but he finally willed himself to stand up.

Being in there, alone with his thoughts, surrounded by all the places you used to be- he couldn't stand it anymore.

So he grabbed his jacket.

He didn't know where he would go. But then again, he didn't really care.

If he was lucky, maybe the night would swallow him whole before the morning could find him.

Devixxish© All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload or modify my work in any way.

@spaceinvadernelly as promised<3

[rivalswrites]

Valentine's Day special 1/4

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

Summery: giving everyone on the Marvel Rivals roster a kiss (with plot!!)

Valentine's Masterlist

Underage characters and animal characters will be platonic (there will be a reminder for each one

Characters included: Adam, Black Panther, Black Widow, Captain America, Cloak & Dagger, Doctor Strange, Groot, Hawkeye, Hela

It's late afternoon, and you're both alone in the infirmary. Neither of you are injured, but somehow the monotone atmosphere of the room has become a special place for you two to hang out. It's a place that barely anyone actually uses, maybe once in a blue moon when there's no mystical healer to instantly redo any damage (which is a very rare occasion.)

Perched upon a bed with a really still mattress, you look down at him, he who isn't sitting next to you- but instead below you. He's on the floor, on his knees, and his face lays on your leg like it's the most comfortable pillow ever. His hands hold both your legs together while your hands play with his hair gently, softly brushing through and horribly braiding it before brushing it out again.

You're both talking, about anything that comes to mind- usually it's about the impending doom of the multiverse, but today? Today the conversation flowed about space. It all started when you had mentioned you'd never truly seen space until you were thrown into Wakanda- the one that was far into the future, in space. That little comment had sparked Adam to inform you all about it, he described it's beauty and was saddened you'd never seen him home truly: when you told him you could see it from earth he said it wasn't the same as actually being in the stars, traveling through it.

His face was bright, looking up at you with- forgive me- stars in his eyes and a large smile that definitely molded his whole face. The bright aura around him almost glowed, you swore he actually was- but maybe that was just the light meeting his skin.

Gently, your hand moved from his scalp to his cheek to hold it: making him look more towards you as you leaned down. Quickly he stopped talking, his breath hitching at the closeness, his grip on your legs tightened a little too. Ever so gently, you pulled his face up and laid a kiss on his lips- closing your eyes and leaning into it. Adam happily returned it, using his legs to push himself up and meet you with more passion than he had with his talk of space.

When you pull away he follows, now he's fully standing on his knees and his eyes are fluttering open. His face is in a pout because he wanted more, for it to last longer. Your thumb rubs his cheek and he leans his face into it while looking up at you with big eyes.

Giving in, you lean down and give him another quick kiss on his forehead before pulling back. “You're so cute when you talk about your home.”

Honestly you weren't even expecting to see him much today. It was a common occurrence at the moment to not see him often due to how much time he spent in the labs working with his sister. The stress of keeping Wakanda safe while working to fix the multiversal problem and fight against Doom.

You didn't hold it against him, but that didn't stop you from wanting to see him. Everyday passed by and it was sad how you really only saw each other at night for a short dinner and bed. But this work was important to him, everyone knew. And so you let it be and took what you could get, enjoying the dinners and cuddling up in bed. Until that wasn't enough.

One could go only so far without affection that everyone craves, so you deemed it okay to interrupt his work- just a little. The doors to the lab were pushed open and you walked into said lab.

He was sitting in a chair, hunched over and looking over what you assumed was data. Shuri caught a glimpse of you, afraid you had been caught. You raised your hand in a shushing motion while tilting your hair towards T’challa. Thankfully Shuri was smart and got the memo, quickly turning around and continuing her work.

Sneaking up on him was difficult, you knew he had a keen sense of his surroundings, but you tried anyway.

“I know you are there” he says, not even moving from his place. So much for trying.

“Fine, I've been caught, but can you blame me for trying?” You reply, walking up to him quickly and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your head leaning on his as you glance at his work, stuff you didn't know much about- but that didn't stop you from looking.

T’challa chuckled and leaned his head back to yours, pushing against it in a loving way- something you'd both do as a way of playful love. “I cannot, my love” finally, he had turned to look at you, face to face. His smile was something you had missed so much.

“You work so long” you mutter, laying your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

His eyes wandered around your face, you couldn't see it but his eyes were full of regret. “I know my dear, and I am sorry” he responded, his hands coming up to cup your face.

“Don't be, I know it's important.” His heart pangs with guilt, and he almost instantly followed up your own words with “and you are too.”

A quiet hum left you, but that was all that was said. He knew he had to make it up somehow, and that he couldn't make up for all the time he'd made you spend alone. So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment, pulling your face closer to his and giving you a kiss.

It was passionate, and loving, his feelings easily conveyed to you. Obviously you returned, arms tightening around him to get closer. The kiss was quicker than expected, but it didn't feel like it- either way you both knew that the love between you two was something that couldn't be broken by time apart (though he later promises to take more time for you).

You were sitting on the bathroom counter, swinging your legs a little as you wrapped yourself around Natasha. She moved around a lot, seeing as she was doing her makeup, but you didn't care- you just continued to lay on her shoulders and enjoy the smell of her hair wash.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” She asked, leaning her head on yours while her arm wrapped around your shoulders mutually- mostly so he could get her mascara out of its container. The only reply you have was a soft “mmm” and a nudge closer to her.

She laughed at that, patting your back before focusing on the mirror behind you to get her mascara on.

It's a quiet atmosphere, your breathing mixed together and the messing around of makeup were about the only thing that made noise.

Switching hands, she skillfully works around you to get her other eye- pulling back and blinking to get a good look at herself. To make sure she got it right she pulled back, her hands resting on your arms to push you back too. “C'mon Sweetheart, look at tell me if it's alright.” It was easy, staring at your girlfriend's face with her permission. A true honor.

Time felt like it stopped, her gorgeous face looking right at yours with a smile. Her arms came up to rest on your shoulders, hands connecting behind you to almost cage you- but it also caged her because your legs were locked around her in almost the same way.

“Yeah,” you mutter “looks great, Nat.” She smiled more, pulling her hands to rest on your neck and pulling you close. “Always so good to me” Natasha said, pulling your head close. The two of your bodies were so close, and you both seemed to enjoy it. No complaints when your faces were inches apart.

“Always so pretty, Nat” you mutter, leaning in and closing your eyes, your hands resting on her back. Her laugh was angelic, as she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours quickly- pulling back soon after, “you're lucky I haven't put any lipstick on yet” she said before leaning in to kiss you again: this time for longer.

Music floated through the air, a vinyl running of some old song he had enjoyed back in his day, before being frozen. Steve laid on his back on the bed, humming along with the song as he rubbed your back. It was night, and he always had the vinyl running at night, something that helped relax- other than being with you.

Neither of you were asleep, something that occurred often with the both of you. Insomnia, you had told him about it one time, but he didn't pay much mind to what you had said- as rude as that was.

All he thought about was that it was more time awake with you, in a nice quiet atmosphere.

He tilted his head when he heard you take a deep breath, more like a sigh. “What's up?” Steven muttered, his hand rubbing your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“‘m tired” you replied, hugging him closer. “Then why don't you go to sleep, hm?” rolling over on his side, his other arm wrapped around your back and rested his hand on your lower back.

“Not without my kiss.” Steve chuckled at this, his laugh bubbling over to where your head that laid on his chest moved along with it. “Alright, how can I neglect your nightly routine?” he said, leaning his head down and raising his hand to cup your face.

You followed suit, raising your own head and staring at his face, memorizing the soft features of his old face- though it doesn't look old, obviously because of the ice he was stuck in for years.

Unsurprisingly he leans in for a kiss, and so in turn you do too. It starts off with a quick peck, but Steve couldn't get enough, so he keeps going in for more. The more he kissed you the longer he lingered before eventually he wouldn't- no, couldn't leave your lips. They were so addicting, and even though they were slightly chapped he still thought they were the best thing in the world.

When he did pull back, he rested his face on yours, tucking it over and pulling you closer. “Sleep baby, I'll be here” he whispered, rubbing your back calmly to get you to sleep- which works. The soft music playing along with his warmth easily puts you to sleep, satisfied with your goodnight kiss. Steve stays up for awhile longer, thinking about how thankful he was to have someone like you amidst the chaos.

(Platonic)

“You both are utterly ridiculous, charging in like that,” The pair was guilty of your claim, looking down while sitting at the table “you two could've been seriously hurt. Waiting for the team to come back would've been the smart option. The scolding had gone on for a while, and both Tandy and Tyrone were accepting of it.

They weren't used to having someone to take care of them, especially after they had been out on the streets, but they were still kids. That's what puts you on edge, them being children fighting for the universe like that.

Tyrone was currently the one physically there, playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie and avoiding eye contact. Tandy was the one who wanted to rush in, but he knew that whoever's idea it was didn't matter.

“We're sorry, really.” Tyrone muttered, continuing, “We thought we could hold the point until everyone came back.” He looks off to the side, his body shrinking in on itself- obviously as a defense mechanism. The poor boy.

With a sigh, you sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I get that, I've done things like that before too- but you're both just kids…”

Tyrone whispered out a ‘yeah’ and leaned into your build. “I'm frustrated, but I know thinking stuff out in the midst of battle is hard” you comforted, patting Tyrone’s back. “Don't beat yourself up, you're both trying your best.”

Pulling Tyrone closer, you give him a kiss on the forehead. “Doing great, you're both strong for agreeing to help us all fix the entanglement.”

Before you could even process it, a flash of light blinded you for a second. When you blinked back your eyesight you saw Tandy sitting where Tyrone just was, “I want one too” she said- more like demanded. “A kiss, right here.” Tandy then pointed to her forehead, staring at you intently.

“Alright sweetheart, calm your horses.” Leaning down again you place a kiss on Tandy’s forehead too, just like you did with Tyrone.

“I worry for you both, please just wait next time.” Pulling Tandy closer, she snuggles up into your side- almost demanding all of your warmth for her and Tyrone to have, all to themselves.

It didn't take a detective to find out his hands weren't what they used to be, and while they had recovered it was still difficult from time to time.

This was one of those times.

Strange sat on the floor, legs crossed and staring down at his hands. His stare was intense, and he was definitely deep in thought- bad thoughts, you knew it all too well. Hands shaking as they laid in his lap, his fingers twitch involuntarily every few seconds.

You took it upon yourself to help him, as his partner it was a duty you took up because you knew he couldn't stop himself when he was like this. Taking his hands in yours, you pulled him onto your lap- it was comical, his large frame on top of yours when usually it'd be the other way around.

“You're doing it again,” you said, raising his hands and cupping them together before giving his knuckles a kiss. “Looking like you hate it.”

“I do” he replied, leaning his head on yours and making eye contact. “My life would've been different.” There was silence, he'd never brought that longing up before- but you knew. He wanted a normal life, he longed for it at times.

“Yeah”, you pause and look him right in the eye, “but then I'd never have met you. That'd be devastating.” You take a pout, which gets a chuckle out of him.

His hands resting on your shoulders, your hands on top of his. “Yeah” he mimics you.

The quiet between the two of you is calm, tame, and neither of you want to break it. But you do anyways, “I know it's hard for you, but you know more than anyone that dwelling on the past isn't good.”

Steven groaned quietly, turning his hand to look away before your hand shot up and grabbed his jaw- forcing him to look at you. “Hey. Don't go doing that, don't close yourself off from me.” The tone you used was demanding, yet still soft. “Love you too much to not want your baggage” you joke, smiling up at him.

Blush decorated his face, flushing over your assertiveness. Your hand on his face warmed the skin underneath, it almost burned under your hand. “Right.” He mutters, resting his forehead on yours.

With a proud smile you lean in and give him a kiss, your hand moving from his jaw to his cheek- carding through his facial hair and scratching at it slightly. His hands on your shoulders tighten their grip before moving to your upper back where he holds you close.

(Platonic)

Being friends with a living tree was an interesting thing to process, especially after learning he could talk (albeit only 3 words). Groot was a kind, gentle soul- tree, he always seemed to understand.

It was a quiet day, the two of you were talking out in a forest. Well, Groot was walking, you were on his shoulder and enjoying the view. After gaining permission from the Guardians, you took Groot to a broken part of some random universe where everything had become overgrown- assuming he'd enjoy the nature.

Which he did.

In fact, he enjoyed it a lot. So much so that he sat down halfway through your walk and just leaned on a tree. Your back hit the tree too, but it didn't bother either of you, instead you rested your hand on top of Groots head and patted it- even with how uncomfortable it was with all the spikes.

“I am Groot” he looked up at you. “What's that buddy?” You glanced down, leaning forward to see him better.

“I am Groot” he repeats, holding up his hand this time. In-between his fingers was a flower, painted a pretty blue.

“Oh Groot, it's beautiful” reaching down, you grasp the flower and bring it closer to get a better look. You can see little bugs scurry along the petals, little ants and a ladybug. “Is this for me?”

“I am Groot” he replied, smiling up at you. “Thank you Groot, I really appreciate it.” Leaning down you place a quick peck on his head, watching as the area where the kiss was planted sprouted little tiny flowers.

A pizza box was thrown into the dinner table, Clint walking past it after he dropped it into the table. He was freshly done with a game/mission and all he wanted to do was take a shower and eat junk- hence the pizza.

He paused at the bedroom door, which was cracked open, and stood there for a second before leaning forward to look inside. There he spotted you, laying on the bed on your stomach- watching a show on your shared laptop. With a grin, he opened the door and walked in as quietly as the ronin could (which was very).

Standing at the edge of the bed he peered down at the computer- some action show was playing and he could tell you weren't paying too much attention to it. Hell, you were dozing off a little, head tilting down every now and then before snapping up. ‘Adorable’, he thought to himself.

It was pretty dark outside, arguably he thought you should be asleep by now, but he knew how you were- wanting to stay up and see him come home. Raising his leg he got onto the bed, trapping your legs in-between his. Before you could even realize what was going on he flipped down, trapping you underneath him. The bed dipped under his weight not adding onto yours, and his arms wrapped around your neck.

“Hey there sweetheart” he grins, leaning his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. “Clint! You scared me” you muttered, turning and bumping his nose with yours.

A laugh bubbles from his chest, verberating into your back as he does so. “Sorry baby, couldn't help it. So happy you waited for me.” He said, cuddling up and tightening his grip on you. “I got dinner.”

You let out a hum, shutting the laptop and moving it to the side table. Shuffling the bed sheets around you leaned onto your side, bringing Barton with you, and then turning around to meet him face to face. “You stink.”

“Wha- hey! I just got back, give me a break.” He cried out, crowding your space with how close he held you. His cheek nuzzles into your hair and acts all hurt.

“Take a shower before you stink up our bed” you draw out, pretending to push him away while laughing. “C'mon, just a quick one?”

Clint pretended to think, staring at the wall behind you for a minute or two. “Alright,” he let go of you and leaned up on his arm “but give me a kiss first?” bargaining was all a part of his game.

You scoffed at his comment, but leaned up and placed a hand on his chest anyways. “Just don't use all the hot water” you mutter before leaning in and giving him a kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss, grabbing a hold of the back of your head and groaning into it before pulling away quickly- leaving you a little dazed from the unexpectedness and how tired you were.

“Alright, Pizza’s on the table.”

The TV was on and one of the various streaming platforms was open, as Hela has graciously agreed to watch a show with you. She always claimed modern entertainment was under her, but for her lover she could make an exception- you had basically begged her, saying it was something she might like. So here she is, sitting on the plush couch and an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

Television wasn't her thing, being the old fashioned gal she was- and the fact that Asgardian entertainment was very different, but if you thought it would be something she might like she'd give it a try.

You pointed the remote at the screen, scrolling until you found it and clicked play on it. Hela didn't particularly care for the name or intro sequence, using the hand over your shoulder to play with your hair. Her face was close to yours, you could feel her breath on your ear if you focused hard enough.

Eventually though, something had piqued her interest- and while she did continue to play with your hair, she slowly let her attention go to the screen. It was a history show, or something that played on actual history, so interesting how it was different to Asguardian texts.

Your hair laid on her shoulder and you grabbed her hand now resting idly on your shoulder, intertwining your fingers together. “Thank you for watching with me” you mutter, rolling your eyes up to look at her face. “I really appreciate it.”

The response she gave was different from what you were expecting- a simple hum of acknowledgement- instead she leaned down and kissed the side of your head. “You mortals get excited over the smallest thing, I find it… endearing.” She said, leaning her head on yours, “only when it's you though” she corrected herself quietly.

[itsrensfairygardenn]

dilf!art x popstar!reader

mdni

— during the last months of his career and the whole process of the divorce, art only dreamed about a quiet life, peace and letting go of everything that had been enchaining him through his years of pro tennis. but once he finally retired? he felt miserable and bored out of his mind; to be honest, he only felt happy when he was with lily. good thing he had patrick and plenty of opportunities to solve all these problems.

— after couple months of hibernating in his house like a bear, he found himself taking care of all business matters — he and tashi had split up all the property and the family foundation; since this brought him passive income and did not require constant monitoring, he still had plenty of free time and god knows how much money. to deal with this and his craving for someone’s company, he decided to accept one of many invitations from his acquaintances — just a fancy event, patrick said it wouldn’t hurt at all.

— when he met you there, he had no idea who you were. after all, lily was too young for being interested in celebrities, and art wasn’t even on social media. he first saw you by the buffet table — you spoke to him while he was looking for a snack that didn’t look like a calorie bomb, and you just interrupted him, offering the most unhealthy-looking thing of the entire range. you looked so pretty, and you sincerely recommended him to try it, and you was eating it too; how could he possibly refuse you, seeing your fingers stained with buttercream? and that sheer dress you were wearing… it’s safe to say that he was very interested in your company.

— seemed like everyone wanted to have a sweet piece of your attention, but you’d spent more than enough time with him before you left — you were discussing everything and nothing at the same time; when he tried to flirt with you, it didn’t turn out to be as smoothly as he’d expected, but you flirted back, and you didn’t find him awkward at all… you both were in a rush, but he managed to ask you for your number.

— of course patrick was the one who told him who you were — he was like, chronically online, having accounts on every single social media platform to keep up with the times. it’s not like art wanted to know everything about you, but patrick didn’t care — he even told him about some of your ex-partners; god, art got so unsure of himself, that he zoned out for a second, contemplating the possibility of embarrassing himself by pushing his luck with you.

— but i mean, you are too gorgeous to not try to have a tiny bit of your attention, so he texted you after days of hesitation, and it turned out that you were as eager to get to know him better as you’d seemed that night — after you’d first called him ‘cute’, he needed time to cool off.

— things escalated quickly; you were out of town, busy with the festival season, so during the day you were exchanging occasional messages, waiting for the night to come to talk on the phone when you got back to your hotel room. if landline phones still were a thing, you’d probably find yourself twisting the wire around your finger like in those old movies.

— at the moment, he still hadn’t listened to any of your songs, but you have such a beautiful voice, that he was tempted to. but why would he need spotify when there was a better option?

— he flew to your concert in another country after a week of phone calls without hesitation — and once he did that, he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. he watched you through the entire show, waiting for you to glance at him, even if it was for the briefest of moments; he met you behind the stage as soon as you finished the show, and it didn’t bother him that you were sweaty, that your hair and makeup didn’t look perfect anymore — when you let him know that you were okay with leaving with him, he put his hand on the small of your back, leading you to his car. yes, maybe he wasn’t a big fan of pop music, but pop stars? he definitely had a thing for one.

— you weren’t exactly secret, but you were private for your own comfort — sure, people saw him at your concerts again and again, always sneaking backstage, always giving you the biggest bouquets of flowers. it was enough for everyone to make certain conclusions, and couple of blurry pictures through the windows of luxurious restaurants didn’t hurt — maybe a part of him was satisfied with people knowing that you two were a thing. he always took care of everything for you, making sure that everything was special, that the magic was there, even though everyone wanted to peek — he arranged bodyguards, cars with tinted windows, restaurants reserved just for you.

— you moved in with him in the fall, as soon as the concert season ended, and it’s safe to say that it was even more romantic than luxury hotel rooms and penthouses with sound insulation and king-size beds — you two hadn’t left the house for at least a week, and no, it wasn’t just about sex; your days were full of cuddles on the couch in front of the tv, with your legs intertwined under the duvet (you always kept the air conditioning on, so art would cling onto you a little bit more. your feet were always cold, and he always subconsciously tried to warm them up with his big, warm hands). you gave him all the comfort he needed, always making him feel loved and cared for.

— of course, his diet was still there, and he was still stuck on counting calories; he was afraid of losing his shape, especially now, when he had you, his young thing with countless other people around; all those guys who were better than him — skinnier, younger, maybe even better in bed?

— you were always there to show him how wrong he was; it’s not like you were trying to turn his daily ration into bunch of junky food, you only aimed to make him stop dividing food into good and bad; to show him that it was okay to have a dessert after dinner, or to eat a pizza or french fries when he felt like it — after he’d met you, food became much easier and tastier, just like his sports routine — when you two had days off, he always skipped his morning jog, because he didn’t want you to wake up alone in the bed, and he also didn’t have a heart to let go of you and remove your cold little nose from the crook of his neck (thanks to the air conditioner)

— you wrote songs about him — a lot of them, actually, and you rarely showed them to him before the actual release date, because you knew that he wasn’t a fan of pop music; he didn’t actually understand how those things worked, and you didn’t want to put him in awkward situations.

— “you can do a lot with fifteen minutes? that’s… that’s a lot to process, babe”

— like his ears are bright red every time he’s visiting you in the recording studio, but he always supports you as much as he can — he definitely has many of your songs in his playlist, mostly because he likes to listen to them when you’re away and he’s missing your voice; but he also enjoys thinking about the fact that you write songs about him — man untangles his old ass headphones every time he wants to hear you calling him cute boy (and also saying that he has a big dick, but he doesn’t admit it aloud)

— you’re for sure besties with patrick — he enjoys your songs too much for his own good, so when he attends your concerts along with art, he makes sure that everyone around them knows that he knows all the songs by heart; and he’ll never lose opportunity to tease art about the lyrics, too — his elbow nudge art’s ribs every time you look at him from the stage (“dude, do you have a golden dick or something?”)

— you literally made him look at his sexuality in a different way; of course, maybe it was because you’re so young and full of life and passion, or because he was so damn obsessed with you, but he definitely thought that sex with you was the closest to paradise he’d ever experienced.

— when he comes to pick you up from the recording studio, you always linger there for quite awhile after everyone leaves; sometimes you close the door, sometimes art insists on leaving it unlocked, even though he’s still a bit shy about his desires — anyway, he doesn’t think about it when you ride him on that huge leather couch that always creaks like crazy every time you start moving faster; he grabs your hips, pushing himself inside of you to the point of feeling like he’s about to pass out, and the couch is about to fall apart.

— phone sex, obviously; the best part of his day when you’re on tour. sometimes he’s so horny that your very voice is enough for him to cum in his pajama pants, but when you’re telling him that you think about him when you’re showering after a concert, or simply saying how much you miss him? yes, it indeed takes two to make him finish.

hehe thank you for reading! i got sick right before valentine’s day, so i spent the day bitchless in my bed preparing for the philosophy class, but i felt like dilf!art healed me 🐈

[crowliphale]

ALRIGHT.... after roughly three days and one complete re-work, i think i can now proudly show off my silly sims creation...

Madrick Roslof's House

(disclaimer: i know it's shown to be a cutesie little cottage in the module but hush i have an overactive imagination)

I took some HEAVY, HEAVY inspiration from @sweet-reaper's fic What Lies Between Us (as in, it was supposed to be a recreation but i'm more than 100% sure i messed some things up) so go give it tons of love!!!

Tour below the cut!

The Outside (front & back)

I'll admit I'm not the greatest exterior decorator, but I'm still happy with how it came out! I was going for a building that wasn't constructed professionally, but rather by the people living in it. Personalized, asymmetrical, kinda like my grandparents house...

The Foyer/Livingroom

You'll notice right away that Roslof has an absolutely chaotic variety of furniture, and that's completely intentional! I wanted it to feel like this house has been lived in for decades, becoming more of a place to store all of Roslof's trinkets rather than an organized space. For sims reasons I gave him a TV, but if it were purely dnd-based that wouldn't be there lol. The dollhouse is there for Hootsie, who's a toddler in my game!

The Kitchen

Kremy's baby. He practically lives in this room. Despite it being Roslof's house and kitchen, I REALLY leaned into the fact that this is Kremy's space. It's a lot cleaner than some other parts of the house, and feels slightly more updated while keeping that awesome vintage vibe. Not a ton to say, it's probably the 2nd most accurate to my initial vision while reading reaper's fic.

The Dining Room

Not a ton to say here! I honestly didn't even intend on adding a dining room at first, but realized i had an empty room that served no purpose, so why not make it a dining room? I'm really happy with the eclectic collection of chairs, and I felt like a genius for putting one to the side after I replaced it with Hootsie's high chair

~ UPSTAIRS ~

The Guest Room (currently Kremy & Gideon's room)

The MOST accurate to my vision while reading reaper's fic, I think the only part I wish I could change is that the table in the back is meant to be a vanity table. I also would've added more clutter and the shrine to the Baron, but I kinda just don't have the space/CC for that </3 otherwise I love this room!!

Roslof's Room (formerly, now deceased)

This one's the most lackluster in my opinion, I really didn't have a clear picture of what his room looks like. It's also likely getting changed in the future as Hootsie grows up--Maybe I'll move Gideon and Kremy into here at some point... either way it isn't awful, I wouldn't mind spending my final days in here.

Guest Room 2 (Frost & Gricko & Hootsie's room)

I think this is where I strayed the most from reaper's story. Not totally sure how the arrangement is in the fic, i haven't reread it in a minute, but I know I typically make the three other guys all bunk together... but as you can see, this room is WAY too small for that. So instead it's just Frost & Gricko & Hootsie. Didn't put a ton of effort in, but that's mainly because I don't think Frost or Gricko have very many worldly possessions to their names.

~ BASEMENT ~

The Workshop (Gideon's baby)

I literally just DON'T have the CC to make this work that great, but I tried to still arrange things the same way they looked in my mind! Again not much to say, without the proper CC it kinda just became a filler room.

The Storage Closet (Torbek's room)

Poor Torbek... FJDSKFS I'm actually so sorry I put him down here partially as a joke and partially because I couldn't remember where he sleeps in the fic. and because I was pretty much entirely out of space anywhere else. Sorry big guy, I gave you a night light as consolation

~ THE GREENHOUSE ~

The Greenhouse (the greenhouse)

THE GREENHOUSE!! It's my absolute favorite part of the build it's just downright gorgeous, I tried so so hard to make it work despite not having the correct CC/DLC, and I'm super happy with how it came out!! Literally all I would add is some hanging planters from the banisters this thing is great.

and... that's the house! Hooray! Not sure how else to end a post like this, so here's the worst photo ever of how the guys look (+ toddler Hootsie)

I'll probably make another post like this but for the family's closeups/outfits/traits if I notice enough interest for it.. anyway tho hope you liked my silly sims build!! go read reaper's stuff its actually peak i'm so serious!!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care of Her

Part 5 of the Uncaged series

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: Sam learning to be a big brother—inside and out of the cage

Warnings: torture, mentions of torture, I tried to include some of the actual show plot in here

“You will never be safe.”

Sam pretended he couldn’t hear the voice—it was all he could do to keep it together. He knew Dean needed him, and more than that Dean needed something to go right. If that something needed to be Sam’s mind, then Sam would fake that he was ok and hope that it just happened.

You fell asleep about halfway through the movie, and Sam could feel Dean’s eyes on him after Bobby got up to go read through more lore books. Dean had been eyeing him ever since they tried to bind Death, and Death had revealed that Sam was having hallucinations.

“Hallucinations?” Dean only spoke when he was sure you were asleep. “Really? I gotta find out from Death?”

“I…” Sam sighed. “I didn’t want to put more on your plate. I’ve got a handle on it, really.”

“On what?” Dean snapped, freezing when you stirred.

“I know what’s real and what’s not,” Sam assured him in a softer tone.

“And what about her?” Dean nodded his chin at you. “She getting these visions?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam swallowed. “At least, she hasn’t said anything to me. She’s having nightmares, but I think that’s it. I think that’s part of why I know the hallucinations have to be fake—because if it was real, she would see it too.”

“Ok.” Dean sighed, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go help Bobby. I need you to tell me if things get worse, ok?”

“I understand.”

Once Dean was gone, Sam watched as your face started to twitch, your body squirming around in a fitful sleep.

“She’s thinking about me.” Lucifer’s voice had Sam flinching, his head whipping around to see Lucifer perched on the edge of the couch. “Thinking about that first day in the cage. Do you still remember that day, Sammy? Remember our first day as roomies?”

Sam closed his eyes tightly, hoping to will away the sight of Lucifer, but instead he got bombarded with the memories of the day his life changed forever.

You were still holding onto Sam when the two of you landed in the cage.

Sam had physically felt his soul split as he fell—an excruciating experience that ended with Lucifer’s soul now separate from Sam’s body by the time they hit the floor. He still wasn’t sure how that worked, but somehow Lucifer’s soul—essence?—showed itself in the way that Sam’s human mind comprehended Lucifer; as Nick. There was no way Nick was in the cage, and Sam knew right away that it was only Lucifer.

He didn’t know why Michael didn’t split from Adam—maybe they were more in sync than Sam was with Lucifer, more in tune to the same purpose—but to Sam, it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except you right now. Sam had resigned himself to the fact that he would spend eternity in the cage with Lucifer, and though he hadn’t expected Adam to be forced to join him, that wasn’t nearly as awful as this. His baby sister, latching onto him at the last minute in a desperate attempt to save him, only to end up in damnation with him.

Sam found himself holding onto you tightly while Michael dropped to his knees in utter defeat, and Lucifer shrieked in anger and despair. The human-sounding shriek quickly turned into something unearthly, a high-pitched ringing that got louder and louder. Sam slammed his hands over his ears, watching you do the same. He held his hands tightly over his ears for a long moment, until he noticed that blood was starting to drip down the sides of your face the louder the ringing got.

Sam didn’t hesitate—Dean wasn’t here to look out for you anymore. Despite the pain, Sam moved his hands from his ears to you, grabbing hold of you and tucking you against him, wrapping you into an embrace and using his own hands to cover your ears.

Finally, the ringing stopped, though it was hard for Sam to tell at first since it echoed in his head for several minutes.

Sam made a decision, in those seemingly-endless moments of pure agony as he protected you from the brunt of the pain.

Sam never saw himself as much of a big brother before—sure, he knew he was older than you, but he’d deferred to Dean when it came to taking care of you. Dean had been the one to give you the monster talk, Dean was the one with the mission to protect his little siblings, Dean was the one who took over the father role when Dad died.

But you didn’t have Dean, and you needed someone. So Sam was going to step up.

He’d had moments like this before…

Like when he was 14, and John and Dean had been out on a hunt when someone knocked on the motel door.

Sam, whose instincts had already been carefully honed, snatched up his gun and checked the peephole. Seeing nothing, he eased the door open—but it wouldn’t open more than a foot.

Still wary, Sam’s eyes flickered down and widened when they landed on a basket with a moving bundle in it. His eyes snapped back up, and he glanced furiously around for someone to take the bundle back—because with only a glance, Sam knew exactly what it was.

But no one was there.

When the bundle started to cry, Sam finally made a decision. He eased himself out the door, lifting the basket into his arms and carrying it out of the cold and into the safety of the motel room.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he whispered. He eased the pink bundle out of the basket and started to rock her. “Dad and Dean are gonna be back, and their gonna take care of you. I’m—“ Sam caught sight of a note peaking out of the basket, and he scanned it quickly. “I’m your big brother, I guess. My name’s Sam.”

Or like when he was 18, and you found his stash of college fliers. You were only 4, and Sam probably could’ve gotten away with lying to you…

But he felt like he had to tell someone.

“I’m gonna be going away pretty soon,” he told you in a whisper—Dad and Dean were out on a hunt, but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak louder, just in case.

“You can’t go away,” you argued, tears already forming in your eyes. “Whose gonna play with me when Daddy and Dean go to work?”

“C’mere…” Sam scooped you into his arms, happy when you wrapped your arms around him; that meant you weren’t mad. “I’ll bet Dean will spend some more time with you. Dad too, maybe. They’ll make sure you’re ok, I promise.”

“But I want you!” The tears were flowing now, and your words were interspersed with sobs. “Don’t go away Sammy!”

“I have to,” Sam said. “I’m gonna go to college. It’s like—like school for grown ups. They’re gonna teach me how to be a lawyer.”

“But—“ you sniffled. “But I thought you worked with Daddy and Dean.”

“I do.” Sam swallowed. “But—“ he hadn’t admitted this since he was thirteen, and his teacher asked him. “But I don’t want to do what they do. It doesn’t make me happy.”

“I want you to be happy,” you insisted.

“Thanks, kid.” Sam smiled—just a little. “But…but for me to be happy, I’ve gotta get out of here.” You didn’t say anything, so Sam kept going. “But Dad and Dean can’t know yet, ok? I haven’t told them.”

“Why not?” You rubbed at your eyes, your breaths still shaky.

“They wouldn’t understand. Not like you do. So do you promise not to tell?”

You held out your tiny hand to Sam, pinky extended. “Pinky swear.”

Or like when you didn’t keep your promise.

John was screaming at Sam, waving a fistful of brochures and Sam’s Stanford acceptance letter. Sam wasn’t about to take the fight laying down—he never did. He was toe to toe with his father, screaming right back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that Dean was sitting on his bed, looking dazed, and you were nowhere to be found.

When Sam couldn’t take it anymore, he threw his few belongings into a bag—John stormed up to him and tossed the papers into the bag, yelling “Fine, go!”—and headed for the door.

“If you go out that door, don’t you ever come back!” John yelled.

Sam froze in his tracks, his hand halfway extended. He took a single glance back—his eyes met Dean’s, and all Sam saw was his big brother’s pleading expression. He looked away, wanting to say goodbye to you, but you weren’t there. So he grabbed onto the handle, stepping out into the night and slamming the door behind him.

“Sammy!”

Sam was halfway into the cab when you came running out of the motel room—you must’ve been hiding.

“Hey…” Sam pulled you in for a hug. “You gotta go back inside.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry I told Dean, I didn’t mean to tell him! I’m so sorry, please don’t go!” It was hard to make out your words between the sobs, but Sam understood enough.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he soothed, though he didn’t know if that was true. “That’s not why I’m leaving, but I have to go. Go back inside.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sobbed.

“I—“ Sam faltered. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Sam kissed your head. “I’m gonna miss you too. Now go on, go, it’s ok.” Sam waited until you were safely back in the motel room before he climbed into the cab.

He didn’t look back.

He’d had big brother moments…

…but none of those moments had ever had such finality and meaning.

It was a good decision—it kept him grounded for some of his time in hell, and gave him purpose. Even if it caused a lot of pain.

“You do remember that day!” Lucifer’s voice dragged Sam out of his memories. “You remember how you begged me to stop? And I told you all you had to do was step out of the way and watch while I had some fun with your baby sister. But you just wouldn’t do it Sammy.” Lucifer clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You just had to be so darn protective. Not that it ever did her any good. I got plenty of torture in without your help, isn’t that right little N/N?” Lucifer’s hand ghosted over the side of your face, and Sam flinched.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat through gritted teeth. Your face twisted, as if you could feel the devil’s presence, but your eyes stayed closed. “Stop giving her nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Lucifer grinned. “Oh, no Sammy, she’s with me. You’re the one in a dream right now—yeah, all this? Your perfect little life?” Lucifer gestured around them. “It’s a dream—it isn’t real. And what you’re seeing now is your baby sister sleeping, but what I’m seeing—“

The room around Sam snapped away for a split second before returning, then disappearing again. In its place, he saw the room of his waking nightmares.

He saw the cage.

And he saw you, in a position that was all-too familiar. Hooks sticking through your arms were holding you to the bars on the walls of the cage. Lucifer was standing near your hanging form, a curved blade in his hand as he cut into you again and again and again and again and—

“No!”

Bobby’s house returned in the blink of an eye, and you sat up with a gasp of terror, awoken by Sam’s outburst.

“I told you.” Lucifer grinned at Sam. “You never got out. Either of you. And you never will.”

…

He was here. You could see him. The dream was over, but Lucifer was still here.

Looking at him—sitting there on Bobby’s couch—was too much. You turned away, seeking solace in Sam’s arms—he’d stayed with you when you fell asleep on the couch.

“Bad dreams?” There was a quaver in Sam’s voice as he asked, and you wondered if he’d fallen asleep and had nightmares too.

“Yeah.” Your voice was muffled against Sam’s shirt, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice the nervous tone in your voice. You had promised never to lie to Sam, but you couldn’t tell him about seeing Lucifer—you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to scare him as much as you were already scared. You didn’t want him to start thinking what you were already afraid of; that you’d really never left the cage.

It wasn’t a lie, anyway—you really did have a nightmare. You were dreaming about that first day in the cage, and watching Sam get tortured for protecting you.

Until Lucifer got bored with that and tortured you anyway, when Sam was too bloodied up and weak to stop it.

“You’re not gonna talk about me?” Lucifer’s voice sent a shiver through you, and you burrowed further against your big brother. “You’re just gonna pretend I’m not here?”

“Sam?” You choked out. “Do…do you ever wonder if we’re still in the cage?” You held your breath, desperate for Sam to take away your fear. You knew you wouldn’t stop being scared no matter what he said, though.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give the girl a prize!” Lucifer taunted. “I think she’s got it! Of course you’re still in the cage!”

“We’re not—“ Sam’s voice caught, and he hesitated. “I…I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Sometimes I don’t know if I’m dreaming or awake.” You whispered the words, as if afraid to shatter the tense air.

“It’s too good.” Both of you knew Sam was trying to convince himself as much as you. “He would never let us feel this happy. Right?”

“That’s what makes it fun!” Lucifer insisted. You turned your head into Sam’s chest, trying to pretend the devil wasn’t there.

You had no idea that Sam could see him too.

“I got your message.“ Cas’s voice startled you, and you pulled away from Sam to look for the source; he was standing in the doorway, and Lucifer was gone. Cas was covered in sores and blood, and he was staring right at Sam. “I need your help.”

…

It turned out that Sam had prayed to Cas, pleading with him to see reason and get rid of the souls that were consuming him from the inside out. Once Cas started to fall apart, he decided to listen to your brother.

Seeing Sam—not only ok, but solving the world’s problems—made you feel even more crazy, and ashamed that you couldn’t seem to keep it together.

“We’re ready.”

The five of you were back in the warehouse where it all began, waiting for an eclipse to open purgatory.

“We need the blood,” Dean said. “Sam, it’s on a shelf in the back hallway. Take Y/N.”

You trailed behind Sam—you were so happy they didn’t leave you behind, you didn’t care what they gave you to do.

“I think that’s it—“ you we’re just pointing to a long shelf that had a jar of blood sitting on the center of it, when a figure appeared in the hallway.

“Hey Sam.” Lucifer’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, but what surprised you wasn’t his presence; it was who he chose to speak to. Sam didn’t see him…right?

Your gaze switched to your brother, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking right at the devil.

“Sam?” You tried to get your brother’s attention, but he wouldn’t look away from Lucifer.

“I thought I told you to shut up.” Lucifer’s eyes were suddenly on you. That caught Sam’s attention, and now he was staring at you.

“You can see him?” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid of his own words.

“I—I’ve—I’m—“ you were still trying to process that it wasn’t just you—that maybe you weren’t crazy. That maybe you were still in the cage after all. “I’ve been seeing him since this morning,” you admitted. “And hearing him longer. I didn’t want you to worry, I—I didn’t want it to be real.”

“Aww,” Lucifer cooed. “Both of you going mad, and neither one telling the other.”

“Shut up!” Sam snapped.

“Except—“ Lucifer continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken “—You’re both just finally realizing the truth. I never would’ve let you go, especially not both of you. You think I woulda lost both my toys like that? I mean, the fact that you believed it this long is just embarrassing.”

“Sam?” You stared up at your big brother, wanting more than anything for him to have the answer to the question you didn’t dare ask. Instead of an answer, you were rewarded with Lucifer’s hand around your neck as he shoved you around the corner of the hallway and up against the wall.

“I don’t like being ignored,” he growled.

“Stop!” Sam rushed at Lucifer, but a backhand from Lucifer’s free hand sent Sam flying back against the shelves.

“Now doesn’t this feel real?” Lucifer’s hand tightened against your throat, and your gasp for air was cut short.

“It’s…it’s not real.” Sam got to unsteady feet. “It’s just—it’s just our memories of hell leaking through. Y/N, it’s not real.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lucifer scoffed, dropping you and turning to Sam. “But you’re about to see just how real I am.”

…

By the time the devil was done with you, you weren’t sure how much hope was left inside. But when Dean rounded the corner calling your name, you still ran to him. You still wrapped your arms around him. You still clung to him like a lifeline.

Because even if he wasn’t real, hugging him was still the best thing you’d felt for as long as you could remember.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was gruff and on the edge of panic. “We gotta move, let’s go.”

You didn’t speak as Dean and Bobby led you and Sam outside. You lingered behind Dean, letting Sam catch up to you. As you took hold of his hand, you realized that the bloody marks and bruises Lucifer had left on the two of you were now gone.

You weren’t sure if that helped or not—Lucifer had healed your injuries countless times before, because he always thought it was more fun to give you a moment of pain relief before starting in again on the torture. As soon as your hand was in his, Sam met your eye and squeezed your hand. You squeezed his back twice, and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips.

The two of you had no idea if you were safe in the real world with Dean and Bobby, or if you were locked in eternal torture with the devil and his crazy brother.

But for now, you could hold onto each other, and it was almost enough.

…

“Sam.

“Sam.

“Sam.”

Sam jerked awake with a gasp to find Dean leaning over him. You stirred in the chair next to him, blinking your eyes open slowly—not in a tired way, though; it was more like you didn’t want to know what you would see once your eyes were open.

“Twelve hours, I’m calling that rested,” Dean went on, ignoring the terrified glance Sam shared with you. “Here.” He tossed a water bottle to you, then Sam, then followed it with a granola bar. “Hydrate, and—uh—proteinate.”

Dean then grabbed hold of Sam’s hand and peeled the bandage off—you weren’t sure when Sam’s hand got hurt, or why it was the only injury that he kept when the two of you walked away from Lucifer. But you didn’t question it—you had too many questions already.

“Aww.” You flinched when Lucifer appeared on the couch next to Sam. “He wants to hold your wittle hand.”

You watched as Sam forced his eyes on Dean, ignoring the devil completely.

“You’ll live,” Dean decided, moving aside to let Bobby rebandage Sam’s hand. “Now, I need you two to tell me what happened back there. You disappeared, and you looked pretty freaked when we found you.”

Sam couldn’t meet Dean’s eye as he spoke up for the two of you.

“It’s not just me,” Sam admitted. “She…she sees him too.”

Dean steeled his features quickly and took a deep breath.

“Him?” He asked.

Sam nodded, swallowing hard.

“It’s not just flashbacks anymore,” Sam said. “It’s—I’m having a hard time telling what’s real and what’s not. And I can see…him.”

“And you see him too?” Dean was looking at you. “You can see Lucifer?”

You nodded mutely, keeping your eyes trained on the carpet.

“So…so you guys are seeing the same thing? Every time?” Dean looked from Sam to you.

“I…” Sam tried to look at you, but you didn’t look up. “I think so.”

“Hey, any time you wanna chime in here kid,” Dean snapped.

You flinched, glancing at Dean before your gaze turned to Sam.

“Easy,” Sam told Dean. “She…it’s a lot.” Sam met your gaze head-on, and the two of you shared a near-psychic moment.

Lucifer was watching. Lucifer—whether he was real or not—could make you feel pain. Even if it didn’t leave a mark, you could still feel it.

“It’s not her fault,” Lucifer taunted. “She’s just being a good, silent little toy, just like I taught her. Right kid?”

Your gaze had returned to the floor, and Sam watched as your breathing became faster and you curled in on yourself.

“So he’s telling you that you’re still in the cage? That all this is fake?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded for the both of you.

Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam knew he was trying to come up with some way to convince you and him that Lucifer was wrong.

“Ok,” Dean said. “Why would he give you this? Why would he make you think you’re happy when he can just kick you two all over the cage?”

“You can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.” Lucifer piped in, nodding at Sam. Sam swallowed hard, and repeated the words to Dean. “Very good Sam,” Lucifer crowed, and Sam looked away quickly.

“What about each other?” Dean pointed from you to Sam. “I mean, that seems like something he could take away.”

“It felt like we were there for a hundred years, Dean,” Sam admitted. “I…I guess we got pretty used to seeing each other tortured, and Lucifer got bored with it.”

He was right; it had been Lucifer’s favorite game to torture the two of you with each other.

Ever since the beginning, he always knew it was the most effective tactic…

“How about this?” Lucifer was wiping blood off his hands as he spoke. “My arms are starting to get a little tired. So how about—Sam, you torture your little baby sister, huh? Is that a genius idea or what?”

Sam was choking on his own blood, but he still managed a couple of words—

“Screw you.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Lucifer scoffed. “You haven’t even heard my deal yet—you torture the kid, or I’ll rip her to shreds. Now, obviously, none of us can die down here, but I promise you; my methods of torture will be much worse than anything you could think of in your wildest nightmares.”

Sam turned to look at you—he didn’t want to make this decision.

As soon as you saw Sam looking at you, you shook your head immediately. Sam understood—he wouldn’t want to make you do that, either.

“I see you’re having trouble deciding,” Lucifer cut in. “I’ll let you two have a little chat about it, before the fun starts. But you’d better hurry up before my offer expires, and I tear you both apart piece by piece.”

Sam rushed to you, never one to waste an opportunity to talk to you.

“No, don’t,” you whimpered. “Sam, don’t. I’d rather let him rip my bones out then it be you, please. Please Sam.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sam insisted.

“It-it’s not just that,” you told him. “I…I don’t want to look at you and think about—“

“Ok…ok.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief—the last thing he wanted to do was torture you, but if it would save you from more pain he would do it, if that was what you wanted. But you didn’t want that; you wanted—needed—Sam to be a safe person in your mind. Sam needed the same.

As long as the two of you could look at each other and see something safe, maybe you would be able to hold on to your sanity.

“But this is way more fun, right little toy?” Lucifer was tugging at your arm, trying to get you to look at him. Your breathing got even more panicked, and Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene.

“Hey, are you seeing him now?” Dean demanded.

Sam nodded mutely.

“You know he isn’t real, right?” Dean said.

Sam finally turned to look at his brother. “He says the same thing about you,” he said.

Dean’s mouth closed suddenly, and he blinked in surprise. He didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Ok.” Bobby spoke up for the first time. “It’s back to the books.”

Sam watched Bobby and Dean walk out, and when he looked back at you, Lucifer was gone. He didn’t waste the opportunity—Sam rushed to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you until your breathing evened out again.

“We’re gonna be ok,” he whispered.

You looked around, making sure Lucifer wasn’t in the room before choking out a few whispered words.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Me, Sammy?” Your lip was quivering and your eyes were scanning his face, searching for an answer he wasn’t sure he had.

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you,” Sam promised. “I just…I didn’t think it was real. I didn’t want you to think we were back there, because I didn’t want to think we were back there.” Sam brushed your hair behind your ears. “What about you? You kept this from me, too.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled. “It was only dreams at first. Then I—I couldn’t tell if I was asleep or awake sometimes. Then you seemed to be handling things so well, so I—I just thought it would go away.” You sought out Sam’s hand with your own. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. I thought we knew each other inside and out by now.”

“I guess we were both going through so much, it was hard to see straight,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that again,” you pleaded. “We should…we should tell each other stuff like this. We went through—“ you swallowed. “Through—through everything together already. We shouldn’t have to hide anything.”

Sam smiled, and instead of responding with words, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You smiled back, responding with two squeezes of your own.

“Well I think this is a swell idea!” You and Sam flinched at the same time when Lucifer reappeared. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah—eternal torment.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

Uncaged Taglist:

@redbird-tf @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @o-birdseed-o @hopefuldreamers-world