#and that makes me feel even more like shit because i just forced someone to be my friend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maudie-duan · 2 days ago

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Summary: If you love me right, then who knows, I might let you make me Juno...Harry’s is the hot owner of a coffee shop you frequent. What are the odds he’s been dying to get your number??? A/N: Shout out to @howling-wolf97 for the request!! From my new Sabrina Series: Harry One Shots inspired by lyrics from our favorite little icon, Sabrina Carpenter.

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Word Count: 10.2k

Warning: 18+ fluff/smut

Marie: Dude, is that for real?

Y/N: Yes! Like we were talking, and for some reason, I felt bold and was like, prove it.

Marie: Wow! Very bold for my prude whittle bb.

Y/N: Omg, dude, I’m not a prude. I’m just shy, and honestly, I’m so proud of myself. He makes me so freaking nervous. He’s so fuuuuuucking hot.

Marie: God bless his dad’s genetics! 🍆🍆🍆

Y/N: I know!! The whole package!

Marie: He’s practically offering it up on a silver platter, bitch. You better hop on that…like for real! That’s the kind of dick for freaky shit…lol.

Y/N: You’re annoying. Yeah, he seems very sure of himself, like it’s almost intimidating. I feel like there’s no guessing. He hasn’t really pushed the sex thing. That part was just random. That was the first time we talked about it. Do you think I’m objectifying him by sending you that? Fuck, I just got excited.

Marie: Definitely, but only if you tell him you did it, and it sounds like he wants you! Omg! now you have someone to try those pink fuzzy handcuffs with…the ones I bought you for Christmas.

Y/N: Maybe…who knows?

Marie: Maybe he was warning you, preparing you for what’s to cuuuummm! And that’s you, girl!

Y/N: Jesus.

Marie: Just saying…

Y/N: I have to go! I’m about to grab some coffee. I hope his hot ass is working!!

Marie: Maybe he’ll make you come a latte…

Y/N: I hate you! bye!

Marie: You love me, and I’m happy you finally have someone decent on your radar! I’m sure he adores you, and you’re just overthinking it. Just talk to him. Text me if you see him. I want to know everything!

You saw him the second you walked into the coffee shop—It only took you ten minutes to hype yourself up enough to walk inside, but here you were.

In the midst of your prep talk, after you sorted through all the possible scenarios, you decided the best thing you could do was place a mobile order, that way if he wasn’t there, you could be in and out, but as soon as your eyes landed on the mobile counter Harry, your boy wonder barista, was chatting up some cute blonde, her friend standing close by.

You could relate to the friend, staring doe-eyed, a stargazed smile playing at her mouth, and as you watched, you imagined that if her long hair was freed from her high ponytail, she would be twirling the long strands around her finger, tossing it over her shoulder every time her friend laughed, or Harry’s eyes moved to hers. She had that desperate third-wheel energy, and although you knew the feeling, the second-hand embarrassment gutted you from across the room, your insides crawling up as you witnessed the blonde let out a screechingly high laugh, one that felt way too forced, almost halting you in place as you made your way over to the counter, and you tried not to make a face.

This wasn’t the first time you had noticed pretty stragglers, the girls that lingered a little too long, and being the owner of this shop, he had an effortless way of collecting them, you chalking it up to good customer service because he was always going to need the business. You knew you could never be mad about this part because it was part of his livelihood.

Especially when, as soon as you were in Harry’s line of sight, his eyes found yours, a broad smile spreading across that gorgeous face, and dammit, if you weren’t dying to follow through with whatever he may have been implying the other night.

Because shit, when he sent you that pic, his rock-hard cock standing tall, and those fucking tattoos marking his v-cut. He had your head spinning. You weren’t even a dick pic, girl, and there you were drooling over the thought of that dick inside you, and honestly, you weren’t even sure why you asked for a picture in the first place—a dick is just a dick in your book, but there was something about just knowing, that horny thought tickling the back of your mind any time you saw him standing behind that coffee bar.

The strange part was that you hadn’t even talked to him since. That was four days ago, and for some reason, you were too scared to speak to him. I guess there were other reasons: you had been busy with work, starting that new internship—more like a glorified assistant position—the first two days were long and grueling, and it gave you a few extra days to sit on the thought, but then you realized texting back would make it real, right? What kind of response was he expecting?

It was late when he sent the picture, so it was understandable if you had fallen asleep, but you also weren’t sure if you not responding, pivoted the vibe, and now there was only one way to find out.

Yes, you were, without a doubt, interested, but you had been out of the dating game for a while; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. It would be nice; he could definitely break you in, clear the cobwebs, pick you up, and dust you off because a toy can only do so much, and lately, you’ve only been taking it out on special occasions…whatever that means.

And let’s be real; you’ve been doing anything to justify your barren behavior. Who even needs a special occasion to get off? What were you turning into? You were getting way too comfortable in your independent ways, and while that’s great for most, it was okay to loosen the reigns every once in a while and get your metaphorical “dick sucked” because you deserved it; you deserved this, and as you reach the counter, Harry is pulling your drink toward him, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, while the blonde talks at him.

“Unfortunately, I have very little free time these days, but I can definitely ask the crew if they’re interested in any…was it pilate classes?” He asks the blonde as her flirty smile falters ever so slightly, almost giving herself away, and your eyes move back to your drink, now clasped in his hand on the counter.

“Here, why don’t I get your number…I can, like, send you the info or something…” and you have to admit, it was smooth, the perfect segway to land the cute coffee shop owner’s number.

Then your eyes flick to Harry, who’s patting his pockets, searching for his phone, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “You know what? I don’t have my phone…”

And just when you think he’s distracted, you reach forward across the counter, ready to swipe your drink and run, but he’s quick, strangely aware of your presence, and he snatches up the drink, a smile on his face as he says, “Maybe Jen at the register has a pen and paper you can write it down…” Then his eyes sweep to yours, sending you a wink—a fucking wink, and you have to stop your jaw from dropping because as soon as the blonde picks up on the interaction, she scoffs under her breath and looks over at her friend.

“Hi…” He says, giving you his full attention, and from the corner of your eyes, you can see the blonde standing there dumbfounded, maybe rarely getting rejected because you can definitely tell that’s a pilates body, the perfect canvas for her matching Lululemon set, and when her friend tugs on her arm, you bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m here to pick up a mobile order…” you tell him, fainting innocence because, after all, you were the one that never texted him back.

Harry looks down at the drink in his hand, “Hmmm…did you order a grande London Fog with oat milk, no vanilla, sub brown sugar…” and Jesus, the way he says sugar makes you want to lick your lips, the word glazing over his tongue; that British drawl never getting old.

“Embarrassingly enough, yes…but it sounds ridiculous when it’s said out loud like that, shhhhh….” you say, reaching for your drink, but he only pulls it further out of reach. He’s in a playful mood this morning, and you can tell he’s not holding a grudge for your sudden onset of silence because it was kind of sudden.

After you ran into each other at that John Mayer concert, the one your sister forced you to go to—You only remembered a few of his songs from childhood, the ones your sister played to death, so you spent that night drinking, pregaming before the show, you know, being a supportive sister until her boyfriend decided to come at the last minute, making you the tag along.

As soon as the music started playing, it wasn’t that bad. The whole set was acoustic, his smooth voice echoing off the stone mountains, the weather perfect as the stars twinkled above, and really, it was the perfect concert to sit cozied up to your boyfriend so you couldn’t be too mad at your sister because it was nice seeing her this happy. So, when you snuck away to use the bathroom, you weren’t expecting to run into your favorite hot barista, and what are the odds that he would be alone?

He was standing in line for a drink, and you were just tipsy enough to follow through with a, “Oh hey…Harry, right?” like an idiot because you definitely didn’t know him like that, and surely it was weird on your part, approaching him like you had ever formally introduced yourself.

Every transaction you guys have ever had was him being friendly because it was his job, right? Like for example, you knew his name only because he wore a name tag, not because you’ve ever taken the time to ask him, and maybe he’s asked you a few questions here and there, but you had seen him do that plenty of time, whether you were waiting in line or sitting in the cafe before you finished school, you know, a friendly shop owner trying to get business and that’s what you thought, but then he called you by name, and this was new because you couldn’t remember if you had actually heard him say it directly to you—you would have remembered the way it fell from his perfect lips as you watched his dimples dip into his cheeks.

And once you got over the initial shock of him knowing your name, him clearing the air, trying to play it down, telling you he sees a lot of regulars out and about, you said, “I guess I thought I flew under the radar…” which was silly, because what the fuck did you mean by that and what did you know about planes, then he laughed and told you:

“I’ve definitely noticed you on many occasions…” As a clever smile turned up the corners of his mouth, you felt it: the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as his eyes swept over your face, stealing your focus, and it was sudden, his effect as the noise began to fade—a head rush—then the world started slowing down around you, your heart echoing in your ears. When he smiled, he licked his lips, and you watched as that smile spread into a knowing grin, and just like that, you were hooked, like magnets, for the rest of the night.

Then, somehow, it was all smooth sailing, and that’s the part that gets you later when you look back on that night. It was like a miracle from the fucking universe because what were the chances—and when he offered to buy you a drink, and you found out he was there by himself, you felt brave enough to ask if he wanted to join you because fuck being the third wheel when you had a chance to chat up the hot-ass coffee shop owner.

You couldn’t believe your luck. How many times did Harry lean over and whisper in your ear? His deep voice like velvet brushing down your spine, and each time, Harry inched closer and closer until you were shoulder to shoulder. With every movement he made, you felt him—hyper-aware of everything, all the little detail as John Mayer practically set the mood, him ending the concert with ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland,’ and thank the fucking stars up above because, dammit, if that song hasn’t become Harry’s theme song in your head because nothing else will do because now you would have that moment forever, floating across your memory.

When Harry politely placed his hand on your knee, whispering, “We should exchange numbers….” as John said his thanks, wishing everyone a good night, you sat there wishing you could end this night with Harry’s lips on yours.

Maybe in another universe, Harry would have kissed you goodnight, but you were with your sister, and you had already made plans with her. So when sister tried to play matchmaker and invite him to join you guys after, he graciously declined, telling you guys he had to open in the morning, and that’s when you realized you were actually okay with his not joining. You needed time to digest this evening, mull it over until it was real, and as you floated still on a high from the evening to the car, there you were, sending him a text just before your phone died.

That night, as you crawled into bed hours later, still riding that same high. Harry’s face was fresh on your mind, familiar but in a new light.

All you could think about were those fleeting moments when you guys traded phones—Both of you entering each other’s numbers as you stole a quick glance at Harry’s shakey fingers, typing away at your keyboard—There was something so vulnerable about the idea of your phone being in his hand, of you holding his, an act of trust right off the bat, you thought as you plugged in your phone— a hazy daydream of Harry’s fingers playing out, picturing his yellow nails, each one marked with a happy face, and it’s exactly how you felt, how he made you feel.

Because how did it happen? And when your phone came back to life, there was his name, Harry Styles, a message setting the tone for all the weeks to follow:

H: Hi, Sorry! I’m passing out soon. The dreadful opening shift is killing me this week. I’m really glad we ran into each other. Kind of crazy, but I’ve been trying to think of ways to get your number for a while. I hope that’s not weird or anything. Thanks for letting me crash your evening with your family. You were definitely a pleasant surprise. See you around.

Fast forward several weeks, and here he was, standing before you, once a stranger but still one of the sexiest guys you had ever seen because let’s not pretend like you haven’t been eyeing him ever since you started coming to this coffee shop. Now, there were numerous possibilities—the looming thought of him being inside you, hanging over your heads, added static building between you, and yes, his flirting right now is solidifying the deal for you because he wants you. You can see it in his eyes, the electricity coursing through your veins when they flit to your mouth, and then he says:

“I was getting worried…I haven’t heard from you,” and he smirks nonchalantly reading the label of your drink as your eyes sweep over his face.

His playfulness simmers into that casual, relaxed demeanor you’ve grown so fond of, and you can’t help but smile, your body warming at the thought of that last message, the image flashing across your vision, but there’s something different about the interaction, the thought of him more intimate because now you had the pleasure of piece together more details, more things about himself that he’s revealed, and let you kept, collecting bits of Harry that only make you like him more.

“I’m sorry, I started that internship…it was crazy the first few days…” you tell him.

“Oh yeah, I was wondering how that was going…” and this makes you smile. His attentiveness, his genuine curiosity about your life because he really did seem interested this whole time, from the very beginning. “I was hoping I didn’t scare you off—”

“Mmmm…” you nod, getting lost in a trance, his words like a switch, igniting that little flame within. He has a way of sucking you in, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, the way he holds your gaze, never flinching, never shying away.

“Yeah?” He nudges, a curious look pulling between his brows.

You clamor a nervous laugh, the sound making you stumble over your words, “Yeah—I mean—no—no…not scared…I mean, no, you didn’t scare me off…”

“Not scared…” he laughs

And you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, as a smile spreads across your face, “Yeah…whatever that means…” you laugh, this time taking control of your reaction because shit, you are giving yourself away, and it’s no wonder you didn’t text him back because you can’t even keep it together enough to form the right words, let alone a sentence for that matter.

“Mmmmm….” he hums, that sly grin back in full swing, and you don’t even want that hot drink anymore because it’s fucking roasting in here, and you hope with all your might that he’s not picking up on your embarrassment, but then he says:

“Did you want a water?”

“A water?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, you usually get a water…you seem thirsty this morning—”

“Thirsty?” you question, caught up in that smile.

“Yeah, do you want extra ice, maybe cool you down a little bit?”

This is when you finally catch on to his joke, “I think I have to go and never come back, “ you say, turning away slightly.

“No—no—no—no—no—no” He laughs, reaching over the counter to grab your arm, and you feel the blush creeping further, setting your whole body on fire. “I’m just joking… you’re cute when you blush….”

“Oh really? Because now I think I want to die,” you force, hitching your thumb toward the door as he releases your arm.

Harry shakes his head, that smile even more persistent, “I’m only teasing…here…” he says, pushing your drink forward, “I promise I won’t poke anymore fun…” and just as the words fall from his mouth, a random girl walks up, grabbing her drink, her eyes trained on Harry, smiling over to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. All you want to do is climb onto this counter and let him take you right then and there—let him claim you, make you his, pray that you’re his one and only because every time you see him, that want, that need to have him. Buries itself deeper inside you—each new day, every new detail only makes you like him more.

“Would you want to come over tonight?” Harry asks, catching you off guard, the question tripping you up again.

“Oh, my roommate is having people over tonight, so I can’t host…” you tell him, unaware that you heard the question wrong because this would be the first time you guys hung out alone, without the safety of a crowded bar or the public eye of his coffee shop.

“No—” he laughs, thoroughly entertained by you this morning, “Would you like to come to mine? I don’t mind hosting…maybe watch a movie or something…”

Or something…you think, something wild, your thoughts spinning as you nod your head up and down, words suddenly hard.

“So is that a yeah?” he pokes.

“Yeah—yeah—yeah—” you confirm, still nodding, “Yup, that sounds good…that sounds really good…”

And you’re kicking yourself for that last bit, “Really good, huh?” he repeats, really driving it home.

“God, I have to go…” and you fucking giggle like a little schoolgirl, “I think I need caffeine or something…” you tell him backing away.

He chuckles, his eyes dropping to the drink in your hand. “I steamed it extra hot this morning…”

“Thank you! I—” you tell him, your tone rising as you turn away because you almost walked right into that one, and just as you’re about to push through the door, Harry shouts, “I’ll text you…” and then you’re through the door, gasping in a breath, the cold air filling your lung; a soothing relief. There is no way you can look back, and as you slide into the driver seat, your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you lift your ass in your seat and peer down at the screen, swiping it open:

H: I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ll start thinking of movie options. Let me know what you think you might be hungry for, and I’ll order food.”

If this had been a weekday, you would have called in. You would have risked the internship because this was monumental—You were going to Harry’s place—This was bound to be a turning point, a change in scenery for you both, more personal, shifting the mood from friendly to possibly sexy, and this you had to prepare for.

You waited until you got home to text him back. You didn’t want to come off as too excited; you wanted to play it cool. I guess, yes, you could have texted him back right then and there, but why not leave some mystery? You already knew you wanted Chinese food; that was a no-brainer, but when he texted you and told you his internet was down. He asked if you had any DVDs, and this made you laugh. You had only kept a few random movies over the years stowed away in a box in your closet, a sparse collection curated specifically for you, especially not for a hot dude you were trying to get with.

And when you pulled your old box of belongings from the dusty top shelf, you laughed the second you opened it. There, sitting on top, were three random DVDs—you were beside yourself because now you were questioning your younger self, wondering why the fuck you would keep any of these movies, store them away like prized gold.

Okay, maybe there was something about the movie ‘Twilight’ that was worth keeping. You could understand that, and as you pulled it from the box, your eyes swept over the cover. You thought about the kind of vibe it would set, and it seemed like a movie you’d make your boyfriend watch when you just wanted a movie to cozy up together, something you knew he would never enjoy but would watch for you because he loved you. Maybe it would be okay if you both had seen it, but if Harry hadn’t seen it. This wasn’t the time, so you placed it on the floor next to you, making it an option.

When you pulled ‘The Notebook’ out, the cover Ryan Gosling and Rachel Mcadams about to embrace in a passionate kiss, you literally laughed out loud because there was no way in hell you wanted to watch this movie with him. It was way too soon. What message would you be sending if you chose that one, maybe you were overthinking this all, but hell, this was a big deal, and you wanted it all to go smoothly. You didn’t want to imply too much this early on, but at the same, the more you thought about it, the more you thought that you could actually see this going somewhere, and maybe it wasn’t just the sex you wanted—it was him.

Everything about him screamed—interested.

It didn’t seem like a facade to get you into bed because if that were the case, you think he would have already acted on it; something about the pace of your interactions meant more than a hookup. You found his genuine curiosity in you endearing, the biggest turn on in a very long time, and if sex came cool—He was already “fucking” your brain with his authenticity because if you really broke it down. None of the boys that have popped up in the last couple of months were ever worth your time. You had been waiting around for a man—a real man, to swoop in, a man that was sure of himself, that had his shit together, that was interested in more than just a casual hook-up because you were over that bullshit, over the feeling of being disposable in somebody else’s roster.

And while you weren’t fully sure of Harry’s intentions, you bet if you asked, he would tell you. He was busy. He had a business to run, for heaven’s sake, and something told you he didn’t have a lot of time to fuck around, like when he told that pilates instructor he was busy, there was definitely some truth in that. You could tell he was organized with his time by the way he made plans—each hang out thoughtfully procured with your time at the forefront, never flaking or making excuses, never changing the plans at the last minute.

In fact, everything about him so far was a major turn on, and as you skimmed through your underwear drawer, trying to piece together a matching set because you could be a grown-up too, you laughed, your eyes flicking over to the third movie laid out across your floor, Juno—that was the one—That would be the perfect movie. You couldn’t even remember the last time you watched it, at least not as an adult. So you did the polite thing and sent him a picture, the movies lined up in a neat row, and as you sent the picture, you internally wished that he would choose Juno like maybe that would be the universe’s way of saying, “Yeah…you’re on the same page…this ones a keeper…”

H: We should talk about your movie collection later…but without a doubt, Juno for me…but I wouldn’t be opposed to The Notebook either…I’ll let you pick.

You laugh, falling back onto your bed, watching those tiny little dots move at the bottom of the screen.

H: Also, I’m going comfy vibes, like sweatpants and t-shirt kind of night, just a heads up.

Then you’re kicking your feet, that inner school girl rising up again, and now you’re fucking obsessing over this guy, over the fact that he just gets it, like somehow he’s becoming the complete package, like all those late-nights thinking about him was finally starting to pay off.

H: Ordering the food now, see you soon!

You send him a text, leap off the bed and rush to finish getting dressed; that picture of his dick in the foyer of your mind, and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought, already horny with the idea of just walking through his door, the idea of sitting on the same couch and it’s like you’re a teenager all over again, dying to makeout until your lips are chapped, rub your body against his until the friction has you wet until his hands are roaming your body, needy to explore every inch of you.

This is what you’re thinking as you wait for him to open the door, your heart thudding away in your chest. When you hear the click of the knob and the door creaks open, your stomach twists with butterflies, the flutter seizing your whole body as he reaches out to embrace you in a hug, but your hands are full, and you can only lean into his side, a half-ass hug as he starts collecting each item, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Glad you found it okay,” Harry tosses over his shoulder as you follow him into the living room.

Harry sets your stuff down on the coffee table just as the doorbell chimes, “Ah, that must be the food, be right back, just make yourself at home…” He smiles, his eyes searching your face, and you hope you’re not coming off too nervous because, let’s face it, this is intimidating as fuck. You figured he had his shit together, but his place was amazing, eclectic yet put together like he actually paid full price for his couch, probably brand new, a large fluffy L-shape—you couldn’t help but flop down onto the cushion, exhaling all your self-doubt because what’s the worst that could happen, you think as your eyes flit shut, sinking into the feeling of comfort.

“I’m going to grab some dishes,” he says, stirring you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes as he releases the sack of food, the boxes making a dull thud as they hit the table.

You push yourself up with a smile, him catching you in the middle of testing out his sofa, “Comfy couch,” you tell him, clearing your throat.

He laughs, “It really is. If I fall asleep during the movie, you’ll have to wake me.”

“I was literally just thinking the same thing. I drank coffee before I came, so—”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I honestly did the same…I didn’t want to leave a bad impression. I’m notorious for falling asleep early.”

You laugh then, “Well, if I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to open a coffee shop, I would never have a social life.”

“My social life is barely functioning…trust me….” He tells you, “I’ll be back in just a second. Are you good with chopsticks, or would you like a fork?”

“Chopsticks are great, thank you.” You grin, your cheeks squishing into a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, matching your smile.

“Nothing…nothing…I’ll set up the movie,” you offer, needing to look away, needing to look anywhere else because he is so fucking cute, and those sweatpants are so hot on him, hugging the bulge you know is there, and if you stare too long you might start undressing him.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” and his manners make you smile even more as you stand to your feet, slipping your shoes off to get cozy.

The movie is set, and when he sees the opening menu of Juno, he laughs as the old wood floors creak under his soft footfalls. His presence fills the room in a matter of seconds, drawing you back to the moment, making you all too aware that this is real when he sits closer than you expected, his elbow softly grazing yours, and you can’t seem to find any words, you heart racing, maybe second-guessing if you’re actually ready for this, and really this is just you guys watching a movie. You know it doesn’t have to be anything else, but then there’s the desperate side of you, the side that wants to explore every option because there is something about him that feels safe and open to every prospect.

Getting past the eating part was fine, and as you guys cozied up with your plates and the movie began, it wasn’t even strange that the opening scene was a mild sex scene because you were both adults and honestly, it was barely a sex scene, mostly implied, kind of like this night with Harry.

It was when the eating was done, all the niceties out of the way. There was still an hour of the movie left, the room dark now, only the soft glow of the television casting light over you both. Harry’s knee was casually pressed against yours as the both of you sat cross-legged on the couch. Every time he moved even the slightest, your eyes would drop to your knee, a low hum buzzing up your thigh, and as soon as you brought any attention to the touch in your mind, that feeling of want pulled between your legs, making you suck in a slow, silent breath through your nose, you reminding yourself to breath, trying not to draw any attention to yourself.

Eventually, you relaxed enough to sink into the movie— overly focused on the screen—even when Harry stretched his legs out and slid further down on the couch cushion, his arm stretching across the pillow behind your head. You didn’t even move. You just sat there so quietly and so still, nearly holding your breath, and maybe he must have picked up on this because then he was pausing the movie, suggesting a bathroom break.

And the second he walked out of the room, you felt your whole body decompress, and you filled your lungs with as much oxygen as you could, gulping in air like the second he walked back in the room, he would steal the very air you were breathing. Why were you still nervous? He hadn’t tried anything, he wasn’t being weird or hinting at anything, no hidden expectations floating to the surface because you guys really were just hanging out, but that still didn’t make it feel any easier. Before he left the room, you could feel the tension straining in your shoulders as you sat there, your muscles burning from your rigid posture—you needed to chill; you were the one that needed to get your shit together.

When you heard his footsteps, you shot up from the couch like a fucking weirdo, almost losing your footing, but you caught yourself before you could fall, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips, and by the way, your face was already starting to burn, you were glad it was too dark to see the flush rising to your cheeks.

“All good?” He asks, a slow smile spreading as his brows knit together.

You nod, forcing an odd laugh, “Is the bathroom that way?” you point in the direction he just came from, and you barely catch his nod as you take the long way around the couch, avoiding any chance of touching or his body brushing yours because it’s obvious you’re being a fucking chicken, because there’s no way a grown man was inviting you over just watch a movie.

As you shut the door behind you, you exhale, realizing you were holding your breath that entire walk to the bathroom, and then you can’t fill your lungs quick enough as the anxious thoughts rise within, suffocating you, your anxiety trying to get the best of you. You can do this. Everything is okay, you are capable of communicating, you could march in there and just talk, you could ask what the deal is, what it is that he’s looking for because if it’s just to fuck, that is doable that part feels like a piece of cake, you would love to get off, but this was more, you can feel it in your bones, there was knowingly something different about him, and it scared the shit out of you.

And while you wash your hands, you try and avoid the mirror, avoiding your eyes, because you know what they would convey, and you already felt cowardly enough. So, of course, when you walk back into the living room again, you take the long way, not daring to look at Harry. Then you take your spot back next to him without a word, feeling his eyes on you, your body tensing up, and as you stare at the screen waiting for him to unpause the movie, he doesn’t. That’s when you chance a glance over at him, his eyes roam over your face, and then he leans past you to turn on the lamp as you hold your breath, the scent of him lingering in your nose as he settles back onto the cushion, this time facing you, and you look over and try and give him a corky smile, but you know it looks strange because the muscles in your cheeks keep twitching.

God, this is embarrassing, you think, and Harry clears his throat, “Umm…is it cool if we clear the air?”

And without a word, you nod, forcing yourself to face him, sitting up straight because you got this, you can do this, get this part over.

“I guess I just wanted to be clear about…I guess my intentions…I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone…and I guess I’m feeling a little rusty. If that makes sense?” He explains, making your heart pick up.

“Yeah…same,” you mutter, your throat tight, and you swallow down hard.

“I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate this all…you know, like…I don’t know. I really like you, and I was hoping we could like—”

“What? Have sex—?” You blurt, making him gasp out a laugh, and really, you just wanted to cut right to the chase and figure out what your next move needed to be.

He looks nervous, a funny smile spread across his face as he runs a hand up the back of his head, “I mean—” and he laughs, his nerves visibly getting the best of him, and this makes you smile because you definitely just jumped the gun.

“Is that what you’re wanting?” he asks, looking down at his hands, “I guess I’m trying to figure out what you’re looking for—” He starts

“To be completely transparent, I’m sort of looking for something a little more serious…I mean, sex is great, but—”

You jump in then, “No—yeah, the other…” you clear your throat, “Like something serious…I’m sorry, but you make me so fucking nervous…”

“Am I being too forward?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

And you laugh, “No, I just think I really like you, and it’s just…been a while, you know? It’s also been a while since I’ve dated anyone…or I guess…like had sex…”

“Mmmm…” he hums, and then he laughs, “Not to push the sex narrative, but it has been a while for me, as well….like maybe a year or so. I don’t know. I stopped keeping track. I’ve been really busy with work, and I wasn’t really looking for anything, and then I saw you at the concert…”

Your eyes search his face then, but you know he’s telling you the truth, “So…like, how serious are you thinking? Like someone to exclusively hook up with? Fit into your busy schedule? What are you looking for? I would rather be on the same page.”

“Like dating…like a girlfriend…like maybe this could be something that moves further…”

And for some reason, you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side, “With me?” you question.

Harry laughs again, “Well…yeah, you silly.”

Then you had to back up the conversation, “So the other night when you sent me that picture, it wasn’t for the sake of a hook-up?”

“I mean, I’m interested in hooking up, but it doesn’t have to be right now…I don’t know, I guess I just wanted you to know I was interested…” Then he laughs, his eyes shying away from you again, “Like I said, I’m rusty. Was that a weird thing to do? It’s been a while since I’ve done that…actually, I’ve only done that one other time…so—”

“I did ask for it…” you clarified, grabbing his attention.

“Yeah…I guess you did.” Then his eyes drop to your mouth.

And now you’re feeling bold, “I’m very interested…” and when your eyes dart away from his, you feel your face growing hot, laughing to yourself as you contemplate the conversation because you didn’t see it coming, but there was a piece of you that was glad it was happening, maybe even a piece of you realizing you may have a communication kink because you’re definitely getting turned on the clearer his intentions get and when he asks:

“What are you thinking?” That’s when you look over and smile, watching his smile spread across those perfect lips of his, and you bite down on your lower lip, deciding which dirty thought to divulge because there might be too many to choose just one.

Then you bite your lip harder, trying to suppress your smile, but it’s no use, and you say, “I mean…we can wait as long as you want to explore the physical side, but I’m down whenever you are…like so down…”

This cracks him up, “So, just like whenever?”

And you match his laughter, falling back against the couch pillows, “I might let you make me Ju—no—” and you can’t even say it with a straight face as you both burst into laughter, all the tension seeming to go with it, and it’s like the room is brighter, the air lighter around you as you suck in a hard breath, almost choking on your own laugh.

“I’m actually on birth control…so the Juno thing might be out the window,” you tell him, placing a hand on his knee. You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t even realize it. Then he’s resting his hand on yours, smiling over at you.

That’s when you feel the pad of his thumb moving back and forth over the top of your hand, and you look down, “Hypothetically speaking…” he says, squeezing your hand, and your heart leaps in your throat as you begin to grip his hand.

“If I were to ask you if you wanted to stay the night one day… would you be down with that?” Then he grips your hand back, and you loosen your hold, laughing because you keep giving yourself away.

“Honestly? You ask.

And he nods, that cute smile stretching, his dimples sinking into his cheeks, “Can we just like get the first hook-up out of the way…because if I wait any longer, I might psych myself out”

“Fuck…” he breathes, “Yes—I feel the same way…like right here? Or in my bed?” he forces, relief washing over his features, a new air of excitement filling the room.

“Oh…did you want to finish the movie?” he adds right before you tell him:

“Fuck no—” laughing as you squeeze his hand again.

“You look like someone who would have a comfortable bed…” you tell him, standing to your feet.

Harry rises with you, still holding your hand. “My rooms upstairs—” he says, his eyes flicking to the stairs through the archway.

“Okay…?” he questions, his eyes scanning your face for any hesitation.

“Yes—” you nod as he begins to pull you toward the stairs.

As soon as you reach the landing at the top of the stairs, he turns around, laughing, “Wait—you said I look like someone who has a comfortable bed?”

“Is that really what you’re thinking about…? You laugh.

He shrugs like he’s stalling, or maybe he’s nervous, “I mean… among other things…”

“Harry, are you nervous?” you ask, squeezing his hand again, and honestly, you’re hoping that he says yes because you’re not sure how this is going to go down, but you’ve been horny for him long before he sent you that photo, so you don’t really care about the details; you just want him inside you as soon as possible.

“Honestly…I don’t think I’ll last long. I just thought I would warn you…”

You smile then, lifting your hand to stroke his cheek, “Then we’re both in the same boat…we’ll just say the first time doesn’t count. Deal?”

“Deal, " he says, letting out a light laugh. You stand there, taking in his face. A boyish grin setting in, about to push you to the edge, and you practically leap to the tips of your toes, pushing your mouth to his.

At first, he’s stunned, but once you begin to move your mouth, he grabs hold of your face, taking a step back. When he takes another, you break the kiss, excitement coursing through you, and you peek over his shoulder, wondering which door leads to his bedroom. When he realizes what you’re doing, he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the end of the hall, pushes through the door, and it smacks against the wall as Harry tugs you through the doorway.

The first thing you do is grab hold of his shirt, his picture flashing across your vision. You have to see those tattoos in person, and when you begin to pull at the hem, he takes your cue and lifts it over his head. Now you’re the one who’s stunned as a whole series of tattoos come into view, halting you in place. Then your eyes are feasting over the plains of his body, the muscles, the random array of tattoos—since when did coffee shop owners look this fucking hot? Like, what did he do before this? But then you’re driving these thoughts away, your hands already moving over his skin—a palm brushing flat over the butterfly at the center of his chest, and it’s almost too much.

You drop to your knees, at eye level, with the leaves inked into his lower abdomen, and you lick your lips, grabbing hold of his waist, a light touch tracing along one side with the tips of your fingers. “Jesus,” you breathe as the leaves disappear into the band of his sweatpants. Before your eyes move any further, you gaze up at Harry. His eyes are trained on you, a lazy smile spreading on his face, and then he laughs.

“If you put those lips around my dick, I swear I’ll only last two seconds. Your touch has already got me so close…” He tells you, bending at the waist to lift your chin, and when he plants his lips to yours, you breathe him in, working yourself back to standing, your mouth never leaving his.

You pull away from the kiss, pressing your hand flat against his chest, needy, pushing him toward the bed, “I could probably get off just by looking at you…” and you both laugh at this, but you’re serious. Everything about him is working you up, and now you’re so turned on that you feel yourself opening for him, your pussy throbbing the entire time you bound up the stairs.

Harry stumbles back onto the bed, sitting at the edge, and brings you between his legs. When he gives your shirt a playful tug, you lift your arms, giving him permission, and he yanks it up, up, up until he’s standing, pulling until you feel the collar of your shirt wisp over the tips of your fingers, then he tosses it to the ground with a smirk on his face—your red lacy bra on full display in the low light of the moon, casting silver light through the window.

When he sits back down on the bed, he draws you toward him again, his hands on your waist, gripping the meat of flesh, a hunger rising up as he buries his face into the hallow between your breast, and when you run your hands through his hair, Harry lets out a soft groan, a puff of heat fanning over your skin, and you bring your face down to the crown of his head, breathing in the smell of his hair.

Harry’s hand moves from your waist to the clasp

of your bra, fidgetting with the hook as he nibbles the tip of your hard nipples through your bra; all you can do is watch, a chill running up your spine, a rush surging through you as soon as your bra comes off, and this is happening, this is real, and when Harry looks up and smiles at you, you need him inside of you—now, desperate for it, desperate for him.

You were ready, that consistent ache between your legs tugging at the pit of your stomach. You wanted him fast and deep; you wanted him to open you up, stretch you so that you would remember, a sore reminder later, a feeling that he was there—leave you reeling, craving more—crave him as you crave him now, like a sweet tooth, one bite never enough.

“Now—” you force, “Now—I need it now,” you tell him, your hands on his shoulder, moving down his chest as you’re pushing him back, and Harry laughs, his body following your command, the muscles in his stomach flexing and relaxing as he lays back on the bed. Then your eyes are drifting down, his grey sweatpants marking the outline of his dick, and it’s joy, pure joy, that giddy feeling tightening your chest, adrenaline shakey at the tips of your fingers as you reach for the elastic waist of his pants.

“I’m so fucking turned on—” he mutters, the words flying out of his mouth, your hands colliding as he helps you ease the pants down, his boxers coming with, catching on his thighs, his dick seconds away from springing free, and harry lifts his leg as you rip off his pants, tossing them across the room with such force, that you can’t help but laugh as Harry’s eyes follow, the pants knocking a picture off the wall, and the frame comes crashing down to the floor with a smash, the sounds of glass shattering fills the room, and Harry doesn’t even flinch because he’s grabbing your face before you can even see the damage.

Harry stands to his feet, one goal in mind, and that was to get you naked, “Still good?” he asks, but you’re too distracted, his rock-hard cock bobbing between the two of you, and when he laughs, it pulses a slight bounce, and it’s like striking gold, your eyes wide, lit with curiosity, every ounce of excitement you felt before hurrying to your needy hands as you reach for his penis, wrapping your hand around his girth, a gasp slipping past your lips as his warmth seeps into the palm of your hand.

The thought was enough before, but the feeling of him in your hand is even better, drawing that hungry to the surface, your mouth watering, and you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away from the dick filling your hand. When you meet Harry’s eyes, you both smile, sharing a knowing look as you nod your head, a late response bubbling up, and then you lick your lips, smoothing them together, contemplating whether or not you’re going to drop back down to your knees, and then you say, “I need you inside me—” gliding your hand down his shaft as Harry sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, the quick sensation of pleasure too much for you both, and he stops your hand mid stoke, his jaw clenching as he squeezes his eyes shut, and when his head falls back, lips parting—You’re losing it.

Without thought, your crawling back onto the bed, pulling at the waistband of your yoga pants, too fucking tight for this situation because it’s taking too long, every movement bringing awareness to your wet pussy, the cold air grazing over your newly exposed skin. Then Harry is helping you tear them past your ass, lifting your hips as his knuckles drag down your legs with the rough effort of ripping them past your ankles.

Never again, you think, never again will you waste time with such a useless fabric as you bring your hand between your thighs, smearing the wetness building within you up your slit, readying yourself. Watching Harry’s mouth gape open when you spread your legs, and god, you are so fucking wet, so fucking horny that you think you’ll explode, and as Harry strokes his dick, his hand moving up and down, you dip your fingers inside, slowly pushing them in, only enough to slick your entrance, then out, and in again, so smooth, open, begging to be filled, to be stretched.

When Harry presses a knee into the edge of the bed, you pull your wet fingers from inside you, making Harry smile. He drops his dick as he climbs onto the bed next to you, him watching as you suck your fingers into your mouth, eliciting a small moan from Harry as he grabs hold of your wrist, your fingers slipping out of your mouth with ease, then Harry is making them his the moment they enter his mouth, his tongue moving over your fingers, then you feel the suction, feel the vibration at the back of his throat when he groans, satisfaction loosening his tight-knit browns.

You can’t take it; that’s when you’re pulling your fingers from his mouth, pushing him back onto the bed, and claiming on top, one swift movement, “Is this okay?” you ask, the thought of asking barely at the forefront of your mind, and when he grabs your hips to line you up, lifting himself to adjusting you both, the answer is evident in the movements because he’s just as desperate, just as needy.

“Is this how you want it?” he asks, and you nod your head, feeling shy suddenly, heat creeping into your cheeks—the exchange of words slowing things down enough to put things into perspective in just a matter of seconds.

“This is good…” you answer, on the verge of second-guessing yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathe, straightening your spine, your body relaxing slightly, nervous, but the look on Harry’s face is reassuring you, something telling you he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation.

“Will you tell me if you want to change positions if this is too much…” And he smiles then, a playful smirk as you lean forward, and you press your hand into the bed, next to his head. Your face inches from his.

You laugh then, “I want it to be too much…” you tell him, confident in the fact that no matter what position, it’s going to hurt, so why not have control? Besides, you wanted to watch him come undone, be the reason he’s calling your name.

“Dammit… you’re dangerous…” he laughs, his tone low, a silky rasp in your ear as you drop your mouth to his neck, pressing your lips to his soft skin, breathing him in as your free hand navigates his dick to your opening, the stretch imitate as his tip dips in, and your breath catching as you shove him inside you. Amazed by the force it takes just to inch him in the smallest amount as Harry exhales a heavy breath into your neck, and holy shit, your lack of sex is finally catching up, you think as you push yourself up, your face hovering over his.

“Fuck—” you breathe with a smile, trying not to laugh, and your eyes sweep over his face, your brain taking mental notes of every look of pleasure that has stolen Harry’s features, saving them for later.

“We can go slow?” he says, leaning up to grab hold of your face, a harsh breath leaving your mouth as he presses his lips to yours, his dick inching further in with every moment.

You pull away from the kiss, teetering on pain’s edge as you rest your forehead against his, “Just push into me…” you whisper, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“What?” He asks, confused, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off—” Then it’s happening. Harry gazes up at you; a moment of hesitation, then he grabs your hips and bucks himself deep inside you, the pain ricocheting through your teeth as you bit down hard, sealing your pained moan behind your lips, and you screw your eye shut, sinking your weight into your hips ceasing any further movement.

“…fuuuuuuuuuuck….” you whisper, your head spinning, dizzy with the thought of his cock buried inside you, like he’s splitting you open, carving out a space for himself. There was no going back after this because this is the kind of dick you dreamed of, the kind of dick you wanted to break you in, claim you, make you theirs, and even if there’s pain now, there’s bliss in the thought of knowing.

“Take your time…” he breaths his voice a strained whisper, and you can tell this is just as painful for him, but in a different way, your walls gripping him tight, and as you release a breath, the pain begins to ease with the thought of exploring the onset of pleasure gradually taking way, the exploitation a vice of its own, and it’s just enough.

And when you open your eyes, there he is, Harry, staring back at you, a look somewhere between concern and pleasure, because then you’re moving your hips, slow, getting used to the feeling of him inside you as Harry grips the meat of your hips, exhaling when you lean back down, to kiss his lips, a warm breath filling your mouth, and there’s the pleasure—you and Harry—chest to chest, two hearts beating as one—then he moving you guys along, planting his feet into the bed, and you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Harry lifts his hips, grabs hold of your ass, and pushes into you, easing apart your ass cheeks just enough to open you up more, dipping deeper this time, repeating the motion until you’re bouncing up and down in his dick, both of you pushing moans in out of one another mouth, each one louder than before, the sensation overwhelming every sense of your body. Every thrust drives deeper as you feel your body begins to succumb to the pressure building, a knot tightening in your lower belly, and it’s this, this is what you wanted.

All of it.

The sound of satisfaction echos around you, the squeak of the bed, the thud of the wooden headboard banging against the wall, both of your effort playing in tandem, the push and pull—a give and taking until the both of you are forming a rhythm, two bodies playing out like a fucking symphony, every moving part a perfect balance. Then you’re crying out his name, pushing up on his chest until your palms are flush with his dewy skin, and when you lock eyes with his, you nod your head, tilting your hips back and forth, your movements growing desperate, faster, and when you say:

“I’m close,” Harry leans up and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down hard, the friction slowing, each moment deeper and deeper.

“How close are you?” He forces

“I’m close—don’t stop…” you plead.

“Fuck…” He breaths, thrusting hard, “So good—”

“Don’t stop—” you beg. “Don’t you dare fucking stop—”

“I’m so close—” he groans, and you slam your hips down, seconds away; just seconds, that’s all you need.

“I’m gunna come…” you force, stealing your orgasm as you grind your hips into his pelvis, your knees stretching as wide as they can, the position limiting, but it’s just enough, and when Harry drives into you again, yelling out your name, it seals your fate, your whole body buckling, and you collapse, your pussy gripping his dick tighter, seizing around the contour of his hard cock as Harry bursts inside you, his pulsing dick the perfect ending as you ride out our orgasm.

And then you’re both catching your breath. Your bodies pressed together, the thud of his heartbeat racing across your lips, your face buried in the crook of his neck now as you nibble a soft bite into the pulse beating under his skin. Harry lets out a breath laugh, cool air sweeping over your damp shoulder, and you don’t move, his dick still inside you, both of you unwilling to part.

When you lift your head, taking in the sweaty glow of his face, you sweep a stray curl from his forehead as a soft smile spreads, his dimple dipping. " Hi,” he whispers, his voice dripping like honey from his lip, and it’s so sweet, kindness emanating through every gentle touch, pouring out into the delicate kiss he plants on your lips as you bask in the afterglow of pleasure.

And it’s strange how quickly your mind just switched gears because now you want to beg for forever, have him hold you in his arms just like this, laugh, tell him he just marked his territory because there’s no going back, you think again, really meaning it, your mind in the dizzying aftermath of pure fucking bliss because now you want to make him fall in love, pray that this was a starting point, pick his brain, ask him what he’s thinking as your thoughts spiral.

All of this running through your mind as you deepen the kiss, Harry holding you tighter, then he breaks away, falling back onto the bed, his body relaxing as he crosses his arms behind his head, and then he smiles, face beaming, “Is it too early to think you may have just locked me down…hopefully you’re okay with that.”

And really, the joke is on him because he doesn’t even know the half of it, so when you send him that sweet little smile, all you can do is laugh, thinking if he only knew, but I guess we’ll find out.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you enjoyed!

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vrystalius · 7 hours ago

Note

I know i just requested with weird nicknames for squid game characters.

But I want to see their reaction to your wallpaper being them or being another person. Literally obsessed with what you write its so cute. Take my heart ❤️

Squid Game men’s reaction for putting them as your phone’s wallpaper.

They randomly check your phone one day and find a picture of themselves staring back. How will they react? What kind of wallpaper do they have?

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu x gn!reader

Summary: You putting them as your phone wallpaper, them putting you as their phone wallpaper

Genre: Fluff, maybe a little angst in Nam-gyu’s part (mention of drug use)

Words: 800 per character

Note: I wrote this during my medicine and head concussion induced haze, forgive me for any inconsistencies or mistakes 😭🙏 Also, the middle pictures are a suggestion as what said wallpaper could be.

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // Salesman

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

Mostly surprise and confusion spread swirled in his mind the first time he stared back at himself in the form of your phone wallpaper. He never thought you’d screenshot this picture let alone use it as your wallpaper because c’mon— let’s be honest, you could’ve chosen any other picture of him and yet you decided on this.

It’s weird. Gong Yoo feels a little watched as he tries to find the food delivery app on your phone while having his own eyes stare back at him.

Although he had grown more and more fond of it every time he opened your phone anew. He sees how you grin a little when turning on your screen, how you sometimes giggle when you stare at it for too long. Sometimes you show it off to him and complain about he barely ever wears any skincare masks anymore.

“So you can have a new wallpaper? I don’t think so. My skin is fine for now, thank you darling.”

To be really honest, he finds it incredibly endearing that you chose him as your wallpaper, especially a picture like this. He thinks of himself as a sophisticated, charming, handsome salesman that lures desperate people into a death game and messes with homeless people in his free time, but you seemingly just see him as your soulmate, the love of your life, your husband.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Two months into the relationship and after a couple of dates, Gong Yoo already set you as his phone wallpaper. It was nice to have a reminder looking back at him to text you, check in on you, give you a call or even come by for dinner. A reminder that he has a special someone to care and love for.

He switches his wallpaper up every few weeks or months, wanting to keep it updated to your appearance. His chosen pictures are mostly intimate ones, snaps he takes while you are being unaware of how cute, attractive or adorable you look.

Pictures like when you are asleep on the couch in his arms after watching a movie, you after waking up and sleepily brushing your teeth in the mirror, you showing your back to him while waiting for the microwave to finish heating up the cheap convenience food, maybe even you stuffing your face with ice cream after a long day.

Whatever picture he may choose (much to your dismay), it always makes him smile to himself no matter the situation. Even if another homeless person asks him for spare change or those two random mobsters tried to jump him in an alleyway and now he was forced to “get rid of them”, a quick glance on his phone and seeing a cute picture of you immediately forces a smile to break out on his face.

The sight of their kidnapper smiling at his phone so lovingly while they were tied up and playing rock-paper-scissors for their lives probably made the two men shit their pants more than feeling the barrel of a revolver being pressed against the side of their head.

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

— Choosing him as your wallpaper. —

At first, Thanos reeeaaaallly disliked the picture you chose as your wallpaper. It was just a random reaction picture he send you one day about something he doesn’t even remember, and you went ahead and chose this as your phone wallpaper? Seriously?! Can’t you choose something more handsome, flattering?

He even offered to pose properly for you so you have a better pic to use, but after Thanos obviously started mewing and tried his absolute best to look as attractive as possible (which he already is but shhh), your boyfriend got extremely offended when you started laughing at his posing.

Your boyfriend gave up after a few attempts of secretly changing your wallpaper and seeing you pout every time he did, changing it right back to the one before.

If you really like it that much, fine. Just don’t let anyone see that you have that as your phone wallpaper, or else his rapper persona will never be able to recover from being exposed like that.

You don’t even understand why he is being so dramatic about your wallpaper anyway.

“I look hella ugly there, c’mon baby! Work with me here!! Here, lemme pose for you real quick so you can change that thing.”

Although it does flashbang you in the middle of the night when you turn on your phone, the brightness of the picture vaporising your eyes in an instant. It’s not the most pleasant thing to look at first thing in the morning but you still think he looks kinda cute in the pic.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

He was careful to choose the prettiest picture of you he can find and the proceed to show it off to everyone he meets. Thanos even showed you off to Nam-gyu multiple times, forgetting that he already showed his friend the same picture four times now. Nam-gyu is already totally looking forward to next week when Thanos shows you off again.

Your boyfriend grins like a child whenever he glances at his phone for too long, falling in love with your picture all over again.

He changes his wallpaper every week so he always has something cute to look at after performing at another underground club or while doing whatever, sometimes getting distracted from searching for a certain app and instead ending up scrolling through either your social media account or his photo library to search for more pics of you.

Whenever you catch Thanos grin at his phone again, your first instinct is to glance over his shoulder to check what exactly he is looking at, but he immediately closes his phone when you do. At first you thought he might be looking at some random girl’s profile or whatever, but when you open it up and find yourself staring back, you’re kind of surprised to be honest.

Although, he always denies that he really cares about his wallpaper. Your boyfriend is totally choosing it at random and totally does not match his lock screen with his homescreen and mostly chooses pictures of you two together, you kissing his cheek or him holding you. Not at all!

Nam-gyu // Player 124

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

You choose a rather cute picture as your wallpaper. You took it during one of your first dates where you dragged him to a festival that was being held near your home, dragging Nam-gyu there against his will. Back then he had shorter hair, wore his glasses more frequently. Back then he was a little shy believe it or not, at least when it came to romance.

He used more before he met you, being around alcohol and drugs at all times due to his occupation. It kind of came with his job and the circle of friends he was around, so before meeting you, there was barely any day he wasn’t high or having a hangover from some random drug.

Nam-gyu never noticed you had this picture as your phone wallpaper until he accidentally grabbed your phone, thinking it was his. Seeing this picture in particular gave him a brief jumpscare.

You took this picture after he managed to scrap out the star shape out of the sugar cookie he bought from a random stand during the festival. His hair was shorter back then and he wore his glasses more frequently, the mask a reminder of how times were 5 years ago. He struggled staying clean during that time and always felt like shit wich is why he didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place.

He didn’t even know you took this picture of him despite him fully looking at the camera. A small smile spread on his face at the thought of you really choosing a picture like this as your phone wallpaper.

Quickly putting your phone down, Nam-gyu quickly played off his reaction as he hard you come into the room.

“I’m smiling about nothing, shaddup. Go back to wherever you came from.”

With a dismissive hand wave, he tried to shoo you away. His attempts were futile as you instead pull him into a clingy hug, instead demanding cuddles instead. Who was he to deny your wish?

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Nam-gyu likes taking 0.5x zoom pictures of you from above and choosing them as his phone wallpaper, pushing you away as you try to protest and stop him from putting them as his wallpaper because seriously, he can literally choose any other pic!

You can hear quiet, evil “hehe”s from the corner of the room whenever you two are together and he turns on his phone, briefly turning it around so you can see what he was giggling so stupidly at, only for him to giggle harder at the sight of your unamused face.

Even if he mainly chooses those pictures as his phone wallpaper to annoy you, he likes having a stupid picture of you always available to him.

Some shitty guy searching for a fight at the club? Quick glance at your face at a 0.5x zoom makes him crack a smile right after. Thanos called him Nam-su, Gyu-nam or literally anything else but his name again? Turning his phone on lightens his mood immediately.

Sure, a flattering or cute picture of you would have the same effect on him, but this is much funnier in his opinion.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

HAPPY LATE VALETINES DAYYYYYYY!!!! Since tumblr limits your tags to 30 tags per post I always have trouble tagging all of the Squid Game men, so I decided to split this one prompt into two posts. If this gets enough attention / love, I’ll post a part 2 with Dae-ho, Gi-hun and In-ho! Also, thank you for requesting, I needed a break from writing my smut draft 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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drewsbuzzcut · 2 days ago

Text

Bittersweet Birthdays

Tito x Scarlet

Warnings: slightly smutty (bolded & italicized are flashbacks)

Takes place: feb 2023

The city of New York’s early morning bustling wakes a sleeping Scarlet. Her eyelashes stick together as she tries to blink the sleep out of her eyes. A heavy arm is wrapped around her waist, keeping her in slumber’s grasp. Before a chill could make her cuddle into the body wrapped around her, she jolts with an intense awareness.

She’s naked in bed. There’s also someone else naked in her bed. It takes a moment of her wracking her brain to remember Tito undressing her the night before, and the way he pulled her apart and made her legs shake with ever stroke of his- no, no, no! She needs to get out, now, she thinks.

Slowly she peels Anthony’s arm away from her body, hastily rolling away from his warmth. Scarlet breathes heavily, eyes shut in a figment of regret. Curiosity nags at her brain, continuously questioning the reason she’s even in a bed with Tito to begin with. This is not how it’s supposed to go. She may let the hockey player ravage her body every now and then, but they’re definitely not supposed to be sharing beds afterwards. It’s not a part of their agreement. Great, now she’s feeling the beginning signs of nausea. It doesn’t help that her body is fueled by nerves instead of coffee that her body is craving.

The moment the girl gets the chance to search for her clothes, she doesn’t even have to put in any effort. Right in front of her are her clothes strewn across the floor. Her pretty, pink skirt looks like it might even have a tear. That brings a pout to her lips. Suddenly her eyes widen and her cheeks start to heat up, body buzzing in a flustered feeling only Tito can make her feel.

They had fun last night, there’s no lying about it. Scarlet can remember every touch, every kiss- despite no kissing being one of their firm agreements.

If the girl doesn’t leave soon, she’ll be forced to stay and go another round. If she stays, she’ll also be forced to recognize that they broke many rules that shouldn’t have been broken. The thought has her sitting up and bringing her legs over the side of the bed. For a split second she contemplates if she really wants to leave, because everything in her body is telling her to stay.

“You need to leave,” she whispers to herself, so quietly so that maybe her ears won’t pick up on it. If only it were easy to fight a mental and emotional battle.

Exhaling a deep and frustrated breath, Scarlet gets up.

“Scar,” she hears the raspy grumble from behind her.

The voice startles her, making her whack her foot against the edge of the bed. Apparently the low moans and squeaks of the mattress were enough to wake him.

“Shit!” She gasps, quickly pulling her panties up the rest of the way before clutching her foot.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asks, sitting up and exposing his perfect bare chest.

“Fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll just get dressed and get out of your way,” she rambles.

“My way? This is your apartment,” Tito points out.

Well fuck.

“Right,” Scarlet mutters, clocking her vanity with all of her girly things littering the top.

She turns around and is met with his growing smirk. She wants to kiss him so bad.

“Come back to bed,” he moans, a hand reaching out for her.

“This isn’t supposed to be happening, you know. We’ve broken two of our rules last night,” she sighs as if she’s so bothered by it.

The hockey player just shrugs, making his biceps flex. Okay, maybe she should get back in bed. She definitely wouldn’t mind nibbling on his taut skin.

“It’s a special occasion, so the rules don’t apply. Besides, I have to head back to my hotel in 2 hours, so that I can make my flight to Detroit. I very much would like to spend another hour or so with you pressed against me,” he sighs as he gets up, exposing his fully naked frame, and crawls to where she is.

Fine. If he must twist her arm.

“It’s not my birthday yet,” she resists once more only because she knows she’s already giving in.

The roll of her eyes and the tilt of her head is so sassy, but it surely makes Anthony’s groin tingle with need.

“Come here.” He pulls her into his chest, letting them fall back into bed.

His lips land on hers, wiping away her protest with his tongue. Her hands greedily roam the muscles of his back, soon making their way into his hair.

“I’m too sore for another round as much as I’d love to,” she mumbles, lip caught between his teeth.

“As long as I get to kiss you, I don’t care.”

“Hmmm. Who said you get to keep kissing me?” Scarlet teases, rolling off of his chest into the lump of blankets.

“I planned your surprise party and I don’t get any kisses? Ouch.”

Yeah, the party. The party that was completely unexpected, yet so utterly heartwarming. Scarlet has never had something so sweet planned for her by someone other than a family member. And to top her get together and beautiful cake, Tito gifted her something so special that everyone was stunned. A teddy bear just like the one she had when she was a child, but sadly lost. Scarlet has no clue where or how he found it, or how he even knew about it, but it touched her in a way that scares her.

“So you think you can kiss me just because you planned my party?” Her smart remark fades into a soft moan.

Anthony had eventually moved to hover over her, and now he’s caressing every inch of her body. His nose nudges one of her pebbled nipples, tongue going to swirl around the bud before sucking it into his mouth.

“I will plan anything for you if it meant I get to kiss you at least once,” he states, kissing down her torso.

Each hip gets equal attention from nips and sucks that are soothed with his tongue. Tito’s blue gaze burns through her thin exterior, stroking a flame that is sure to make her explode. He will be the end of her.

“Thank you for my party and my present, Beau. It means more than you know,” her words are whispered into the skin of his neck as she brings him into her embrace.

“Were you surprised?” He wonders, because it was quite the move to plan something seemingly intimate for someone whom he is just having casual sex with.

“Yes, it was so perfect,” she declares, thinking back on the whole evening.

“I am on my way! Jeez, Mat, why are you on my ass? It’s just dinner. I will get there when I get there,” Scarlet groans into the speaker of her phone.

“There’s no need to be snippy. I just want to actually make the reservation,” the girl’s brother replies.

“I’m always punctual, Mathew. There’s absolutely no need to worry because I’m already here,” Scarlet says, opening the door to the restaurant that seems more dead than lively for a Friday night.

“Surprise!” Hollers and cheers greet the wide eyed girl. Soon her brother, some of his teammates, and their significant others come rushing to pull her into a hug.

“Oh my god,” Scarlet chuckles with a hand over her mouth, covering her gleaming smile. “You guys! I cannot believe this.”

Person after person gives the girl a hug, chattering for a bit before dispersing to the bar or to the round tables.

The last people to give her a hug are her brother and his best friend, Anthony.

“Happy early birthday, sis,” Mat hums as he squeezes her tight.

“Thanks, Mat and thanks for the party.”

“It was actually Beau’s idea,” Mat corrects, catching Scarlet off guard. Luckily he leaves them to themselves, because the girl desperately needs a private moment with him.

Beau stands there, hands in his pocket, looking extremely shy for someone who has seen her naked plenty of times before.

“Is that true?” She asks, eyes borderline watering.

“Yes. I remember you telling me about the few times your exes never gave a damn about your birthday, and I just wanted to change that for you. I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I really wanted to do this while I was in town. You deserve this and more,” he explains, eyes boring into her own.

Without a word, Scarlet pulls him to a secluded corner. Her arms wrap around his neck and the words get caught in her throat.

“Thank you. This is beyond anything anyone has ever done for me. I feel so special,” she murmurs into his ear, lips ghosting the lobe and leading to a soft peck on the cheek. Tito’s hands settle on the small of her back, rubbing a sliver of exposed skin.

“You look beautiful, Scar.” His words hold a sense of painful yearning. His hands grip her tighter and bring her closer into himself.

In the back of his head are their spoken rules to their friends with benefits agreement, but he honestly doesn’t care right now. It’s been a bit since he’s held her, felt her skin against his and he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.

“Vancouver been treating you well,” she points out, squeezing his large bicep.

“You scored a goal tonight and you guys won, so congrats,” she continues, eyes falling closed as he traces her jawline with his plump lips. Her body thrums in need, but she’s aware that they’re in public.

“I scored it for you.” A chill zips through her body at his statement. The girl even has to let a moan die in her throat, because she just got to her party and it’d be inexcusable to leave so early.

“You’re such a flirt,” she decides that’s all she’s able to say.

Somehow Scarlet was able to pull herself away from the hockey player, indulging in the attention that everyone has centered on her. It doesn’t stop her from catching his eye, though. Every move of her hips to whatever song is playing, every flip of her hair, and every smile is calculated to capture his eye. Don’t confuse her actions to be only for the male gaze. She does it more for herself than for anyone else, but she can’t help but like the rush he provides. Scarlet relishes in the fact that she can keep his attention solely on her. In a room full of people, and many beautiful girls, Scarlet is a beacon for his affections.

After a few drinks and a lovely dinner, everyone sings happy birthday to a smiley Scarlet. She blows out her candles, wishing for one thing and one thing only.

“It’s present time!” Mat exclaims, handing her the gift he got her.

“Mathew! You bought me these! Oh my god. I cannot believe you remembered I wanted these,” Scarlet cackles and models her new eyewear.

After the girl opens her new bottles of perfume, tubes of lipstick, and new books, there’s only one person left with a gift in their hand. Tito.

“Hand it over, Mr. Vancouver,” Scarlet teases, making him roll his eyes.

“I-“ Scarlet’s words falter after peeling back the tissue paper. Tears immediately fill her eyes and suddenly she’s a little girl again. In her hands is the same exact childhood teddy bear. She remembers the day she lost it so clearly. She cried that entire week.

“How?” That’s all that can be said.

“Mat told me about it once, and I thought it’d be a nice gift,” he explains lightly.

“It is,” she assures him, fingers fiddling with the pink bow on its head.

Not caring about what anyone assumes, Scarlet rounds the table to Tito and gives him the biggest hug. “Thank you.”

He has to fight the urge to wipe away her tears, but it just keeps her in his arm longer.

“I lost you there for a moment,” he snaps Scarlet out of her memories, thumbing at her swollen bottom lip.

“I was just thinking about last night. You made it so special and you healed some of my inner self. I mean it’s not like my family didn’t go all out for my birthday, because they did. I just mean the part of me that’s a hopeless romantic that always wished my past significant others treated me half as special as you did. You’re not even my boyfriend and you did so well,” she laughs sarcastically, accidentally hurting her own feelings with her last sentence. Now she avoids making eye contact with the man next to her, holding her, wanting her to look at him.

“You are special and you’ll always be special to me. I miss you so much while I’m in Vancouver.” His lips find her shoulder, speaking his sentiments into her skin, hoping she feels what he feels.

“I’ll come visit you soon, I promise. I miss you, too. Believe it or not,” she jokes, moving to lay on his chest.

“You better,” he says into her mouth.

a/n: My first official piece for Tito and Scar! Today is her birthday after all, so it felt right to post something about it when she and Beau were just friends with benefits. Enjoy!!

#nhl imagines #tito x scarlet #anthony beauvillier #anthony beauvillier x oc

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