#they'd either immediately hit it off

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

Girl, so confusing

They watched as you walked out the door.

It was like they all were frozen in time.

They didn't think you'd actually walk out the door like nothing.

They tried to tell themselves you'd be back in 2 hours, that you'll be back in time when their patrol ended.

..But just in case, they'll go look around them to see if you're all right.

Fuck.

You weren't anywhere.

They looked everywhere and they couldn't find you.

They looked harder.

They tried thinking of places where to find you, but they didn't know.

They didn't know you.

And they were worried.

Worried that you were hurt.

Worried that they'd never get to know you.

As they went to look again, they thought about how they treated you.

The way Bruce would feel ashamed of how people he knew told him you and he looked alike, how they'd say you have the same hair.

He wasn't ashamed, not anymore at least.

He doesn't think he was ashamed of you, he was ashamed of how he couldn't raise you.

He was ashamed of how he raised others who weren't you.

He was ashamed of how awkward he was around you.

He was ashamed of how he didn't even know your mother until the DNA test.

He was ashamed of how similar you looked to your mother.

He was ashamed of how he just left your mother after their one-night stand like it was nothing.

He was ashamed of how your mother left a note along with you back when you were left at the manor pleading Bruce not to let you become a robin and put you into trouble.

He isn't even sure how she found out about their identities.

He won't be ashamed of you, not anymore at least.

Dick remembers how many times you had begged him to go out to hang out together, just for him to promise and either not follow through, or just cancel last minute.

He remembers how you kept asking him to train you to be Robin. You wanted to be like them. You wanted to see what it felt like to run around fighting bad people like they did.

You wanted to help others like they did.

You wanted to be with them.

He regrets that back when he was Robin he kept being mean to you. He regrets how many of your toys he broke and never apologized for back when you were younger.

He regrets not taking you into the manor with open arms like he did with the others.

He regrets how many times he brushed you off to be with the others.

He regrets not going to your events.

He regrets forgetting to reply to you when you needed it the most.

Most of all he regrets not being there for you back when Jason died. Sure, he was grieving, but you were too.

He checked his phone to try and text you.

He saw he had so many messages dating back years ago that he hadn't replied to, the newest one being from around a year ago.

He started spam-texting you, hopefully you wouldn't be too mad at him.

He put his phone in his pocket for around 30 seconds.

...Only to take it back out immediately.

He went to text you again and saw his messages couldn't reach you.

He was blocked.

Jason misses you.

He misses how you would run up to him and talk to him.

He misses reading your books and playing with you.

He misses writing poems and reading them to you.

He misses you making him silly little crafts and talking about your favorite shows and music.

He misses how you would follow him around the manor like a duckling.

He misses how you would talk to him about the things on your bucket list.

He wishes he never got distant.

He wishes he didn't push you away.

He wishes you would try again.

He hates how you had no one to be with you when he died.

He hates how now he barely sees you around the manor, and when he does you're either on the phone with your friends or getting food and bringing it up to your room.

He hates how much you flinch when you're around him. He accidentally hit you in the face once because he had come back from a mission and was still in fight-or-flight mode.

He hates how he can't forgive himself for that.

He hates how lately when you needed to ask him questions or talk to him you kept quiet, made it quick, and kept your head down.

Nothing like how you talked to him years ago.

You used to be louder, you used to look up at him and wouldn't mind asking dumb questions.It's like you were scared of him.

He hated that.

When he first came to the manor, Tim didn't like you.

He assumed you were living like a princess, rich and pampered and full of love.

He assumed that you had everyone in the manor's attention. Maybe he wanted to be you.

He was trapped in his hatred, and your life seemed so awesome.

So he hated you.He hated how you would check up on him and the others.

He hated how you would have a lot of friends.

He hated how you had friends that would check up on you.

He hated how cheery you were.

He hated how you were always available.

He hated the way you spoke like you didn't have a care in the world.

He hated how despite noticing everything, he pretended he never noticed you.

He pretended he never noticed how heartbroken you looked when you would talk for a while until you noticed no one listened.

He pretended he never noticed how on family game nights you would stand in a corner by yourself trying not to cry.

He pretended he never noticed how your presence died out slowly.

He pretended he never noticed how you stopped leaving your little treats around the house.

He pretended he never noticed how you started looking happier when you weren't around them.

He pretended he never noticed how you started to leave the manor early and come back late.

To him, your life was perfect.

To him, you were coming home late from being with friends.

To him, you had the perfect friends and family.

He didn't understand why you had begged a robin once, your life was perfect.

To him, you were living like a princess.

He didn't understand, and now he wanted to.

Damian and you were opposites.

He was raised in pain, always training with a tight schedule. Always doing something.

You were the opposite.

You were raised in comfort, you went on with your days with no schedule. Sure, you were constantly busy with your activities and friends, but it was nothing compared to what Damian and the others had to do.So when he met you, he didn't think you were worthy.

He thought you were weak, just someone freeloading off his father's money.

He saw how others treated you and followed suit.

He saw how Bruce only interacted with you when you needed money, so he assumed you only wanted him for his money.

He saw how you would ask Dick to hang out only for him to never follow through, so he assumed you were just bored and he was your last option.

He saw the way Jason would avoid you and get mad at you over the slightest things and assumed you did something wrong in the past to get him mad.

He saw the way Tim would put in his earbuds as soon as you started to walk up to him, so he assumed you were annoying everyone and didn't care.

He always assumed.

He noticed how you and he were totally different, you wouldn't last a day in a life of his.

He noticed how you were somehow always coming home with bruises and slight injuries but never paid any mind to it.

You guys were completely different.You were gentle.

You were nice.

You weren't afraid to ask for help.

You didn't mind having a spotlight on you.

You were patient.

You were welcoming.

Sure, you guys were totally different, but opposites do attract. Maybe you're so meant to be, just you and him.

Alfred was confusing to you.

Sure, he took care of you, but you could tell it was more out of pity than anything.

He would never defend you or tell the others to just look at you, for once!

He would always defend your family when you complained about them, even though you had complete reasons to ignore them!

You learned to stop telling Alfred about your day.

You learned that even though he would show up to your events sometimes, you knew it was more out of obligation than anything.

oof this was bad

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou

[mr-cha-n]

Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning

Word Count: 18.2k

Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.

Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike. 

And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.

But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.

That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.

He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."

Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.

He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.

"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."

She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."

Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.

The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor. 

Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.

"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"

They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.

The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect. 

And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."

Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.

"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."

Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.

"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."

"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."

You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."

Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.

"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'

But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.

"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"

You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"

Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.

As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."

You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."

There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.

Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."

Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."

You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.

"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."

By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.

He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.

But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.

The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live. 

But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.

The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.

Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.

Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.

"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.

Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."

Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"

"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."

Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."

Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"

"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."

"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."

Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."

Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.

He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.

By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.

He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.

With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.

Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.

A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.

It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?

He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'

Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.

When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.

"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.

Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"

You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."

Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.

But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."

Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?

"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"

"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."

Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.

You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.

And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.

“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”

Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.

Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.

One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.

You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."

He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."

You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."

The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.

"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.

You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.

For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.

"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”

You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”

You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.

"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."

Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.

"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."

You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.

When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”

You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."

"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.

It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.

The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.

By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.

Enter: you.

Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."

Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"

"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."

And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.

"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."

You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."

Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.

“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."

Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.

He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”

By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."

The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.

As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.

He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.

When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”

Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.

As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."

He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.

“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”

The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.

And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.

For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.

Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.

One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"

"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.

The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.

Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?

Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.

So, Mingyu brings it up.

Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client. 

Except. 

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse. 

It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?

Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"

You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."

Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."

Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"

“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”

Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”

You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"

Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?

“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”

You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”

He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.

You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”

Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.

“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."

You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”

Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."

You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"

“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.

You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.

He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.

You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.

“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”

Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”

You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.

“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”

His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”

Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”

The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”

The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?

His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.

Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.

You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.

“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”

And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.

The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.

You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.

"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"

His brain practically short-circuits at that. 

You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.

The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.

You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”

He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”

“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.

Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.

The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.

You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”

His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.

You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”

Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”

You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”

As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”

His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.

He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.

He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.

“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.

He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.

On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.

So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.

“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.

“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”

“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.

The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.

By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.

“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”

You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”

There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”

And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.

It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.

“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”

Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”

Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.

“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."

“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."

Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil.  Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”

Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”

The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.

The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.

Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.

“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”

Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.

Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”

Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”

Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”

Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”

“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”

“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”

Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”

“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”

Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”

“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”

“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”

Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.

So, he knocks.

And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.

“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"

He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”

“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”

You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.

“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.

"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.

You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.

“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.

You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.

You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.

“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”

“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”

You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."

Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”

He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”

As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.

By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.

After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.

He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.

And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.

You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”

Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.

The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.

He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.

“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.

Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”

Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.

“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.

“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”

You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”

“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”

You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”

You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”

He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."

He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.

"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.

You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."

Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into.  "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."

For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.

It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.

Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.

You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.

“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”

His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.

“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”

He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.

“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”

Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."

You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”

And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."

For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.

You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.

“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.

“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.

You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”

You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.

“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”

He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”

You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”

The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.

“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.

“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.

The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.

Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.

“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.

He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.

When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.

“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”

“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.

But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”

Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”

He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.

Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.

You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.

He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.

“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."

You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.

“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."

It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.

You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.

And then—he takes a breath.

"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.

Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.

Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.

And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.

Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.

When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.

He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.

"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."

You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.

And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.

You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.

Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.

“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.

"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"

You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.

Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.

He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.

“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."

Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."

"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.

And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.

Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss. 

And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.

Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."

This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time. 

And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).

He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets. 

The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken. 

Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.

Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”

Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."

As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

[reiderwriter]

🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝

Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24

Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.

A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of. 

He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more. 

He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him. 

You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed. 

At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you. 

It was like he wanted to die. 

Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline. 

After all that, he was still the one comforting you. 

“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.” 

You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream. 

He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know. 

So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance. 

You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer. 

You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.

“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in. 

He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost. 

“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.” 

“He was going to shoot you-” 

“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”

He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next. 

“I won't apologize for saving your life.”

“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”

“Y/N-” 

You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. 

“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”

He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home. 

But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy. 

His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour. 

“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws. 

You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him. 

“Y/N-” 

“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed. 

Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart. 

Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him. 

His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour. 

“Y/N…”

“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”

Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.

His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though. 

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” 

He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction. 

You couldn't have that. 

You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place. 

“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder. 

“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-” 

You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor. 

“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”

You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button. 

In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features. 

“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.” 

You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could. 

You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in. 

His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.

The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.

He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants. 

You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation. 

He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.

“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.” 

His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you. 

You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it. 

He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’

“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”

You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now. 

“Do you want to cum again?” 

“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”

“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”

“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”

“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”

“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you. 

“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-” 

“You can do it. Promise me.” 

“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you. 

But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before. 

You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing. 

His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three. 

“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”

You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you. 

You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks. 

“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses. 

“Mmm?” 

“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.” 

He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts. 

You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably. 

“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that. 

But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him. 

“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses. 

“It seems like we need to get even.”

With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.

"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you. 

You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.

[spideysbruh]

Fourth Time's The Charm

a/n- FUCK THE OSCARS

~~

Timothée proposed to Y/n a total of four times. He knew she was his future wife, it was always just a matter of when.

1st- Karaoke

The first time Timothée ever proposed to Y/n was the first night they met, Zendaya had brought her over to introduce them to each other, and after a few minutes of conversation, he quickly realized that he had met his soulmate that night. 

They had spent pretty much the entire time talking to each other, cracking jokes and learning about each other. They were sitting in a booth together, watching her friend Kate completely butcher ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift when he spoke up over the music, “I’m one hundred percent sure I’m gonna marry you.” 

She quirked an eyebrow and smirked, “Are you proposing?”

He shrugged, “If you want me to be.”

She laughed, “Mmm maybe not yet.” She replied, a blush appearing on her face.

He chuckled and nodded, silently repeating her words. “Not yet.” He looked down at his drink, stood up, walked to the karaoke stage and typed in a song. 

He said something to Tom who was nearby and Tom turned around and looked at Y/n, sending her a nod. She furrowed her brows but nodded back. Tom laughed and said something to Timothée, who laughed and began the song.

She recognized it immediately and smiled as Kate sat down next to her, “You guys are hitting it off, huh?” She slurred, poking her arm.

“I love this song.” Y/n mumbled, her eyes never leaving him on the stage as he began to sing ‘I Want You’ by Bob Dylan.

Timothée maintained eye contact with her, a smile on his face while he finished the first verse.

Tom turned around and smiled when he saw Y/n start to sing along.

“I want you…. I want you!” Timothée pointed a finger at Y/n as he sang, “Oh, Y/n I want you…”

“So bad!” She had yelled out, making Kate snort as she downed another drink.

Timothée smiled and serenaded her for the rest of the song, he was suddenly shy as he walked off the stage and back to her.

She grinned up at him and stood up, pulling him in by his collar and pressing her lips on his. He hummed in surprise but quickly kissed back, his hands on her waist.

“I love that song.” She said against his lips.

“Yeah?” She nodded in response, “...I'm Bob Dylan.” He breathed out, making her laugh. 

“You're funny.” She giggled, not knowing that he was literally in preparations for the biopic.

2nd- Dinner

The second time, they were on a date at a restaurant. In the midst of their meals, Timothée spoke up.

“Remember when we first met?”

She smiled, “Of course I do, how could I forget? You told me you were Bob Dylan.” She giggled, “You also said that you wanted to marry me.”

“No no no! I said that I'm one hundred percent sure I’m gonna marry you.” He clarified, “I remember that day like it was yesterday.” He smiled, his eyes scanning across her face as she laughed.

“You serenaded me.” She blushed, “For the first time.” Timothée laughed at that.

About once a month, she makes him sing one of her favorite songs and chooses which instrument he should play.

He chuckled and reached across the table to hold her hand, “We should get married.” He said simply.

“Eventually, baby.” She replied, blushing at his words.

He shrugged, “Why not now? You're definitely my forever someone.” 

She smiled and squeezed his hand, “I would love to marry you, Timmy. Just not right now. I mean, I just got my new job and you're about to be away filming for the next few months. I don't want to start our engagement with us apart.” She explained, he listened and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, you're right baby. I don't want a long engagement either. It'd be nice to plan everything together, in person. It's how it should be anyway.” He replied and they contently went back to their meals, Y/n tried to hide a smile by looking down at her lap. Timothée noticed and smirked.

Just not now.

3rd- SAG Night

Y/n loved her job and Timothée had just returned from filming for months. They'd missed each other, but tonight was his night. He was nominated, and she was 100 percent sure he was gonna win. He's waited forever for this moment, and she just knew that it was finally going to happen.

She looked gorgeous, he couldn't keep his eyes or hands off her, not that she minded.

“I don't even care if I don't win tonight, cause I get to take you home.” He said quietly on the carpet, she giggled and shook her head.

“You're funny.”

“I'm serious.” He said, taking her hand and guiding her further down the carpet.

Several hours later, Timothées award is about to be announced, she takes his hand and grins at him. 

He was nervous, he would never say it out loud but he really wanted it, and she knew it. He worked so hard for this role. He deserved it. She was excited and got him hyped during the commercial break right before.

When the announcers were naming the nominees and said his name, he squeezed her hand so tightly at the sound of the applause and she rubbed her thumb over his hand.

“And the Actor goes to…” They both held their breath as they opened the envelope, which felt like an eternity, “Timothée Chalamet!” 

Y/n jumped up, applauding and cheering so loudly for him, he grinned and stood up, pulling her in for a kiss. One that was maybe a little too passionate for TV, but she wasn't one to complain. 

“I'm so proud of you!” She exclaimed over the applause, her eyes getting watery. 

He smiled and kissed her again, “I love you, baby.” he said before walking up onto the stage.

Her tears fell out her eyes as she sat back down and watched him accept the award, he pulled out his speech from his pocket and began speaking.

She had seen him writing the speech a couple of weeks prior, and had asked to hear it but he said no because it would be too embarrassing if he ended up losing. She rolled her eyes at him, but accepted his answer.

His speech was beautiful, well said and empowering. And then- “Finally, Y/n. You have supported me through everything, your brutal honesty at times is not only refreshing, but needed.” The audience laughed at that and he laughed and met her eyes, his cheeks red, “Ahaha, you have made my life infinitely brighter and happier, I love living life with you and I can't wait to spend the rest of it side by side. I love you, my girl. More than there are stars in the sky and galaxies in the universe. For as long as I breathe. Thank you."

She sobbed at his final words and wiped her eyes which didn't help because she couldn't stop crying anyway. Timothée made his way back to her and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her head.

She looked up and saw that he was crying too, she reached up to wipe at his eyes, “I'm so incredibly proud of you. I knew you would win, but I still wasn't ready for your speech.” 

He smiled and kissed her again, slipping her some tongue. They could taste the saltiness from each other's tears but they couldn't care less. 

“Will you marry me, baby?” He mumbled against her lips, making her gasp.

She was quiet for a moment, she opened her eyes and saw him already staring at her, excitement and a bit of hope in his eyes. 

She smiled, but shook her head, “No, baby. Tonight is your night.” 

He pouted, but nodded, “You better fucking say yes next time.” He said, making her laugh. 

“I promise you that I will. Celebrate your Award!”

“We could be celebrating something else, too.” He teased, pinching her cheek.

She giggled and shook her head, “No no no, let tonight be about you, my love.”

4th- Forever and Always

A few weeks later, they were heading to one of their favorite restaurants, he was quieter than usual which she chalked up to him being hungry. 

When they park the car and get out, he takes her hand and they start walking to the doors, he opens it for her before he says, “Wait here for a second.” 

He walks to the hostess and they exchange words for a minute before he turns to look at her, his eyebrows now furrowed and stress etched all over his face. 

He turns back and says something, to which the hostess shakes her head. He sighs and turns back around, slowly walking over to Y/n, “Our reservation got fucked up baby, I'm sorry…. but we got something to look forward to in eight months!” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

She giggles and shrugs, “Hey, that could be an early dinner for your birthday or something.”

He laughs and sighs, walking them out and back to the car, “Fuck, now what?”

She hums and looks around, “There's some food trucks over there, let's get something from two different ones and we can split it.” She suggested, pointing her thumb to the trucks behind them.

He was quiet for a second, a pout on his face as he looked over at the trucks.

“I- I dunno, it's not- it's just- I was… I was looking forward to this place tonight.” He stuttered, she laughed and waved it off.

“It's okay, babe. Plus, we're gonna come back in eight months, remember?” She grins and takes his hand, pulling him towards the food trucks.

His mouth turns, but he follows her, he really was hungry.

She ordered some tacos and he got a burger, cut in half so she could try it. They sat on a park bench, taking food from each others plates as they chatted about anything and everything.

She sat criss cross facing him while he sat with one leg over the other, “We should get ice cream or something after this.” She suggests, he's quiet for a second but nods.

“Yeah baby, whatever you want!”

She smiles and continues eating, looking around at how pretty the park is right now. “It's so pretty here.” She simply says, sighing in contentment. He perks up a bit, thankfully going unnoticed by Y/n, and smirks, looking down at his pocket. 

He slowly reaches his hand down, his hand almost in his pocket when-

“AHHH! Oh my god it's Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n!” A girl yells out to her friends.

He groans and his hand quickly comes back up, moving his plate to the side as he stands up to greet the girls.

Y/n eyes him curiously before standing up as well, talking to the girls.

After taking pictures and chatting with them, they walk hand in hand to a nearby ice cream shop. Timothée is once again oddly quiet, she tries to dramatically swing their hands back and forth to make him laugh or something, but to no avail.

She orders two scoops of cookies and cream ice cream, and he goes to order just plain vanilla but-

“Sorry, we ran out of vanilla earlier today.” The worker says apologetically.

He groans, “How do you run out of vanilla?” He lightheartedly jokes, but Y/n can sense his underlying frustrations.

She awkwardly laughs, “They have like 30 other flavors babe.”

“Yeah I know, I know. Just reallyyyyy wanted vanilla… I'll have butter pecan then.” He says, tiredly rubbing his face.

They get their ice cream and head back to the car. They eat it on their walk.

“You want me to drive, Timmy?” She offers, throwing her empty ice cream cup out. He simply nods and hands her the keys, still opening the door for her before going around and getting in the passenger seat.

She starts the car and makes sure he puts his seatbelt on before driving away. He's quiet, too quiet. She hums along to the song on the radio, and he reaches over and grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. 

He brings her hand up and presses his lips on the back of it, kissing it softly, “I love you.” He says, leaning over the console and nuzzling his head against her shoulder.

She smiles and squeezes his hand, “I love you too, baby.” 

They get home and she gets changed and is sitting at their vanity, doing her nightly skincare routine when she sees Timothée grab his guitar and sit on their bed, softly strumming.

He's humming a song, one she instantly recognizes, one that they consider to be their song, one that, for him, solidified the fact that they were soulmates.

“I want you… I want you…” He softly sings, meeting her eyes in the mirror, she suggestively raises her eyebrows at him. He smirks and blushes before looking back down at the guitar.

“Timmy, I want you… so bad.” She sings, making him chuckle.

He goes to sing the next verse but his guitar string suddenly breaks, “Fuck!” he yells, shooting up off the bed and roughly putting the guitar in the corner. He groans and rubs his face again, collapsing on the bed.

Y/n frowns and gets up from the vanity, sitting on the edge of the bed, she doesn't say anything but she soothingly rubs his leg.

“This is not how I expected the night to go.” He says from behind his hands, sighing and turning on his side, his back facing her.

She tuts and pulls on his shoulder to turn him back around, “It's okay, my love. We can fix it tomorrow, no biggie.”

He groans again, not opening his eyes, “Why did fucking everythingggggg go wrong today? Does the universe hate me?” He mumbled, his voice catching in his throat, making Y/ns heart drop.

He was really emotional right now. She furrowed her eyebrows and caressed his face, “No honey, I promise you it doesn't! It's just one of those days, you know? Like- remember that day where I accidentally dented my car against that fire hydrant, proceeded to spill my coffee all over my outfit, and then got a ticket because I accidentally parked next to said fire hydrant? Then later that same day a dog kicked up a shit ton of mud onto my clean backup outfit?” She reminded him, laughing a bit at the memory.

He snorted and shook his head, “It seemed like you were texting me with a different, fucked up update every hour.” He laughed, finally opening his eyes. 

They were red and watery, she pouted a bit and slowly ran her thumb across his cheekbone. “I just-” he clears his throat, “I just had such a different idea for how today was supposed to go, man.” He moaned, tilting his head more into her hand, kissing her palm.

“It's okay, baby. Why was today so special, huh?” She wonders, he makes eye contact with her again and shrugs.

“I dunno.” He muttered, sitting up and completely facing her.

“Yes you do.” She replies simply, he smiles a bit at that.

“Maybe I do. Who's to say? And what do you care, anyway?” He teasingly shrugs, making her laugh.

“Come onnnn!” She whines, wrapping her arms around his neck, “It's me, Timo!” She pouts up at him, making him groan and look away.

“You suck, you're too fucking cute.” He chuckles, looking back and kissing her lips, sliding his tongue in between them.

She hums and pulls away, “Don't try to get out of it, baby. Tell me, that's what I'm here for, you'd want me to tell you.” She says, nudging her nose with his.

He sighs and looks down, “You're right, my darling. It's just-” He looks back up and she nods, patiently waiting for him to voice his problem. “Well…” He nervously chuckles, now avoiding her eyes.

“Yeah?” She calmly asks, her voice as sweet as ever.

“Ahahahaaa.” He laughs, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

She notices but waits patiently to hear what he's going to say, soothingly rubbing his arm.

He quickly feels his pocket and sighs, meeting her eyes, “Will you marry me?”

She gasps, shooting back in surprise, “Oh my god.” She grins, covering her mouth as she giggles. She watches him pull out a box, opening it and revealing a beautiful ring. Her eyes water as she sees how nervous he is, his hands shaking while holding the box, waiting for her to answer.

“That's why I was so pissed today, fucking… everything went wrong.” He chuckles, “I just wanted- I wanted it to be perfect.” He says.

She lets her tears fall down her face, “It is perfect, Timmy. Fuck- it's so incredibly perfect, you're so incredibly perfect, I love you.” She smiles, lunging forward and attacking him with kisses, he smiles and kisses her quickly before pulling away and awaiting her answer, she enthusiastically nods, “Yes, I'll marry you! I'll definitely marry you, fuck I'm gonna marry you so hard.” 

He laughs, taking the ring from the box and sliding it on her finger, “I can't wait. I literally have everything planned in my head already.” 

She smiles in awe, “Really?”

He nods, “Even got a secret pinterest board.” 

“Okayyyy, cancel your plans for tomorrow cause we're definitely going through that all day.” She giggles, kissing him again.

He wipes a tear from his eye and caresses her cheek, “Fuck, I can't believe we're finally engaged. Fourth time's the charm huh?” 

She snorts, “I'm sorry… the other times were just-”

“You don't gotta explain anything to me, my love. I understood every reason and you were right every time.” He says, simply shrugging and kissing her again, moving her to lay down as he hovers over her.

She smiles and caresses his cheek, he inhales and kisses her palm, meeting her eyes.

He moves down to kiss her neck, leaving hickeys when he speaks up, “Y’know what I told Tom when I got on that little karaoke stage the first day we met?”

“What?” She moans, holding onto his arm as his tongue drags across her neck. 

“I said that if you knew the song I chose, you were definitely my future wife.” He chuckles, looking up at her and kissing her cheek.

She smiles and pushes him away a bit to look at his face, “Seriously?” He nods.

“Yeah. The second I saw your reaction once I started playing… I swear-” He chuckles a bit, “It's embarrassing, but I swear to god… I pictured our entire lives together. I told you I was gonna marry you and you played along, I chose that song and you loved it… I proposed to you four fucking times because I knew you were my future wife.”

“Fuck Timothée, I love you.” She sighs, leaning up to kiss him, he groans and lowers himself back on top of her, licking into her mouth. He tastes the saltiness from her tears and intertwines their fingers. The coolness from the engagement ring pressing against his warm hand just right. He never wants to see her hand without that ring.

“I love you more.” He mumbles against her lips, “It's always been you. It's like I was waiting my whole fucking life for you. Like I wasn't a whole person until I met you.” 

Her heart swells at his words, some more tears fall out of her eyes which he soothingly wipes away.

“I love you so easily, Timmy. I can't wait to marry you, we're gonna be the best married couple ever just watch.” She says, making him laugh. 

“We gotta be the best engaged couple first.” He grins, softly kissing her cheek.

“Ohhh, we got this.” She giggles, holding his face in her hands, admiring every mark on his face.

“Hell yeah we do.” 

*

[mattslolita]

make u cum - c. sturniolo

in which ... your boyfriend looked so hot on the game, you couldn't resist sucking him off while he played. ( bf!chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; oral ( male receiving ), cum eating, slight exhibitionism, soft!dom!chris

"𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌, 𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒆."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

sitting on your boyfriend's bed while he streamed with his brothers wasn't for the weak — in truth, it was completely harmless. they'd been playing fortnite duos for quite some time, but you were beginning to become restless at the sight of chris.

his brown hair was tousled across his forehead, a small slick of sweat connecting it as his muscles flexed whilst he hit the controls on they keyboard — his tongue darted out to wet his lips before biting them furiously, and it was driving you mad.

but the worse part?

every time he'd get mad after losing, his hand would come crashing down on the table in front of him, the muscles in his arm prominent and you had to squeeze your thighs together because all you wanted was his arms wrapped around you while he fucked you.

but the thought of sucking him off while played was much more appetizing in the moment, and now you were determined to make it happen.

"fuck!" chris yells, banging a fist on the table, shaking his head as he looks at the screen with a death glare, "matt, c'mon man, pay attention!"

you crawled off the bed, biting your lip as you drop to your knees and crawl towards where chris sat in his gaming chair. thankfully because of issues with his camera, chris's camera remained off so the stream wouldn't be able to see what you were doing, either. you slowly made your way on the other side of the desk, crawling into the empty space and settling yourself right between chris's legs.

you bit your lip as you sat up, your legs perched under your knees as you hook your hands onto his legs and try to pry them apart.

"hold up," chris says, having felt you finally. he mutes his mic, before leaning back and looking down at you under the table, "baby, what're you doin' down there?"

"y'look so good, i jus' wan' a taste," you whine, pouting your bottom lip as you stare at him with sultry eyes.

his jaw ticks and he prods his tongue inside of his cheek as he shakes his head at you. "now y'know i'm streaming right now, 'kay? how bout' you wait and we can take care of this when i'm finished?"

"can't wait," you mumble, biting your lip as you look down at the now semi bulge forming in his pants. it causes a small smirk to tug at your lips as your eyes slowly move back up to him.

"fine," chris grunts, hurriedly shoving his pants down shaking his head and mumbling curses under his breath, "wan' suck my cock so bad? fine. better keep quiet down there, y'know what happens when you don' listen."

excitement courses through you as his boxers are slid down next, just below his ankles — your mouth waters at his now fully erect cock, licking with precum. you slide in between his thighs, gripping them as you let out a whimper.

"fuck are you waitin' for?" chris grunts under his breath at you, thrusting himself at you, causing you to giggle slightly.

you took his length in your hand, slowly pumping him up and down causing him to let out a groan — your mouth watered as you watched yourself stroke him slowly, smearing the precum all over the base of his cock.

"shit," chris half moans under his breath when he feels you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock.

"s'wrong with you, chris?" matt questions his brother from the other end, causing you to smirk against him.

"no-"

before chris could fully form a response another groan is ripped from his throat when you take his cock into your mouth, your lips hitting his pelvis as you deep throat him. his hand immediately goes down to grip your locs, head thrown back freely as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down.

"bro chris you're actin' weird as fuck," matt says again, small grunts leaving chris's lips as he struggles to focus on the game.

"s-shut the fuck up," chris groans back, gently thrusting his hips into you as you continue bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

matt scoffs on the other end, and you can feel chris's grip on your locs tighten as he thrusts up into your mouth harder — you gag around him, tears filling up your waterline as you keep your hands glued to his thighs. his cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust he sends your way, and you can already tell you're gonna be sore by the time he finishes. you hadn't even noticed chris completely mute his mic as he releases low moans whilst he forces your head down deeper, nose rubbing against his pelvic bone.

"fuck, fuck, s'good girl," chris moans, head thrown back as drool forms at the crease of your mouth.

you moaned around his cock, feeling your panties dampen as he continued his assault on your throat. "s'close mama. fuck, gonna cum..."

chris's legs spasmed around you and you felt his cock twitch inside of you, signaling how close he was — he was finally sent over the edge, hot spurts of cum shooting down your throat.

chris pulled your head back, his hand going down to stroke his cock as hot white ropes of his cum shot down your throat whilst you sat on your knees with your mouth wide open. his thrown back as his chest heaved up and down, milking himself completely dry.

"swallow," he demanded, eyes narrowed into slits. he watched intently as you swallowed every drop, licking your lips with a grin as you stared up at him. "thas' a good girl."

you crawled from under the desk, and stood in front of chris, dipping down to capture his lips in a kiss — he tastes himself on your mouth, and you slip your tongue into his mouth. you sucked on his tongue before pulling away, sucking on his bottom lip with a pop as a string of saliva connects you both.

"jus' wait till i get off this game."

( lilly's corner 💌 )

i know its not chris & bambi, but i fear this was supposed to come out back when chris & matt first started streaming😩😩 hope y'all enjoyed this, i love you all forever. 💌

@muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @angvlarabella @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous

[fafodill]

The exact wording of the ask I got was: 'what if someone was asking deprived!Snape (read my whole essay about him) to "break them off a piece of that KitKat bar?" How would they go about it?'

So today we're going to discuss this. Buckle up people.✨

SO his reaction will largely depend on the context and their current relationship but one thing that will happen FOR SURE every time before anything else is that he's going to think they're messing with him.

What else could it be? This man had been so heavily bullied as a teen his self-esteem is buried and has its own tombstone.

"Here lies Snape's self-image. Spit to pay your respect."

We don't have any canon proof of it happening but many people headcanon that some of the bullying might have been people being dared to come up to him and fake attraction or compliment him (so funny omg) only for him to realize they were just messing with him. It's totally the kind of immature stupid shit kids will come up with (speaking from personal experience here). Not funny but deeply scarring for one's self-image. So being told he's attractive would trigger him in his adult life. Any potential suitor asking him out would be welcomed with him immediately closing up and getting angry at them. They'd need to find a way for him to believe them first.

If you're thinking "this already sounds like a pain", yes it is. Welcome to deprived!Snape. Welcome to Snape, basically. If they want a piece of him, they have to brace themselves for the long run.

He will get angry and leave a lot. Fleeing the situation - since it's a very vulnerable subject for him - will be his go-to move. The whole ordeal will require patience. So what should this person do?

Friend or Stranger?

If it comes from a DE he'll think it's an angle. If it's from a member of the Order, he'll think it's a joke. If it's from a colleague at Hogwarts, he maaaay be a tad less suspicious? In any case, it will depend on how close they are. The more time they have spent together, the closer he'll be to not flip out... too much.

I'm a bit torn about his reaction if it was coming from a stranger. Either it's easier because he can lean into the idea that maybe they're lying about their attraction and he doesn't care (and if he's horny then why the fuck not, it won't affect him as much since they both now they're here for physical release) OR he might not be into it at all because he actually needs a real connection (and I think this is more realistic). Severus is a feral cat, he needs time to trust people.

What else? He could also maybe open up faster with someone not from his usual inner circles (a foreigner or a muggle) as the interactions wouldn't be charged with the same deep-rooted habits and expectations.

I also believe he'd unconsciously feel way more at ease with someone coming from a modest background. A pureblood aristocrat hitting on him would have little chance of getting past his natural distrust of them (unless he knows them very well).

So what should they do?

Build trust

The quality of their interactions and conversations will have a huge impact. Do they have an interesting personality? He needs someone capable of taking him on and keeping up intellectually. Can they keep up with him and challenge him?

Severus has a temper. Can they deal with his bullshit and not give up on him at the first scowl? Argue with him? It doesn't mean they can't be nice, but I don't see him get worked up over someone cowering under his gaze.

They need to be stubborn. He's a Capricorn and he's got the horns. He's hard-headed. They need to not back down when he bites or dismisses their attempts at flirting. One of Severus's classic tactic is to hurt people so they leave him alone, so they need to be able to dodge the attack, make fun of him or retaliate.

If they manage to deal with his temper, they will start to see what's on the other side of the snarky exterior. Then, they'll be able to start kneading the dough (Severus is the dough).

Convince him the attraction is real

That person could go the gentle/honest way, assuring him they're not kidding and explaining what they find attractive about him (he'd be super wary and need days to digest it - if he can). Genuine compliments could work quite well as he's good at reading people but it would be a process and it shouldn't be too much at once. He's NOT USED to compliments so if the person goes too hard, he's going to get overwhelmed, distance himself and reject it. A good trick would be to compliment his intelligence and magical skills alongside physical traits. A 2/3-1/3 ratio would be a good start. He would trust compliments about his big brain way more than anything regarding his cute butt.

Complimenting his presence, aura, voice might be good too as it's not directly related to physical traits. Else, physical starters could include hands and eyes. But I also love the idea of taking him by surprise and complimenting his nose. Might weird him out in a good way.

Or they could go the blunt way (or what I now refer to in my mind as the @maxdibert way) and be like "dude, I really think you're hot, deal with it" and leave him to sort his feelings out like a big boy.

The two strategies can be mixed of course. But at the end of the day, the real problem is that Severus as approximately a thousand confirmation bias in his mind telling him this is not happening. So what could they do to help ease this process?

Make him horny

Less overthinking = more chances to get this piece of ass.

Severus Snape needs to be warmed up. And as stated in my previous essay, he's plagued with the core beliefs that he's ugly, ridicule and undeserving. These beliefs need to be kneaded and challenged enough (not healed, this would take decades and it's not their job), so that he can relax and open up to the idea of intimacy.

Here are a few strategies to do so.

First, de-dramatize the subject. Making the topic less taboo by talking about it in a lighthearted way (no flaunting! certainly not!). A good move would be to joke about it. Deprived!Snape isn't comfortable with the subject but it's because it's evaded him and then he convinced himself he wasn't concerned or interested.

-> Here are some of the things he could benefit from hearing: that sex is not a big deal at all and we can laugh about it. It should be fun, a shared moment, trials and errors are part of it and there should no be judgment about experiences and preferences. People with a high 'body count' aren't necessarily good lovers, it's all about presence and intent etc.

His potential partner could share funny mishaps that happened to them and - when there's an opening - ask him what he would expect from a pleasant intimate moment (that's a very advanced move, don't forget he's bad with words)(it would only work in my opinion if they're both drunk and have been going at it for a while).

Also sharing experiences is a great way to build trust and intimacy (and arousal). He thrives on knowledge so learning more about his potential partner might ease his mind in some way (and give him some free intrusive thoughts). See it as added ingredients to make him simmer.

Though they shouldn't talk too much about the number of partners they had and said partner's skills. This might make him retreat. Again: low self-esteem and always on the lookout for an excuse to sabotage it.

Wait what about drunk!Snape you say? That's a trope we enjoy around here. Although I headcanon him as not being a heavy drinker (if a drinker at all because of his father) it would be a great way to lower a bit his inhibition. A DE would have a hard time sharing a drink with him, same for an Order member (he never stays after meetings but could be coerced), but a colleague could maybe drag him to the Three Broomsticks with other members of the staff and then leave early with him. wink wink Come on, rub his foot under the table and look at him choke on his ale. He'll skin you alive with his eyes and you can just raise a suggestive eyebrow back.

Persistence, persistence.

Of course a bit of physical baiting could help with his dusty libido. After all, they'd kinda be dealing with an teenager, experience-wise. Nothing too bold (though I headcanon that his sooty Cokeworth self would get way more worked up over unabashed desire than delicate courting but he's buried a bit too deep at the moment) but a nice cleavage, some leg showing, a fitting pair of pants or robes might not be a bad move. Since he might be uncomfortable with words, they could flaunt the goods in his face! The man has eyes, let him look and scold himself for looking. Also a few heavy looks, biting a lip and lingering fingers could go a long way for such a deprived man, especially if it's directed at him.

At the end of the day, the trick is to make him able to put his worry aside (or snap, if you find the word sexier).

They could go the provocative way, being insufferable and making him want to shut them up.

They could try some endless teasing until he's a lost hot mess, unable to express what he wants except by going 'fuck it' and going for it.

They could go slower and create a safe space with a weekly ritual (every Friday night meeting for a drink/to grade essays/to hang out) which can lead to a late night snog (floating candles optional).

They could be blunt and go 'I want to kiss you so bad right now' as they leave Hogsmeade together and are walking on the dirt path towards the castle. A gust of wind will prevent him from hiding himself behind his hair and they'll see the flush creeping on his face.

They could hammer the compliments and validation, because Severus craves recognition (is there a praise kink in there? yes). So first it could be his mind, his work, his skills... then the way his cape suits his frame so well, his silky voice... and then bam, hitting the nail on the head with complimenting his mouth. Blabbering mess guaranteed. Might flee but blush deliciously. Or might stop dead in his track and then it's time for them to claim these lips.

Kissing

Clumsy. Tentative. Awkward.

But earnest.

He might freeze at first. Wait, these lips knew how to do that once upon a time... how does it go again? He'll need a bit of time to remember but the best way to (re)learn is practice.

It will be a lot for him. As he's extremely touch-deprived he'd be literally rediscovering human contact. So much to feel, the supple of the lips, their shape, the softness, the wetness.

Honestly, deprived!Snape could get really worked up just from kissing.

(They could honestly make him cum just from this and some grinding. Amen. If he does he'd need reassurance after and still might flee and hide and snarl for a few days because male performance blahblahblah. Hopefully they'd be able to skip this step at this point in the relation.)

But I believe he'd enjoy it greatly and this might be a step he'd want to stay at for some time before going further.

Undressing

I headcanon deprived!Snape as being very self-conscious about revealing his body so it might only be possible with someone he really trusts. It might be painfully difficult for him (might require dimmed light if not obscurity but I mean come on, they're here to look at him and it'd be better for him to rip the bandaid... but giving him the option might help).

Either he'll be too aroused to care (or act as if he doesn't) or he'll feel very self-conscious and look for cues to confirm his belief that his partner will find him disgusting. It's the right moment for them to express their desire.

If for some reason he gets too triggered and leave, they wouldn't be back to square one but again, patience is key. He needs time. Or maybe they could convince him to stay and try to resolve the situation by stopping the intimacy and just talk about something else. It could be good practice to show him this isn't a big deal and that everything is fine.

But at this stage, complimenting him sincerely (no coddling) whilst not hiding their arousal could work nicely. Sprinkling some of the fantasies they had about him as well. ('I've been dreaming about these hands on me', 'You have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss these lips to make you shut up', 'I laid awake at night thinking about touching this part of you'). Showing appreciation with touch could convince him more though and it has the advantage of preventing him to think too much.

But really, he won't like to focus on his appearance as it's something he has no control over so they should -unfortunately- bite their tongue and keep the flood of horny compliments to themselves at first. A new one might be fed to him once every two weeks to slowly build his confidence.

In Bed

Deprived!Snape is: prideful, yearning for control and very sensitive.

Now honestly I could make a whole other post with the different scenarios where he'd be more top or bottom. Instead, I will focus more on what would happen either way.

He'll want to learn. Because Severus is nothing if not a scholar. He's got a very curious nature regarding topics that interest him so if his partner is showing him how they like something, he'll get super serious about it. He will try to touch them in the exact same way at first and he's a fast learner so once it's mastered, he'll experiment. And he's going to be good at it.

That man got dexterity and an inventive mind. And that's canon.

But his focus on his partner might also be a way to keep control during this highly new situation. Depending on how self-conscious he is about his inexperience, shifting the focus on him might be a challenge. Maybe letting him take the lead could be a good idea. But maybe shoving him against the mattress and seizing control is the way to go here.

Now, he will be very sensitive, won't he?

Yes, he might. He might be a whimpering mess in no time. His partner should be cautious and gentle with him. Severus letting his guard down and letting them touch him is a very big effort coming from him so they should savor it and be sure to make it feel safe if they want this to happen again. Help him relax, let him breathe, don't hesitate to pause if he gets nervous. The walls will be destroyed, moan after moan.

But what if he isn't sensitive?

That's a possibility as well. He's been by himself for years and his wariness of intimacy and people is wired in his cells at this point. He's disconnected from his own body and never pays attention to it. He might also tense heavily once in bed with his partner, the vulnerability of it accentuating the disconnection. He might not feel pleasure, might get frustrated and feel angry or inadequate.

This situation - which I find very interesting and seems like a realistic follow-up to him wanting to kiss for a long time and struggling with undressing - is tricky and will require diplomacy and more patience.

But maybe this could be a dealbreaker for him. If the payoff isn't worth the discomfort, he could easily take it as a confirmation bias that intimacy isn't for the likes of him. The best course of action could be to focus on non-sexual aspect of intimacy.

But this essay is way too long already so I'm going to stop here.

What should I write about next? Is there something you wish I had addressed here? Is there something you'd like me to discuss next?

UPDATE: so a few people seem to be mad at me, demanding I keep on elaborating SO. Let's say I'm done here for the 'how to bed him' part (which was the premise of this essay) and I'll do another one following thoughts and possibly... focusing on the different roles in bed (top/bottom/switch) for our dear Severus. See you there.

TLDR: He's gonna be a pain, his partner needs to have calming draught for their nerves but in the end it will be very rewarding because he's starved and inventive.

[mapis-putellas]

Show off

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia challenges you to a pull-up competition.

Notes: this was fun to write. Enjoy <3

[Prompt list]

"Amor, come on!" Alexia complains as she loops her arms around your waist and rests her chin against your shoulder, peppering your face with soft kisses.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. "Ale, I've already said no. You only want to do it to prove how much stronger you are than me." You pat her hands placatingly as you step out of her arms to continue with folding the laundry.

"What? No. That is not the truth," she exclaims in mock offence as she clutches at her chest. "You have been practicing, yes? At the gym with mapi?"

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to face her. "Yes, I have. But it's been a week. How much progress do you think I would have been able to make in seven days, ale?"

Alexia shrugs as she easily lifts herself onto the counter, "I do not know. A lot?" She kicks her legs absently, ignoring the way you glare at her when her feet -clad in shoes might you add, hit the white cupboards below.

You sigh in relinquishment. "For you, maybe, but I'm very much a beginner. You, my love, are not."

"Sí, I know. But por favor, amor? For me?"

Alexia wasn't one to beg. In your three and a half year relationship, you think you’d only heard her do so a handful of times and the majority of those were in the bedroom. Otherwise, she could be very convincing when coaxing you into doing what she wants, so there was ultimately never any need for her to beg.

"Ale..." You trail off.

Alexia slides off of the counter, her feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. She makes her way over to you, large hands rising to cup your cheeks before leaning down and pressing her lips oh so tenderly against your own. You sigh on resignation as your own hands rise to rest on either side of her waist, fully aware that she had once again gotten her way.

A few moments later you pull away, eyes rolling when you were immediately met with a smirk.

"Okay. We can do a pull-up contest. But I have one condition." You warn.

Alexia nods seriously. "Sí, mi amor. Anything."

"Any teasing, smack talk or bragging, you're on the couch tonight. Understand?"

"Smack talk?" She tilts her head to the side.

You cup her face, tracing the pads of your thumbs beneath her eyes. "It's the act of criticizing another person. Which you will not do to me when you win."

Alexia immediately shakes her head as she takes your hands and places a gentle kiss to the insides of your wrist. "I will not bebé. Promise."

Prior experience has you want wanting to believe her, but figuring you would be nice and give her the benefit of the doubt, you let out a quiet sigh before begrudgingly nodding your head.

You can't help but laugh at the way her face lights up as she all but yanks you into her arms, your feet now dangling in the air as your hands clutch to the back of her shirt.

God, you were such a sucker.

"Okay, okay. When?" You breath, wiggling out of her arms before turning and placing the folded clothes into the laundry basket to be put away later. Or, well, whenever you get around to it if you were being completely honest with yourself. Probably sometime next week.

Your hand was immediately grabbed the second it was unoccupied, and you allow her to pull you out of the kitchen and towards her small home gym. There was a pull-up bar fixed to the doorframe, yoga mats and dumbbells in corner of the room along with many other pieces of equipment you’d yet to learn the names of.

"I will go first, amor," she pulls off her shirt leaving her in a black sports bra and red shorts. "You count, yes?"

Your eyes whip up from where they'd fallen down to her six pack, and you nod silently, watching as she smirks before raising her arms and grabbing onto the pull-up bar with ease. She was going before you could blink, arm muscles becoming more prominent as she lifts herself up and down like it was nothing.

Your eyes somehow seem to drift down to her six pack again on their own accord, and you decide it would probably be best to ignore her laugh so her ego didn't get any bigger than it already was.

She was back on the floor before you could even notice she was done, slightly out of breath as she rubs her hands together and makes her way over to you. Your eyes slowly climb up her body until they were staring into her own.

"Amor, did you count?" She reaches up and closes your mouth, and you flush heavily as you push her hand away and cross your arms against your chest. “You did not, did you?”

"Yes, I did." You feign your assertiveness a lot more confidently than you felt, and Alexia rolls her eyes knowingly as she nods her head in begrudging acceptance.

"How many?"

"Huh?”

“Pull-ups, bebé. How many?”

“Uhh…”

"Let's say, twenty, yes?" She grins, and you sigh dejectedly before nodding.

"Sure. Twenty." There was no way in hell you were going to be able to beat that. Seemingly having more confidence in you than you did in yourself, Alexia coaxes you over to the bar with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

"Ready?" She braces a hand on either side of your waist, and you take a deep breath before nodding and reaching up your arms. She lifts you with ease, making sure you had a good hold before rounding your body and standing a little in front of you.

Ignoring the fact your hands were beginning to burn already, you use all your strength and pull your chin up and over the bar with a quiet grunt.

"Sí. Muy bien bebé." Alexia praises, and you smile slightly as you once again pull yourself up and over the bar. You mange to repeat this three more times before your arms start to burn. Feeling a little pathetic at only being able to complete five pull-ups in comparison to Alexia’s

twenty, you grit your teeth and somehow manage to pull yourself up two before times before sending Alexia a look that says get me down.

Alexia steps forward and loops her dams beneath your behind immediately, and you let out a sigh of relief as you let go of the bar and rub your sore hands together.

Supporting your body with ease, Alexia looks up at you with a proud smile on her face. You can't help but mimic it as you circle your arms around her shoulders.

"Buena chica," she praises, leaning forward and kissing your chest. You flush just slightly. "I did not think you could do that many."

"It was only seven." You shrug.

"No no." Alexia shakes her head as she bounces you up slightly to get a better grip, your legs now hooked around her bare waist. "How many could you do before?"

"One, I think?" you struggle to recall the specific number due to Mapi yelling at you. Carry on chica. You got this! Use those chicken arms! You’d been quite offended honestly.

“Maybe two?" You doubt yourself.

"Exactamente! And you did seven today. That is five more, no? You are getting strong." She grasps your bicep between her hand and gives it a squeeze, making you laugh quietly as your own hands tangle through the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

"Soon I'll be stronger than you." You muse, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

"No, amor," Alexia states seriously, and you tilt your head to the side. "No one is as strong as me."

"Oh, is that so?" You laugh, and Alexia grins smugly as she makes her way back over to the pull-up bar. You stare at her in confusion, aware she was up to something but not knowing what.

"Hold on tight." Is all she says in place of an explanation, and you can't help but yelp when she lets you go and reaches for the bar above you both.

Complying and wrapping your body completely around her own as tight as you physically could, you stare gobsmacked as she begins doing pulls-up with the same ease as before.

"Show off." You grumble, Alexia's laugh echoing around the room.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @codiemarin

[howlingmod]

crawls up to you on 3 of my 4s (joldong a soda in one hand) ummmm uhh can I get a uhhh hcs for killers x a survivor reader who is a single parent of a kid. as you’d expect the spectre freakin sucks and dragged the kid there too

summary - 1x4, Jason x single parent reader

misc - ASKS THAT REMINDED ME I HAVE A SWEET DELICIOUS DRINK IN THE FRIDGE ..... thank you so much anon ..... this ones a little silly i can't lie I <3 PARENTAL 1x4 ....

1x4

-Your relationship started off as poorly as it could. You'd been with a smaller group of survivors, watching as they were picked off one by one. You didn't think it would go this bad. You all knew there were threats whenever you went out, you just didn't expect that they'd be so close to your campsite.

-You'd all gone on a small run to pick up supplies, running low on basic necessities. It was just meant to be a quick look around and then head back home, it was never supposed to devolve like this. You'd hid your kid as soon as you heard the screams, finding a place for them to hide from any potential danger while you figured out what was going on. You thanked your past self for finding somewhere they wouldn't be able to see any of this. Bodies were strewn about the ground, in all states of togetherness- disemboweled, beheaded, all clearly dead.

-You'd only managed to find one other survivor before you'd been caught, finding him hiding away in an odd corner of the area, clearly just as lost and confused as you.

"What happened? Did you see who did this?" You'd asked, struggling to keep your voice steady enough with how fast your heart was beating. His hands flew to your shoulders, clasping down tight in desperation for some support.

"I-I don't know, I was with Casper and then this thing just appeared out of nowhere and tackled him and-" He started to ramble, devolving into incoherence the more he spiraled.

"Hey, just calm down. We'll find a way out of here, I promise," you tried, mustering as much calm as you could in an effort to reassure him.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something before suddenly stopping, growing pale as he looked a little past you. His hyperventilating only got worse, much to your displeasure, after a few seconds of trying to make him look back at you, you relented, looking over your shoulder and finding the source of his fear.

They were tall, unnaturally so. You didn't have to stare long to find the swords clasped in either hand, dripping with fresh blood. You both scrambled to stand up, you immediately trying to think of a way to lose them once you started running, but your thoughts were cut short. The hands on your shoulder squeezed and, through the blood rushing through your ears, you could just barely hear an 'I'm sorry,' before you were shoved forward.

You landed hard on your back, stunned by the sudden motion as you stared up at the sky. Shakily raising your head, you watched as they ran away, slowly growing smaller. The thing behind you laughed, low and sinister before drawing closer. You didn't have any time to get back up, them catching up to you and dragging you up by the collar of your shirt.

"Well well well, the unfortunate martyr," She crooned, leering down at you. Your feet dangled off the ground, unable to find any purchase other than their legs, unmoved by your struggle. His glowing eyes found your own, delighted by the fear he saw in them. He only grinned, slowly raising the edge of one of his blades to your throat, daring you to move and cut yourself on them. He opened his mouth, ready to mock you once more before something hit him.

"Hey! Leave 'm alone!" Your blood ran cold instantly, the rush instantly dizzying you to nausea. You couldn't breathe around the ball in your throat. Of course they would come looking for you, you'd been gone so long. God, you should've just ran when you had the chance. You thrashed harder now, kicking hard at his torso and scratching wherever you could find space. To your absolute dread, she cackled, full-bodied and unadulterated.

"Well, what do we have here? This is your rescue?" He just kept laughing, dropping the blade to his side to turn to your child.

"Leave them out of this!" You yelled, falling on deaf ears.

"Let my (parent) go!" They yelled, only furthering your struggle. You couldn't afford for them to get the ire of the killer holding you hostage. You wouldn't be able to protect them in time.

"This is too rich," he hummed, thoroughly pleased. Finally, she dropped you, letting you hit the ground once more. You'd scrambled up, instantly heading for your child as they ran to meet you in the middle. You stared back up at the killer, finding them grinning back down at both of you.

"I have to admit, you're a brave one," she started, directing her attention to your child, "I'm curious to see what you'll become."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran in the direction that the other survivor had gone, leaving you to sit there in confusion. You watched her slowly shrink into the distance, disappearing behind the tree-line. You made no move yet, too dumbfounded to think of what to do next. Finally, your child had looked up at you, still caged in your arms.

"Who was that?"

-The next few months were a blur. You found your way back home with everything you were able to pick off of the others. You felt awful for it but you had a mouth to feed, you couldn't afford to overextend your kindness if that whole interaction had taught you anything. You were able to find a relative normalcy, only haunted by the new silence with your lack of company. Your kid took to sword fighting with sticks in the yard, using the dead trees as dummies to duel with. It wasn't the best life, but it was enough of a routine that you were happy with it. That was until you noticed the same monster that nearly killed you was gifting your child a sword.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" You'd shouted to your visitor, watching as your child's extended hand shot back to their side in surprise.

"Aw, don't be like that, I'm merely checking up on my prodigy," he called back, calm as can be.

"Your- That's my kid, jackass!" You were seething now, temporarily dropping your filter in disbelief.

He only laughed at that, placing the gift in your kid's hands before stepping closer towards you, "I never said they were mine, just that I've taken an interest in their development. It takes guts to stand up to me, I was impressed."

He only stopped once he was a hair's breadth away, smiling down at you like she was a family friend. You glared right back up at him, crossing your arms over your chest with a grimace.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing but you can leave them out of it. If you have some kind of problem you take it up with me, you understand?" You hissed, poking her in the sternum for emphasis. You were playing a dangerous game prodding her, but you'd much rather take the blunt of their malice over your kid.

She scoffed, turning to throw her arm over your shoulder and pull you into her side, "Are you deaf? Like I've been saying, I'm just invested in seeing their talent be used to the fullest. I'd hate to see such courage go to waste, is all."

"Here," she crooned, tugging you ever closer and leaning down to your level as best she could, "If you're really so concerned, I'll only ever come to visit while you're around. You can supervise me if you truly think it necessary."

You narrowed your eyes, glancing over to your child. They were busy looking at the sword they'd been gifted, brushing their fingers over the dull blade wrapped in burlap to protect their hands. You could practically hear her grin grow with your growing defeat.

"Fine. Only when I'm around," you relented.

"It's a deal," he chimed.

-It became routine from then on. 1x4 would come to visit, offering all kinds of gifts to your child: post-cards from far away lands and coins long out of production. In recent times, he'd begun to offer you gifts more often, bearing glimmering jewels and a surplus of food for the two of you. He'd present them to you as soon as he found your side, watching as 'his prodigy' trained. Rarely would he participate, only when you relented to your child's pleading for him to play with them under your careful eye. Usually, he'd just sit next to you in a comfortable silence, occasionally offering some kind of feedback to your child, both praise and critique. Truthfully, it seemed like they really were getting better with that sword...

-The visits would turn longer and longer, following you two into your home for dinner when your kid asked for him to stay one night. Tentatively, you'd busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some of the supplies she'd dropped off the other day as you listened to their conversation. Your child was rambling all about the books they'd been reading, filling her in on all the stories they'd heard about drakobloxxers and princesses in castles saved by shining knights. Readily, she listened, offering her own inputs and spins on those tales with pride. Slowly, you grew calmer, finding peace in the moment.

-One day, she'd come all the same as normal. Greeting your child and offering them a piece of seaglass they'd soon put up on the shelf with all her other gifts before she found your side once more. You'd given her a nod of acknowledgement, too focused on your kid's training to pay mind to her finding her gift for you. Just a moment later, he'd presented it to you, more casual than he normally did. He said nothing, just held his palm out for you to look. It was a ring, lined with diamonds and held by a gorgeous, gold band. You'd laughed, more earnestly than he'd heard before.

"What's this supposed to be?" You hummed, warm with amusement.

He smiled back, softer than his usual mischievous grin, "A gift."

You'd snickered at the simplicity of it, readily taking it from his hand. It fit perfectly, unsurprisingly. You found he had a way of knowing things before he was told. Neither of you said anything more about it, turning your attention back to the excited child in the yard pointing out the deep cuts they'd made in the bark.

Jason

-Jason found you before you could even meet the others. You didn't know it then, you couldn't see him in the dark, sneaking through the cover of the woods. You were too scared then, too terrified to pay attention to the sounds around you over your own heart in your ears. You just needed to find safety, somewhere you could hide away with your child until you figured out where you were.

-You ran around in circles, passing the same clearings and scratching yourself on the same brambles of thorns- straining to lift your kid up above them and through the webs of branches reaching out for you both. Jason only watched as you got more and more lost, growing more frantic by the second. It'd taken watching you trip over an overgrown root and flip over to ensure you hit the ground instead of your child that finally made him draw closer.

-It was still too dark for you to really see him, only able to make out that there was a person there. You'd shot upright, scrambling backwards against a tree and pulling your kid tight to your chest, hidden behind your arms.

"Who are you?!"

He didn't answer at all, just stood staring at you from a few feet away. You were going to try asking again, only further irritated by his lack of response before he finally moved. It was purposeful but unhurried, leaving you just a sliver of time to contemplate running before he reached out and grabbed for one of your arms. You'd instantly tried to pull back, fearing he was trying to pry your arms away from your child but he was stronger, overpowering you-

He grabbed your hand, turned away, and started walking.

-He didn't talk on the way there at all either, didn't make any noise at all, really. So, you didn't ask any questions. You were terrified, you really shouldn't just be letting him drag you god knows where like this but ... if he really wanted to hurt either of you, you figured he would've done that already. You could just barely spot the glimmer of something sharp in his free hand.

-Eventually, he reached a cabin. It was a very worn, aged looking cabin but shelter nevertheless. It was only then he dropped the iron grip he had on your hand, barely turning to you and pointing in the direction of the door. You'd stood there for a second, dumbly staring at him. The thought of this all being one big trap, some game to him, popped back up in your mind. Nevertheless, you tentatively padded over to the door, tightening your grip on your child once more. You'd expected him to be on your heel, shoving you over the threshold and into his lair but, looking over your shoulder, you found he hadn't moved an inch. He stared right back at you, waiting for you to step into the house. He stayed there even when the door was shut, only turning to leave a few moments later, leaving you in the shabby house without a word.

-The house itself was in better condition than you'd expected. It hadn't been occupied too recently based on the layers of dust piling up but, compared to the woods you'd just run through, it may as well have been a fully-furnished mansion. It was just you and your child as far as you can tell. There seemed to be some kind of dirt road leading there but you'd made no move to explore, not wanting to risk it quite yet. There were enough supplies left behind there for you to provide for your kid as they slowly regained their energy and started running around the house to explore. By the time you even began to worry about running low, he came back.

-You'd been startled, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard the knock on the door, but, even though you'd barely seen him in the dark that night, you could immediately identify who it was. He didn't strike any fear into you, even with the mask and ragged clothes. He'd saved you and your child's life, you couldn't muster any ill-will towards him if you tried. You'd welcomed him in with arms warmer than he'd expected, inviting him inside and talking to him. You'd been a little worried by his lack of response until he began signing, slow and shaky but still understandable. It wasn't the clearest to you at first, but, with his repeated visits, you slowly picked it up more and more. As did your child, who would happily run up and try signing back to him, much to his delight. Their energy was refreshing, the familial situation made him feel comfortable, at peace for a time.

-The cycle repeated for a few months, you slowly growing more and more acclimated to your surroundings. You found ways to live off the land, figuring out what was and wasn't safe to forage with the help of your company. Your kid found new trees to climb and learned to set up small traps that you'd learn how to spot and avoid. Life had found some kind of normalcy again.

-One day, you had a new visitor a strange looking man with an equally strange face(?) on his shirt and a hat your kid would later laugh about when describing him. Neither of you spoke to one another, he'd gone stock still and slack jawed staring at you and your kid from afar, obviously confused about why you were there. You didn't bother filling him in, only turning on your heel and heading back home. You're sure he would've tried to chase after you, ask who you were and why you were there if it weren't for the shadow that'd followed you here, standing just a few feet away from you in a clear threat. 'Stay away.'

[toxycodone]

IM A WEIRDO SORRY but anyways imagine beastkin reader having that one spot on their back they can never reach that drives them up the wall with how itchy and uncomfortable it can get. they've tried all the suggestions and tips in the book, but every "solution" is either A) too weird and humiliating or B) requires an extra set of hands, but they'd honestly rather die than ask anyone for help with it...

until one night, while he's on night watch duty and reader is sleeping right next to him on their back, of course Laios can't help but reach out a little helping hand. rewarded by a low, pleased groan, he takes that as an invitation to press harder, bit by bit, and really gets into it. Soon, he's even got two hands working on their back and he's surprised no one's woken up with how much noise they're making.

when reader wakes up a little bit later, tail wagging/purring up a storm, their brain's just too foggy with all kinds of happy chemicals to even consider swatting away his hand. from then on, reader decides that maybe it's not an entirely bad idea to ask him for help sometimes, as long as no one else sees...

(ALSO IMAGINE LETTNG HIM STROKE AND SCRITCH THE BASE OF YOUR TAIL....... laying across his lap chastising him like "DO NOT press too hard. DO NOT abuse it. DO NOT-" but you just melt in a puddle as soon he starts off gently rubbing a thumb against it. the way you sigh in pleasure, whimpering for a break when it gets a little too much... can you really blame him for getting hard???)

HAD TO POST THIS ONE IMMEDIATELY BC. WHEW….

God Laios is so…with a beastkin reader, he just lacks boundaries and tact interacting with them. His excitement to meet you and interact with you trumps anything that may be in the back of his mind telling him to reel it in (or even his fellow party members).

If you lay on him it’s OVER. It doesn’t matter how much you tell him not to toy and tease with you he’s doing it anyways because “he knows best”.

He knows animals. And he’s learning monsters. He’s fixated on them since he was a kid. You’re no exception.

He’s putting all the same moves he used to do on his dogs in his childhood and it WORKS. He’s petting you and massaging in all the right places. And when you purr or sigh in pleasure a WAVE of pride hits him. You didn’t have to warn him, he knows just where to touch you.

(And when you whimper and such…Laios can’t help but get a little into it. Are you sure you need a break? Surely you can tough out a little more so he can keep trailing his fingers over your soft fur and tell you how good you are, right?)

Sometimes he’ll pet you in front of others and usually you’d smack his hands away but once he knows your spots….you just melt into him and it’s SO embarrassing.

[blackkwidowed]

Imagine kissing Nats bruises and scars after a mission and just being soft and showing her so much love.

I just wanna give Nat a hug tbh

just the entire concept of nat finding it so hard to be vulnerable around anyone but you is both heartbreaking yet the softest most adorable shit ever. here's a little drabble. some darker themes here as well i guess. also, best friend bucky? you got a taste of that here as well. also haven't proofread so sorry

•

When the few team mates arrive back off a mission, there's a dark, almost sad, atmosphere among them. Natasha, Bucky, and Clint had gone together for a few days to track something down. They'd come back early, empty handed, bruised, beaten down and overall, unsuccessful.

Natasha had looked the most upset. She hadn't been crying or anything, she just looked glum. She looked like she'd seen something no one wants to see.

Immediately you say your hellos to everyone, glad that they made it back safely and in once piece- albeit a few bruises and minor injuries. Something had happened out there.

You pull Natasha into your arms and there's something about the way she relaxes and sinks against you that makes your concern skyrocket. Fingers running through her hair, you cup the base of her skull in your hand and bring the other to her cheek for her to look at you. "What happened, my love?"

She sighs, the kind of sigh that speaks for itself.

"We found a group of kids. They'd all been locked up by these asshole guys we were trying to find. They'd been brainwashed. Beaten. Taken from their families and forced into whatever the hell kind of project that's been lined up for them."

You flinch, closing your eyes and repeating Natasha's sigh from before. You understand now.

"Got jumped by some security who've had training from God knows where. Good enough to get some hits in, put it that way." She cranes her neck a little, moves her hair out the way, enough to show the budding purple mark under her ear that's making it way across her jaw. "Powerful bunch, these guys. We're gonna need some more planning before we go back in there."

You nod in agreement, tracing your finger gently across the mark and pressing a soft, barely there kiss to the skin.

"Are you okay?" It comes as a whisper, gentle and only just loud enough for her to hear it. "I mean, I know you're not okay as such just. What do you need?"

She smiles gently at you, pushing herself closer to you again and resting her nose in the crook of your neck. "This is good."

You press a kiss to the side of her head, looking up at the guys who're now sat at the breakfast bar of the kitchen, also looking on like they've seen a ghost. You can't help but feel sorry for whatever they've seen, it takes a lot to have them left feeling like this.

You send Nat to your room, telling her you'll be up there in a moment and to get changed out of her suit. Quickly, you make your way over to the boys and rest a hand on each of their shoulders. "You need anything you know where I am, alright?"

They thank you thoroughly, Bucky even slinging an arm around your waist and squeezing lightly as a thank you. "Take care of her, yeah? I think, maybe, she's reminded of everything she went through. It's hit her, this one. Just take care of her."

Bucky's smile is laced with pain, heartache. You don't see him like this often either. You nod at him. "Of course."

-

What you find in your room is enough to make you angry. Nat's got a fair few bruises, and it makes you want to track down the bastard(s) that managed to leave such a mark on her soul.

She's sat on the end of the bed, glancing over the hand shaped mark on her arm where she'd been grabbed and thrown just hours earlier. She's not even mad that she let her guard down. Normally she'd be upset with herself, but she can't think about it.

You perch at the head of the bed against the pillows, beckoning her over in a gentle tone. She settles into your side and curls an arm around you tightly, as if she's frightened you'll leave. It only makes you grip her tighter.

Peppering gentle kisses to the side of her face, she sighs in relief and sinks somehow deeper into you, nuzzling into your neck. You're warm, familiar, comforting, you're everything she needs in a time of need.

"Thank you," she whispers against your skin.

"For what, baby?"

"Being here when I need you."

You smile softly, raising a hand to her face and brushing your fingers across her cheek. You kiss her softly, slowly, so gentle she has to pull you even closer so you'll kiss her firmer. Your lips move against hers and it might just be the highlight of Natasha's day, feeling you like this.

"You don't ever have to thank me. You know that's what I'm here for." You continue stroking her cheek, down her neck, and back up. Touches like this are her favourite. It warms her heart when she remembers the bruise on the side of her face, and the fact that your touch is so gentle against her skin that the contact with the bruise doesn't bother her even a little bit. "I love you."

Natasha hums softly, moving to lay on top of you now. She kisses you again, whispering against your mouth. "I love you."

You hold her close, hands running across her hips, fingers trailing up her back. She lays on you, nuzzled in and as close as possible. You don't ever want either of you to move, this is where you're content. This is your happy place.

She's relaxed now, happier, and you know today's at the back of her mind still but for a moment, she can forget about it. She feels safe now, comforted. You're her happy place, her everything, her lifeline. To her, you make it worth it.

"Get some sleep for me okay?" You murmur into her hair.

You feel her nod against where she lays on your chest. "Only if i can stay here."

You give a soft laugh, rubbing a hand up her back and tangling into red hair. "Always."

[rainydayathogwarts]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[lanawinterscigarettes]

also had a joe goldberg x reader x love quinn idea where reader accidentally murders somebody and has to call both of them to help clean up the body? like you probably know that they’re murderers anyway so you really need their help to get rid of any evidence.

I love this idea so much! I hope you like what I did with it <3

Safe Haven (poly Joe Goldberg x fem reader x Love Quinn)

Warnings: there's a creepy guy/brief implied attempted assault (nothing actually happens don't worry), murder/violence/gore, some hurt/comfort

Goddamn it. This wasn't supposed to happen, was what immediately popped into your head as you watched the blood trickle down from the cracked skull onto the pristine marble flooring.

You'd been at the bakery, getting things all closed up for the evening. Usually Love did it, but you offered to do it for her since you knew how hard she'd been working lately. The woman needed a break.

She thanked you with a kiss and a hug, telling you to not take too long before leaving you to lock up. You'd been wiping down the counters when you heard the bell over the door start to go off, signaling that someone had come in.

That's odd, you thought, a frown pulling at your lips. Most people in town knew what the bakery's schedule was, so why would they come in right before closing?

And then you saw the guy, and your heart dropped, sinking to the bottom of your stomach like a stone in a lake. You didn't know his name or anything like that, but he'd been showing up every day for the past week trying to hit on you, even after you'd politely declined his advances.

Why would you need him, after all, when you already had Joe and Love in your life?

"Hey, pretty thing," he greeted with an overly charming smile that made you want to hurl. Pretty thing. He didn't get to call you that.

The only people who had the privilege of calling you pretty were Joe and Love. "Good job, pretty girl," they'd coo when you completed a task or behaved good for them, the way you were supposed to.

Your hand instinctively went to clutch at the rolling pin Love always kept behind the counter. It wasn't unusual, as she did work at a bakery, but you knew full well the real reason it was kept back there: for times like these.

"What, not even a hello?" He joked, though you could tell just from the look in his eyes he was offended by your lack of a greeting.

"We're closed," you tried to state firmly in the most even tone you could muster despite how your heart was racing in your chest. You weren't stupid, that much was sure. You knew what men could be like, and you didn't trust this guy as far as you could throw him.

"The door was unlocked," he said with a casual shrug, as if that made any difference. Oh, how you wish your partners were here right now. Love would have no shame in getting all up in his face and telling him off, and while Joe might not be as assertive as she was he wouldn't hesitate to protect you either.

"We're still closed. You'll have to come back in tomorrow." Even if your voice did waver slightly, you knew you were brave for standing up for yourself.

The guy, however, merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. "C'mon, don't tell me you're still playing hard to get."

"I'm not playing hard to get," you snapped back in turn, your anger starting to take control over your fear. I mean, just who did this guy think he was? "I'm married, thank you very much."

Okay, maybe that part was a bit of a lie. You and your partners hadn't officially tied the knot yet, but that was only because you weren't sure that marriage with a throuple was technically legal. They had, however, given you a small ring to symbolize how they hoped to marry you someday, which you kept on a chain around your neck so people wouldn't question it as much as if it were on your finger.

Still, the guy seemed to buy it, even if the information didn't faze him much. "So what? I'm married, but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun every now and then."

If you didn't like him before, you certainly hated him now. It was hard to hide the look of disgust on your face as you replied. "No, thank you. I'm repulsed by your offer."

That certainly got his attention. "The fuck did you just say to me?" He spat out in response to your words as he approached the side of the counter.

"Y- You're not allowed back here," you protested weakly, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly stalked closer.

"You think you're better than me, huh? You think you're better than me just because you're faithful and I'm not?"

So desperately did you want to retort with a snarky yes, but now really wasn't the time. "Stay back," you warned while picking up the rolling pin and holding it up defensively in front of you, your entire body seeming to be made of rubber as you cowered in fear. "Or I'll- I'll-"

He let out mocking laughter as he moved even closer, now standing less than a foot away. "Or you'll what? What are you going to d-"

You didn't even let him finish the sentence before you tightened your grip on the rolling pin and swung it hard, smacking him upside the head. There was a loud thud, and you saw the blood on your makeshift weapon before you saw it on him.

Not daring to take the chance that he was only mildly wounded, you kept at it, hitting him again and again and again, over and over until his body laid crumpled on the floor beneath you, no longer moving. Your hands were shaking as you dropped the rolling pin, instantly reaching into the pocket of your apron so you could pull out your phone. You'd need help getting rid of the body, and you knew exactly who to call.

Love was most likely busy making dinner, despite all of your protests and insistence that she needed to take a break and let someone else handle it for once. Your assumption was soon confirmed when Joe ended up being the one who picked up the phone.

"J- Joe," you choked out his name, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes as you sunk down onto the floor. "S- Something happened. Something bad. I- I need you and Love to come help me, please."

That was all you had to say for his casual demeanor to drop as he instantly went into protective mode. "Of course, baby. Where are you at? Are you still at the bakery?"

You nodded your head before realizing he couldn't see you. "Y- Yeah. There was this guy, and- and I did something bad to him."

He was quiet for a moment when you heard talking in the background, Love asking what was wrong and him responding accordingly before he spoke to you again. "Okay, just stay where you are, alright? Take a few deep breaths and try to remain calm. We'll be there soon."

It was hard for you to even imagine staying calm right now when you were so freaked out, but you knew you had to try anyway. "O- Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too." With that, he hung up, and you filled the silence of the room with a long, agonizing wail of disbelief at what had just happened.

You killed a man. Like, actually killed him. And now he was laying there, dead, in the middle of the floor at your partners' bakery.

It didn't take very long for them to arrive. Love immediately rushed over to where you were still curled up on the floor while Joe checked to make sure the guy was really dead.

"Hey, baby, hey," Love murmured in a low and soothing tone as soon as she saw you were crying. "Don't cry, don't cry, baby, it's alright. Me and Joe are here now, and we've got you, alright? We're not going to let anything happen to you."

You sniffled and nodded your head, allowing her to pull you in for a warm hug. She smelled like a mix of spices and baby powder. She smelled like safety, like home.

"What happened?" Joe asked a moment or so later, once you'd calmed down enough to give them a coherent reply.

"He- he came it right before I was about to close up," you began in a shaky voice, your hands trembling. Love gently grabbed them in hopes of helping to calm you, giving them a reassuring squeeze that said it was okay for you to continue. "And- and he was, like, flirting with me, I guess. But in a really weird, 'I don't care what your boundaries are' sort of way."

Love's grip on your hands tightened, her eyes flashing with a look of quiet rage. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

Joe knelt down next to you and shot his wife a look that said not now, signaling that her anger would only make you more upset. "What else happened, hm?" He questioned in a soft tone, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder in an act of quiet comfort. He was just as upset as Love was, but unlike her, he was much better at hiding his emotions.

"He- he tried to ask me out, and I said no thank you, that I was already married-" If you'd been less shaken up, perhaps you might've noticed the look of possessive affection that flickered across both of their eyes when you spoke. "-but he didn't- didn't care, and I told him the offer alone repulsed me when he said that it didn't matter because he was married himself, and-"

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to blink back the fresh tears that were welling up in your eyes. They spilled down onto your cheeks regardless, and Love reached a hand out, gently wiping them away. "Go on," she muttered quietly while Joe's hand moved from your shoulder down to your back, rubbing it in circular motions to help keep you calm.

"He got really mad when I said that, so he started to come behind the counter, even though I told him that he couldn't, and I was- I was really worried that he was going to try to- to do something to me, so I-" You shut your eyes, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as you recalled the events that previously happened. "I hit him with the rolling pin that's kept back here until he stopped."

"Oh, honey..." Love cooed sympathetically as she pulled you back in for another hug, Joe's hand still resting somewhat protectively on your back as she did. "You know, I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself. We both are."

"Yeah, this wasn't your fault, sweetie. If you hadn't of stopped him, who knows what would've happened?" Joe chimed in, both of them doing their best to make sure you didn't feel too bad about the situation. "Tell you what, we'll get this all cleaned up for you, and afterwards we can go home and cuddle while we watch one of your favorite movies."

"And I can make your favorite snack for you," Love added while pulling away enough for her to look into your eyes. "How does that sound?"

"S- Sounds good." Your voice was quiet and the smile you gave them was weak, but at least you weren't hysterical like earlier.

"We just need to get rid of the body first," Love said while standing, Joe still crouched down on the floor next to you. "Okay, you get started on that while I make them something hot to drink." She instructed to her husband, who immediately got up to do as she said.

They never worked better together than when you were in some kind of trouble. It was one of the rare times they could boss each other around and it wouldn't lead to some kind of argument between the two.

You simply watched from your spot where you were huddled up on the floor, trying not to become nauseous at the thought of how exactly they planned on getting rid of him. You hadn't even looked directly at the guy's body the whole time since it happened, too afraid to, as if you were worried at any second now he might spring back to life.

"Here, sweetie, don't look over there at what he's doing." Love's gentle voice cut through your thoughts, making you focus on her instead. She knelt down next to you as she spoke, turning you away from the body as she wrapped a blanket around your shoulders before handing you a steaming mug full of your favorite warm drink. "Careful, it's hot." The loving smile she had on her face made it difficult for you to think about anything else. "You stay here for now, okay? Don't go anywhere. We'll come get you once we're done."

"Okay," you said simply at her orders. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your face before getting back up and going to help Joe. You blew on the hot drink before taking a tiny sip. The temperature was so hot, it was almost scalding, but you found that the burning sensation it left behind on your tongue only helped to make you feel better.

You weren't sure how long it took them to get the mess cleaned up, but by the time they were finally done your mug was empty and you were starting to fall asleep. "Hey," the quiet voice of Joe spoke, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "We're done now, baby. Let's go home, okay?"

It was hard to tell if you were so tired because of how late it was or because of the excitement of what happened, or if maybe Love had slipped something into your drink to help you calm down some. You wouldn't put it past her. Regardless of the reason, it was difficult for you to stand because of your sudden drowsiness, which he gladly helped you with.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur to you. All you could remember was falling asleep in the car ride home, and one of them carrying you inside before laying you down in bed. The next morning when you woke up, you were being cradled between the two of them, their arms wrapped around you in an embrace that was both warm and safe.

Although you were certain of the events that had happened the night before, it was all beginning to feel like nothing but a bad dream, one you hoped wouldn't plague you ever again. Part of you knew just how unlikely it was that either Love or Joe would ever leave you alone again after that, but you couldn't find it in you to be bothered much by it or to even care. You were much safer around them, anyway.

End notes: I really loved writing this 💕💕

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[ballowvalence]

finished jentry chau last night and i have a lot of thoughts. SPOILERS AHEAD.

the good (broad strokes because there's so much to like in general!):

production quality is off the charts: fantastic animation, beautiful fight scenes, lovely character and world design, music perfectly complements the whole vibe. great style as well!

satisfying narrative arc: no cliffhangers, we get an A to B story line with character growth and progress. jentry ends the series as emotionally more mature than she starts.

interesting characters and engaging exchange and dialogue between them that mostly felt believable and realistic for teens this day and age.

the bad (my gripe in a nutshell):

the showrunners' decided to favor making the show work to what they'd prefer over cohesive character choices. (like they were trying to manipulate jentry's character around hitting plot points, instead of vice versa.)

jentry's forgiveness isn't consistent for her character.

the showrunners decided that the narrative would be more dramatic when/if she didn't forgive others.

gugu lied to her all her life about SO many things. we're given her reasoning, which we're meant to understand and relate to (she didn't want jentry to hate her/her parents), and because jentry loves gugu, she forgives her. i do not forgive gugu! she lied to jentry for 16 years about EVERYTHING.

this ties into how moonie is still alive as well. gugu knew! she could've EASILY have tracked her down. so she CHOSE to never try and reunite them. and MOONIE knew she was jentry's mother. how could you do that to your daughter? and jentry forgives moonie because she loves the POTENTIAL of her mother. what the fuck! i do not forgive moonie! she CHOSE not to be part of her life.

then we come to the only other person who begged for forgiveness for their secrets hurting her.

kit. he lied about who he was and his intentions. however, out of the him, gugu, and moonie, kit is the only one who does not intentionally obscure jentry's ability to figure out his secret, as in jentry is not forced to act for him to confess his truth. with gugu's secrets, she had to work to uncover them, and with moonie, jentry had to work to find her.

he is the only one who comes clean to her after putting his life in danger to save hers, and there's no way he doesn't know how fragile his painted skin is. he KNOWINGLY went to save her from the fire and risked his identity being blown because she was that important to him. (i remind you his death words started with "everything i did was for me." LIKE SAVING HER THEN??? THAT WAS FOR YOU???)

and how does jentry react? poorly, yes, because she hates lies (because of gugu).

but even after that, kit is never actually forgiven. in fact, jentry uses him, and then abandons him when she achieves her goal. it felt so drastically out of whack for her character that i wondered what was happening. then he is ostracized by her, and she rejects even his friendship and acts cold to him. she cuts him off.

it really doesn't make sense for her to not even want to be his friend. she bonded with him during the doppelganger experience. they WERE friends then. then she says she wants to be normal and pursues michael even when he admits to her HE isn't normal. so that's not it either.

only the narrative is what forces her not to forgive him because the showrunners need to hit the plot points of him betraying her and him needing to sacrifice himself later. (which i would argue his sacrifice really doesn't make sense at all. if you watch that scene when kit dies in her place, WHY would he even pretend to be her? if jentry had just worn the robes instead, she would've been able to defend herself as quickly she donned them as is shown after kit-jentry is attacked. it was a needless sacrifice!)

gugu is forgiven in this same episode for her lies. why can jentry forgive gugu and not kit (prior to the betrayal)? it just doesn't fit for her character.

jentry then goes on to immediately forgive moonie for never getting into contact with her. moonie ALSO lied to her her entire life. but somehow this is forgiveable now because it works with the narrative and the plot points.

anyway. that's my biggest gripe with the show.

instead of building the narrative around jentry's character, the show built a narrative and manipulated jentry's character to make it work.

also...

the mogai-human-form design was weirdly sexist?

when possessing mr. cheng, the mogai-cheng form is ugly and malformed and disproportionate. he is not conventionally appealing or attractive. he is not the same size or shape as cheng appeared. he is wearing clothes.

when posessing jentry, the mogai-jentry form is curvaceous and slim and appealing to look at. this form is conventionally attractive. she is the same size and shape as jentry appeared. she is not wearing clothes.

all of these are choices the showrunners made. they could've made mogai-jentry much more unappealing, but they didn't. for some reason, keeping her "attractive/cool" was the choice over what the design could mean. they did make her look dangerous, i guess?

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; you accidentally summoned a demon , and he can't leave without doing something for you: either kill someone, or... Fuck you.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Devil!Rody Lamoree x FTM!Reader .

. . . words ; 3.5k+

EXTRA ! porn with plot , also request box is open for people who want more studio investigrave related fics !

Summoning demons wasn't really in your bucket list for this year, but somehow, you were pushed to the breaking point. You never thought they'd go this far for an april fools prank.

Sure you've always known they held a small hate for you—actually, small was a bit of an understatement but it's whatever, your anger was far deeper than the dislike they had for you anyway—but you never thought they'd decide to bring you to an abandoned warehouse, topped with a summoning circle drawn on the ground with what you hoped was ketchup, and proceeded to leave.

You never took them for the cultist types, then again, they always did sacrifice you on multiple occasions (those sacrifices being leaving you to take the blame while they ran from the cops for trespassing on private property and a bunch of other things).

A sigh escaped past your lips as you recalled all the times they've done you wrong, and decided that once you're out of this place, you're dropping them for good. "I'm going home." You whispered as you stared at the red pentagram on the dirty cement floor, decorated with a lit candle on each end of the star. You then proceeded to turn around and jumped out of your skin when a rat appeared in front of you.

You gasped and stumbled backwards, only to trip over a stick that was conveniently placed right behind your heel, and fell back on the ground; laying inside the pentagram your friends had drawn. A loud groan erupted from your throat as you tried to scramble away from the rat—which had long since disappeared—and accidentally cut yourself on the broken cement.

With a hiss, you looked at your finger and watched as a trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. You sighed and wiped it away on your shirt while you stood up, "Fuck this, fuck them—" you were gonna run to their house, and slap every single one of their fucking faces.

As the thought passed through your head, a sudden gust of wind blew through you, and the once lit candles were put out. You paused and looked around you with unease. It was creepy enough that you were alone in an abandoned building, but to have a large gust of wind blow through your body in a confined space was even creepier. You gulped thickly and backed away, trying to reach for your phone in your pocket when you suddenly felt something breathing down your neck.

Your eyes widened, and your body immediately shut down. Not even a few seconds later, a loud growl eminated from the creature behind you, and then a whisper, "... You gonna move off my foot or what?" You practically screamed and instinctively ran forward— and let me tell you, it was a real bad idea, because you Immediately hit a wall.

The creature—which you assumed was a demon or a squatter or a fucking werewolf—whistled as it watched you fall back on the ground. "That's gotta hurt..." You groaned and covered your face, "No shit it hurt!" You yelled at it, and reached for your phone in your pocket and turned the flashlight on.

Only to be faced with a tan man with hair a dirty orange, and curious green eyes that stared down at you while you kept laying on the floor. You dropped your phone on your face in shock. But the one thing that stood out about him were the pair of black horns that sat on his head. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"What? Is being scared a weird reaction now, dipshit?!" You yelled as you rubbed your nose. The demon raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "Says the human who summoned me." He defended himself in a nonchalant demeanor. You sat up and scrunched your face at him, "I did not summon you. I didn't even think the pentagram worked."

"It's a pentagram, how would it not work." He rose a brow while his tail swung around, "It's not like it was made of ketchup or anything." You couldn't bring yourself to tell him that you did think it was made out of ketchup. He'd probably laugh at you. Instead, you eyed him up and down with the light you had, before you spoke, "So... You gonna grant me three wishes or something?"

"I'm a demon, not a genie. The only three things I can give you is my name, age, and occupation." He murmured blankly, "So how 'bout it? I need to get paid too."

"Then give me those three things." You replied, "My name's Rody, I'm 382 years old, I think. I stopped counting after 380, and obviously I'm a demon." Rody introduced himself with a smile, almost a purr to his voice as he did. "Cool. You can go away now." You said as you shooed him away and tried to walk off, only to be stopped when he pulled you back by your shirt.

"Wait no—you can't just leave!" Rody said with what appeared to be a small pout, "Demons like me just can't go away without fulfilling a certain job for the human who summoned them. So it's either you ask me to kill someone for you, or..." He trailed off and blushed at the thought. "... You use me for your own p-pleasure..."

You stared at him blankly as he fumbled with his black vest, "What are you? Some teenage boy?" he took offense to this and immediately shook his head, "I am not a teenage boy!"

"And I am not asking you to do any of that." You mumbled and tried to walk away again, "Just lie and say you did one of the two—" "—well I can't! You know they're always watching me!"

Rody was practically begging as he clung to you. He sure was putting the title of a demon to shame. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. As much as I don't want to be here..." Rody trailed off, like even he didn't believe his last words. "Well, it's been a while since I've been out in the field so it was kinda lonely waiting in my apartment but that's besides the point!" He ranted unintentionally, before he shook his head.

Rody noticed the way you stared at him, and he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Just, ask me for anything." He said more seriously as he let you go.

You thought about it, and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not asking you to kill anyone." You murmured and looked down at the floor. As tempting as it sounds, you weren't gonna just tell him to kill your friends. It was silent, as if Rody was waiting for you to initiate something. At least he was willing to wait for your move.

You then got an idea, "Do demons like blood?" You asked him, looking back up into his green eyes. Rody rose a brow before he nodded, "I guess, especially if it's their summoners blood." He whispered, not sure where this is going. "Do they go insane with just a simple whiff?" You questioned once more, and before he could even get an answer out, you rose your sliced finger in front of his face.

Rody's eyes widened, "W-What are you doing?" He hesitantly asked as he split glances between your finger and your face. "What does it look like I'm doing? How long has it been since you've tasted human blood?" A red glint flashed over Rody's eyes as he leant forward, and took your wrist into his calloused hands. "... Too long..." He whispered and gently kissed your skin, before licking the blood with a groan.

"... I feel so dirty... Licking your dried up blood like this..." Rody gazed back down at you with lidded eyes, "I'm not that much of a savage." He muttered as he kissed your lips. His hands immediately finding their way onto your hips and he pulled your body closer to his bigger one, "You don't mind I just..." Rody whispered against the kiss, using his sharp canines to bite down onto your bottom lip—enough to draw blood as he closed his mouth on the wound and sucked on the red liquid.

You hissed at the slight pain that he inflicted onto you. Noticing your reaction, Rody pulled away and pecked your bruised lip, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it..." He whined and kissed down your chin, "Forgive me?" Rody's hands traveled under your shirt to caress your skin underneath. You gasped, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rubbing your hardening nipples. Rody trailed his lips down to the side of your neck, gently nibbling on the skin.

You felt yourself get pushed back against the wall while his knee moved to go in between your legs. Rody pressed himself closer to you, letting his thigh rub against your core. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you..." He cooed into your ear, "Pretty boy..." Rody praised as he suddenly pinched your nipples. You bit your bottom lip to stifle your moans, too embarrassed to let anything out.

But Rody wasn't having any of it. "Let me hear you." He said blankly, and before you knew it, his hand was inside your pants, already thumbing at your engorged clit. "Come on, pretty boy... I'll make you feel so good... Just let me hear your voice..." Rody encouraged you in his velvety smooth voice.

You threw your head back as an unexpected moan slipped past your lips, and a grin spread across Rody's face. "Atta boy, keep going." He removed his hand away from your chest and started to undo your pants, pulling them down to pool on your feet along with your underwear.

Rody took his time to admire you and your sopping cunt that was just begging for his attention. With a quick lick to his lips, he sunk down to his knees in front of you, and placed both his hands onto your thighs to keep them open for him. "Haven't tasted a sweet thing like this in a while..." He whispered in awe, "300 years ago, I'm guessing?" You quipped with a breathless chuckle.

Rody furrowed his brows and slapped your pussy, which made you whine, "If you're mouth's able to retort, then I'm guessing it can moan too." He grumbled as he then buried his face into your cunt. Your eyes widened, immediately reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair as he licked a stripe up your vulva.

You felt Rody close his lips around your throbbing clit harshly sucking and licking it. Your thighs shook, begging to close and push Rody away from the stimulation, but his strong hold prevented that. Rody placed his knee on your pants— the only thing that served as restraints for your ankles— and removed his hand from your thigh to gently tease your hole by circling around it with his fingers.

You whined, practically begging him to push it in, and when he did, a loud moan erupted from your kiss swollen lips. Rody chuckled against your heat, and sucked on your clit, the sounds of your wetness against his tongue making you cringe. Rody pumped his fingers in and out your pussy, curling and hitting all the right places in just the perfect angle.

Rody inserted another finger, his thick digits rubbing your gummy walls as he harshly finger fucked your pussy. "So lewd...~ Your pussies so wet, it's practically dripping down my hand..." He teased, and pulled his mouth away from your clit, instead using his other hand to swish his fingers side to side on the engorged bud. The sensation made you squeal, desperately trying to close your thighs around his hands but he stopped you.

"Whoa there, keep them open." Rody furrowed his briws and fingered your pussy faster. Tears rolled down your cheek from the pleasure, a small whimper sounding from you as you pulled Rody closer to your cunt. Without a second thought, Rody went back to licking your clit, wanting to overstimulate your senses until all that was left of you is a crying and moaning mess.

He thrusted his fingers even quicker at this, "Look at you... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already crying..." He cooed, his hands tightening around your thigh as he licked his lips. You blushed at his words and immediately covered your mouth, getting too flustered by his teasing. You were getting so close, and it was driving you insane—a heat started to pool at the pit of your stomach, stating your impending release.

Rody grunted and suddenly pulled his fingers out—slapping your clit harshly. Your eyes widened as you let out a slutty moan, and before you knew it, you squirted all over him. Your thighs shook from how hard you came, your whole body turning to putty in his hold as more tears escaped from your eyes. With a cry, you glanced back down at Rody, only to see him staring up at you with the same shocked expresson on his face.

"Did you just cum from having your pussy slapped?" He asked, a small grin forming on his face. You sniffled and looked away in embarrassment, "N-No..." Rody chuckled and leant forward to kiss your cunt softly as a small apology for slapping it, "It was kinda hot, don't worry sweet boy." He praised and rose to his feet.

"Think you're ready for me?" Rody asked as he kissed your lips gently. You gave him a slow nod, and he smiled, "Alright." He undid his pants and belt, along with his underwear and let them pool on his feet. Rody was now half naked in front of you, his impressive size standing tall. It was probably the biggest cock you've ever seen. Probably the only cock you've ever seen, rather.

He placed his hands under your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Making sure to let your pants and shoes fall to the floor first so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, "Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" Rody reassured you, and your eyes widened. You placed a hand on his chest, "W-Wait, that's it? You're just going in with no protection?"

He paused and stared at you blankly, "Babe, I'm a demon, not a prostitute. I didn't know I was gonna end up fucking someone today, of course I don't have a condom." Rody said in a monotone voice, as if it was already common sense. "If you're that worried, I can pull out... Don't worry." He whispered and pecked your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gulped, "O-Okay..." You nodded. Rody positioned himself against your hole, rubbing the tip against the lips and smeared the precum all over your pussy. "Fuck, you're even wetter than before..." He chuckled and gently pushed the head of his cock in.

Your hissed at the stretch, immediately tightening around Rody when he pushed more of his length in. "S-Shit, don't tighten so much! I-I can't even go any further...!" Rody panted, closing his eyes at the warmth that wrapped around his weeping dick. "Just... Breathe for me, okay?" He massaged your ass, waiting for you to relax so that he could bottom out inside you, but for now, he remained unmoving.

You steadied your breathing, holding onto him tightly, and slowly nodded. Rody took this as a sign to keep going. He noticed he wasn't even halfway in, before he decided to just fuck it—and suddenly pushed himself in fully in one go. You gasped and cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes at the pain and pleasure that pooled at the pit of your stomach.

Rody moaned into your neck, rubbing your thighs to soothe the pain. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweet boy... It's just that, I couldn't take it... I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..." He kissed all over your shoulder, and slid a hand over to rub your clit in order to distract you from the pain.

You could only scratch at his back as your toes curled, "You're doing so good..." Rody whispered praises into your ear, waiting for you to adjust to his size. It was the least he could do for bottoming out harshly.

After a while, you gave Rody a nod. He put his hand back under your thigh, and slowly pulled out until only the tip was left inside, before pushing back in gently. A shudder ran down your spine at the pleasure that spread through your body.

Once he saw your positive reaction, Rody kept going at the pace he set; slow and steady. You gripped onto Rody tighter, strings of moans falling from your tongue as he kept thrusting. One particular thrust hit your g-spot head on, and Rody adjusted his angle so that he could hit it everytime. "You're so tight... So perfect for my cock..." He grunted into your ear, gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled all the way out and gave a harsh thrust into your sopping pussy.

You threw your head back and cried, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Rody's wings flexed behind him at the pleasure, his own moans and groans stringing out from his mouth. "S-Shit...! N-Need to change your position..." Rody suddenly pulled out your heat, and put your feet down the ground. He turnt you around, and pulled your ass back against him and positioned himself once more, before he thrusted all the way in and continued his harsh thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out as you clawed at the walls. "R-Rody...!~" You squealed and looked down at your stomach, seeing a visible bump that formed whenever he thrusted into your tight cunt. Your eyes grew cloudy from the tears, and you reached down to press on the bump, finding pleasure in knowing he was so deep inside you.

You heard Rody laugh from behind you, "What? You like how I'm so deep inside your pussy?" He asked as he spanked you which made you sob, "Fuck, I love this pretty hole of yours..." Rody groaned and fucked you faster. He leant forward, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. Rody reached down and started rubbing your clit in timed with his thrusts, which caused you to shriek and shake your head. "N-No..! It's too much...!" You cried and babbled, your head turning into mush the more he fucked you stupid.

Rody pulled and rubbed your clit faster at your words, "You're close... Right? I'm close too..." He groaned, whimpering as he reached out to place his hand over your own against the wall. You panted like a bitch in heat, and sobbed, "R-Rody... C-Cum in me...! Please!~" You begged, unable to think straight anymore from the way Rody was bullying his cock into your cunt.

You were reduced into nothing but a toy for Rody's pleasure. Rody's eyes widened at this, and his thrusts faltered for a second, but you shook your head and let out strings of insistent 'no's. "P-Please keep going, keep going...!~" You pleaded. He was hesitant, but the way you were looking and begging... It was too much.

Rody groaned and pulled back, pushing your cheek against the wall with his hand, and fucked your cunt faster. His balls slapping against your pretty pussy lips, "You asked for this... Not me...!" He moaned loudly, feeling himself come closer to the edge.

Rody's thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy, before he gave one last thrust, and came inside you. You came right after him—squirting all over his fat cock. You drooled all over the wall as you closed your eyes from how hard you came. Rody panted and chuckled breathlessly as he stared at you, "You did so good..." He whispered and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

You tiredly reciprocated, whining when you felt your shared release dripping down your thighs. Rody pulled away and rubbed your sides, "You'll give me a five star

review right?" He grinned. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, "Is there even an app for this shit?" He pouted and nodded.

"Yeah, there is. It's called deviliscious."

"You're lying."

"Okay, yeah, I am."

"Just pull out you asshole."

@ shirakow ; Reblogs are always appreciated <3 it's like 5 am as I'm editing this and I haven't gotten any sleep .

ㅤ

[redflagshipwriter]

check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next? 

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically. 

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet. 

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.” 

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games. 

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him. 

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized. 

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged. 

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???” 

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?” 

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.” 

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted. 

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.” 

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.” 

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started. 

[bokettochild]

much as I love it in fics, the main reason I don't really write Legend and Marin reuniting is this-

Grief changes people

If Marin came back, by whatever means, she'd know Link was still out there, somewhere, whereas the vet has no hope of seeing her, and while that wound is still newly scarred, it still is scarred; he's already started healing, he's already accepted what he's lost. Yes, it hurts. Yes, her memory still lingers. Yes, the guilt of being the reason she's gone is still very strong, but the guilt associated with her and the pain of her loss are two separate emotions, even if they do have some cross-over.

More than that though, he's had to keep living with that guilt and loss both. He's been on more adventures and lost other people and faced struggles and changed, both in small ways and major ones.

Meanwhile Marin, whatever reason you give for her return, has likely only grown up a little bit in their time apart, not anything major.

Still, while Legend loves Marin, by now it's more the memory that he loves, and he, meanwhile, is no longer the boy she loved herself. If they met, it wouldn't be immediate hugs and adoration.

Legend would be wary, suspicious of her. He's dealt with shape-shifters wearing the faces of his loved ones before after all. And Marin? Marin would be treated to the harsher side of a man who's been hardened by hurt and loss in her absense.

It would be a very difficult, very painful reunion, and with that in mind, it's unlikely they would hit it off immediately again. It's highly unlikely that either of them would come to terms with it quickly. It would be awkward, slow, and wary, and they'd both have a lot to work through before any attention could be turned to a romantic spark they'd had when they first met.