#PERFECTIONNNNNNN

[usertoxicyaoi]

"Just now, Zhai Tao insulted my Mum. Thank you."

THE ON1Y ONE (2024). EPISODE FOUR.

[storge]

Fangyin, please be fine. I won't let anything happen to you. Our happy days haven't started yet.

QIN TIANYU as Lu Xian Story of Kunning Palace (2023)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

YOUR WRITING IS PERFECTIONNNNNNN please never stop 🥰🥰🥰🥰

THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞💞

I’ve been a fan of your Erik series for a while now so this really means a lot!

[phatcatphergus]

I went to your blog to ask if you were taking screenshots only to be knocked out dead by screenshots

I have one billion screenshots I am floored he looks so good omg THE FIT IS PERFECTIONNNNNNN the black on black is 👌🏻👌🏻 Francesco can have my kids im in love with him

[zappkisser-remade]

LOOK AT HIS LITTLE SUIT OF ARMOR IT'S ABSOLUTE PERFECTIONNNNNNN

I am going to chew on him like he's a piece of gum. With the armor it'll just be like a stick of gum with foil on top.

[gurugirl]

latest chapter of hdyp was absolute perfectionnnnnnn!!!!! the smut the happy ending !! everything was so good

Ooh gosh thank you hon 🥹 So happy you liked it 💕

Xoxo

[rawr-mortgage]

HELLO??? HELLO?!?! HOW HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE? HOW IS THIS THE FIRST TIME I'VE COME ACROSS THIS MASTERPIECE?

i'm not even exaggerating, THIS IS SO GOOD, THIS IS SO EXPERTLY WRITTEN, I'M SO IN LOVE WITH THE WRITING, THE IMAGERY, THE HUMOR, THE CHARACTERIZATION, EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING IS SO BRILLIANT IT'S LIKE I'M DISCOVERING JESUS.

i haven't even finished but i've been laughing so much i just had to take a minute and savor how in awe i am of this fic, shower it with the praise it deserves, and immediately reblog. i don't normally like replying to posts but i can't keep how thrilled i am contained in the tags, i just can't.

this is so... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. PERFECTION, PERFECTIONNNNNNN. SPECTACULAR, GIVE ME 14 OF EM RN I'M NOT EVEN JOKINGGGGGG

✦✧✦✧ 𝗔 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆

ɪ ᴋ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ɴ ᴠ ɪ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ɪ ɴ ꜱ JUDE × READER 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞-𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬

✦✧✦✧ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 Jude, Ellis 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, crack, slice-of-life 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 2300+ 𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗢 Dominika Roseclay 𝗩𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗢 Enrique Silva

ONE OF THE BIGGEST CLICHES IN THE BOOK is falling asleep out in the open—you know, a hallway, a dining room, or in this case, a drafty library inside a secluded castle—and then waking up all nice and wrapped-up in the hero's coat. Swaddled like a baby.

But Jude probably hasn't acquainted himself with those types of books, or he doesn't care for what is or isn't cliché. Or, chiefly, he knows that neither of you would consider him to be a hero, not in a million years, or in a million-million.

Truth be told, he probably doesn't care. About you, that is. After all, there's an inverse relationship between caring and carrying coin. Something that London teaches you right off the tit, even if one does pride themselves on being an optimist. So while Jude may have seen it within some realm of personal etiquette to toss his coat on you (it looks like he placed it gingerly…), as well as half-heartedly attempt to pin it around your shoulders (most likely to keep those godforsaken sleeves from dragging on the ground; why else would he drape one of them over your eyes?), you would be a fool to fish for any other meaning.

In fact, you'd do well to remember that you've known Jude and his dodgy colleagues for less than forty-eight hours. Forty of which you've spent embroiled in equally-dodgy encounters. Being alive is truly something you've been taking for granted.

But of course, you fish for that other meaning anyway, and you smile like the proper fool that you are. A pleasant warmth dawning over your mouth and cheeks until your upper teeth sit flush against your bottom lip. A delightful spot of sun that eases the stiffness from your jaw, and eases the pressure boiling to temperature in your temples (half the reason you dozed off in the first place). All very welcome side-effects after the horrendous nightmare of the past couple of days. Whether you're wrong about Jude and this one, tiny, insignificant-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things gesture, you needed this win.

Without fully understanding the implications of your decision to believe in him, you sit up in your armchair and watch Jude, who is at present perched on one of the library ladders on the landing across the atrium.

A faint glint focuses your attention on something you only vaguely registered in your waking state. It appears Jude donned a pair of reading glasses sometime during your nap. Peculiar, small, round lenses locked into a frame most noteworthy for how ordinary it is. But the overall effect of the glasses is even more striking. They sit on Jude's canted cheekbones with little fanfare and fuss, all the while annihilating the gangster from him and sanding his rough edges down into something almost innocent.

Except for that nasty glower he's hurling back your way. So pointed and menacing that you can feel it shoot up through your sinuses and all the way to the back of your skull.

Rude.

Jude shifts his weight on the ladder. "That's one hell of a stare," he grumbles to himself, just on the edge of audible from where you're seated. "Right creepy, innit."

"Not really, Mister Jazza," answers Ellis, on standby two meters to his right.

"Rhetori—" Jude turns his back to you, flounders for something, grabs a sheet of paper off a shelf, and flings it at Ellis. "It was a rhetorical question!" The paper barely gets within a meter of Ellis before beginning a lilting descent to the floor, with all three of you watching on in awkward silence, until finally Ellis crouches and delicately pinches it just before contact with the wood.

The young man uprights himself, then gently blows on the paper as if to clean off any dust it accumulated during its brief flight. After, with just one of his gangling strides, he covers the distance to his employer. But before handing the paper back, he jerks to a stop, hesitating, his mouth giving a curious spasm. The picture is clear from your vantage point. Ellis is no doubt amusing over how even whilst mounted on a ladder, Jude fails to reach his height. How one day Ellis might even discover a bald spot on Jude's head long before the man himself does. But the moment passes and Ellis fixes his mouth before dutifully presenting the paper. "You dropped this, Mister Jazza."

"I bloody well see that!" Jude snatches the paper as Ellis withdraws his hand the way one might flinch from fire. The library railing blocks most of your view of the next bit, but you can assume from the crinkling sound that Jude is smoothing over the wrinkles on the sheet (for which he is to blame) against his thigh. His hand and paper come back into view before he slaps the paper back onto the shelf. Whether he realizes or not, the adventurous little sheet slips off the edge anyway.

Watching this entire exchange you can't help the bubble of mirth building in your throat. After a second or two of trying to seal the laughter away behind silent, chest-thumping hiccups, the entire library fills with your bright cackle, during which Jude's overcoat slides from your quivering shoulders, hitting the floor in a whump of weighty fabric. Well, at least that weight is no longer turning you into a human furnace. The library draft actually feels refreshing.

But even a cheated-on wife would lose against the utter carnage of Jude's expression toward you. If his stare breaches bone, his glare outright disintegrates it. You think he might hawk a spit when he goes to say "I ought to yank your pretty little teeth out for that."

You sit forward in your seat, hands latching onto the armrests as your laughter tapers off. "An upstanding gentleman like you has only one coat now, has he?"

"He has two," answers Ellis, helpfully.

"Rhetorical. Question." Jude sighs, a line of shadow falling over his eyes as he descends the ladder. The glasses come off. Get tucked into a breast pocket. Without them, Jude's glare is truly biblical, and like casting judgement he points a finger you could swear he's been dying to point at you ever since he first laid eyes on you. "Pick that up before I get me pliers. And need I remind you that this library here's for reading? Reading, researching, studying"—he withdraws his hand and holds up a finger for each item—"or pretending to read, research or study. Now. Did you at any point hear me list 'taking a fucking nap' amongst these noble activities?"

You stare.

Jude stares.

Ellis stares.

Jude snaps his head to Ellis. "Well then, did you?"

Ellis shimmies, startled. "Uhm, did you want me to answer that one, Mister Jazza?"

"Please and thank you, Mister Twilight."

"You're welcome, but I haven't done anything yet."

Jude flares his nostrils and huffs past Ellis without another word.

You assume the conversation to be over until Jude takes the corner and suddenly begins bounding toward you. For a second the thundering clack of his shoes overtakes all other sensory input. Mid-stride, he grabs a book off a shelf to his side without looking. In fact, his eyes refuse to leave you, holding your sight with such electric intensity that you start to worry the whole coat thing might be a greater faux pas than you initially thought.

Another part of you worries about the part of you fixating on Jude's eyes. That shock of purple, like anemones, but also not unlike the glaze off a bruise. Every step he advances encroaches onto your world the hues of violence and vitality, the hues of…

Jude clicks to a stop before your chair, hair disheveled, lips drawn into a line. He stands backlit, chest out, muscled legs astride, holding himself larger-than-life in a way no ordinary man would even think to. Maybe it's borderline parody, even, but you're the one still looking at him, the one taking fervent inventory of his motley collection of scents; London in the springtime, London in the dark, London drowned in smoke, and like an eye-catching garnish, the citrusy tang of bergamot.

Look upward and you're trapped in the pistil of his gaze, where running away feels like it'd invite certain death, and where running is somehow not exactly the thing you want to do.

What changed in the last five seconds? Him? Or you?

Jude extends his hand, the open cuff on his sleeve framing his slender wrist like dove wings.

Without thinking, and with your heartbeat suddenly flooding the entire room, you lower your hand onto his surprisingly soft palm.

What is happening? You—

Jude's shapely brows suddenly look like they're about to strangle themselves. He flicks your hand away as if swatting a fly. "Me coat, damn you! Hand over me coat!"

"I got it, Mister Jazza!" Ellis darts around the atrium, slides onto the floor, skids under Jude's arm, snatches up the coat and uprights himself in the smoothest sequence of movement a set of human limbs has ever executed. But when he holds the coat out for Jude, all he's met with is a scowl that makes vengeance look like affection. Ellis tilts his head. "...?"

Jude's response isn't immediate. A troubled sheen glosses his gaze. He works his jaw, casting his eyes to you for enough of a fleeting second for you to understand that you and his hesitation are inextricably (and damnably) tied. And that's how you know his next words to Ellis are a lie. "Aren't you going to blow the dust off it like you did with the paper?"

Ellis smiles suddenly, throwing you a sidelong glance as well, one of joyful knowing. "I was going to, but I remembered the look you gave me last time, so I didn't."

That very look gets directed at Ellis anyway. Jude rips the coat from the young man's grasp. "Get the carriage ready. Let Victor know not to wait up."

"He's going to wait anyway."

"Tell him anyway." Jude surprises you by placing the book he's holding in your care. Before you can react, he turns partially away to don his coat. The motion is grand and showy, and again you're struck by that captivating impression, of this little man being much larger-than-life than he seems. The library seems too small for him, for his ambitions. The castle is a pit-stop, an outhouse, on his map to greatness. You can't take your eyes away, but you do roam them, examining the whole of Jude, just a little closer, with a little more care, and a little more curiosity. Far more than you would have before. And again, you ignore the implications.

Only now that Jude has his coat back on do you realize how diminutive and almost frail he looked without it. Not weak. Grand. But frail. And only then do the needles of guilt arrive, writhing up from your stomach and stopping up your throat. All for letting that damned coat sit on the floor for so long.

Just because Jude is a villain doesn't mean you have to be an ass.

Jude settles the errant creases over his chest. Whatever sour mood had seized him only moments earlier is nowhere to be found, and this is after you take into account that is default expression is a mild scowl.

Does Jude know how to smile sweetly? Just as you think it, his gaze intersects with yours. Again that anemone, that bruise-like hollowness. For an instant, you two stare at each other, nakedly, across a space you just happen to occupy with the trappings of reality. Something in your heart changes shape, for the second, maybe third time, in the last few minutes.

Then just as quick, his sour look descends on his brow twofold. "God, how many creepy expressions can one person have?"

You kick his shin. You don't even realize it until you've done it. You kick it again.

"Bloody—what is your problem?!"

Ellis bends down to your level. "Is your foot okay?"

"Foot?! What about my leg!?"

"I'll stop by the good doctor on my way to Victor."

Jude rubs his face and heaves a sigh worth a thousand words. "Oh, don't bother." Then a smile cracks over his features. "I'll just be adding this," he gestures to his shin while heckling with you a smug grin, "to the running tab."

You hang your head. Was it too late to stomp the hell out of that stupid coat?

Ellis pats the top of your hand. "Don't worry." He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take.

Jude swats it away. "I ain't done talking here. I gave you a job, go fucking do it."

Ellis shrugs and imparts a rueful smile to you before making his exit. Once you're alone with Jude, he nudges his chin to indicate the book he gave you.

It's a well-worn volume, leather cracked and binding frayed. The title seems familiar to you but you can't pinpoint why. When you look up at Jude for some sort of hint, he rolls his eyes and turns around with a swish of his coat. "I ain't got any use for a fucking narcoleptic. Even someone as daft as you should be able to read this." Saying nothing further, he walks out the way Ellis went.

Rude. Rude. Rude. Rude. Ru—

The answer comes to you. The book in your hand is on the same subject as the book you'd fallen asleep while reading. The book that's oddly nowhere to be found now.

You flip through the pages on a hunch. Jude was right. The words are simpler. And there's notes, tons of them, crowding the margins.

"You stupid ass," you hiss into the empty library as you throw your head back against the chair with a thunk. But your anger dissipates with your next breath, replaced by something almost serene. Something you don't want to assess the implications of. "I didn't fall asleep because the words were too hard."

Thank you for reading! I own literally 0% of the jokes in this, and my characterization is based on what I've seen others in the fandom produce.

[fentybucky]

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW PERFECTIONNNNNNN

NICOOOOOOOOOOOO JACKSOOOOOON

[the1975attheirverybest]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C4CKRmds9gW/?igsh=MWR2b2lyZGxtM3E3bw==

i want to kiss his face all over till the day i die🤧

perfectionnnnnnn

[mustbeaweasleyginger]

Literal perfectionnnnnnn

𝕴𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴏ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴜꜱɪ�� ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6ᴋ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

ᴀ/ɴ: ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ +18 ꜰɪᴄ ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴀɴʏ ᴀᴡᴋᴡᴀʀᴅ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ꜰɪɢᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ꜱʟᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ~

Sometimes your own life didn’t feel real.

It took years of back breaking studying and hard work, but even you couldn't believe your ears when it was announced that you had somehow managed to swing a job as one of HYBE’s various producers. The roster of people it allowed you worked with was expansive and impressive, and you often felt out of place amongst the many well known music industry personas who shared your job title. But all that wasn’t to say you got chosen for the job out of pure luck or sheer will, for you definitely had more than enough background and experience to warrant your resume having a more than fair shot in the first place.

You’d worked with plenty of idols before, albeit without an official label behind you or any exclusive contract in place. Hell you’d even produced for a few big names in the U.S., it gave you every reason to be extremely proud of your work, and deep down you definitely knew your skills were highly sought after. But it didn’t change the fact that you still got surprised whenever a particularly famous idol or company reached out and requested to work with you.

You were even more caught off guard when Bang PD himself wrote to you directly, offering you the opportunity of a lifetime to work with the various talents beneath the incredibly famous company known as HYBE.

That was two years ago now, and you’d grown more connections with more composers and idols then you’d ever thought possible. Le Sserafim was the first group you’d ever been assigned to work with, and from then on you knew you made the right career choice. The girls were absolute angels, incredibly humble with the kindest personalities. New Jeans was the next, and you’d never felt more protective and proud of such sweet young ladies. They even went out of their way to  write you a card and buy you a cake last year for your birthday.

Seventeen though… Seventeen just so happened to be the group you’d grown the most fond of within the past year.

Your first job for them was to assist the production of their song Darling, and from the moment you’d stepped foot in the studio the boys went above and beyond to make you feel welcomed. Seungcheol was the first to greet and introduce the members, which you’d appreciated immensely. Joshua and Vernon were happy to have some small talk in English with you to discuss your work in the U.S., while DK and Hoshi made an effort to get to know more personal details like how you came to work for HYBE in the first place. All of the members were considerate enough to include you in their conversations, and as you all grew closer you’d come to become friends even outside of work.

It was an interesting dynamic they all had, fitting together like a puzzle even though their personalities were all so complex and different. The way their voices managed to melt together without any problems astounded you, and made the production process a million times more interesting and fun to you.

And Woozi of course was the conductor that made the absolute chaos of Seventeen’s vocals work together. Your respect for him had grown exponentially the longer you knew him, and over time he’d eventually become the one you’d talk to the most in the group. 

The first time you’d ever seen him in person you had to admit you were incredibly intimidated, his blondish pink hair was concealed with a black baseball cap as he sat leaning forward in his office chair. His posture was tense and uncomfortably on edge, almost as if a simple change in temperature would disrupt his process and send him spiraling. His eyes darted around the computer monitors sporadically, adjusting volume levels and fixing microphone frequencies quicker than even you could follow. He was locked in, completely blocking out everything except the boys’ vocals and the screens in front of him.

He hadn’t even properly been able to introduce himself to you until after everyone else had finally left, only then did he finally remove those giant headphones covering his cute little ears. You remembered the rush of anxiety creeping up your throat at the time, by that point you’d met many producers and musicians who absolutely hated being assigned an assistant. You’d come to find it was always a pride thing. When a song just wasn’t working most felt the need to figure out what was missing themselves, and if they were so much as suggested a simple extra drum beat in the background or a synth wave in the chorus, it would get immediately shut down no matter the potential it had. 

But when Jihoon turned around in his chair to greet you with a sheepish grin and a bow of acknowledgement, you knew he was simply just appreciative of the space you had given him to work. He offered you a seat next to him, apologized profusely for his late introduction, and asked for any input you might have for the title track.

It made sense that you’d both end up getting along so well, with the two of you being such passionate producers and each of you having workaholic tendencies practically pumping through your veins. Music came easily to you, to Jihoon, it was a love you had shared deeply and a conversation you never got sick of having together. It became incredibly common for both of you to knock out in his studio after pushing yourselves to the absolute limits of your creative abilities.

But it also wasn’t uncommon for you to swing by and bring him food even on the days you weren’t working. When you got especially bored at home, you often found yourself poking your head in the studio door and proceeding to talk his ears off for hours about life while he sat and listened, and in return he’d rant to you about whatever musical rut he’d been stuck in that day. 

During the worst of it he would shut himself inside the studio and force himself to work in complete silence, it was days like these where you knew he needed energy the most. You’d drag him out of the studio for some sun and stimulation, force him to grab coffee or walk to the convenience store together, other times he would ask you to simply stay with him while he brooded over his computer in a pout. 

One time he’d gotten stuck on a melody for days, and yet within one single visit inspiration had hit you almost immediately. He always made sure to let you know how grateful he was when you gave your opinion, each time he would always give you the warmest, most gentle smile you’d ever seen. The same smile that filled you with an unbridled joy that pooled deep in your stomach, it made you feel… needed. No, it made you feel borderline irreplaceable.

Today was one of your days off, and yet you still found yourself grinning ear to ear as your heels clicked along the marble flooring of the main HYBE building. A large sandwich bag was hanging from your arm, with your hands clutching a cup holder filled with iced americanos. You made your way to the elevator, fumbling with your badge to scan against the wall reader as the soft ding alerted you to the lift arriving.

The third floor of the building was designated for all the production studios, with a practice room at the far end of the narrow hall. It was one of the higher quality locations meant more for filming rather than actually rehearsing. Each room contained plenty of music equipment and had absolutely breathtaking acoustics, with nearly each one also managing to be soundproof. You'd remembered being present for one of Seungkwan's incredibly impressive vocal recordings here as an assistant producer a while back, and to this day you swore that it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard in your life. 

As you stepped out of the elevator your smile grew even wider as you noticed Jeonghan and Wonwoo walking down the hall in your direction. Jeonghan with his arm hooked through Wonwoo’s tightly, his head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

“Y/N! I thought you weren’t in till Friday?” Wonwoo greeted with a smile, his hand coming up to adjust the glasses drooping low on his nose. It was obvious the two had just gotten done filming something, their faces were slightly red from exertion and excessive overheating if their leather jackets and pants were anything to go by. 

“Jihoon’s been stuck on Maestro’s bridge since last week, I figured I’d at least bring him some lunch so he doesn’t starve himself to death.” You shrugged, Jeonghan smirked.

“You came just for Jihoon? Again?” He huffed in feigned offense. “What about us~?” 

“You know just as well as I do that I can’t walk into this building without expecting to run into at least two of you.” You giggled, holding out the coffee carrier in your hands. “I brought extra for you guys, try not to fall in love with me alright?”

Their eyes immediately perked up at the sight of iced americano and wasted no time snatching one each. Wonwoo took a long sip from his drink and released a sigh, his eyes closed in content.

“An Angel. You’re an Angel, Y/N.” Wonwoo spoke blissfully. Jeonghan nodded and proceeded to sip from his as his eyes fluttered shut too.

“I will never doubt your beautiful and charitable heart ever again.” You snorted at the dramatics, reaching into the sandwich bag for the extra pesto caprese you’d purchased as well.

“You guys can split this too, but don’t tell the others.” You chuckled as the two practically drooled, eyes locked on to your hands as you offered them the food. “If they find out I fed you both they’re all gonna make me buy them dinner next time.”

Jeonghan nodded and grabbed the sandwich from you without hesitation, attracting Wonwoo’s gaze. He gave a little cross my heart sign and winked slyly.

“They’ll never even know it existed.” Jeonghan promised, already slinking his way onto the elevator behind you. “It’ll be gone in seconds, trust me.”

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going with that alone, huh?” Wonwoo whined, following him into the elevator and reaching for the sandwich. Jeonghan was faster and trickier, pulling it out of reach just in time resulting in a soft “Hyung!”.

“Why? What is it?” Jeonghan feigned innocence as he tried pushing Wonwoo out of the elevator to escape, Wonwoo forced his way back in with a hearty laugh as he managed to bite a small corner out of one of the sandwich halves still in Jeonghan hands. “Hey! What if I wanted that one!”

“Yoon Jeonghan—” You threatened lightly, a smile tugging at your lips when Jeonghan finally ended his teasing. He handed Wonwoo his partially bitten portion of the sandwich just as the doors to the elevator closed, both of them waving you goodbye with a happy grin.

You chuckled in content and continued down the hall to the left, finally coming to a stop in front of Jihoon’s studio. You gave the door a heavy knock, not expecting him to hear much especially if he had his headphones on. When no response was given for five minutes you pulled out the key he’d given you a long time ago, unlocking the door swiftly and surprised to find the room completely dark.

You flipped on the main light switch to discover the studio completely empty, papers and pens scattered across the desk with ramblings written every which way in the producer's idea notebook. A half assed attempt was made to fix the couch, which was covered by a throw blanket and pillow to indicate he’d been pulling all nighters here again.

You set the sandwich bag and remaining coffee on the little table in front of the couch, whipping your phone out to shoot a text to the sweet overworked producer you called a friend.

Brought you lunch, studio looks like a wreck lol. You been feeling ok?

You grabbed the small trash can beside Woozi’s desk and got to work throwing away the energy drink cans and granola wrappers littering his desk. You were just organizing all of his sheet music when you felt your phone buzz in response.

This songs’ been killing me, man. Couldn’t breathe in that room any more, went to the gym to relieve some stress. I’ll be there in a bit, appreciate you for always worrying about me

You let out an exhale as you slid your blazer off your shoulders and placed it along the back of the desk chair, unable to simply sit and do nothing while he struggled. You of all people knew how frustrating creative blocks could be, but hopefully a cleaner environment would ease his tension a little bit. You took a seat at his chair and scooted yourself up to the computer, logging in to locate the audio file for Maestro that was currently driving its producer up a wall.

Your eyes poured over the desktop, and you quietly cursed Jihoon for never labeling anything properly. ‘Organized Chaos’ he’d call it, but just looking at the screen filled with folders titled ‘Audio Ex1-B67’ gave you no clues as to what actually was stored in each file.

You sighed and decided to start with the icons at the bottom that looked most recent, you clicked. The infamous beat of ‘Adore U’ began to play. You clicked the next one, Wonwoo’s distinct growl filled your ears as you recognized their song ‘Fear’. You closed both files and groaned outwardly, remembering Jihoon discussing the concept of sampling past songs to construct his new one.

You changed your focus towards the folders near the middle of the screen and clicked the first one you saw. It was labeled differently in comparison to the rest, and the audio file inside had no name at all. Just a jumbled arrangement of letters and numbers randomly given by the computer itself. You pressed play, and a completely unfamiliar melody began echoing through the studio speakers.

It was completely unlike anything Jihoon had composed before, it was sweet but also… sensual. Not like the few songs he’d produced for Seventeen that gave a spicier instrumental, this felt more intimate somehow. Almost personal. The slow hum of the strings in the background stole your breath and you felt your heartbeat quicken as a beautifully soft clarinet chorus stole your attention. The energy shifted halfway through, running around from loving and sensual to borderline carnal.

You could practically feel the goosebumps forming as you listened to it. There were no lyrics, but every now and then Jihoon let out a faint vocal riff that was intoxicating. His voice made you melt, and you were too absorbed into the music to feel embarrassed by the warmth making its way through your body. A pleasant buzz ran from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, and you imagined him singing to you. 

You closed your eyes and laid your head back against his chair to really get the full effect, to lean into what the music was trying to make you feel. It amplified everything tenfold, and you began to notice the hints of Jihoon’s cologne that still lingered within the space. Everything about the song, about the room, about the scent, it overwhelmed your senses and you suddenly realized how much you enjoyed it. How easily you’d allow yourself to get overtaken by it all, only if it was him. Only if it was Jihoon.

A guitar chord was plucked sharply in contrast to the soft instrumental, and you gasped in surprise. By this point you had thought the song was simply looping since it had been well over several minutes, but the longer it went on the more you noticed small interesting deviations from the original melody. The pace of the music kept steady, but everytime Jihoon let out another gorgeous riff you could feel the tension increasing slightly.

You almost wanted to break your trance just to throw on a pair of headphones, your body thrumming at thinking about what the song would sound like even more intimately being funneled directly to your ears. A shiver ran through you at the idea as another strain of strings drew you back into the music without another thought. 

A gust of AC provided your senses with yet another strong note of Jihoon’s cologne, at the exact same time the guitar plucked again and his voice echoed beautifully throughout the room. Almost on impulse, your hand reached up to clutch your chest. It trailed downwards slowly, softly grazing your left breast and a quiet hum escaped your lips as your fingers danced along your clothed peak. You bit your lip and pressed lightly into your clothed center with your other hand, sighing how good the pressure felt.

Your head felt empty and dizzy, this kind of touch with these kinds of thoughts about Jihoon were typically reserved for your own bed at home. Never once had you ever allowed such behavior to follow you to work, nevertheless Jihoon’s own studio. You stuttered in your motions as a sliver of guilt ran through you, he was your colleague, he was your friend. This was inappropriate on every single level.

But it was like the music was encouraging you, talking you through it. And almost like it knew you were beginning to have doubts, Jihoon let out the most provocative vocal run you’d never thought possible. Your hand gripped tightly on to your breast in reflex, and the noise you made would’ve been humiliating if you weren’t so focused on every little jolt of pleasure thrumming through your veins.

Before you could think better of it, your right hand moved to hurriedly unbutton the top of your pants. Not bothering to push them down, you dipped your hand into the waistband of your underwear to locate your heated folds and you exhaled at the relief it brought. Your head tilted back and your mouth formed an ‘O’ as the pleasure from your own fingers built steadily, another stray guitar chord causing your body to jolt in gratification.

You weren’t proud of it, but you’d imagined Jihoon touching you like this more times than you could count, especially in this studio. His mouth being unable to detach itself from yours, from your neck, from your chest, from between your legs. Your favorite thing to fantasize about lately was riding him in the very chair you sat in, ending it with a sloppy kiss as he refused to let you remove himself from you. You thought about where he would touch you first, where would you touch him? A silly question, since you knew those gorgeous locks of hair would be tangled between your fingers without a second thought if he so much as allowed it. You wanted him panting in your ears, his voice itself bringing you to an edge that you just needed to fall off of.

Your fingers quickened, and you whined out as you found yourself waiting for another of Jihoon’s vocal riffs to give you that extra push closer to completion. Instead, the clarinet danced throughout your ears, a soft beat echoed from the drums, even a few stray piano notes participated in increasing your tension. It was teasing you, the song knew what you wanted but it refused to give it to you. Another whine was unconsciously pulled from your lips.

“Please… please…” you found yourself whispering out loud, your head spinning as your hand began to cramp up at the speed with which it moved. “God Jihoon, please—“

A loud thud that was definitely not a part of the music ripped you out of your reverie in an instant. Your hand shot away from your breast while the other ripped itself out of your pants as if they were both burned. You swiveled the chair to face the door of the studio, and your heart sunk into your stomach as Jihoon stood front and center with the most frustratingly unreadable expression on his face.

His cheeks were flushed, most likely from the gym but you wouldn’t be surprised if it was partially your own doing as well. His long black hair was messy and slightly damp from sweat, the black tank top and shorts he wore were clinging to his body and giving your indecent mind way too much of a view of his glistening pale skin. His gym bag was on the floor, some of its contents having spilled out including one of his metal water bottles and a small kettlebell, the items proven to be the cause of the thudding sound no doubt.

You simply looked at him for a solid minute, your chest still panting from the near orgasm you’d just experienced and your body still aching from being denied its release. You felt shame, pure and unbridled as he looked you up and down. You hadn’t bothered to button your pants back up, and your shirt and bra were most certainly out of sorts from the iron grip you’d had on it moments before. You looked an absolute mess, and even if he had only come in half a minute ago, there was no hiding or denying what you’d been up to.

“I… I’m…” You began, finding the first few words coming out like gravel in your throat. “Can we just, not talk about this?”

You attempted to appear pitiful, which wasn’t hard considering you wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow you up whole in that very moment. His expression still revealed nothing and you huffed in irritation, running a hand through your hair as you sent him a pleading look. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what came over me.” You tried to act normal, turning back to the computer briefly to shut off the music that had become background noise playing softly through the studio. Your heart hammered in your chest. 

“I just…” Jihoon croaked out, attempting to keep a casual composure and failing. Your eyes locked on his, expecting. “I never expected to walk in on—“

“Please! Stop!” You covered your ears in embarrassment and Jihoon had the audacity to chuckle softly. You glared at him. “Don’t even try to tell me you’ve never gotten yourself off here before, you practically live in this place.”

His ears burned red and you felt a bit of relief that you’d hit the nail on its head, a bit of excitement also thrumming through your chest at the image it gave you. You forced yourself to straighten your back and clear your throat, fixing your shirt back into place as you reached down to re-button your pants.

“… You could.. continue. If you wanted to.” Jihoon let out, and you felt your fingers freeze at his words. You looked up to stare at him, his eyes were glassy and his cheeks and ears still burned deeply. But his gaze, his gaze was directly on you.

“… What?” You blinked, unsure if your fogged up brain was simply making you hear hallucinations at this point. Jihoon shifted his weight, making no move to leave.

“I’m the one that interrupted.” He licked his lips, and your eyes latched on to the motion immediately. “I would hate for you to go… unsatisfied because of me.”

He spoke matter of factly, like he was suggesting a different melody for the hook of a song or what they should eat for dinner today. It didn’t sound creepy or odd in his voice at all, just a suggestion from one friend to the other. Your brain reeled, partially excited at the prospect of relieving all the tension your body had winded up, but also anxious as to how Jihoon would see you after this awkward encounter was over.

Despite everything, your core ached at the very thought of being relieved, and you gripped the arms of the chair to ground yourself before responding.

“… I’d appreciate that, then.” You spoke, your own voice sounding unfamiliar. Jihoon’s eyes widened slightly, as if surprised by your answer. He seemed to mull something over as he leaned down to throw the water bottle and kettlebell back in his gym bag, tossing it in the corner of the room.

Your eyes tracked his every move carefully, the way his bicep veins flexed as he lifted the bag and the angle at which his glorious thigh muscles peeked out from beneath the edges of his shorts. Your mouth went dry at the sight, and you couldn’t help the surprised noise you made when he moved to sit on the couch rather than exiting the room.

You raised a brow as he leaned back comfortably, one arm lying across the top of the couch while the other rested atop his front. Your brain flashed a brief image of you crawling into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist as you hooked your arms around his neck. Pulling him closer, and closer…

You mentally slapped yourself, he literally just sat down.

“Are you not leaving?” You questioned with a frown, unsure of how much longer you were expected to continue acting like you weren’t completely turned on and frustrated. Jihoon shrugged slightly.

“It’s my studio, why would I leave?” He spoke in that tone again, like he was just asking your typical everyday question. It was starting to tick you off.

“You just said I could continue what I was doing.”

“I did.” Your brows scrunched together in confusion.

“… But you’re not gonna leave?”

“Nope.”

Jihoon shifted his legs wider, and you were suddenly aware of just how obvious it was that you were ogling him. The man could’ve moved a pinkie and your eyes would dart to watch it, your posture completely tense and on edge. He smiled a little, and your face warmed as you realized he’d been observing you too.

“You’re just.. gonna sit there then?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finally registered what he wanted. You swallowed audibly. “You’re going to watch me?”

“Unless you’d rather go somewhere else.” He suggested, and though Jihoon looked just as invested as you were, it was equally apparent that you still held all the power in the room. If you wanted to leave and decided you were uncomfortable, he wouldn’t stop you from getting up and walking right out. It was his own kind of reassurance, a promise with his eyes that things wouldn’t change between the two of you even if you decided to end it all right then.

Instead, you strengthened your resolve and removed your shirt. You didn’t look at him directly, still a bit too nervous for that. But you heard his sharp intake of breath, and all the hairs on your arm stood up at the sound. The unspoken tension in the air shifted almost immediately, and before you could regret it you forced yourself to completely relax in the chair as you closed your eyes.

Your hand discovered your breast once more, teasing and prodding over the thin material of your bra. A sigh escaped as you squeezed softly, without the music playing you found yourself much more aware and anxious of the eyes staring you down. Your hand dipped tentatively underneath your bra to play with your peak and you squirmed slightly, your center pulsing in excitement and you whimpered at the feeling.

“Fuck…” A groan resounded throughout the studio and you arched your back in surprise at Jihoon’s suddenly rough voice. His cursing made the dim flame sitting in the pit of your stomach burst into a wildfire, and you pinched your nipple with a small squeak. 

It was honestly desperate the way in which you forced your hand back beneath your underwear, unable to contain the desire Jihoon managed to make you feel through that one word alone. Any remaining embarrassment from the situation dissipated as you focused entirely on the pleasure your own fingers provided. You rolled your thumb against your nipple as a finger finally prodded inside your aching core.

“Take it off.” Jihoon practically begged, and your eyes fluttered open to look at him. His pupils had gone nearly completely black, and the arm covering his front seemed to be applying pressure to a now significantly growing bulge in his shorts. You licked your lips which seemed to add fuel to his fire, and he huffed out again. “Your bra, your pants. Take them off.”

You smiled at his weak demand but you stopped your ministrations nevertheless. You stood from your chair on tentative legs, unhooking your bra and letting it fall soundlessly to the ground. The look on Jihoon’s face made you feel warmer than you’d ever thought possible, his jaw clenched tightly and he didn’t even bother to hide the grip he held on his swelling erection.

“That song you wrote, the one that was playing when you came in.” You removed one leg from your pants slowly, then the other. Deliberately teasing the frustrated man across from you. “It was beautiful, your voice suited it perfectly. It felt carnal, like lust incarnate.”

“It was just some late night improv.” He spoke breathlessly, eyeing you hungrily as you sat back down to continue your actions. “I remember you looking especially tempting that day. It took everything in me not to pull up that sinful fucking skirt of yours and throw you up against my desk.”

You gasped at the image and bit down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep from groaning out loud. Your underwear which you’d simply pushed to the side was drenched by that point, and you slowed your pace as you watched Jihoon staring at your fingers fervently. You wanted to give him the best show while you were able, in and out... In… and out.

“Whatever emotions I don’t act on goes straight into those unnamed tracks.” He mumbled out. A deep exhale leaving his lips as the last of his self control seemed to exit his body. “I probably have thirty recordings on there that were created just from me thinking about you.”

You cried out as he spoke, pumping another digit inside your throbbing hole as you ramped up the intensity. You watched eagerly as Jihoon shuffled his shorts down, his own hand tugging his erection harshly put from his underwear with haste. Your fingers stuttered at the sight of him, pale and long with a glistening pink tip. ‘Pretty.’ You couldn’t help but think, practically drooling as you imagined how it would feel to replace your fingers with it.

“What if I told you I want you to act on it?” You panted out, a light sheen of sweat coating your skin as you watched Jihoon pause mid stroke. “What if I told you I want you to fuck me until I’m numb? That I dream about it.”

Jihoon let out his own whimper at your words, and the noise had you keening into your palm. Jihoon increased the pace at which he pumped his hard length, his expression that of a complete wreck. You quickened your fingers in turn, eager to feel as connected to him in pleasure as you were physically able.

“I’d tell you that I’ve pictured pushing you into the glass of my recording studio and falling to my knees since the day we met. I’ve thought about thrusting my tongue into that tight little hole of yours over and over until you can’t be bothered to think straight more times than I can count.” He spoke his words carefully, eyes never once leaving your body as he watched your soaked fingers pump steadily into your cunt. “I want to record the audio of it all. Of you screaming my name as I devour you, the sounds of you panting and begging me to let you cum. It would be the most beautiful fucking sound, my favorite song.”

The moan you released was obscene, the heat in your blood boiling up to unbearable heights as you unconsciously introduced a third finger. Your pants were getting heavier, and you knew the edge was once again spiraling towards you head first. 

“You like that?” Jihoon grunted, a self assured smirk planted on his face contrasting with the desperate way with which he stroked himself. “You enjoy touching yourself while I talk about all the different positions I’ve  wanted to fuck you in?”

You nodded so harshly you wouldn’t be surprised if your neck was sore tomorrow. Your eyes squeezed shut again as the smell of your and Jihoons sweat and fluids consumed your senses, his voice was so much better than the music. The slight neediness mixed with his hungry tone made your knees weak, and you quivered to think of how your body would react if he’d actually been touching you.

“Next time I’ll bend you over my desk, huh?” Jihoon moaned at his own words, the very idea of it seeming to drive him mad. His grip was iron tight as his pumps stuttered and his eyes fluttered closed for a quick  moment before latching once more unto you. “I’ll lean down to your ear and tell you how good you feel around me as I pound every inch into you nice and hard. You’d be so good for me wouldn’t you?”

“Please…” You whispered out as you felt yourself finally reach the peak, your clit throbbing as your other hand reached down to give it a harsh rub. “God Jihoon, please…”

“Are you gonna cum for me, Y/N? I want to see how wrecked you look when you do.” Jihoon panted, his chest heaving as his own release approached rapidly. “Fuck please, say my name when you cum. Say my fucking name—“

“Jihoon!” You couldn’t help but scream out, repeating it over and over again as a complete tidal wave of pleasure roared through you as your body jolted over and over again. The aftershocks were nearly just as strong, and you squeaked out in surprise at just how intense and drawn out your orgasm had been.

By the end of it you were completely limp, not a single muscle functioning properly and your mind a delightfully empty buzz. You managed to open your eyes slightly, finding Jihoon in a nearly identical state with his eyes shut and his arms being completely dead weight hanging by his sides.

Eventually both of your heavy breathing slowed significantly, and those gorgeous eyes of his opened leisurely to lock on to your own. The sudden twinge of worry that you’d crossed too big of a boundary was completely crushed when Jihoon offered you the warmest smile. 

In that moment you swore he was practically glowing, he wasn’t the stressed and overworked producer you’d come to know so well. He looked content, happy, and if you could help him feel that way every day for the rest of your life you knew you’d never have any regrets for as long as you lived. You returned his smile, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“I think you’ve just ruined any chance of me experiencing a normal orgasm ever again.” You giggled, he raised a brow. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to cum like that again unless I’m listening to one of your songs or something.”

Jihoon groaned, the picture of you touching yourself while listening to his music no doubt clouding his mind. You were both well aware of each other's exhaustion, but god only knew if he wanted another round you wouldn’t even hesitate. Anything to feel that level of intensity again.

“Don’t you ever let me find out you’re trying to get yourself off without me again.” Jihoon threatened weakly, sitting up tentatively to give you a cheeky grin. “I’m a man of my word after all. And we have a lot of positions to try out.”

[trh-thesussexes]

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex attend the Mountbatten Festival of Music at the Royal Albert Hall. || March 07th, 2020

[ilovecoldrain]

I can’t believe we have photos of Captain Marvel now!! And it looks so bloody amazing!!

The Captain Marvel outfit is perfection and so cool!!

I literally really really really can’t wait to see the movie!!

I can’t even explain how excited I am for Captain Marvel!!

[mustbeaweasleyginger]

This was perfectionnnnnnn

Work Me Out II

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: simp gyu, car sex, protected sex, dom!gyu, brat!reader, spitting, choking, minor cock warming

Length: 2.5k

Note: happy 1k! i almost deleted this bc i hated it so y'all have to be extra nice to me about it (im joking) (not really) everyone say thank u @cheolism for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“Hi!” 

“Hi,” Mingyu grins, dropping a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “You look…”

He lifts your hand, encouraging a spin so he can fully appreciate the black slip dress gliding over your curves.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” You laugh as he pulls you closer, goosebumps rising under the palm at your bare spine.

“Beautiful,” he sighs into your lips. 

He kisses you deeper; crowing you against his chest with a hand at your back. The lull of Mingyu’s lips and cologne lower your defenses, mouth opening to welcome his tongue. But he pulls away just when things breach on the edge of more.

“We’re gonna miss our reservation.” He coos through a smile, dropping a consolatory peck to your nose.

“So?”

You try to bring him back but he dodges you easily, tipping his chin up until your only option is to leave a trail of kisses along his Adam's apple.

“I’d like to take you on at least one real date.” Mingyu argues.

He’d be more convincing if he wasn’t leaving fingerprints on your hips. But you think it's cute how he wants to wine and dine you. When you step back, you notice how his eyes glow the way they always do when met with approval. It’s cute, toes on the border of innocence; and it makes your knees crave the feeling of the hardwood floors so you can give him all the validation he can handle with his cock in your mouth.

But there will be more than enough time for that later.

“Wow, so eating Captain Crunch in our underwear after you defiled me wasn’t a date?” You gasp. “Okay. I see how it is.”

Mingyu snorts but plucks your jacket off the coat rack and holds it open to help you in. “Alright, drama queen. Let’s go.”

The drive is filled with chatter. Over the past week, the initial spark of attraction only grew between you; through chats at the gym, texting, or the one night he came to your apartment and ended up passing out on the couch while the movie continued to play in the background. Somehow it was more intimate waking up fully clothed, big spooning him with your face buried between his shoulder blades than having him drill your guts until tears streaked your face.

Since you slept over that first night, you’ve noticed a plethora of things that make you more fond of Mingyu. How he slurs his words when he’s excited, talking so fast you can barely decipher what he’s saying. If you throw a wink his way while walking across the gym his eyes go wide like he’s completely taken aback by your interest; as if he didn’t have a front seat to how much you liked him. Or if he notices you looking he’ll not so subtly flex or make a face that has you laughing so hard you nearly tumble off the treadmill. Or the way Mingyu prides himself on being a gentleman; pausing his workout and walking you to your car, insisting it's too dark out for him to be comfortable letting you go alone (partially because it's his fault your gym visits became a two hour endeavor since the night in the car, he just can’t stop distracting you in the name of getting to know you better).

It’s the same at the restaurant. Mingyu takes your coat and pulls out your chair. He asks for more details on the book you mentioned on the way over, asking if he can borrow your copy once you finish. He feeds you some of his entree off his fork, splits dessert to satisfy your sweet tooth, and nabs the check from the waiter before you can even think of offering to split the bill.

It’s almost too perfect; like he is running a checklist in his head. But Mingyu isn’t that kind of guy. His enthusiasm is just that, enthusiasm for spending time with you, getting to know you, picking your brain like you’re the most interesting person he’s ever met and he can’t wait to know more.

“How did you not know it was a couples class?” You ask, laughing into the curve of his arm as he walks you back to the car.

“It didn’t say it on the flier! It just said ‘portions for two’ and I thought that meant I’d leave with leftovers.”

“Wow. So Wonwoo got you banned and ate your food?”

“Wonwoo got me banned and neither of us gotta eat the food.”

The collar of Mingyu’s shirt flitters when his chest shakes with laughter, watching you down the slope of his nose. Like a flame in a vacuum, all the oxygen in your lungs is sucked up when you notice how good he looks even under the sterile overhead light. The glass of wine you sipped through dinner doesn’t help; turning your insides to mush and your blood to a boil.

Mingyu is so genuinely sweet you almost feel guilty for crowding him against his car and palming the zipper of his jeans. The taste of whiskey clings to his tongue, sucked away by your own until he opens the door and ushers you into the back seat.

“Mingyu,” you gasp, plucking the foil package from his grip. “Did you expect to fuck me tonight?”

“No,” he groans into the side of your tit, thanking whatever power in the universe exists that you hadn’t worn a bra. “But a man should always be prepared.”

You snort, “Okay, ‘Mr. I don’t sleep with girls I don’t date.’”

“I think that's former ‘Mr. I don’t’ whatever the fuck,” he moans as he finds your mouth.

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast. Mingyu’s hip buck into the swipe of your thumb. You’d drop your mouth to suck away the mess  collecting there but the back seat of his car doesn’t provide much room since your date claims most of the space already. Instead, you settle for tracing your tongue across the raised veins webbing across his neck and nipping at the sensitive lobe of his ear.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Mingyu paws at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and dragging your covered core closer to his cock. His other hand dips beneath your skirt, thumb swiping at your clit and two thick fingers pushing aside the scrap of fabric posing as underwear to stretch you open without preamble.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Mingyu pants.

You meet every curl of his fingers with a whine, face falling into the cradle of his jaw as he works you up. He’s everywhere; all you can feel, touch, taste. Even his cologne floods your nose; the scent of powdery spice and something intrinsically him that you can’t name.

Whether intentional or not, the match of pace isn’t lost on your mind as your fist sinks over Mingyu’s length the same time he stuffs you with his digits; fucking you by proxy while his tongue licks away every sound of satisfaction before it can make its way between your lips.

Before long, Mingyu bats away your hand to use his own. The second the latex is rolled down he holds himself for you, offering his cock like a prize you can’t refuse.

And he’s right.

The initial discomfort trickles up your spine. Eyes closed, chest caved, you take every inch as Mingyu whispers praise after praise into your neck. Twitching in each other’s hold, each clench of your cunt dips his stomach until you pull him back to your mouth and goad him with a demanding draw against his tongue with your own; a wet suckle more obscene than the way he splits you has him returning the gesture with fervor.

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu manages to latch to one of your nipples, teeth razing along the sensitive skin until you nearly collapse from the delightful pain.

Arching into his chest so hard it hurts, your voice cracks, “Oh, Gyu.”

“Good girl,” he groans into your chest.

The hand on your ass pulls you across his cock, forcing you down with each of his thrusts up. Mingyu’s loud but you’re louder and the abandoned top floor of the parking deck doesn’t provide any disguise from what’s happening behind the foggy windows of his SUV. 

As sexy as you are with your head thrown back, desperately moaning his name, the fear of getting caught is starting to suffocate him.

You beat against his chest when Mingyu pins you in place. He crushes you flat against him, pelvis to pelvis, so deep you feel him in your throat. Tight around the stretch, he nearly loses his train of thought but finds it when an involuntary rush of his thighs makes you squeak.

He brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek in an effort to quell the bubbling tantrum behind your eyes. “Shhh,” he whispers. “We can't get caught.” 

Time stops as you come to a crossroads. Eye to eye, you can see him waiting for a signal. If you want to stop, drive thirty minutes back to either of your apartments, and then go at it like rabbits, Mingyu will do it. If you want him to stop, drop you off at your doorstep, and send him home with the worst hard on of his life, he’ll smile through the tears. But if you want to finish what you’ve both started in the discomfort of the back seat, Mingyu needs you to be quiet.

So you can listen without complaint, bury your face in the column of his neck and bite your lip until it bleeds from strain. Or you can let Mingyu decide the best course of action.

“Then shut me up.” 

A beat of absolute silence rattles your shaking confidence. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jumping back like he’s been burned but you fake courage until you spot the way he licks his teeth at the idea.

Whatever permission he’s looking for he finds in the slight dip of your chin. You watch Mingyu’s mood shift in an instant. The playful tilt of his lips melt away, the corners of his eyes freeze over their usual humor. And the arm around the dip of your waist squeezes so tight you fear he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his palm.

The hand on your face falls to your jaw, pinching your cheek between his pointer finger and thumb as he tsks, forcing your head back and forth mockingly before he forces his thumb between your teeth.

“Shut. Up.” 

He punctuates his command with a bruising thrust of his cock; thrilled at the way his thumb digging into your tongue chokes any sound. The hand on your ass nearly rips your underwear as Mingyu uses it to guide your hips, keeping you bouncing in his lap until you're drooling.

Mingyu’s teeth rake against your jaw, “Touch yourself.”

You clumsily snake a hand down, hips jerking under the blind swipe of fingers at your core. Eyes unfocused, ears filled with the rush of blood, you don’t resist the urge to bite his thumb just to see what he’ll do next.

The sting of his palm against your ass isn’t a shock.

But the wet of his fingers on your throat is.

And when Mingyu squeezes, cutting off the blood to your brain for a second in a show of possessive strength, your choked wail is music to his ears.

“Fuck, you like that?”

Nodding like a bobble head, more pathetic whimpers fill the car. 

With a shift of weight, he makes you grind against his lap, the metal of his belt buckle cutting into the back of your thighs. But you’re full to the brink of shredding apart you can’t bring yourself to care. Heat in the pit of your stomach blooms, used and deep.

Mingyu fans his hand along your throat, fingers digging into the jut of your jaw to make you look at his face. His hair is a mess, cheeks rosy with sweat at his hairline. A low rumble in his throat is all the warning you get before he spits on your lips and it glides down your chin; slipping under his palm while he squeezes until stars dance in your vision.

Hips stuttering, everything draws tight; every muscle, every vein, each individual cell contracts and detonates until Mingyu fucks into your so hard your head hits the roof as he flails. Thighs firm against the top of his, you feel each sputter into the condom.

“Mingyu,” you croak, throat wrecked.

Everything feels heavy and worn when he brings you into the warmth of his chest. Somehow, you hadn’t managed to undo a single button beyond the four that let you peek at the dip between his pecs; but the friction of his shirt against your sensitive chest makes you shiver. Sweat and spit leave the fabric clinging uncomfortably but you don’t have the energy to change it.

“Jesus Christ.” Mingyu draws in a heavy breath, and the motion has your legs twitching again. “You okay?”

Nodding into his neck, your eyes slip shut. If he keeps tracing shapes on your back, you’re in serious trouble of falling asleep right there in the back of his car with his softening length still inside you. Attempting to prevent the momentum from taking over, you rise on your knees, only for Mingyu to bring you back down.

“Just…just let me hold you for a second.” he sighs, sounding as exhausted as you feel. “Please.”

Peppering languid kisses across his face, down the curve of his cheek, up the bridge of his nose, you smile when he pouts at the lack of attention to his lips. But when you meet them with your own, it's nearly impossible to call it a kiss from the sleepy grins splitting your faces.

“Wanna come back to mine?” Mingyu whispers into your cheek, leaving his own series of kisses. “We can watch that new horror movie you were talking about.”

“You hate scary movies.”

“Oh no, I guess you’ll have to stay the night in case I can’t sleep.”

“How awful!” You mock. “Did you buy more cereal?”

“Yes.”

With a monumental sigh, “Then I guess I can come over.”

It takes nearly fifteen minutes to find the courage to unwind from each other. Mingyu distracts you by tracing shapes between your shoulder blades and making you guess his artistic interpretation. Each time you're wrong he demands a kiss. Each time you're right he gives you one back.

When you make him guess what your finger burns into his shoulder he nearly faints before deciding it's time to head home, hands intertwined over the center console the entire way.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

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[bougiebutchbitch]

#I mean he canonically reads it for the plot#which also screams aro!ace to me#all kakashi sexuality hcs are valid#except straight because lmao where

I have never read such beautiful words in my life. thank you for that XD

I just - I have MANY MANY ARO!ACE KAKASHI THOUGHTS!!!!!

it honestly seems the most 'canonically' plausible hc to me (though ofc shipping never has to be about canonic plausibility, and that isn't a statement on the 'quality' of any particular hc! Just a personal opinion!)

Honestly, aro!ace kakashi in a lifelong qpr with aro!ace gai is just. Perfectionnnnnnn

[jangofctts]

I have it so bad for both Rex and Wolffe and it drives me mad. Sometimes I wanna be pushed against a wall and be ravished by the man with the cybernetic eye while he marks me and calls me whatever name he wants but other times I wanna have good, slow, sensual love with blondie while he kisses me and tells me I am the prettiest person in the world. AND THEN SOMETIMES I WANT TO BE SANDWICHED BEETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM ALL NIGHT SO THEY CAN USE MY BODY. Ugh, what has the clone wars done to me ...

yES YES YES PERFECTIONNNNNNN

i dont evEN KNOW WHAT TO ADD RHKSBS

[2-braincells]

I'm studying writing styles in English right now, and we had to write a car crash witness' report from people with strong styles. This was one of the examples.

TUMBLR PERSON

Okay, so, basically, his face was almost as beautiful as Benedict Cumberbatch. Like, have youseen Bennie??? Like, perFECtionnnnnnn, not even joking... like, gosh....THEFEELSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! But he had lameeeee tattoos, not even as good as Sam’s demon protecting one...... It’s not even like, cool to do that... BUT THAT EPISODE THO!!!!!! His truck was superrrrrr weird, not at all like the TARDIS......The TARDIS is a beautiful thing, but that guys truck was uglyyyyyy, it was camo or something??? And it was super tacky...Not gonna lie, Dean would be soooooooo disappointed in his choice of vehicle. Like, I can’t even... He ran into Nino’s tho.... like, what is air!!!?!?!?!????? Ermagoodness...... Like that’s worse than what Justin Bieber did, and that was soooooo stupid, like, who does that?????? I Khan’t believe that someone would do that tho...Ruuuudeeeee...... He was actually not even close to anyone I stalk...I mean, what??? I don’t stalk people..... Nope, not at all...

I don't even know what to say ya'll.