#Science Mini Game | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunshineyuyu · 5 months ago

Text

stereo hearts (s. mg)

★ summary: mingi’s had a crush on you since his freshman year. you’re a year older than him, infinitely cooler, and you share a love for music. one night, you end up making out in the storage closet of the campus radio station you both work at, and you end up getting closer. ★ pairing: mingi x f!reader ★ genre: smut (mdni!!), college ★ word count: 5.6k ★ tags/warnings: radio station dj!mingi and reader, reader is a year older than mingi, mingi is a computer science major LOL, reader is described as shorter than mingi, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, mentions of nicotine vape, frat party, american college setting, kinda sub-y mingi, kinda dom-y reader, slight dumbification?, reader is just a little mean to mingi, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative piv sex (with a condom!), minor super background seongjoong ★ notes: this one was written as a gift for @starhwas-bunny huhu, my bestie beta <3 ftr i have never dj-ed for a university radio station so hopefully this isn’t a super inaccurate representation of that experience. ★ masterlist | read on ao3

in the three years since mingi started volunteering as a dj at the university radio station, the little room they broadcast out of has become something like a second home to him.

three out of four of the walls are covered floor to ceiling with shelves that sag from the amount of vinyls, cassette tapes, and cds crammed onto them. tucked into one corner is a mini fridge that was found abandoned after move-out day years ago, and sitting on top is a weak little keurig gifted by the previous faculty sponsor. there’s a musty old leather couch shoved against the singular non-shelved wall, and in the middle of the whole room is the desk, overloaded with several monitors, a keyboard, and the sound board. the whole room smells faintly like sour coffee and old grandpa, but mingi has learned to love it all the same.

tonight, though, mingi would rather be anywhere else than here. grumpily, he blinks at the red numbers of the digital clock on the corner of the desk. 02:13 AM, it reads. he wishes he could go back in time and take a different shift, but the mingi from a month ago never could’ve anticipated all the developments that have happened over the last few weeks.

first, his compilers assignment is kicking his ass. he’s been working tirelessly on it for three weeks now, but his results are still a little off and the due date is fast approaching at the end of the week. he doesn’t even have any classmates to fall back on for help, since he’s taking the course a semester ahead of his other friends, and he hasn’t had enough time to make new ones yet.

second, his best-friend-roommate yunho just got a new girlfriend, which means he’s been spending less time hanging out with mingi. mingi likes to think that he’s not too clingy or needy, but he misses the routine of waking up to the smell of yunho burning breakfast and then getting in a game of valorant together before going to bed. instead, he’s had to play nice with yunho’s new girlfriend whenever she invades their apartment with her neverending peppiness, and sleep with noise-canceling earbuds because he and yunho share a wall.

he’s sleep-deprived and stressed and lonely and really wants a goddamn hug from literally anyone.

but he’s forced to toil away in the tiny campus radio station studio, where the playlist he’d painstakingly arranged last week to blend seamlessly between songs does nothing to soothe his anxieties.

⋆⋆⋆

there’s still half an hour left of mingi’s shift, but he’s already queued up all the music and timed out the ads, so he’s mostly just focused on chipping away at his assignment. the adrenaline from the celsius he crushed when he first arrived is already started to fade, and mingi is seriously thinking about digging out the elfbar from the bottom of his backpack (that he promised yunho he’d throw away) to extend the last fumes of his focus.

this train of thought is thankfully interrupted by the door of the studio being thrown open unceremoniously.

“shit!”

even on a good day, mingi is a jumpy person, and having the blinding light of the hallway enter the dark studio with no warning makes his heart skip several beats. his knee jerks up on instinct, and it whacks painfully against the bottom of the desk.

“ah, oops. sorry!”

standing in the doorway, haloed in fluorescent light, and appearing practically angelic, is none other than you. you have enough wherewithal to at least look apologetic, but mingi doesn’t care either way because it’s you.

you’re a senior—one year above mingi—and the one who trained him to be a dj when he was a freshman. back then, he’d been starstruck by how outgoing you are, the way you’d tease him with the familiarity of a close friend even though you were practically strangers. you have this eclectic but broad taste in music, and he likes that you challenge him to listen to new artists and genres.

and of course—you’re fucking hot. you’ve always been beautiful, with shining eyes and a big wide smile. but over the years, you’ve changed your hair style, dyed the ends, gotten a couple of piercings and tattoos, and it’s been game over for mingi ever since.

so yeah, he’s had a crippling crush on you that’s only gotten worse with time.

“hi,” mingi says dumbly, massaging his knee where the pain has already mysteriously disappeared.

“hey!” you say breezily, beaming because it’s clear now that he won’t yell at you for scaring him.

“do you have the next shift?” mingi asks, using all his brainpower to compose a coherent sentence. he’s usually able to act relatively normal around you, but he’s all out of sorts right now, and it’s nearly 2:30 fucking am.

“oh, no,” you say. “i just really needed a caffeine fix, and this is the only place i could think of that’s still open on campus for me to get some.”

you both glance over at the sad excuse of a coffee station the studio has, and mingi lets out an undignified snort.

“it is what it is,” you sigh.

while mingi tries to think of a conversation starter, he turns back to his laptop so he’s not just staring at you like some lovesick puppy.

your normally styled hair is thrown into an afterthought of a bun, but mingi likes that he can see the elegant line of your neck and the line of silver hoops stacked along your ears. you’re also wearing those rimless bayonetta glasses that he loves, and he always gets distracted by the little sparkle charm you added that dangles from the hinge.

“aw man,” you say. “there aren’t any pods left.”

mingi glances up briefly from his laptop to see you pouting down at the little box where they usually keep the coffee pods.

cute, he thinks.

“hongjoong ordered more last week,” mingi says, waving towards the storage closet behind him. “but he hid them so people don’t try to steal them in bulk.”

at his words, you perk up and scamper towards the closet after dumping your backpack onto the couch.

with you out of sight, some of the nervous tension in mingi’s muscles finally bleeds out. mingi throws his glasses down onto the table and rubs at his weary eyes until he sees fireworks against the backs of his eyelids. he wishes he had even an ounce of the charisma that yunho has, but he’s so fucking tired right now that he can’t think of anything even remotely charming to talk to you about. eventually, he slams his forehead down onto the table and entertains the thought of knocking himself out. before he can let his imagination run too wild, he hears the sound of something heavy falling and a whispered “fuck!”

concerned, mingi straightens and rolls his chair closer to the threshold of the storage closet.

“you good?” he asks.

he forgot to put his glasses back on, so you’re really more of a blurry blob of a person, but somehow your sheepish smile still manages to come through.

“i found the pods!” you say brightly, pointing at a large cardboard box on the top shelf. “but, i can’t reach them.”

mingi huffs out a laugh and stands up. finally, it feels like something is going right for him tonight. you are short and need help, and mingi is tall and can help you.

he’s so hyper-focused on his task that he doesn’t think twice about crowding up behind you. doesn’t think twice about bracing one hand against your back to keep himself steady as he reaches with his other hand for the box. doesn’t think twice about leaning around your smaller frame to present you with the thing.

“here,” he says, except it comes out breathy and rough because he’s just stretched his body for the first time in what feels like ages.

he doesn’t realize how close your faces are until you utter a soft thank you, and the words ghost along his cheekbone. he shudders at the sensation, and all at once the rest of his brain and body come online to recognize the position you’re arranged in.

it’s cramped in the closet, and mingi’s a big guy. his entire front is pressed up against your back, and the hand he’d used to balance himself has somehow slipped down to your waist, and you’ve turned your head slightly so that you can look up at him.

mingi stares down at you, and you’re seriously so close that he doesn’t need his glasses to see the way your lips part, the way your eyebrows furrow.

“um,” he says intelligently.

oh-so-slowly, you push your glasses up onto your head and turn around to fully face him. like always, that stupid sparkle charm entrances mingi.

and then suddenly, he’s pulled down by the front of his shirt, and you surge up to meet him. your lips collide together with so much force that your teeth clack, but mingi doesn’t care because jesus fucking christ. he shoves the pods onto the nearest shelf to get his other hand onto your waist too. god, it’s been a while since the last time he’s made out with someone like this. while his mouth works furiously to remember how to kiss well, he fumbles his palms over the curves of your body. meanwhile, your fingers dance confidently along his chest and collarbones, finally curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. when you tug lightly, mingi actually whimpers.

he pulls back, embarrassed, but you look delighted.

“oh,” you breathe, grinning. “oh, fuck—make that noise again.”

mingi stares at you, uncomprehending and breathing like he’s just run a race. you tug again. mingi keens.

“cute,” you murmur. “c’mere.”

you don’t give mingi the chance to second-guess anything as you pull him back down. your chapstick tastes like peaches, and your tongue is doing things that mingi’s never felt before. you touch him everywhere—run your hands along his chest, his stomach, his back, his arms. mingi is putty in your arms, and he stops trying to hold back the sounds that you tease out of him.

you make out sloppily for what seems like hours. it’s so nice and mindless that mingi doesn’t even realize that he’s half-hard in his jeans until you finally take a step back.

like the fucking touch-starved idiot he is, he unconsciously leans forward to chase after you. in response, you grin and press a single finger against his chest to hold him off.

“it’s almost the next shift,” you say quietly. “we should probably get out of here.”

“oh,” mingi croaks, as reality settles back in. “oh. yeah.”

you peck the underside of his jaw, and then leave the storage closet.

mingi stays for a second longer, collecting himself. finally, he grabs the box of coffee pods and follows you back into the studio.

he can’t get a read on you as you wordlessly retrieve your backpack. he mirrors your movement, albeit more lethargically. he feels like he’s drunk or high or both, body moving sluggishly, and he’s so so confused.

jongho, who’s taking the 3 am shift, shows up in the middle of your silence as a much needed buffer. it takes mingi five minutes to hand over control, and when he’s done, he’s disappointed to see that you aren’t in the room anymore. dejected, he says goodbye to jongho and leaves the studio, only to find you waiting in the hallway.

you look up when he stops in front of you and smile at him.

“walk me to my car?” you say.

mingi smiles shyly back at you. “yeah. okay.”

you start down the hallway, but mingi halts abruptly. “didn’t you- um- your coffee?” mingi stutters. jesus, he really needs to pull himself together.

you quirk your head to one side and then takes a step into mingi’s space. your gaze darkens, and your smile stretches into a smirk.

“nah,” you whisper, reaching to drag your thumb along his bottom lip. “i got my fix.”

oh, mingi thinks giddily. she means me!

“c’mon,” you say, your face softening and your hand finding mingi’s. “it’s late.”

“yeah,” mingi says dreamily, trailing after you.

⋆⋆⋆

in the days following, mingi doesn’t see you at all.

this isn’t uncommon—you’re different years and majors, after all. but mingi is still bummed about it. he has your number, but he’s never texted you besides to talk about campus radio logistics. sometimes, you’ll send each other a new song or artist to nerd out over, but mingi feels like it’s a little too transparent if he texts you now when the last time you exchanged messages was weeks ago.

every night, though, mingi replays what happened in his head over and over again. how you had been the one to initiate, to guide and control the entire encounter—how that had turned him on in ways he’d never imagined. he tries vainly not to think about you when he jerks off, but right as he’s about to cum, his thoughts always stray to the way you’d tugged at his hair and cooed at his embarrassing noises.

in the aftermath, he’ll try to think instead of the way you held his hand while they walked to your car. the walk had been short but sweet. you’d been the one to intertwine your fingers, and mingi hadn’t been able to hide the stupid smile on his face as your hands swung between the two of you.

you’d given him one last kiss on the cheek before saying good night.

the rest of the night was a haze: walking to his car, driving home, falling asleep the moment his head hit his pillow without even changing out of his clothes.

⋆⋆⋆

it’s friday night, and mingi has managed to finish his godforsaken compilers assignment, so he’s planning on getting wasted.

mingi is still largely undecided on how he feels about yunho’s new girlfriend, but the one thing going in her favor is the fact that she’s the delta gamma social chair and—because of some bylaw somewhere—has automatic entry to every relevant frat party. she can even bring other people with her, as long as it’s not an egregious amount.

and that’s how mingi finds himself in the middle of an SAE party, just the right side of tipsy. he’s nursing a sweating can of beer and watching yunho and wooyoung absolutely destroy a couple of pledges at beer pong. when they win, mingi pounces on them, but ends up empty-handed as they’re each pulled into congratulatory embraces by their respective significant others.

suddenly, despite being surrounded by people, mingi feels incredibly lonely. it’s like he’s been doused in ice water, the way his head clears and his heart sinks. he knows it’s a passing feeling, knows that in two seconds his friends will turn their attention back to him, but the shots and beers from earlier tonight no longer sit right in his bloodstream.

under the guise of getting another drink, mingi ducks away from his friends and looks for someplace with a little more space and air. he wanders towards the yard, where there’s far fewer people. all of the lawn chairs available are already occupied, so mingi leans up against the wall and pulls out his phone. he’s two scrolls into his instagram feed when something collides into his side hard enough to make him let out a soft oof.

he thinks it must be some random drunk, but instead it’s—

you.

“mingi!” you shriek.

your arms wrap around his middle, and you gaze up at him with glazed over eyes. you’re wearing this tight black shirt with a big square neckline, and you’re all squished up against him so mingi gets an eyeful of your cleavage.

he swallows painfully.

“y/n!” he says, trying to match your energy without being as loud.

you peer around him, almost like you’re looking for someone else. “are you here by yourself?” you ask.

“no,” mingi says. “my friends are inside. i just wanted to get some air.”

“ah.” you nod sagely. “do you smoke? like—get high?”

mingi shrugs, and you bounce with glee. you drag him by the wrist over to a small cluster of people sitting around one of the few lawn tables available.

“sit sit sit!” you say, pushing him into the one empty chair before unceremoniously plopping yourself down in his lap. dumbstruck, mingi just sits there with his hands lying limply against the armrests as you shuffle around in his fucking lap to find a comfortable position. every ounce of his energy is going towards not popping a boner right now.

instead, he focuses on trying to recognize the people sitting around the table. there’s kim hongjoong, the president of your campus radio org, and his boyfriend park seonghwa. beside them is chaewon, your best friend, also sitting in the lap of some guy who mingi assumes is her boyfriend.

shit—what are these people assuming about him, then?

“here,” you say, thrusting a small object like a usb towards his lips. “take a hit of penelope.”

“penelope?” mingi’s like, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last five minutes.

you giggle. “my pen. here.”

obediently, mingi leans towards and fits his lips around the tiny weed pen. it’s been a while since he last got high—yunho and wooyoung both run cross-country and don’t like messing around with drugs while they’re in season. he tries to take a shallow hit, but doesn’t end up getting anything, so he throws all caution to the wind and inhales deeply. the tangy sour smoke hits the back of his throat harder than the smooth mintyness of his elfbar, so of course—

he ends up coughing.

little puffs of smoke leave his mouth and nose as he splutters. thankfully, everyone barely laughs at him. in fact, hongjoong hands him a bottle of water which he chugs gratefully.

“sorry, been a while,” mingi rasps, when he finally manages to take a normal breath.

you hum and brush some of mingi’s hair behind his ear. “cute.”

this nearly sends mingi into another coughing fit, but he manages to just laugh breathlessly instead. clutching the water bottle to him like a lifeline, he sinks back into his chair so that maybe he can be less in the spotlight.

“—anyway,” chaewon says, and mingi lets out a sigh of relief at the turn of attention, “sannie, tell them about all the shit they made you do when you were a pledge.”

san—the one guy mingi didn’t know—sighs and pinches chaewon’s thigh.

“babe, you can’t just make me tell this story to everyone. trade secrets, and whatever.”

hongjoong snorts. “so they got you pretty good, huh?”

“goddamnit,” san is like.

so san regails them with the harrowing tale of him pledging SAE, and mingi finally lets himself relax. san has this soft, earnest voice, and it’s nice to listen to. at some point, you press penelope into his hand, and even later, mingi works up the courage to take another hit. this one is much more successful than the last, and gradually, mingi works up a nice buzz. it spurs him to tug you deeper into his lap, fit his hands around your waist—jesus, have you always been this small compared to him?

mingi has no idea how long he spends there, vibing with you and your friends. he’s halfway to asleep when suddenly he feels something trail along his jawline. he feels the telltale graze of lips against his skin, and his pulse jumps.

suddenly, he is incredibly awake.

you nose at his neck, leave the lightest of kisses. mingi becomes hyper aware of his surroundings, and finally realizes that conversation’s been dead for a while. chaewon is fully straddling san in his chair, and hongjoong and seonghwa have disappeared.

“you wanna get out of here?” you murmur.

“yeah. yeah.”

⋆⋆⋆

mingi is aware enough to shoot a text off to his group chat with yunho and wooyoung letting them know that he’s going home with someone. he feels an odd rush of validation from the subsequent onslaught of vulgar texts and emojis he gets in response.

your place isn’t far from greek row, so you walk there. once again, you have threaded your fingers together, and mingi is noticing for the first time just how small your hand is compared to his. with your other hand, you scroll through your spotify playlists, trying to find one that “fits the ambiance” of the walk before settling for one titled vaporwave vibes.

mingi is just happy to be involved.

you’re a giggly mess as you stumble-walk-run into your apartment.

“roommate—?” mingi asks, as two of you toe off your shoes, and you turn up the volume of your music.

“chaewon’s shacking up at the SAE house tonight,” you say, grinning. you lean in close to mingi and poke his nose. “so you can be as loud as you wanna be, baby.”

baby?!

you lead mingi to your bedroom, where you spare a few seconds to turn on a lamp that casts the room into a soft pink hue and plug your phone into a speaker. you choose a different playlist—one with soft r&b and lofi.

then, you crawl onto your bed, swaying your hips as you do. mingi just stares at you, suddenly very out of his depth. this feels infinitely different from making out in a storage closet. this is your apartment, your room, your bed.

you’re leaned back against your pillows now, head cocked and eyes half-lidded.

you spread you legs and beckon mingi to come closer.

“c’mon, baby. let’s have some fun, hm?”

like a man possessed, mingi steps forward until he hits the edge of the mattress, and then he falls onto his knees, shuffling forward until he’s hovering between your thighs.

“cute.”

mingi waits for you to make the first move, because that’s what he’s used to, and you do. you hook your hands around his neck and pull him down, presses your lips together chastely. mingi’s eyes flutter close, and he lets instinct take over.

you must be wearing something like lipgloss tonight, because your lips are tackier than last time, and they taste like cherry. mingi’s intoxicated by it. he deepens the kiss, adds some tongue. his hands run along your thighs, your hips, your waist.

you do that thing with his hair again, and he whimpers. he feels you smile. you move his hands over your chest, inviting him to really touch, and he moans involuntarily when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra under your shirt.

“take it off,” you breathe, and mingi obeys immediately.

“fuckk,” he whines when he sees your tits. “fuck—you’re so—”

he surges forward and fits his mouth over one of your nipples and sucks. this time, it’s you who moans, and the sense of triumph rushes straight to mingi’s dick. after only a few minutes of worshipping your tits, mingi is already so hard he could cut through glass.

“you, too,” you say, trying to pull off mingi’s shirt. “take this off—take it all off.”

so he strips. first his shirt, then his jeans. he curses as he struggles with the button and the zip—when choosing his outfit earlier, he’d only been thinking about how this pair are a little tight so they make his ass look good. now, he’s straining to get them off without looking like an idiot.

finally, he manages to tug the jeans down to mid-thigh, which means you get a better view of the outline of his cock in his briefs. at least he wore dark underwear so you can’t see the frankly embarrassing wet patch that mingi knows is there. he’s always leaked like a faucet.

"god, i knew you'd be big," you sigh as mingi finishes shucking off his pants ungracefully.

he freezes, feeling a little exposed but also a little bold.

"you- have you thought about me- this before?" he asks.

"of course," you smirk. "big shy boy like you? that's my favorite."

you sit up onto your elbows and reach forward with one hand to cup his bulge. you squeeze, and mingi keens. it takes every drop of mingi's self-control to not cum on the spot. instead he falls onto his forearms and buries his face into your neck.

“fuck,” he squeaks.

you continue to work his dick through his briefs, but with such a light, teasing touch that mingi starts rutting helplessly into your hand to get more friction. it’s been a while since someone else has gotten him off, and the weed is making him so so sensitive.

"wanna- wanna make you feel good," he pants, but he can’t stop grinding down against you like some stupid fucking dog.

"yeah?” you goad. “you wanna fuck me with your big dumb cock? do you even know how to use that thing?"

mingi whimpers. “yes, yes—please. let me- let me show you. please.”

“okay, big boy,” you whisper into his ear, finally letting him go. “show me.”

mingi doesn’t waste any time after that. he pulls off your pants and your underwear in one go. he’s practically drooling at the sight of your cunt and can’t help himself from running a finger reverently through your folds.

you’re wet.

because of him.

he drops down in front of your pussy and licks a line from your entrance to your clit. you fucking moan.

“yeah?” you say, all dominant like always but a little breathless. “you gonna prep me first? gonna prep me for your huge dick?”

in response, mingi attaches his mouth to your clit and buries a finger into your hole.

“ah—fuck!”

one finger turns into two into three quickly, as mingi works you open, all while lapping at your clit. he has limited experience with this so he’s not super confident in his ability, but you’re making these high-pitched noises that must mean he’s doing something right. and then you tug at his hair, forcing his head back.

“thought you were gonna fuck me?” you say.

“yes, yeah, sorry.”

mingi has enough wherewithal to ask about condoms and lube, and while he tugs off his underwear, you retrieve the stuff from your nightstand. he’s so keyed up that he fumbles the condom, can’t get a good grip to tear it open, and finally resorts to biting one corner with his teeth to rip off an edge. it works, and he spits out the little piece of foil somewhere onto the bed beside them.

“oh, fuck.” he hears, and it’s the first semblance of a whine from you.

with renewed vigor, mingi rolls the condom onto his dick, hissing at finally getting some stimulation after being hard and untouched for so long.

“c’mon, c’mon,” you say, throwing the lube at him. “hurry up.”

he squeezes some of the lube onto his hand—there’s a light red sheen to it and a faint scent of cherry. feverishly, he thinks the smell of cherries is going to be ruined for him forever as he spreads the lube over the condom.

and then he presses just the tip into your entrance, and already he knows he’s not going to last long. you’re just too warm, too wet, too tight.

“jesus,” he whimpers, as he presses deeper into your cunt. “you’re fucking perfect.”

“fuck,” you groan. “you’re so fucking big.”

“gonna- gonna make you feel good,” mingi promises. “gonna fuck you so good.”

when he’s finally bottomed out, he takes a second. he hopes it looks like he’s just being considerate of his size, but really it’s mostly for himself, to make sure he’s not a one thrust wonder. and then you clench around him.

“fuck!”

it startles him into moving—with a strong grip on your thighs, he thrusts into you with so much force that the bed frame groans.

“ah- yeah, baby. just like that. fuck, so good. so good, so big—so full. fuck!”

you babble nonsense into his ear, but every syllable fuels mingi’s determination. he snaps his hips against yours until his thighs burn, and then some more. but even in spite of his sheer will, mingi is just a guy finally fucking the girl of his dreams, and so his orgasm sneaks up on him entirely too fast.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck. i’m sorry, i’m sorry—i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—”

he collapses onto you as he spills into the condom, his entire body twitching with pleasure from the sensation. seconds later, shame and guilt wash over him. he pulls out and crawls down your body to shove his face into your cunt.

he fingers you while he eats you out again, this time quirking his fingers for your g-spot. he’s delirious and desperate—needs to prove that he’s not just some guy who cums without getting off his partner. needs you to enjoy this as much as he is—needs you to want more.

“yeah, yeah, that’s a good boy,” you praise as he laps at your cunt like it’s his job. “so good, baby boy. so good. yeah, just like that—gonna cum. gonna—”

mingi can’t help himself. he pulls back when you climax so that he can watch. he finger-fucks you through it, but his focus is on the way your face scrunches up with euphoria, the way your back arches off the bed in pleasure.

finally, you shove his hand away.

“‘s too much,” you mumble, burying your face into your pillows.

mingi collapses down beside you, completely spent.

he comes to a few minutes later, when he feels the bed shift as you sit up. he must make some kind of noise, because you duck down close, brush the sweaty hair off of his forehead and kiss his temple.

“shh,” you soothe. “it’s okay. you can rest, baby. i’ll clean us up.”

“wait—let me help,” he slurs, starting to sit up.

“no no,” you coo, pushing him back down. “don’t worry, baby. i got it.”

mingi hums, too tired and spent anyway to argue. it’s nice, for once, to be the one being taken care of. he snuggles contently deeper into the bed.

it smells like sex and sweat, but also something kinda sweet. oh, right—cherries.

he drifts off to sleep soon after.

⋆⋆⋆

the next morning, mingi wakes up disoriented, pleasantly sore, but incredibly well-rested. the weed helped offset the alcohol, and the only grossness he feels is from not showering or brushing his teeth before falling asleep.

the bed is unfortunately empty, but the smell of fresh coffee in the air keeps mingi from spiraling too much about it. he lopes around the room, searching for his clothes. he locates those godforsaken tight jeans (which take him far too much effort to stuff himself back into), but doesn’t manage to find his shirt, so he sheepishly wanders into the kitchen shirtless like a moron.

the mystery of his shirt is solved immediately when he sees that you are wearing it. the hem falls right below your ass, and when you move a certain way, mingi can see the bottoms of your cheeks and the hint of black panties.

jesus, even after having the orgasm of his life last night, he’s still so easy.

“morning!” you chirp, when you notice his presence.

“morning,” mingi rasps. “can i- uh- can i help with anything?”

you pause to shoot him a big smile. “no, don’t worry, baby. just sit down. there’s coffee in that mug over there. milk in the fridge.”

mildly stunned at the revelation that your pet names aren’t exclusive to sexy time, mingi follows your instructions. he retrieves a carton of oat milk from the fridge and adds it to his coffee before hopping on a barstool at the kitchen island. he positively inhales the coffee, which must be some kind of special blend because it’s especially fragrant, and watches you bustle around the kitchen with efficiency.

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, and it’s strangely intimate—domestic—but mingi doesn’t let that part of his imagination run too wild. for his own sanity, it’s probably best if he just takes whatever this is with you one day at a time.

soon, you slide a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast in front of him. you prance into the barstool beside him, nudging it closer so that your knees touch under the countertop.

it smells heavenly, reminds him of weekend breakfasts with his own family, and before he can stop himself, he says,

“thanks, mommy.”

it’s the kind of shithead joke he pulls with yunho and wooyoung often, but with you, it drips with subtext. over the rim of your coffee cup, you raise an eyebrow at him, and he feels his entire face heat up with embarrassment.

“i mean- um—”

“didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff,” you coo. “guess i’ll have to remember that for next time.”

mingi digs into his eggs so that he doesn’t have to look you in the eye while he processes that. next time?!

the rest of breakfast passes uneventfully. you take the reins of the conversation, yapping about your thoughts on chaewon’s frat bro boyfriend. mingi gives all the appropriate reactions at the appropriate times and just basks in the joy of eating a home-cooked breakfast the morning after having sex with his long-time crush.

later, mingi will rinse off your dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and you will return his shirt to him before sending him off with another chaste kiss to the cheek. mingi decides to walk back to his own apartment even though it’s nearly a mile away. but the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and his phone—barely hanging on with 10% battery—buzzes in his pocket with a single text:

y/n l/n has invited you to collaborate on a playlist: mommy issues ;)

#mingi #mingi x reader #song mingi #mingi smut #ateez x reader #ateez mingi #ateez smut #ateez images #[sunsh writes]#sunshineyuyu fic

1K notes · View notes

gghostwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Emails He Didn’t Send

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Through a series of unsent emails, Spencer laments through the loss of his life. Trope: Angst with an open ending w.c: 2.11k a/n: this marks the last of my ‘three’s a sideshow’ series. I wasn’t planning on making it a mini series I promise but ideas came and i am nothing but a slave to my creativity and readers. Special thanks to @lavenderspence & @thegloryofliterature for reading my unfinished drafts and giving me their opinions. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

[Drafted at 14.02.2019 23:41]

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: Hey Love

Your favorite song played on the diner’s radio today. You remember which one, don’t you? The one we softly played through your phone’s speaker as we tried to bake your mom’s apple pie from memory during that late night when nightmares plagued my mind. I vividly remember the burnt taste of its’ crust as we were too busy dancing in each other’s arms, under the dim light of our kitchen and the night light, to mind the timer going off.

Sitting on the table, feeding each other what we deemed left edible, and laughing at how faulty your memory could be. It didn’t taste like what you imagined it to be, nostalgia and love, but for me, it was the sweetest treat there was. Being there with you, sheltered inside our apartment, accompanied by your smiles and giggles.

In hindsight, how ironic was it that was our running joke, when my memory is anything but fallible.

I once thought I knew all there was about love. The science behind it—how love actually happens less in the heart and more in the brain where key neurotransmitters such as dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin are released. All these chemical trigger physical responses and in turn feel addictive. As time goes on, connection, commitment and comfortability of the known take over. I’ve known everything about it, read everything about it, and experienced some to an extent—familial and friendship but then, you came along, beautiful, light, and happy, unaware that you’ve dismantled all my beliefs and concepts, making me question the validity of science and making me realize I’ve never truly loved before—the encompassing type of love they describe in books and show in movies. Nothing existed before you and nothing exists after, I know that now.

Happy Valentine’s Day, love. I’ve spent my day working myself to the bone, doing anything to push the thought away of you and the lack of us. Now, as I hunch over in this wobbling desk in my undisclosed assignment, I can think of nothing but you, the space between us, and the love you’ve defined in the very atom of my being.

— Spencer

[Drafted 01.07.2019 21:16]

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: Flowers

Communicating through flowers is a forgotten language in the modern times. I’ve read and seen too much classics, minus the existential musings of Dostoyevsky, to have a small knowledge of what each flower meant. Interestingly enough, they each would have a variety of symbolisms and depending on the color, it also changes.

During our first picnic date, you mentioned the bushes of Hydrangeas your mother would religiously tend over in your backyard. How a subtle change in environment causes them to wilt and how the color of their flowers change, as if they were magic or a game of chance. You liked the concept, admitting right then that they were your favorites due to fond memories. I passed by the library, once I walked you home, and checked out a book for it—plants and its up-keeping never one I gravitated to. I did kill the tiny cactus Garcia gifted me in my early start in the FBI, sadly.

Its’ change in colors are attributed to pH changes in the soil, blue is for acidic and pink is for alkaline. Your mother must have made sure to always keep it pink, a manifestation of her love for you. They do, after all, mean many things like love, gratitude, hope, apologies, and regrets in some Asian cultures.

I left you a bouquet of blues on your doorstep, love, before I had to leave for an assignment I’m still on today. I’ve always gifted you pinks, in every month, and in every anniversary. Did you ask yourself why the change in color? I hoped you did.

The blues bear my sincerity and gratitude in having the chance in loving you. As a kid who grew up with certain circumstances, a father gone, bullies in school, and a mother in need of my care, I never once thought I would have had the chance in love or with someone like you, for that matter. I’m not as smooth or extroverted as Morgan, I could never figure out how he picked up women everywhere we went. I’m not as reliable or authoritative as Hotch, someone who could silence a room filled with testosterone with just his presence. I’m neither of those things but you approached me anyways.

I keep a single pressed flower from that bouquet in my handkerchief now. The very same one you clumsily embroidered my name on. It has become a talisman of sorts, a connection to you and our past. I’m sorry for breaking your heart and in the process, shattering mine.

Good night and please visit me in my dreams, even just once.

- Spencer

[Drafted 15.11.2019]

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: What’s In A Name

There’s a phenomenon that happens in our brain that leads to a perception of increased frequency called the recency bias. Giving greater importance to the most recent or the most known, like how a jury remembers a lawyer’s closing argument rather than the whole hearing. Or like how my brain tunes in when it hears the sound of your name, nickname or not.

I found myself craning my neck to face some stranger shouting your name, even though the statistic of it being you, where I am now, is a definite zero.

Garcia mentioned she saw you at the local grocery a few nights ago. She brought it up in passing, meaning no harm but possibly also looking for an answer as to why you seemed intent on escaping her presence. It’s been another mistake of mine, I know that now, not divulging the truth as to what had caused our break up.

In all my emails to you, I’ve never did tackle the reason—fearing that I haven’t explained myself well enough and end up pressing send by mistake. By then, there would be no going back.

I had met JJ when I was young, naive, and still green from the academy. She, along with Elle and Garcia, were the first female interactions I had that weren’t hostile or coated with this leer or distrust from me being too different from the rest. They saw me as Spencer, the protege of Gideon, the resident boy genius—an important part of the team. Something I have never experienced, I was, after all, always the last kid chosen during group projects and gym class.

Looking back at it now, I had latched on to that warm feeling of belonging and naively interpreted it as a crush on her. Why not on Elle or Garcia, then? Elle was never on my league—she was too strong-headed, sharp on the edges, something she developed during her time in the Sex Crime division. Garcia was too similar—smart and liked all the same things I did, something I had hoped a sibling would be if my mother had opted for another. That left JJ, who treated me kindly, further warping my notion on romance and emotion.

Then I met you and through a series of unforgettable dates, I knew then that what I had for her wasn’t love. What I had with you was.

I regret not making it clear for you that you were my first love. You had become an absolute point in my cycle of life. Days and months have gone by and I don’t know what to do with the love left in my heart, still. Briefly I wondered if it would evaporate over time, like water left boiling until there is nothing left, or will it all fade with time, burying itself in my all important beating organ?

The scent of your laundry detergent had long faded from my clothes, no matter how I try to lessen its’ wash, trying to cling to it still. Now all that’s left are my memories and the stale smell of cleanliness.

I miss you, my love.

I miss knowing you were mine, just like I am still yours.

-Spencer

[Drafted 01.01.2020]

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: Happy New Year

The empty space on the crook on my neck misses the feel of your skin burrowing in into mine. It’s a new year and I’m all alone, surrounded by strangers who do not know who I really am—as a person or as an FBI agent.

As fireworks go off in the night sky and couples and families greet each other a happy new year, my minds wanders to you and how we could be looking at the same sky.

Nostalgia seems to be a bitter trick of the mind, one i could feel myself wanting to sink into its depth—trying to live in the past. Emily sagely advises me to let it go, to move on as you no doubt had, after all, it had been a year now, but I find myself rooted in place as if the earth’s gravity didn’t allow me to.

Time had passed and the atomic beings in me had aged, I question if this is the definite end. Were you the closest I had ever come to a cliche happy ending? If I had noticed the signs in time, maybe we would have still be one.

I never did tell you where we were that night—the real reason why I had been late. In my defense, I didn’t want it to seem to be an excuse, a way to curry your anger. She went with me to pick up your ring that night. Sadly, work got in the way and I had to beg the jewelry store owner, with the help of Garcia tracking him down, to open shop just for me to pick it up. I had it adjusted you see—to fit down your finger.

There are many cultures that have the tradition of making a wish on New Year’s, you were my every wish.

-Spencer

His finger hesitated on the right click of his mouse. It had been numerous months of being away from Virginia and everything seemed to have changed without him. Stores that he once frequented were now closed and replaced with something new. Broken down stop lights he vividly remembers were replaced. And the team, once happy and unstained with the darkness of their cases, had aged and become jaded.

Spencer wondered if reaching out was the right thing to do. If reopening old wounds that never healed right would bring some sort of closure. The first night back home, he had caught a glimpse of her, far away and oblivious to his presence. It had brought to mind the urban theory of meeting people twice—how someone who’ve finished their story in his life were bound to never appear again. He’d never put much fate into those beliefs with no scientific backings but as he spied her crossing the street, Spencer found himself believing it, imploring it to be real.

He sighed under his breath, eyes tracking the simple note he had written down.

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: Hello

Hi. I hope this finds you well. Will you be open to talk? Just talk.

There’s no need to reply right now or even at all, for that matter.

If yes, I will be waiting at our coffee shop, the one you shared just with me, by the window this coming Saturday afternoon.

But if the burden is too much or you simply never want to see me again, I would understand.

Perhaps, now is my turn to wait for you restlessly. A penance two years too late.

-Spencer

He steeled his nerves before pressing ‘send’. The beating of the organ in his chest threatens to swallow him whole. Who he was could change within a couple of days—there now would be a definite ending to their story.

Her Polaroid picture was still tacked on his work station, faded but her smile was still the same—warm and inviting. She lingers all around, ring still in his drawer, as if she might return. As if these memories and mementos can summon her back in his arms.

“Reid,” Emily called out. “We’ve got a case.”

He nodded, quickly leaving his desk to head straight to the conference room, unaware of the single unread message left in his inbox.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Request taglist for this series: @mega-kittyglitter-1 @ozwriterchick @flyingwithsilly @timewontgivemetime @vani3 @babyspiderling @alexa554 @ivet4 @starbright1002 @lunaryoongie @casey1-2007 @cherryblossomfairyy @iovediary

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid sad #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #dr spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot

495 notes · View notes

lostcompanyofficial · 9 months ago

Text

🎉First stretch goal unlocked! Please welcome the 'ROTEMNTEE Alien Barbarian' to our mini's collection!

💖Get this KICKSTARTER EXCLUSIVE figures starting with the MINIATURE ADVENTURERS tier!

Get your exclusive minis here!

530 notes · View notes

xjcjuis · 7 months ago

Text

EYELINER

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: you beg billie to let you do her make-up for.. personal reasons

warnings: kissing, use of pet names, fluff

wordcount: 0.8k

a/n: UGHHH billie with eyeliner i just. i cant

"pleaaase, bils, pleaaase."

billie's unreasonable no has been going on for what seems like hours. the night had started with you scrolling through your phone as billie watched some show on your shared netflix, and then you'd come across a photo of one of billie's photoshoots in which she was wearing eyeliner.

your lip found itself between your teeth somehow, your eyes flicking back and forth around your screen as you took in the photo, as if trying to absorb the image into your system.

billie, having noticed the sudden silence (you'd been commenting vocally about cute dog videos beforehand), turned to look at you, finding you very focused on whatever was on your phone.

confused, and, admittedly, a little jealous, billie left her place on the armchair and leaned over you on the couch, one arm on the backrest to hold her up. "watcha got there, pretty?"

you looked up and met her gaze. such a fine line between green and blue and silver, or perhaps all mixed into one to form the cosmos. you no longer believed what science says when the universe so obviously inhabited billie's eyes.

phone now placed face-down on the couch, you locked eyes with her, smiling with obvious intent. "let me do your make-up?"

it's a command disguised as a request. billie immediately saw how much you wanted it and decided to play a one-sided game. with a teasing grin, she pulled away. "no."

cut to the present and you find yourself on your knees on the carpet. "why not?" you whine, "i just want to see you in eyeliner again, please?"

admittedly, billie does not have a reason to say no. but seeing you with that cute little pout, hands dramatically clasped together as you basically beg to see her in something as basic as eyeliner? oh, she just had to take advantage of the situation.

"okay, alright, fine." she cackles, pulling you up from your three minutes of misery. "i don't see why not."

"you-" you jokingly pull back an arm as if to hit her. "you made me do all that when you were willing to in the first place?!"

your girlfriend's laugh intensifies, briefly kissing the frown on your lips away. "do what you wanna do, pretty."

you pull her eagerly to your dressing table, hurriedly opening and closing several mini drawers to look for a simple black eyeliner pencil. "sit down."

amused at your show of insistence, billie obediently complies. you turn around to face her, eyeliner pencil in hand, and bend over a little to cup her cheek and start with your masterpiece.

oh, but billie's not letting you do your job so easily. her hands are suddenly on your hips, grip tight, pulling you closer.

"billie!" you shriek, hand pushing against her shoulder to avoid falling. she replies with nothing but a mischievous grin as you scowl at her.

"do you want me to poke you in the eye?"

"no, ma'am. sorry."

she's not. but you just roll your eyes playfully and get on with it.

but she pulls you for a second time. you ignore it now, choosing instead to smudge the material on her eyelids. but when she jerks your hips forward towards her for the third time, you shoot her a glare.

"what is wrong with you?"

"sit on my lap, mama."

how you melted from that one sentence alone. that sweet, sweet tone in her voice paired with the gaze that stared up into your face a tad bit too longingly, and then that damn pet name. how could you even stay annoyed?

so you do, pretending to dislike the situation. billie could tell you liked it though, with the corner of your lip quirking up like that.

she behaves for the rest of the session, and you lick your lips in contentment upon leaning back to admire your handiwork.

with her tongue over her teeth and an eyebrow raised, your canvas silently asks how she looks. carefully, you put away your make-up materials and pick up your phone to snap a photo. then you set it aside before cupping billie's jaw, inching closer.

"so beautiful," you whisper, pressing your lips onto hers.

billie responds with fervor, one hand resting on your lower back as the other finds its place under your thigh. your back hits the dressing table as she kisses you, fingertips digging into your skin as yours caress every inch of her face. you pull away, out of breath.

"oh, whoops."

the eyeliner you had worked so hard on was now smudged. whose fault is it, you wonder? you, because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, or billie's, because she was just too damn pretty to be left alone.

catching sight of her face in the mirror behind you, your girlfriend smirks. she reaches behind you and grabs her phone, stealing a quick photo of herself in the glass with you still on her lap.

you watch as her fingers type away speedily, leaning over to look only to see her posting the same picture on instagram with the caption, 'guess what happened?'

you stare at her with an unamused expression, but she only hooks her fingers under your chin. "kiss me again, gorgeous."

with no eyeliner to be worried about this time, what was stopping you?

#☕. . . espresso! [works]#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x you #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie fluff #billie eilish fluff #fluff #billie eilish x female reader #fem!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #billie eilish x gender neutral reader #billie eilish x gn!reader

621 notes · View notes

agirlwithglam · 5 months ago

Text

how to live a luckier life! ✧˖°

hiii! in this post i will be giving all my advice as to how i live a lucky life everyday & how to have LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME! everything that happens to me is so lucky it sometimes astounds me! this mini guide will include everything from mindset shifts, tips, and affirmations! <3 so grab a snack, a yummy beverage and get cozy!!

♡ a bit about me personally, i truly believe that i live an extremely lucky life. i dont live in a mansion, i don't own super rich stuff, i do actually feel left out with some friends, and i'm an extremely sensitive person so you can imagine how that must be. i'm just your average girl who goes to school, comes home, eats, etc. so PLEASE dont be fooled into thinking that you always need more or a certain thing or status, whatever it may be, to live a lucky life. i know its confusing, but just hear me out.

♡ MINDSET SHIFTS!

you get to choose what you define as "unlucky". this was THE BIGGEST thing that made me view myself as super lucky!! you actually get to CHOOSE that when something happens to you, do you choose to view it in a way where it could only ever be bad for you, or are you willing to see it as maybe you were divinely protected from something you had no idea about ... which leads me to my next point,

things happen FOR you, not TO you. of course, as i said earlier you can choose to see things in a lens like "oh of course that happened, the universe is out to get me" OR you can choose to see it as "that may have looked like it sucked but thank you god/ universe for protecting me and guiding me!! i may not know why that happened, but i trust that god/ universe has planned everything only for my greater good." because honey trust me, luck is all up there, in your mind. the exact same thing could happen to 2 people but its just their mindset and thinking process that will determine the quality of their life.

look at all that you do have!! GRATITUDE!! i *do not care* if this is a cliche or whatever BUT YOU BETTER LISTEN UP. (ahem, sorry.) but as i said at the top, gratitude will save you. yes, at first it will seem boring or useless or maybe even hard but once you start to train your brain focusing more on what you do have, the good, the happiness in your life, the more easily it will go there.

all about perspective. you may be complaining about trivial things right now like not winning in a game or not being where you want to be in life, but you have a roof over your head, an education, a family, a device, clean clothes, clean water & food. you’re already more fortunate than a lot of the population. so learn to be grateful with what you have right now because you never know if it will be taken away.

start training your brain to see things in a more positive light. it may not come so easily to you in the beginning, but the more you start realising and stopping yourself in the spiral of the lack mindset, and actually walk yourself through the whole process of changing your perspective on this thing, the more it will come naturally to you!

♡ BARBIE & NOVA:

just to clear everything up a bit, lets meet Barbie and Nova and see how they react to the same situation happening to them.

SITUATION 1: missing the bus oh no! Barbie and Nova had stumbled out their house and sprinted towards the bus but unfortunately, it had already left.

how Nova reacts: ugh, of course this happened! nothing ever good happens to me anyway. i swear the universe is actually like out to get me or something. i just wish i could get lucky just this once!

how Barbie reacts: dang it that sucks! buuutt.... what if i just got saved by a terrible accident? or what if when i went on that bus i would have seen or heard something that would make me feel even worse than how this feels right now? oh my, thank you god for protecting me!! i can't believe i was saved like that.

SITUATION 2: getting a high grade in class they just got their results back from a recent science test and they both got 98% !

how Nova reacts: YES!! FINALLY i get something right! finally i am lucky! oops i hope i don't jinx it

how Barbie reacts: omg yay!! im so happy! i really did deserve that, i worked really hard. thank you god!

do you see how no matter what the situation may be, Barbie is always grateful. she always thanks god/ the universe. on the other hand, Nova instead still believes that she was born unlucky so everything she thinks operates from that sort of place!

♡ PRACTICAL TIPS

focus on how you use your energy throughout the day. desperation reeks and will push any manifestations away. let go and let life. when you know you are a good and pure person who will put in the work and have faith and trust that everything will work out in the end, thats all you need to do

everyday, start consciously thinking of or writing down 3 things you’re grateful for. this is certainly a skill that you must practice frequently and once you do being grateful will come to you naturally!

‘proof portfolio’ when something happens to you that is lucky, write it down! (i write it down in my notes app) doesn’t matter if it’s really small or big, write it down so that when you don’t feel lucky you can look to this as proof otherwise!

♡ AFFIRMATIONS!

affirmations a great for drilling something into your mind to remind you that you already have everything you desire!! i recommend writing it down, repeating these in front of a mirror or even just to yourself but when you say it, say it with meaning. say it as if you’re actually speaking it into existence!

everything happens in my favour

everything happens for my greater good

i am so lucky

the universe works to give me the best life

i always attract lucky experiences

i attract opportunities

luck flows to me effortlessly

i am so grateful for everything i have

i always receive blessings

my life is filled with endless blessings

i am a magnet for miracles and joy

i trust that god has my back

god/ the universe wants to see me succeed!

my life is so lucky!!

everything i want flows to me effortlessly!

i glow from the inside out

i always attract abundance

i vibrate at a high frequency

489 notes · View notes

regnantlight · 1 year ago

Text

Zelda nudges him with her elbow.

"Indeed, but I would be careful what I say with so many people present..."

"Well fuck."

#((ROY MY LOVE <3))#((Or rather Zelda's haha))#mini game #magic of science (FMA)

20 notes · View notes

submissivebrvt · 1 day ago

Text

• Squid Game Period Headcanons (As Your Boyfriend)

delicate pain, soft love, and mood swings under moonlight

Thanos Player 230 :

• The type to bluntly ask, "Are you on your period?" whenever you're snappy—only to be met with a death glare and a slap... every time.

• His humor? Absolutely awful. "Women are like spaghetti sauce... red monthly or white nightly." You nearly combust.

• He and Namgyu? Literal toddlers in grown bodies—dancing, hollering, making your cramps worse.

• Eventually, he softens. He apologizes with his eyes, voice low, arms open. "You're scary when you're like this... but kinda hot."

• Tries rapping to make you laugh—badly. So badly it works.

• Suggests period sex—you gag. Every time.

• Buys every craving, every pad, every little thing, and becomes clingier, sleepier, sweeter when you're hurting.

Minsu Player 125:

• Turns beet red the moment you mention blood—shy little bunny energy.

• Quietly tiptoes around you like you're a fragile porcelain doll.

• Learns to massage your tummy with gentle hands, his touch hesitant but thoughtful.

• Never jokes. Never mocks. Just exists beside you like a warm cup of tea.

• Buys chocolate in bulk. Tries cooking even if he burns it—he's trying, for you.

• If you cry from cramps, he might cry too, wiping your tears with trembling fingers.

Namgyu Player 124:

• Casually drops "Are you on your period?" as if it's a safe question. It's not. Slap.

• Quips with a smirk, "Maybe women were cursed with periods 'cause they're devilishly pretty when mad."

• Chaos personified—he and Thanos do their little dance routine, earning twin scowls from you.

• Later, he gets quiet. Scared quiet. He apologizes in that soft, scared-boy voice.

• Instead of getting too intimate, he suggests sneaky edibles at Club Pentagon. It helps... kinda.

• He brings snacks. Hugs. Wraps you in a hoodie and watches movies with you like the world outside doesn't exist.

Semi Player 380:

• Doesn't quite get periods, but she gets you. And that's enough.

• Braids your hair. Wipes your tears. Cooks you warm soups and sings softly when you're cramping.

• Holds your face in her hands and whispers, "You're beautiful even when you feel broken."

• Buys pads, tampons, strawberry mochi—whatever your heart wants.

• If you two sync up? You lay under a shared blanket with Bluetooth earbuds, heating pad on, watching vintage movies all day.

• She takes care of you, always. And when it's her turn, you take care of her too.

Gyeoung Su Player 256:

• "Wait, what's a period again?" Cue facepalm.

• You give him a refresher on basic anatomy. He nods like it's rocket science.

• Will try—earnestly—to comfort you. Cuddles like a big sleepy puppy.

• If sent to buy pads, might return with toilet paper. Baby steps.

• Asks "Are you on your period?" with the curiosity of a scientist meeting a new species.

• Starts rapping like Thanos to cheer you up. It's tragically adorable.

Dae Ho Player 388:

• His sisters trained him well. He knows. He respects.

• When you tell him, he nods gently and offers warm hugs, like you're something sacred.

• Bakes for you—vanilla pastries, molten brownies, kisses your temple in between.

• Walks on emotional eggshells. "Don't wanna make you mad, angel."

• If you're in pain, he'll cry quietly beside you, your forehead pressed to his chest.

Myungi Player 333:

• Misses your period once and spirals into "Oh my god, are you pregnant?" panic.

• When it does come, he asks "Is it your period?" with innocent concern. Slap.

• Retreats like a scared cat at first, then slowly edges back in.

• If he loves you? He's braving the store, texting you for brand names, buying chocolate on the side.

• Clings to you in bed all day, burying his face into your neck and canceling all plans.

The Salesman Gong Yoo:

• Somehow always knows. Before you do. Whispering, "You'll be starting soon." You shiver.

• Prepares a "period basket" like a ritual—lavender oils, mini heating pads, herbal teas.

• Gives the most divine massages. Your shoulders, your back, your aching lower belly.

• Turns the world off with blackout curtains and a documentary you never finish watching.

• Orders everything online. Amazon Prime—discreet, efficient, almost suspicious.

• Kisses your bloated stomach like it's the most precious altar. And you? You melt.

148 notes · View notes

montereybayaquarium · 3 months ago

Text

Monterey Bay Aquarium plays FathomVerse 2.0 with MBARI's FathomVerse team!

We’re thrilled to welcome the @mbari-blog FathomVerse team back to the Aquarium for our next gaming livestream!

Join us live on YouTube and Twitch on April 10 at 3:30 p.m. PT with members of the MBARI FathomVerse team to play and discuss version 2.0 of this innovative mobile game that combines cozy gaming and deep-sea science. FathomVerse players participate in community science by training artificial intelligence that experts can use to identify ocean animals as they explore.

Based on feedback from the dedicated FathomVerse community, FathomVerse 2.0 introduces exciting features, including:

🎮 Brand-new mini-games

🏆Badges and quests

⚡Smoother gameplay

📲 Ready to get started? Download FathomVerse:

App Store

Google Play Store

FathomVerse website

#monterey bay aquarium #fathomverse #mbari #twitch #deep sea streaming #cozy community science #its more likely than you think!

397 notes · View notes

sunlxst · 17 days ago

Text

hm..grandaddy sylus

gilf! sylus x cartgirl! reader headcannons

sexual content • widee age gap (us early 20s + him early 60s)

Gilf Sylus who looks incredible for his age that no one can guess it down to the number. Silver fox final boss, his hair right above his shoulders, streaked with darker strands of grey at the root. Grey mustache and goatee combo. Crow's feet creasing under a deeper set of red eyes and gentle smile lines by his mouth.

Gilf sylus who’s CEO of OnychinusCo, an international financial conglomerate that has amassed a fortune through not-so-legal methods, a business he grew from the ground up. His children yearn for the position more and more as the years ago by. “Getting a little old father” They say, “ think it’s time to hand over the reigns”. He concedes after further persuasion, though he was more than willing to give his kids what they want, like always. It wouldn’t be a clean transition though, he leaves the company in chaos letting them decide who would take his place.

Gilf sylus who is patriarch of the Qin family with many sons and many more daughters. They're all white haired and red eyed, spoiled, with ambition to make their father proud. They’ve all grown up and flown the nest, starting their own families and making a name for themselves whether in the family business, politics, science, they had influence in every facet of society.

Gilf sylus who didn't care to remarry. He didn't feel like there was any point, all that’s left is to enjoy the time he had left before checking out. Him spending his days drinking expensive scotch while tinkering with his mechanical crow, working out though not as strenuous as when he was younger, and golfing at his favorite country club.

Gilf sylus who at first was rather indifferent to you. Just another pretty cart-girl initially, but you surprise him in ways he didn't see coming. Happily letting you tease him and taking every opportunity to match your energy. He never misses a chance to see you, his schedule gradually aligning with yours, intentionally of course. He refuses to be out there in the sun without you.

Gilf sylus who knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. Eyeing the curve of your ass when you bend over to scoop ice in a cup, your skirt riding up a touch too high revealing the slit of fabric at the apex of your thighs. He nearly bends his wedge in his hand, cock twitching to life until you tug the hem down while handing him his drink, “Enjoy," you say. You smile innocent, but your eyes are a different story "hopefully your game gets better” He tips you well over $200 every time, putting the folded bills in your open hand, fighting back a smirk while his eyes dip below your neckline, “I have a feeling it will thanks to you, see you later sweetie”

Gilf sylus who considers you his guilty pleasure. You’re in your early 20s, roughly the same age as his youngest child. it’s so bad of him and he’s not exactly sure when the attraction started, but he can’t help his heart picking up when seeing your cart wind down the pavement heading for him. You're always in a mini tennis skirt and polo tee two buttons loose, a white sports cap crowning your hair, shielding your bright smile from the sun as you wave him down.

Gilf sylus who won't hold back anymore. No longer denying your advances, he splits you open against the seat of your drink cart, bottles rattling in the back from the strength of his waist, connecting swiftly on your ass. He feels like a virgin all over again, almost cumming against your lips the minute his swollen tip kissed your fleshy ring. You were so insistent he wouldn’t be able to get it up. “Are you sure there's still gas in that car, sylus? Should we find you some mighty blues?” you had said with salacious smile, grazing your fingers under his belt. Clearly you’ve eaten your words, lips together yet moans push their way through with every searing kiss to your cervix. Your pussy fluttering with every surge, falling apart in a slick creamy mess that drools down his shaft in white ribbons.

“What was that about me needing pills, kitten? -ngh, remind me again,” he says against your ear with a sinful grin, kissing the side of your mouth until it opens.

“S-shut up,” you moan, tightening your arms around his neck, lips slotting together with his in a breathless kiss. "Mm—you won't last another round."

"I won't?" he echoes playfully, a finger catches on your clit circling, and your body spasms. Heavy waves of arousal stir quickly in your cunt with sylus reaching to kiss your sweet spot over and over again.

"fuck sylus -"

He groans as his cock drowns in another gooey wave of your essence. "I might surprise you, kittenmhm-gonna get what you asked for."

Gilf sylus who hates sharing you. Glaring hellfire at the other party holding you hostage by their endless requests and small-talk. His jealousy fucks with his swing, which fucks with his streak-only adding fuel to his fire. "I'm so thirsty kitten that it’s messing with my putting” he pouts when you finally arrive “Help me fix it," in which you’re cumming on his face once, twice, until you have his hair in a tight fist, body on fire, "sylus n-no more-“

He kisses your clit noisily against his tongue, you croon, head knocking back while your hips buck “see you say that," he teases along your folds, "but you're still grinding on my face. You should make up your mindmmnh-.”

You tug on his hair, pulling him deeper into your dripping heat. His groan reverberates waves of vibrations following after you as he draws out another mind-numbing orgasm, holding your thighs open in an iron grip.

Gilf sylus who reserves the entire course, days at a time, just to play with you. 80% golf, 20% distracting you with handsy make-outs so you don't realize you're washing him. Seems like you've learned quite a bit working on the golf course. Naturally you top his strategy, betting he couldn't score a birdie on the 9th hole, 4 par. If he could, you'd reward him. You know your bet will make him terribly reckless, which it does, but you don't count on it actually working in his favor. You're all pouty by the final hole as you stroke his slick with your spit, gradually swelling up in your hand. "Don't be like that sweetie, my luck was with me today."

"Bullshit," you grumble yet you still tongue kiss up his shaft "I’ll get my revenge," which you do, the sun burning extra extra hot on the back of his neck as you take him between your lips. "good" he gasps. "go ahead kitten t-take it from me." his tip knocks somewhere far within in your throat, your tongue rubbing the puffy vein along the underside, his stomach caves, “shit” your nose nuzzles in trimmed grey hairs at the base as you look up into desirous red eyes, hungry and attentive as pink spreads across his face, sweat glistening like crushed diamonds at his hairline. His jaw tightens as you slide up your shirt, tugging the straps of your bra down "damn" he huffs as you softly moan squeezing your tits, "not playing fair kitten I like that"

Gilf sylus that suggests you quit and let him take care of you. Just stay with him for as long as time allows, his fortune all yours if you accept. You mention about being seen as gold digger, but the concept doesn’t make sense in his brain. Is it really a bad thing if you use him for his money when your dependency is what he craves the most? You spend most of your time with him anyway, either at the country club or wandering through his massive estate in little to nothing as he observes.

Gilf sylus who introduces you at the annual family reunion hosted on their private island. Referring to you as wife because to him, he's too old (and too in love) to be calling you his girlfriend. His kids aren't thrilled at the idea of having a stepmom that much younger than most of them, but sylus couldn't care. He's well over the age gap and refuses to let anyone mention it, and in his eyes they should count themselves lucky to have you as a stepmom. Besides, the two of you have news that may or may not involve a baby shower 28 weeks later.

#my fics #lnds smut #sylus #love and deep space #sylus x reader #love and deep space smut #sylus x reader smut #lnds sylus #sylus smut #lads smut #lads sylus

129 notes · View notes