#i wanted to try with small pieces at a time...

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ backstage bliss ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. mira x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ mira wants to thank you for all of your hard work and make up for the stress she’s caused you before the show ┊1.2k words

contains: smut!! dom mira & sub reader┊backstage sex, receiving oral, established secret relationship

➤ author's note: she’s so hot omfg i love stone top femmes 

“come on, bobby! they’re going to show up soon, they always do, even if it’s last minute— stop stressing out so much, you’re going to start balding at this rate!”

despite your attempt at assuring him, you were starting to fear for your own hair at this rate. the fans were calling out for their idols, waving around their lightsticks, and becoming increasingly impatient by the second as the trio were late by a whopping four minutes. you would hate to disappoint them by sending them home without the wonderful experience of a huntrix concert, and you would hate even more to do all of the tedious work to ensure that everyone in the venue got their money back as well as a small piece of merch to make up for their troubles. your superior was calling them frantically to ask where the hell they were, and you were just mentally preparing yourself to step out and break the bad news to them.

just then, as if they were angels answering your prayers, they all fell from the skies like shooting stars and crashed onto the stage in an elegant manner, jumping straight into the performance seamlessly and saving the day. you would say you didn’t doubt them for a moment because you certainly did, but you felt like you were going to faint from relief. 

of course, you couldn’t just yet because you wanted to see your lovely girlfriend moving along to the music being blasted out of the speakers, dancing like it’s what she was born to do and all she ever wanted to do. you couldn’t let yourself show too much of your admiration and attract attention to your clear romantic adoration for her though, trying your best to hide the dopey smile that would overcome you whenever you stared for too long, but god, you couldn’t believe that she was all yours just as you were entirely hers. 

“i’m so sorry for worrying you, babe,” mira yelled out once the two of you were alone, running up behind you and almost knocking you over in an embrace. “i still can’t believe we fell for that, it’s like the demons are getting smarter or something…”

“you need to be more careful!” you scolded. “i don’t want anything bad to happen to you!” you remember when you used to be concerned for her when you first learned about her demon hunting secret, and while you had full faith in her skills now, the last part of her statement was starting to make you feel stressed out for her safety again.

“oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, we kicked their asses in less than five minutes,” she teased. “you really need to relax.”

“well, it’s difficult to relax when i have an idol girlfriend who’s constantly late to all of her events because she’s busy fighting creatures from the underworld!”

“hm… you’re right about that, i should probably make it up to you and help you destress…”

you felt your face get hot at the mischievous tone lacing her voice as her fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “here? what if we get caught?”

“there’s no one here! come on now, i can tell you really need to blow off some steam. it’ll be fine, i promise.”

“okay… but you have to promise to be careful!”

“oh please, i’m nothing if not careful,” she snickered, pushing you to sit down on top of one of the speakers, and parting your thighs with your hands before hooking her fingers into your underwear and pulling it down to expose your lovely pussy to her awaiting brown eyes.

mira brought her face closer to your heat and wasted no time in dipping her tongue in, licking long, broad strokes against your folds and humming in delight at the taste of your sweetness. she watches you through her half-lidded lashes, drinking in your gorgeous facial expressions contorting in pleasure as she flicks the tip of her sharp tongue against your clit. “you’re so fucking pretty when you’re getting eaten out,” she cooed. she swears that the sight of you with your head thrown back and your mouth open in that adorable ‘o’ shape alone is enough to add five years to her lifespan each time, and she wants to see every single day for the rest of your lives together. 

“fuckkkk, miraa,” you whined as your fingers found their way tangled with her pink locks, subconsciously pushing her closer to your heat, something you didn’t even think was possible. 

she pressed her thumb against your weeping hole, tracing the outline and admiring how it twitched in need to be filled by her, “god, you’re so needy…”

“you were the one who wanted to do this,” you huffed, “i think that makes you the—”she cut you off by diving back in, eagerly lapping up your arousal seeping through, and turning your words into moans before you could finish. 

she loses her mind when she’s on her knees for you like this, slurping up that little piece of heaven between your thighs and worshipping like a devoted follower at an altar, sucking on your pearly little clit like it’s candy, and using her hands to keep your legs apart instead of squeezing at her head.

you felt so self-conscious, not just because of her intense passion, but also because of the location that was so recognizable yet was anything but at the same time. you felt like someone would walk in at any moment because they forgot something or someone cleaning up after hours would come across what the two of you were doing, eyes darting around nervously to keep a lookout until you felt mira’s teeth against your core in a threatening manner. 

“hey, eyes on me, baby,” she muttered, clearly displeased about your being distracted. 

“‘m sorry, i can’t help it…”

“don’t think about any of that,” she told you, although you were more focused on the sight of the trail of spit connecting her lips to your cunt, “just close your eyes and focus on me, okay?”

you nodded and did as she ordered, obedient as ever, shutting off all of your senses aside from touch, feeling her tongue thrust in and out of you before lapping at your most sensitive area in a constant motion. the push and pull made you feel that familiar knot in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every passing second. 

mira could feel it too, the way your nails started to dig into her scalp and your fingers tugging on her locks a little harder. she sped up her pace a little bit more as if she was possessed by raw desire, closing her lips around you and sucking hard, determined to make you finish and create a mess all over her lower face. even when you did finally orgasm, calling out her name with an arch of your back, she continued to leave little kitten licks all over as if she was trying to clean you up. 

resting the side of her head against your inner thigh, she looked up at you with the most detestably loveable look, smirking at you, “see? i told you it would be fine.”

“god, you’re so insufferable!” you pouted, “we really could have been caught!”

“yeah, but we didn’t,” she shrugged. her voice lowered to a whisper, “besides, we both know that it would have turned you on even more if someone did.” the look on your face made her burst out in laughter before getting back up, “come on, let's get you cleaned up, the others are probably wondering where we are.”

request:

M-Mira eating out assistant manager reader before a show, perhaps 🥹👉👈

[msvorderofoperations]

I hate to be that guy, but people returning more bottles here in Canada is not a guarantee against reducing greenhouse emissions.

A sizable amount of recycled plastic is just burned, sometimes within our own borders, other times overseas and occasionally without permits. I fucking hate having to be a downer about what should be unqualified good news, but the fact of the matter is that there is a more fundamental problem with plastics recycling that needs to be addressed.

Even in circumstances where plastics can be remanded and turned into another product, the process incurs a significant loss in material and structural integrity, and can only be done a few times before ending up with a useless end product. And that's even if the processed plastic is free of contaminants. So a great deal of companies responsible for recycling just opt not to even try, and just burn it. And that SUCKS. This is all they are meant to do, and because it presents a modicum of difficulty, they don't even bother. They absolutely should be held accountable for this, but if the fines are still less than the cost of actually processing material, it won't meaningfully affect things.

The actual best thing that can be done is to lobby manufacturers to use less plastic overall. This is one of the many things that must be done to uncouple civilization from the fossil fuels industry. Metal and glass containers can be recycled infinitely, and have been happily done so by companies for decades. My understanding is that basically every piece of aluminum contains some amount of recycled material. That's due in no small part because recycling aluminum costs only 10% of what it would cost to mine and process new ore.

I really do want to trust that proper handling of materials is being done responsibly by those empowered to do so. But I trusted blindly for decades, and now that I'm aware that they haven't acted in good faith I have to call out their hypocrisy.

"In a new study, University of British Columbia researchers set out to answer the following question: Would you rather have 10 cents in your pocket or a 1-in-10,000 shot at $1,000?

Their findings indicate that they may have figured out a way to get people to recycle more. 

The researchers, whose work was just published in the journal “Waste Management,” tested the idea of offering people who return used bottles a small chance to win a big cash prize, instead of the standard 5- or 10-cent deposit earnings.

The result? Participants recycled 47% more bottles for the chance at a $1,000 prize.

“This small change in how we reward recycling made a big difference. People were more excited, more engaged, and they brought in more bottles,” Dr. Jiaying Zhao, associate professor in the department of psychology and senior author of the study, said in a statement for the university.

“It turns out that the thrill of possibly winning a big prize is more motivating than a small guaranteed reward. It’s the same reason people buy lottery tickets; That tiny chance of a big win is exciting.”

The researchers ran three experiments in British Columbia and Alberta, where bottle deposit systems already exist. Despite the fact that these deposit stations give people a small refund when they return their recyclables, many bottles still end up in the trash.

In the first two experiments, people could choose between a guaranteed 10-cent refund or a chance to win a larger amount, ranging from $1 to $1,000. Even though the odds of winning were low, many people chose the lottery-style offer.

In the third experiment, participants were randomly assigned to either the guaranteed refund or the lottery-style refund. Those given the lottery-style option brought in almost three bottles for every two returned by the control group. 

The researchers found that people even felt happier when they had a shot at the big prize, even if they didn’t actually win — a feeling called “anticipatory happiness” — that made the act of recycling more enjoyable. 

All of this is modeled after an existing scheme in Norway.

“Norway is the only country in the world that has a similar recycling lottery, and their bottle return rate is close to 100%,” Dr. Zhao said. “The probabilistic refund could be their secret sauce. We hope Canada can adopt this innovative idea as well.”

In Norway, the bottle recycling lottery was implemented over a decade ago, and now, approximately 97% of all plastic beverage containers are returned across the country. 

Here, the model is choice-driven, giving people the option to choose between the guaranteed refund or the chance to win anywhere from 5 to 100,000 euros.

“The system also doesn’t encourage gambling,” Fast Company reported, “because there’s no way to enter with cash, and there are no ‘near misses’ like with other kinds of gambling.”

Norway has also implemented a program where some of the lottery’s proceeds go to the Norwegian Red Cross.

“Instead of 10 cents back to you, what if the proceeds go to a food bank or charity?” Dr. Zhao asked Fast Company. This is also part of her team’s research, with results soon to be published. 

It’s important to note that the lottery-style refund wouldn’t cost more than the traditional system, with both options sharing the same average payout. Cities could adopt this approach without spending an extra dime.

Additionally, Dr. Zhao mentioned that it’s important for cities to consider the choice-based model, giving people the option to get the regular 5- or 10-cent returns, alongside the new lottery initiative, to help canners and binners who rely on this kind of income.

“We don’t want to take the short gain option away,” she told Fast Company. “Instead, we want to give people the option to choose.” 

Aside from the valuable psychological insights of the study, Dr. Zhao and her colleagues are optimistic about a future in which more people are engaged in recycling. 

“Creating new bottles comes with a lot of carbon emissions, and not recycling bottles also comes with a lot of pollution,” Jade Radke, a lead author on the study, said. “So it can be a meaningful way to decrease all of those things.”

According to the UBC press release, if this approach is widely adopted, it could help recycle millions more bottles and reduce greenhouse gas emissions equal to taking one million cars off the road each year."

-via GoodGoodGood, June 25, 2025

[wcnderlnds]

waste the night ★ choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: all it takes is one night, one simple choice and your life changes forever meeting a handsome stranger along the way. ・❥・word count: 2.4k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, choking. swearing, drug mentions, usual squid game stuff. ・❥・authors note: this might be rubbish idk but i wanted to write something anyway so i'm posting and vanishing into the night <3

The small rectangle card lay on the bar in front of you, the symbols on it glaring at you, taunting you. When the guy in the suit had approached you, your first instinct was to walk away — stranger danger and all of that. But, when he offered you the card, mentioning there’d be a big cash prize if you took part and won, you had immediately snatched it from his hands. What really could be the harm in it? Play a few games and win some money. It didn’t sound too hard and you really needed the money. Life hadn’t been the kindest to you lately and it was safe to say you were at rock bottom. 

For the last few weeks, you’d been staying on your friend’s couch. After catching your partner cheating on you, you had immediately packed your bags and left. On top of that, you had recently been laid off from your job so you had no income. You were homeless and jobless – legitimately at rock bottom. Your days were spent feeling sorry for yourself, trying to pick up the pieces of your broken life.

But this card? This was an opportunity to turn things around.

“Can I buy you a drink, Senorita?” The deep voice drew you from your thoughts, your head turning to see a purple haired guy leaning on the bar beside you. He wore a bright green shirt, tattoos covered his hands and arms, his purple hair a flat mess on his head but he still remained the best looking guy in the place.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged your shoulders.

“What’s your poison?”

“Espresso Martini.”

The man wasted no time in calling the bartender over and ordering your drink. You couldn’t deny how good it felt that someone had taken such an interest in you to even want to buy you one. It had been so long since it had happened. Maybe he was just being kind, taking pity on you but the way his eyes raked over your body told you a different story. He was interested. He didn't even need to say it, his eyes did it for him. Those dark brown eyes that anyone could easily get lost in. 

“Names Thanos, by the way,” he grinned, handing your drink over to you. It didn’t go amiss the way his fingers grazed yours, sending sparks through your body.

“Thanos?” You snickered. “Really?”

“Yeah. You don’t know me?”

“Should I?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you remember who I am by the end of the night.”

Usually, a comment like that would be an immediate turn off but there was something about this man that intrigued you. There was no doubt he was trouble but you were drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. When was the last time you’d ever felt like that? It had to have been years so a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt. The attention was nice, needed even. Being cheated on had made you feel insecure, like you weren’t enough but here was this handsome guy showering you with the attention that you sorely craved. It didn’t have to mean anything and it wouldn’t. He didn’t seem like the relationship type of guy anyway.

As the night wore on, you got to know him more. He was a rapper – he’d come second on some underground rapping show which you had to admit was pretty impressive. He’d told you about his home life, how his dad was a piece of shit, how much he loved his mom but he was constantly letting her down. You felt for him, you really did. As chaotic as he seemed, deep down he was an okay guy. He seemed to care, he just didn’t like to show it. When you’d told him about your partner, he’d offered to go and beat them up. That had made you laugh. This stranger that you barely knew wanted to fight for your honour, it was enough to make you almost forget how shit you felt.

It was three drinks in when you asked the question that you never thought you’d be asking someone ever again. As you placed your glass back down on the bar, you turned to Thanos, biting your lower lip as seductively as you could, hoping that he’d get the message. “Do you want to get out of here?”

His eyes lit up instantly. “Fuck yeah, I do. My place is just around the corner.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Thanos grabbed your hand, leading you out of the club, the music growing distant as you entered the streets of Seoul. This wasn’t usually your thing. Never had you really had a one night stand but for one night you just wanted to feel wanted. You wanted to feel like you mattered just for a few hours.

The second you entered his front door, he wasted no time in pushing you up against the wall, his lips on yours in a frenzied kiss. There was nothing gentle about it, his hands grabbing at any part of your body he could get to. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and off his head. He followed suit, pulling yours off your body. Then, he was diving back in, his tongue tangling with yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he mumbled against yours lips. His hand had now dove inside the shorts you were wearing, fingers sliding along the fabric your panties. It was almost embarrassing how wet you already were but, honestly, you didn’t care. It had been too long.

“Shutup,” you rolled your eyes, your fingers tugging at his hair. “Stop wasting time and fuck me already.”

“Sassy, huh? I’d watch that mouth of yours, Senorita.”

“Or what?”

He smirked at you, pushing your panties to the side and sliding a finger inside you without warning. You groaned at the relief, throwing your head back against the wall as he began to pump his finger in and out of you at speed. He added a second one, his free hand holding your hips which were trying to buck wildly into his hand. “Not so sassy now.”

“Fuck,” you whined. “Oh god, I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? I know I’m good but damn, babe.”

“Oh my God, shutup.”

He curled his fingers, biting down on your neck to leave a mark. He didn’t let up, his fingers pumping into you with expertise. God, he really did know what he was doing. When you’d first laid eyes on him at the bar, you had noticed how nice his hands were and now those long, slender fingers were bringing you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. You felt that familiar feeling pooling, your body tensing signalling that your orgasm was fast approaching just like you’d said. As you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers from you with a shit eating grin.

“See, that’s what happens when you talk back to me,” he clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. He made a show of bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking your juices from his fingers. “Mhm, you taste so good.”

“Thanos.”

“Yeah, Senorita?”

“Come on.”

“I don’t know. You’ve been a sassy little shit. Maybe you should beg for it.” He grabbed your thighs, signalling for you to jump which you did immediately. He carried you to his bedroom. It wasn’t much, pretty bland, actually. A double bed, clothes laid around the place and a few posters here and there. For someone who said he was a rapper, you’d assumed he’d have a big place but this was… small. Maybe he wasn’t all he’d made himself out to be. Not that you cared; after tonight, you’d never see him again.

He threw you down on the bed, laying beside you and pulling you on top of him so you were straddling his lap. “Go on, Senorita, beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you like you want me to and maybe I’ll be kind and give you what you’re craving.”

The urge to roll your eyes was strong but you didn’t, knowing you had to play along to get what you wanted. So, you rolled your hips against his, the friction of his jeans against your panties good but not enough. You could feel him beneath you, hard and ready. It must be killing him to hold back like this. “Thanos, baby, please. Fuck me. I need it so bad. I need you inside me, please.

“That’s a good girl. Not so hard now, was it?” He lifted you off him for a second to pull down his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang up, hard and leaking at the tip. “Go on then. Sit on my dick since you’re so desperate.”

Pushing your panties to the side, you hovered over his cock, gripping him at the base to hold him steady. You positioned him at your entrance, beginning to sink down. The second you felt the tip of his cock breach your entrance, you moaned. He was big, bigger than your ex, that was for damn sure. Once he was fully inside you, he grabbed at your hips, his fingers digging into your skin hard. He hissed, fighting the urge to thrust up into you but before he could, you lifted your hips and slammed back down.

There was nothing gentle about it as you began to bounce on his cock, hard and fast. He slipped out a few times, Thanos having to push himself back inside you. “Fucking hell, princess. You’re so desperate.”

“You’re so deep,” you whined, eyes closing as you focused on the pleasure consuming your entire body. “You feel so good.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have more so he began to thrust up into you, the sound of your skin smacking together sounding out through the small room. “Yeah, take it, you desperate little thing.”

Holy shit, was this what you’d been missing out on all these years being stuck with your partner? Compared to this, your sex life had been completely boring. The words spilling from Thanos’ mouth were the biggest turn on, the rough way he was grabbing you, giving you exactly what you needed – it was like nothing you’d ever had before.

His hand slid up to your neck, applying a little pressure. Your hips began to falter but that didn’t matter, Thanos was taking the lead now, pounding up into you like a man possessed. The grunts and moans coming from him were making you dizzy… or maybe that was the way he was hammering into you like nobody ever had before. You were definitely going to be sore in the morning but it was so worth it. 

“I’m so fuckin’ close, Senorita. Where do you want it?” He grunted.

“Inside me. Please.” You could barely form words at this point, too consumed by the intense feeling of your orgasm nearing. You could feel yourself tightening around his pistoning cock, your hands scrambling for purchase for something to hold on to.

“Dirty girl,” he panted, his fingers around your throat tightening a little. It was one more thrust up into you that triggered both your orgasms. You cried out his name, his hand on your hip holding you still as he emptied himself deep inside you.

As the waves of your release subsided, you collapsed on top of him, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath back. Silence filled the room, only your heavy breaths filling the space. When your brain finally came back to you, you climbed off him, getting to your feet. You scrambled around to find your shirt, Thanos laying on the bed, vape in his hand as he watched you. “Leaving already?”

“Yep,” you said as you pulled on your shirt. “Got a call to make but this was great. See you around, Thanos.”

Before he could even say anything, you were out of the door, your phone in your hand. As you stepped out onto the street, you pulled the card from the pocket of your skirt (a genius invention, if you had to say so) and dialled the number.

That was it. Your fate was sealed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gunshots sounded out, ringing through your ears. You had to fight the urge to run for safety but you knew the second you moved, you’d meet your end. So, you stayed still. You were so close to the finish line, just one more sprint and you’d be there. The doll began to sing again and you ran as fast as you could. The second your foot stepped over the white line, you felt like you could breath again. Your heart was pounding in your chest, harder than it ever had. Fear gripped you like never before. What the hell was this place? Why had you made that stupid call? You weren’t this desperate for money.

As you hunched over, bile rising in your stomach, you took a deep breath in. Guns were still firing but you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t turn around and see all the death and destruction, it would make you spiral and that wasn’t something you could afford right now.

“Senorita!” A familiar voice called out. You stood up, looking to see where it came from but you were engulfed in a hug before you could even register what was happening. You recognised the cologne, the glimpse of purple hair giving away exactly who it was.

“Thanos?!” You asked, shocked.

He pulled back only briefly to look at you but as he did, you noticed the glazed over look in his eyes, the stupid grin on his face. Only a psychopath would be smiling in a situation like this or someone that was on something. Of course he was. “Fancy seeing you here. This must be fate.”

“Or punishment.”

He shushed you, grabbing your face in his hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. And, maybe later we can have a little repeat of last night.”

“How can you even think of that when people are dying?”

“It’s all I can think about.”

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re stuck with me so stick by my side and I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” he said fiercely.

As under the influence as he was, there was something about the intense way he was looking at you and the way he’d said those words that made you believe him. If you had to be in this nightmare, at least you had someone on your side and you had a feeling Thanos would be a good ally to have in a place like this.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @str8t2video @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib

[spearofheaven]

GOOD MORNING .ᐟ — nanami kento

SUM. your morning with nanami gets interrupted :(

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem reader. 1k words. fluff, suggestive themes (nothing too crazy), and gojo’s a warning of his own.

Mornings such as this one were ones you found yourself cherishing as the months went by—as you started to realize that one day, the man that you cared about may not come in through the door with a tired smile on his face. Mornings where it wasn't an onslaught of alarms waking either one of you, where you'd barely get in an exchange of something in semblance of a 'good morning.'

But rather, where the two of you were woken up by the early morning sun shining through sheer white curtains and the sound of the birds chirping outside. You comfortably laying in his arms with just one of his old button downs while he wore a simple pair of grey sweatpants on. Where your bodies were so intertwined in the white silk sheets that you weren't sure where his started and yours ended.

"Good morning, darling," Kento's pointer finger drew small circles on your back, his other arm wrapped around your waist. From just the sound of his voice, you knew that he planned on keeping you in bed as long as he possibly could. Because every moment short of an eternity with you wasn't nearly enough to satiate him.

"Good morning," you answered back, albeit a bit groggily. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to get yourself to function a bit better—inevitably failing at the task when you snuggled up to Kento's side. Nanami's lips went down to your exposed shoulder where the shirt was slowly starting to slide off, planting a gentle kiss before moving closer and closer to your neck. The ghost of his stubble barely grazing against your skin when he did.

"So I was thinking.. I found this recipe for crème brûlée if you want to try it out later," Nanami uttered, sliding in between your legs after your neck was successfully peppered in his kisses. He wasted no time in moving onto your thighs, his lips attaching themselves to whatever piece of flesh that he had the nearest. "Mhm?" You were half paying attention to his words, more distracted in the way that his mouth deliberately moved closer to your underwear before moving away.

"And we can just spend our breakfast in bed," you ran your fingers across his 'disheveled' hair, a small hum escaping from your lips as you pretended to mull over the option. As if weren't a simple yes. "I suppose we could do that. If you're willing to prove why it's a good idea," you retorted, a small gasp escaping from your lips when you felt him gently bite down onto your inner thigh—hard enough to leave you with a hickey on there for days.

And Nanami hadn't even managed to hook his finger into the waistband of your panties when a knock at the door distracted the two of you. "You think if we ignore them, they'll go away?" He buried his head into your stomach, making no move to stand up just yet. Or at least, he wouldn't have if it weren't for the knocks at the door growing more and more intense. Clearly they had no intention of going away.

And Kento almost seemed reluctant to stand up from the comfort of the plush bed, letting out a small groan when he did. "I'll get it, just stay here," he pressed his lips against your forehead before grabbing a white t-shirt from his dresser and sliding it over his body. Effectively covering the little bites that covered his collarbones and the trace of your nails on his back. Only when he was somewhat decent is that he opened the door.

And while Nanami wasn't expecting anyone at the door—he would've welcomed anyone that wasn't Gojo at the moment.

Because while Nanami might've been able to hide the hickeys that littered his chest and collarbones, he was unable to hide your presence from the apartment. The beige coat that hung next to his own, the pair of heels that you'd worn when you'd come over last night next to his dress shoes, and the scent of your sweet perfume lingering on the air.

"What can I help you with?" Nanami already sounded agitated with the conversation, feeling a headache starting to form with every second he was forced to endure with the man.

"You finally got yourself laid? Lemme guess, you paid someone? Or you got yourself a dating app?" Gojo didn't even bother with the same formalities as Nanami had done—immediately jumping onto making assumptions about the feminine presence of the room.

"No. I did not get myself an escort, not that there's anything wrong with it," And Nanami was determined to leave it at just that. He figured it was already enough for Gojo to know where he lived.

"Oh come on, Nanamiiii. Give me something to work with," Gojo had a ridiculous pout on his face as he begged, surely giving him puppy eyes under the stupid ass blindfold.

"Was it one of those door to door salesmen?" And before Gojo even got the chance to make any more comments, you waltzed out of the bedroom in the same clothes that you'd gone to sleep in.

Nanami didn't even have to turn around to know that Gojo was giving him a shit-eating grin, opening the door and letting himself into the apartment like he owned the place. At least the white haired bastard had the decency to take off his shoes off. "Nanami's been keeping you hidden, I'm Gojo," he extended a hand out to you, his fingers freakishly long.

"He's mentioned you before," you responded, giving him your name before shaking his hand. Offering what you hoped was a polite smile—hoping you didn't look too exhausted in your state. Leaving out the part where half the time that Kento did mention him—it was usually to complain about what a pain in the ass he'd been at work.

"Only good things I'd hope," Gojo responded, sitting down on the expensive leather couch against the wall and placing his feet up on the coffee table.

"Absolutely n—"

And before Kento had the chance to finish his sentence, you'd taken it on yourself to salvage the situation, "Absolutely, only good things."

"Well, I like you. If we're lucky, our little breakfast might become our lunch!" Because spending nearly every day having to look at him just wasn't enough. Just exactly how Nanami had planned to spend his morning.

[ovaryacted]

I love the concept of Girl Dad!Pope. I feel like he would take play time really seriously. Fully invested in the tea party, or bringing stuffed animals to his daughter’s “vet clinic.” He buys her so many toys, books, etc. and probably stays up late after she’s gone to bed to organize them 😂

─ Girl Dad! Pope Cody x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: FLUFF. Pope is a good dad! Daughter at different ages (months old to 4 years old). Daughter is unnamed. Daughter has Pope's hair, freckles, & eyes (carbon copy). Reader & Pope are in an established relationship.

Thank you for sending this in for a blurb idea, anon! This initially started as something silly and playful and it got real emotional towards the end, my eyes got watery reading it through lol. I hope you all like this little piece on Girl Dad! Pope cause talking about him means a lot to me. <3

It started with the whale plushie he got his daughter when she was just a couple of months old, spotting it in the toy section on a shopping trip, grabbing it along the way. As she got older over her first year of life, Pope carefully watches over her for things she might be interested in, to try to figure out what are the things that bring her joy, not including her own parents.

She was fond of sea animals, he soon figures out, and whether intentionally or unintentionally, Pope ransacks an entire toy store with all of the sea creature toys he could find. He doesn't overdo it of course, he leaves some things behind for customers for the next day, that's as considerate as he was going to get anyway. But when you walk into your daughter's bedroom and spot the wide selection of sharks, turtles, and jellyfish laying around the floor, you only squint at Pope.

"Andrew...where on Earth did these come from?"

"That toy store along the strip." He says it so calmly with a shrug, currently categorizing the plushies in order of importance based on how much his daughter smiled after he showed them to her one by one.

"Andy, she's not even a year old yet, you know?"

As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, your daughter's head pops up from her crib, her hands keeping her steady on the railing, staring between the two of you in curiosity.

"At least now we're prepared. Nothing wrong with that." He hides his smile, not an ounce of remorse or guilt on his face, not that he had anything to feel guilty about.

You don't argue with him, there's nothing to argue about. You simply plant a kiss on his cheek and reach to hold your baby girl for a little while, who was more than excited about all of the new joyful faces in her bedroom.

As she gets older, Pope's spending habits don't really stop. Well, he doesn't really "spend" money necessarily, you just end up finding new things around the house that you knew are because of him.

A new doll house. A kitchen playset. A mini doctor's set. A mini pink electric lamborghini.

You never got angry about him doing this, about spoiling your little girl because you know it's more than him just getting her things. Whatever she wants, it's a yes from him, when most of his life he was so used to being told no. No, you're not enough. No, you're not wanted. He's remedying his troubled past through his daughter, so you let him fill your house with toys that your child is more than happy to use on a daily basis.

Andrew becomes even more dedicated to his daughter's playtime once she knights him as an active participant.

You've caught him a handful of times sitting at her too-small tea table, thick fingers holding a plastic cup as delicately as he could. His broad figure looked utterly squished in the small chair he managed to fit the rest of his body into, and you'd laugh if you didn't know how much this meant to him. He wasn't the only one sitting at the table, several of your daughter's plushies that she's collected over the years make up her party of elite guests. Leaning against the doorway, you simply watch the two of them interact, how your daughter refills all of her patron's cups, and hands her father a plastic muffin for him to munch on.

"Having fun without me?" You question out loud, mirroring your daughter's smile when she stands up to run towards you.

"Mommy! Me and daddy are playing!" She says to the best of her ability, her fourth birthday just creeping around the corner. You run a hand through her auburn curls, straightening the tiara on her head and the superhero cape trailing behind her.

"I can see that, baby. Is daddy being a nice guest?"

"Yes. He's eating the muffin. Look!" She turns her head to point at Andrew, and you bite your inner cheek to suppress your chuckle.

He pays you no mind, fake-munching his muffin and humming in satisfaction at the taste. His face was as serious as ever, wearing the same signature scowl he fell in love with, but you could tell from the way his shoulders slouched he was calm, relaxed, safe.

"Do you want tea too, Mommy?" You hear your daughter ask, holding one of your hands and pulling you further into her mess of a room. You knew Andrew will have a fun time cleaning all of this up.

"The tea's good." Pope says in the light monotone voice you were familiar with, drinking in his hazel eyes as he fondly stares at you. "You should join us for the party." He holds out his big hand for you to take, and you gladly did, giving him an upwards quirk of your lips.

"Alright, alright. I'll stay for some tea. Where do I sit?"

Your favorite things to witness must be Pope being so devoted to your baby girl’s bedtime routine. It always started with a bath, one he was a part of since his daughter was young enough to be near running water. He made sure to use the bubble bath mixture that instantly calmed his daughter down, a mix of lavender and oatmeal filling the tiled room. He ignores the ache in his knees digging into the tile below him as he splashes water over his daughter’s head, wiping the water away from her hazel eyes, dryly chuckling when she dunks her rubber duck under the bubbles that surround her.

Drying her down, moisturizing her skin, and dressing her in some light green pajamas, he brings her to her toddler bed, setting her down and drawing back the sheets to let her get comfortable before tucking her in. Pope grabs one of the books in her expansive bookshelf, picking up Goodnight Moon, her personal favorite, and he sits on the opposite end of her small bed, mindful of the weight he puts against the frame.

His daughter stares at him as he repeats the words on the page, one open palm holding the book open while the other rubs her feet, squeezing here and there so she feels his presence. Pope’s calm words swirl in the four walls of her bedroom, keeping an even cadence after every passage.

Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere.

It doesn’t take long for his daughter to fall fast asleep, her breaths slow as she falls deep into slumber. Pope takes a second longer to just look at her, to take in the way freckles were already appearing over her round cheeks and the bridge of her nose, the dark red curls he had as a child now coiling over her head in wild patterns.

She was so much like him, and yet different in every sense of the word. A part of him, a part of you; all of the intricacies that made you as humans mixed together in one final act of love to breathe new life to the world, birthing a new reality he never thought he could have.

Andrew stands up with a shaky breath, bending down to quickly plant a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, turning off the lights after double checking the baby monitor and nightlight were still on. He closes the door to her bedroom with a soft click, striding into your bedroom where you were waiting for him dressed in one of his baggy t-shirts and sleep shorts.

“She’s asleep?” You ask him, to which he nods. You don’t jerk away when he comes towards you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, resting his head along the side of your neck and simply breathing you in.

Your hands rub over his shoulders, kissing his temple and breathing with him, whispering those three words over and over again for as long as he needed to hear them. He’ll never fully declare the amount of gratitude he has towards you for loving him this way, for giving him a family that wants him, for saving him.

But you knew Andrew, as much as you knew Pope; you knew him. He didn’t need to tell you how much he loved you, you see it every day with how he worships you, and how he pours so much of himself in the child you created like that was all he knew, what he was born to do. You wouldn’t trade him or this life for anything, and holding him like this as he listens to your pulse flutter underneath him is all the declaration of love you needed.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[oaksgrove]

hi love! I hope you're doing alright ♡

im here to request a tiny, little angsty piece. I can picture John being so, so tired from work that he just can't stand being touched, but his beloved needs it so badly, so they go for it (holding his hand) —don't get them wrong, they always ask! but they also had a bad day. John snaps, accidentally smacking their hand away.

little angst, with John comforting withdrawn neurodivergent reader after he accidentally snaps at them, which turns into them comforting each other because "you're tired - no, you are tired", until John moves to seek their touch himself

Tired.

Pairing: John Price x Neurodivergent!Reader

Synopsis: Some days are too much. Too loud, too bright, too sharp. When the world presses in, you don’t need grand gestures. You just need John to understand.

Warning: Sensory overload, brief miscommunication/startled response, hurt/comfort, soft reconciliation

The kettle was screaming again.

High-pitched. Piercing. It had only just started, but it dragged across your nerves like nails on glass. You stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, jumper sleeves stretched down past your hands and gripped tight in your fists.

It was just a kettle.

But it wasn’t.

The hallway light was flickering again, same as yesterday, the bulb stuttering in the corner of your vision. The drawer next to the stove was open again—your carefully organized cutlery now out of order, one large spoon stuffed awkwardly into the teaspoon slot like a mistake you couldn’t fix. And the boots—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

John’s heavy steps across the kitchen floor, back and forth, back and forth like a pacing bear in a too-small cage. He was muttering again, voice low but rough with frustration.

“Fucking brass—changing the op schedule last minute—bloody nightmare—”

You winced.

You weren’t scared of him. Never had been. But the noise, the pressure, the weight of it all pressing down around your shoulders—it was too much today. Too loud. Too bright. Too off.

You didn’t even realize you’d whispered his name until his voice cut through the air, sharp and fast.

“What?” he snapped, turning with a furrowed brow, hand half-raised in mid-gesture.

It wasn’t loud. Not really.

But it cracked something in you.

Your whole body stiffened. Like a rubber band stretched too thin. Your shoulders drew up high and your chin tucked down, sleeves clenched in your fists, throat closing up.

John stopped.

Instantly.

His face changed—brows falling, mouth parting with regret blooming like a bruise behind his eyes.

“Shit—no, love—wait—” he stepped toward you quickly, one hand out, then hesitated, hovering like he didn’t want to crowd you. “I didn’t mean that. Christ, I’m sorry.”

You said nothing. You looked down.

And that was somehow worse.

“I was just—” he started again, then cut himself off with a frustrated sound, softer this time. “Fuck, I was bein’ a right bastard.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said.

You tried to breathe. The room felt too big and too tight all at once. The kettle shrieked one last time before clicking off. Still too late.

“I didn’t mean to be in your way,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—everything’s loud today. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

John stared at you. His mouth twitched like he was about to argue—but then he caught himself. He crouched a little in front of you instead, like he was trying to shrink himself. His voice lowered.

“You’re not makin’ it worse. I am,” he admitted. “I know when I get like this—loud, angry—I make things heavier. And you’re carryin’ too much as it is.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Just tried to unknot your fingers from your sleeves.

“I don’t always have the words,” you said finally, voice thin. “Some days I just… can’t talk properly. Or explain why everything feels so sharp.”

John’s gaze dropped to your hands, your tight shoulders, the way you were trying so hard to regulate even as your body rebelled against the room.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Not to me.”

You looked at him. A flicker of disbelief passed across your face.

“I’m not good at being…” you trailed off. “Easy. Or quiet. Or normal.”

John’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“I didn’t marry you because I wanted normal,” he said. “I married you because you feel like home.”

A beat of silence. The flickering light still buzzed. But it felt dimmer now—like the world had shifted, just slightly, around him.

“You’re tired,” you said softly. “You’ve been pacing since you got back.”

His mouth tugged into a wry smile. “No, you’re tired.”

You blinked. “Okay. We’re both tired.”

He huffed a warm, half-laugh. Then—very carefully—he leaned his forehead against your chest. Not heavy, just enough for you to feel the quiet weight of him.

“You always let me come back,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I act like a grumpy sod.”

Your hand came up without thinking. Just resting gently in his hair. Fingers threading through the soft, short strands at his crown.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Even when you’re a grumpy sod.”

He exhaled. His arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he murmured. “Sorry for making today harder.”

“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

You held each other for a long while—standing in the middle of the kitchen, kettle off, boots stilled, lights flickering quietly above. Nothing had changed. But everything had softened.

And when John eventually pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead, he didn’t say anything more.

He just reached over, finally closed the drawer the proper way, and turned off the light.

“C’mon, love,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll make you tea.”

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear @anonymouse1807 @twoandahalfdimes

[akeaaan]

A Voice Across Times 1 |

Jinu X Fem.Reader

Synopsis:

╰┈➤ In a world where demons hide behind charm and shadow, and hunters cloak their pain in rhythm and steel, a voice—forgotten by history—rises once more. You're a fresh graduate trying to survive Seoul's chaos, drawn to music for reasons you can't explain. When you're unexpectedly chosen as the fourth member of an elite demon-hunting team, your quiet life unravels into one laced with monsters, secrets, and echoes of a past that doesn't seem to belong to you. And then there's him. Jinu—mysterious, distant, and impossibly familiar—stares at you like he's seen a ghost. But ghosts don’t bleed. Ghosts don’t weep. And ghosts don’t remember love. Some voices don’t fade with time. Some betrayals don’t stay buried. And some souls are meant to meet again… even if it means breaking the world to do so.

1 | A new begining

Joseon Dynasty 

Jinu winced as he sat up, one hand clutching his ribs. Pain pulsed through him in waves—dull, deep, and angry. His breath came out ragged as he blinked away the stars in his vision.

Across from him, the woman stood stiffly, eyes fixed on the shattered pieces of the bipa lying between them. Her fingers massaged her temple with a slow, frustrated rhythm.

"Sshibal..." she muttered under her breath.

Jinu froze mid-groan, his head snapping toward her. Had she just... cursed at him?

He blinked, stunned. "Did you just...?"

Her eyes met his, unbothered. He swallowed the rest of his question and slowly pushed himself up to his feet, favoring one side.

"You..." he began, voice soft and tentative, "are you okay?"

She paused, then gave a short nod. "Yeah."

An awkward silence settled between them, heavy as the still air after a storm. He didn't know what to say—he never did, especially not to women like her. Strong. Unapologetic. Fire in her tone.

"I was handling it," she said at last, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Jinu tilted his head. "You were being harassed. I wasn't going to stand there and let them treat you like that."

"And now look at you." She crossed her arms. "You got yourself beaten half to death."

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, his gaze flickered to her hair—a small leaf had gotten caught in the strands during the scuffle. Without thinking, his fingers reached up to brush it away.

Smack!

He yelped, recoiling as she swatted his hand away. Her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes trailing over him like she was assessing some broken artifact.

"Tch." She shook her head, almost disapprovingly, before stepping past him.

Jinu's eyes followed her for a moment, but they soon drifted down to the shattered bipa at his feet. His knees buckled slowly to the ground. His fingers trembled as they grazed the broken wood, splinters biting his skin.

It was ruined.

The bipa—his only possession, his only way to earn a few coins on street corners, to buy rice, to feed his mother and sister—was now just another casualty in this cruel world.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Behind him, her footsteps slowed. She stopped, back still turned to him, but he felt her eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked, voice quieter this time. Not cold. Not mocking. Just curious.

Jinu looked up, startled by the softness.

"Jinu," he answered.

She hummed—low, unreadable—and turned to face him fully. Her expression had shifted. No longer irritated, but... something else. Wariness, maybe. Or understanding.

"Y/N," she replied simply.

His breath caught. He hadn't even realized until now how much he'd wanted to know her name.

Y/N.

a/n: a little sneak peek to you all

AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD

[jbbuckybarnes]

Soulmate Subscription [LN4]

✨ Lando Norris x Reader (Y/N)

Author's note: Listen, the state of the world has become so ass that now after almost two years of not writing fanfic this 26yo is back at writing a bit to reduce stress. Don't expect me to be back fully because this unfortunately doesn't pay the bills (oh to be a nepo partner that can just do this on the side...i digress).

Warnings: Bro, I have never been to a GP, especially not as a VIP, so I have no clue how this shit works logistically. Reader is Lan's age because I said so, have fun being 25/26 y'all. Also zero proofreading and written past midnight. Formatting is bad because I posted from my phone...we run on vibes here the way Ferrari engineers do.

Prompt Used: Soulmate AU where you receive a monthly box containing clues to find your soulmate. (by @soulmate-au-bargain-bin) & "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you"

Since the day you turned 18 in 2017 you had gotten small things sent to you in the mail that hinted at your soulmate. Some people took the clues and figured out their soulmates pretty fast, others took well into their 50s because their soulmate had such an average and difficult to guess life. The problem with your boxes was that you could tell this soulmate had a very uncommon hobby, motorsports, but you couldn't pinpoint it much further.

You had gotten sketches of helmets, a rag with motor oil on it, a map of the Silverstone circuit in the UK, an F1 pass, a nameless boarding ticket for a flight to Las Vegas, a small container of hair gel and a black shirt. All of those things didn't narrow it down. You could tell the person was into racing, but if it was as a fan or a hobby driver themselves didn't quite get across. Anyone could go to a race somewhere and anyone could be into tuning their own car or driving karts every now and then. The small clues weren't of any help so far and at age 26 you wondered if your life was interesting enough to even get your soulmate any closer to your identity. You liked taking the occasional dance class and walks in nearby nature. A concert every couple months and writing personal essays also weren't very identifying.

This months package arrived at the expected time, but it was bigger this time. You took it to your bed and grabbed the way too oversized cutter knife. Inside the box was a blue and orange piece of cloth with a number four on it. It seems to have been cut out of something actually wearable but the material was thicker than a usual shirt or jacket. You looked at the striped orange design of the number and grabbed your phone to look up the couple racing series you were familiar with by now, Formula E, NASCAR, Indycar, WEC, MotoGP, F4, F3, F2, F1. Who has a number four? F1 – "Number 4, Lando Norris, driving for McLaren" you mumbled to yourself. So your soulmate must be a fan of him maybe. He looked cute, a little fuckboy-ish if you were honest.

You looked at the cut out of the cloth more closely and noticed something stuck to the back of it. A piece of paper with something bunched up behind it.

"One of these days it'll have to work. No clue if I can will into existence what the universe sends you, but I'll keep trying to get you to a race. Watch this arrive after the race..." you quietly read the semi-fucked up handwriting and grabbed what is stuck between the cloth and the note. A pass reading "All-Access VIP – Belgian GP in Spa-Francorchamps – Hosted by: McLaren F1 Team"

Your eyes went wide, "Holy..." You didn't know a lot about racing other than the basics but you knew these were probably worth thousands.

"Guess I'll have to figure out how to get to Belgium."

—

You were standing in the humid heat of the European summer. The denim jacket that you had sewn the #4 cloth to on the back was already tied around your hips because the heat was unbearable. How were people doing this three days in a row?

You finally entered the circuit, not a clue of where to go next, but you were sure you'd figure it out. After all, VIP means there aren't many places you couldn't go. And somehow asking someone in a VIP area for help felt less odd to you, there must be rich people here all the time that don't usually do this.

Orange and McLaren is all you knew to look out for. Not that you would mind accidentally ending up in Ferrari heaven, but at this point you had caught up a bit on the sport and knew they weren't doing as well this year as expected. You walked down a mini road full of people between the paddock and mini houses that the teams brought with them everywhere.

A stressed-looking man in blue and white team gear walked by you with a bit of an entourage. You knew that one from the algorithm playing out a video of his to you. Carlos something with S.

In the distance you could spot shiny orange on one side and a bustling entry to the garage on the other side. Like orange little worker bees. You knew the shiny home is most likely where you'd find some water aka what you were sweating out in buckets at that moment.

You dodged your way through media representatives and people making a thousand times what you make a day and finally made your way in and beelined for a worker next to a barebones bar setup.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Just cold water, it's like walking through soup today."

"July races will do that to you." The person answered politely.

"At least there's some cooling in here." You took the cup with a small thanks.

"Almost too cold." You looked at the worker noticing them wearing a long sleeve. And they were right, five more minutes in there and you'd probably feel like you're in Antarctica. That electricity bill must be insane.

You drank the water and put your jacket back on.

"I don't know how people do this almost every week. I'd go insane from all the sensory inputs."

"You get used to it." They shrugged with a smile.

You heard the entrance to the motorhome become louder and a man entered with his racing overall half down. You knew that one, he was leading the championship right now. You weren't very keen on asking for pictures here, it's not like you were a big motorsports fan. He also just looked like he wanted his peace, so you focused back on staring holes into the walls of the McLaren home. You didn't notice the little lookover he gave you once he had walked past you.

Free Practice wasn't interesting you that much if you were honest. You'd watch the second one today but cars going fast were just cars going fast at the end of the day, you had two more days to see that. Plus finding your way to a place where you could watch was another mission.

"What do you mean it worked?" "Look." You heard two voices going back and forth behind you.

"I think I might throw up." "God, you're so dramatic." You looked towards the entrance but not behind you. You were nosy but not THAT nosy.

"Oh my god, how would I even introduce myself?" "Like you usually do?" "Os, this isn't fucking usual, not everyone magically went to school with their forever person the way you did." "If you don't talk to her, I will." "Oh hell nah, mate." "Well, I tried. Good look, Lan."

It got quiet around you, the two bickering voices had stopped, many people were already heading out to go watch FP2 in a bit, the worker had struck up a conversation with a rich-looking older lady.

A male figure appeared next to, "Nice jacket. I mean, hi. I mean...ugh, I won't even attempt to save that first impression." You giggled and looked up. Oh, the cute fuckboy-ish guy looking thrown off was kinda adorable, you had to admit.

"Hi. Lando, right?" He gave a small nod.

"Can I ask where'd you get it from,..." "Y/N" "Y/N" He said it very carefully as if he would need to remember it.

"I don't know, just kind of arrived one day." "Like a certain box that arrives every month?" "Maybe..."

He eyed you more intently, "That's from a race suite in my first season of F1. I figured I'd try to attach something to it and lose it on purpose."

You blinked at him trying to process, "HUH?"

"I'll need a little more input than that." He gave a boyish little grin but looked unsure.

"I just thought my soulmate would be a big fan of yours or working for you or something." He shrugged innocently.

"Oh boy." You exhaled, making him raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, are you expecting me to process that immediately surrounded by that much sensory input?" He chuckled and shook his head, "My bad, I should've expected absolute confusion."

There was a short silence, "I assume you're not much of a motorsports fan?"

"Eh...it's not my first choice, but some of the faces are hard to dodge in advertising." He gave a wide grin to you.

He looked down at his watch, "10 more minutes of being allowed to dodge my responsibilities. You wanna talk...uh, elsewhere." You nodded.

You weren't really expecting to be dragged into a tiny room while Oscar gave you a look that read as "He's always this idiotic."

"Well, uh, this is cozy..." You stood there, a bit too close to him.

"Yeah, they don't really make big drivers rooms." His hand went through his curly hair.

"At least it's more quiet." You exhaled at the relaxation level your nervous system reached.

"You need ear plugs for the weekend?" He grabbed a round little plastic casing and handed it to you.

"Uh, thanks." "If you needed it I'd literally give you what I'm wearing right now if I wasn't legally required to wear it." He chuckled.

You blinked at him again, processing.

"Sorry, that was a bit over the top. But I meant it as in 'I'd give my soulmate anything', you know?"

You nodded, still processing.

"Am I making this awkward or are you just overwhelmed?" He asked half concerned, half to lighten up the tension.

You exhaled, "Both."

"I'm not the best with first impressions I've heard." He admitted.

"No no, I think it's cute." Now both of you were flustered.

"I always expected there to be this ideal way I'd meet my soulmate. You know that moment some people talk about." "Oh, like the, we don't need to know each other, we'll kiss first and talk second kinda stories." You both giggled.

"I mean..." He looked at you clearly jokingly flirty.

"You excude too much fuckboy energy for that to ever have been a possibility." You laughed.

He feigned offense but instantly stopped and said, "Yeah no, I can see it, my PR people were working hard on that one."

"Oh, I have not seen any PR surrounding you, that's literally just your energy." "Okay NOW I'm offended, wow!"

You both broke into laughter.

"If I win this Sunday, will you change your mind?" He looked like he liked to play with fire.

"Things only a fuckboy would ask." "Well, would you?" "Are we still talking about a kiss or me not calling out your fuckboy energy?"

He caged you in a little, not in an overbearing way, you could easily leave.

"Bit of both." A short silence, "Blushing, are we?"

"Shut up." You mumbled looking away and he chuckled.

"I'll just assume that's a yes?" You met his gaze, "Yeah."

He looked at his wrist next to your head, "Well, gorgeous, wanna watch FP2 from the coolest place of all?"

"You're assuming that wouldn't be my couch for me." He laughed at that.

"I mean I guess that's nicer than in the garage with my headset on." He eyed you, "But that wouldn't be very future wife of you."

You hid your face behind your hands, "Stop it!"

"I'll think about it, darling." He grabbed one of your hands and opened the door of the drivers room again.

His hand switched to the small of your back, guiding you through way too many people to the garage and all the shebang in there.

"Lando!" Someone in the garage called out. "Gimme one second!" His face was focused putting his headphones on you, then he gave you a self-satisfied smile, "See you in a bit, Y/N."

You had to admit, a man in a race suit wasn't the worst person you could've gotten as a soulmate. You definitely didn't mind looking at him. Or his driving.

Or the way he still looked good while sweaty after the helmet came back off after the hour of free practice.

"Is it legal to still look good when sweaty?" You joked as he walked towards you.

"I don't know, you tell me." He brushed over your forehead with the towel he was holding.

"Didn't even give me the opportunity to be offended." He grinned self-satisfied at that.

"I should probably get you some team gear so you won't die out here tomorrow." He said more to himself than your while taking the headphones from you again.

"Ew, orange." "You could also wear my shirts." He shrugged and smirked as he watched you processing yet again.

You were dragged back to the driver's room, "I like the way your brain just short circuits when I flirt with you."

"You just wait until I feel comfortable enough to throw that back at you." You pretended to be offended as the door shut behind you.

"Looking forward to it." He winked at you before taking off his fireproofs. Act normal, act normal, act normal.

He put on a shirt before his hands went to the rest of his overalls...you turned around, this man was insane, unhinged, crazy.

"You can look again." He looked at you a bit sorry when you turned around again, but only a bit.

"You're unhinged." He giggled because you were right.

"You like it." "...unfortunately."

He caged you in again, "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you right now."

"Dunno, it's giving kiss first, talk second soulmate stories." You teased, but put your arms around his neck.

"I still can't believe that deliberately losing something worked." You could feel his breath on you lips.

"Still can't believe my soulmate is a dumbass driving 300kph." You both giggled before closing the distance.

You didn't expect him to be so...soft and featherlight.

"I have a feeling I'll be in trouble if I don't win this week." You gave him a challenging smirk in response.

"I'd date you either way, but I'd say it's a bonus." "I feel like your existence in my life now is already a bonus."

"You're so corny." You laughed at him.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry?" He held his hands up.

"Don't be. I like it." Soft smiles were interchanged.

"Wanna sneak off and order food?" "As long as an AC is involved." He laughed and grabbed you, expertly sneaking you out of the circuit, into his hotel and spent all evening explaining his life to you between slices of pizza.

[dxmurewrites]

Light in the Dark

Part One of a two shot I'm making for Paddy! No actual smut in this one, I wanted to write something that could be read as a standalone + with a part two containing the smut.

pairing: Paddy Mayne x Fem!Nurse!Reader

summary: Seeing you in his clothes made Paddy feel absolutely feral, and he hated himself for it.

word count: 3010 words.

unedited: it's 2am again ... I cannot be bothered.

warnings: language, mentions of war, blood, wounds, medical language, reader has hair (my bad, we washing our hair in this), sexual tension, impure thoughts, mutual bullying, mutual attraction despite denying it, borderline possessive behaviour, nsfw themes but no actual smut!

let me know what you think! I love feedback! Unless it's mean, then that's stink energy... like, comment, reblog, mwah.

———————

“You smell like shite."

"Hello to you too Paddy," You chuckle, writing in your journal. You hadn't looked up to the Lieutenant as he entered your tent, keeping your head down as you continued writing in your stock inventory. "Are you well?"

"M'fine," He answers quickly, looking you over. His gaze lingered over your uniform, the small drip of sweat that dripped down your neck and beneath the fabric. Paddy clears his throat. "Here to take you to the showers."

Oh.

You hadn't even realised the time.

6pm on the dot.

Bathing was a luxury here, but being the only woman meant you couldn't shower at the same time as everyone else. Begrudgingly, Paddy has been tasked with supervising you as you bathed, albeit with his back turned.

He trusted his men, as did you, but it was apart of the terms to having you on site. You showered when the sun was coming down, and Paddy made sure there weren't any peeping toms trying their luck.

"Right, of course," Nodding, you quickly stand, packing your journal back into its place on your makeshift desk. He watches intently as you run around the infirmary, picking up pieces of clothing you had strung up to dry. "Let's go then." "Oh you're ready are ya?" Paddy quips, checking his pocket watch with a dramatic sigh. "No s'fine, I'll wait around for you to paint your nails next." Snorting, you barge past him, being sure to bump into his shoulder with your own with your clothes in hand. He grunts at the action, turning around to follow after you. "Keep being a bastard and I'll paint your nails next."

You didn't even have any nail polish, he knew that - but Paddy was sure to ridicule you every chance he got.

No one could explain what was going on between the two of you. Everyone knew there was something there, but Paddy was stubborn to all hell, and you, well, you just enjoyed keeping him on his toes.

His lips turned upward at your remark, but the lieutenant chooses not to reply, keeping a small distance between the two of you as he escorts you to the temporary bathrooms.

Within minutes you were stripped to nothing, hair out of it's tied back state and soaked by the cold water pouring from the shower head. The 'walls' were ripped blankets, the floor an old welcome mat from some long forgotten home.

Paddy stood with his back turned just a few metres away, his hands crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned around. No one would be dumb enough to even try anything, but he still took his little role seriously. His mens safety was his priority, and that included you.

"Paddy," he hears you call, the water now switched off. "Could you pass me my towel please?"

He nods once in response, grabbing your bundle of clothes and your towel from beside him. Walking backwards, he keeps his eyes on the sand below him, walking until the sand turns into concrete, and he holds his arm out, waiting for you to grab your belongings.

Your small hand reaches out, soft fingers brushing against his calloused ones as you mumble a small thank you.

Paddy waits a little longer, hearing the rustling of clothes and the familiar sound of the shower 'door' being opened. He turns his head slightly, seeing you dressed in your night clothes, hand running through your wet hair with your towel as you give him a mock salute.

"All good here lieutenant," you say his title like a mockery amongst friends, but he didn't care. "As usual, my sincerest gratitude."

It was his turn to snort. "One of these days I won't have to babysit so you can wash your arse." He shakes his head, watching as you grin at his words.

"Can't argue there," You shrug, continuing to dry your hair and running your fingers to pull out any tangles. "But until then, my washed arse thanks you."

The Irishman just eyes you with humour in his eyes, and you nudge him with your elbow before excusing yourself, making your way back to your tent. His eyes follow your every step, and he clears his throat, nodding to himself before he returns to his own quarters.

It was only a couple hours later when it felt like hell had taken over. A mission had gone successful, but one of the Sergeants, Pat, had been quite injured. It was manageable for you, but it had been a hands on moment and a few of the others had to assist.

Pat lay in the infirmary, bandaged head to toe and completely out of it. You sat beside him, catching your breath as your arms rested on your thighs. Blood soaked your hands and arms, your pyjamas stained - there hadn't even been time to change when the boys brought him in.

They had yelled for you the moment they returned, carrying the unconscious and wounded man in like he was a limp doll. It had been tedious, even worrying at one point, but he was alive and would make a full recovery.

It didn't stop the shakes in your hands however, or the blood that dripped from your fingers to the ground below. You wiped at your face, mixing with the sweat that gathered across your forehead.

He's alive.

That's all that mattered.

"You alright?"

His voice startled you, your hunched over frame jolting at the sudden intrusion. Paddy holds his arms up, a small apology leaving his mouth at your jump.

You nodded, wiping your cheek again, eyes squinting as you yawn. "Should be asking if Pat's alright," you say through your yawn, pointing towards the sleeping soldier next to you. "Which he is, time will decide the rest."

Paddy nods slowly, his lips tightening in a small frown as he thinks over your words. "Course he'll be good, he's got you looking' after him."

Your eyebrow raises at the compliment. It wasn't like the Irishman to say sweet things, maybe a jest mixed with a small praise, but never just flattery. A part of you wanted to comment on it, make fun of him and meet him at his usual level, but you decided against it.

"Thank you Paddy," you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear as you stood up, stretching out your legs. "Are you alright? No lumps or bumps you're not telling me about?"

His frown melted away as he shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Ye still trying to get me naked nurse?" there he is. "Ye little deviant."

"S'it working?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he steps towards you. The air felt different in the tent, dry, sure, the desert providing barely any relief, but you always felt heated when the lieutenant was near. Paddy's eyes roam over your frame, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes in the state of you.

"You need another wash," He remarks, nodding towards your blood stained skin and pyjamas. "I'll get Stirling to watch over Pat 'ere, want me to grab anything' for ye?"

It was your turn to frown, looking around the room. The only spare clothes you had were still drying on various pieces of furniture, and you groaned. "I don't have any night clothes left," you admitted, feeling almost childish for even complaining about it. "This was my last clean pair."

Paddy shrugs, thinking it a non issue. "Just head on out and leave it with me," as if sensing your reply, he gives you a stern look. "Just do it girl."

Holding your arms up in defeat, you follow his order, leaving the tent and into the night. Various soldiers stood around the site, all nodding at you in thanks, some saying your name in appreciation.

Their nods were met with a small smile, feeling a little ridiculous in your pyjamas and blood covered state.

It wasn't anything they weren't used to.

As far as they were concerned, you were a light in the dark that kept everyone safe. Just like Paddy. They were adamant the two of you were so similar in your own little, weird way.

You sat on a rock, staring off into the vast desert as you waited. It wasn't long until Paddy, true to his word, met you at the showers. He held some clothes in his hand, even a hairbrush.

The area was dimly lit by some lanterns, but it was just enough to see what was in front of you.

"Stirlin' thought you'd want to fix the mop on your head," He titled his chin into the direction of your head, and you rolled your eyes. "But 'ere, try these."

He hands the clothing over, and you didn't even have to ask, already knowing who they belonged too. "You okay parting with these?"

Paddy's eyes narrowed at your words. "How'd you know these are mine?" he exhales in amusement. "What if I pinched them from Reg?"

"Reg doesn't have clothes this clean," you retort, holding the clothes away from your body in an attempt to keep them clean. "Besides, they got a Paddy smell to them." "A Paddy smell," He repeats your words, rolling his eyes. "What, shite and sweat?"

"You don't smell like shit," Laughter leaves your lungs instantly, handing the clothes back to him as you begin to walk towards the shower. Paddy takes his position, back turned to the world as you begin to undress. "You smell okay, all things considered."

He hums at your response, taking it as a win. It was a luxury even having somewhere to bathe, so no one was expected to smell like flowers and oils.

With the blood washed from your body and coating the floor, you dried off before pulling on Paddy’s shirt, buttoning up the best you could.

By the time you were finished, you stood beside him once more, now time sporting one of his army fatigues. It covered everything that was needed, leaving your legs bare from the thighs down.

Was it appropriate?

Not really, but given the situation, no one was going to question it.

Paddy turns to look at you completely, his jaw tightening as he takes everything in. He inhales, quietly enough that he hoped you didn't notice.

You did.

He was anything but inconspicuous.

God, you were a vision. Even in the low light from the lanterns, you managed to steal his words and make the mouthy man feel mute. He thought you were breathtaking even when wearing the most mundane uniform, but seeing you in his clothes made him feel like the world around him was spinning.

Maybe he was concussed.

Clearing his throat, Paddy looks away, feeling almost guilty for his thoughts. You had just saved one of his men, lost another set of clothes to blood and had to shower in the cold of the night.

The sound of you brushing your hair filled his ears, and he cleared his throat again, trying to think of anything else. "Should uh - should get ye' out of the cold."

"It's actually quite nice," you admitted, finishing with your hair and tucking the hairbrush into one of Paddy's pockets, ignoring the way he eyed your movements like a hawk. "Bit overexposed though."

"Aye," he agrees, finally looking over your bare legs and swallowing. "One breeze and you're giving the boys a show."

You laugh loudly at his words, but he wasn't wrong, so you nodded, nudging him with your elbow. "Not wearing anything under this either, I think I'd make their whole year."

He closes his eyes at the revelation. It was meant as a joke, but knowing you were in fact bare beneath his clothes made his pants feel a little tighter, and he felt the heat in his stomach begin to bloom.

Your giggles sound like a siren's call, the sound becoming softer as you had already started your walk back to your tent, eager to send Stirling away and keep an eye on Pat.

By the time you made your way back into your tent, the once empty infirmary was now full of soldiers. It stopped you in your tracks, seeing familiar faces all laying on the beds, even Stirling asleep in yours.

"Am I missing something? Sleepover at mine?" You call out, bringing everyone's attention to the entrance of your makeshift home. "Didn't realise it was girls night."

A few laugh, someone even going as far to wolf whistle at you, noticing your new attire. "We thought we'd all stay in here for when Pat wakes up Miss." Jim, one of the sweeter giants in the bunch answers.

"Right," your voice trails off, eventually feeling Paddy's presence behind you. "And where am I meant to sleep?"

"Not in here," Paddy responds from behind, side stepping you and eyeing the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow. "Look at you lot, kickin' our own nurse out of her bed."

"Blame Stirling," someone calls out, bringing attention to the lieutenant in your bed. "We'll keep an eye on everything anyway, you can sleep in my bed Miss."

"Or mine!" Someone else shouts, and a few more offer their beds with an eagerness that made you laugh loudly.

"Enough of that," Paddy stands with his hands on his hips. "She's not staying' anywhere near you lot."

"I'll sleep in David's bed then," You shrug before nodding towards Pat, who still remained asleep. "Just keep an eye on his bandages, any fresh bleeding and you all come wake me up yeah?"

They murmur in agreements, some giving you a thumbs up before you give Paddy a nod, making your leave once again.

The infirmaries tent flaps close behind you, and you're about to make your way to Stirling's tent when a hand on your waist guides you elsewhere. His footsteps step in line with yours, and you can't help but roll your eyes playfully at the action.

It was obvious who it was. Only one person here would be confident enough to touch you this way. That, and you were being directed to another familiar tent, one that resided further away from everyone else's.

"Not joining the sleepover Paddy?" you mutter softly, smiling from ear to ear as he grunts in response.

"You're not sleepin' anywhere I can't keep an eye on you," He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. The Irishman leads you to his tent, holding the entrance open and escorting you inside. He nods towards his trundle, made and ready for a body. "I'm goin' for a wash, I won't be long."

"You don't want me to escort you?" It was a jest, and Paddy pushed you forwards towards his bed in response. "Don't want me to pretend I'm keeping my back turned and not taking little sneak peaks?"

"Watch it." He points his finger at you, saying your name in warning, but he doesn't deny it. He goes to say something else, his lips opening and closing a few times before he decides against it, instead just leaving in a rush.

It made you grin, and you did what he asked, climbing into his bed eagerly. His familiar scent coated the sheets, providing a comfort you weren't expecting.

Safety was a long forgotten feeling here, but with Paddy around, his very being provided a sanctuary you weren't expecting to find in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't long before he returned, apart of him hoping you'd be asleep when he arrived seeing as he hadn't brought any clothes with him. The two of you eyed each other, a silent stare down as he swallowed, standing in the entrance with a tattered towel around his waist, droplets of water still sliding down his bare chest.

"Shit," Immediately closing your eyes, you hold your hands up and over them in an extra effort to shield yourself from the lieutenant. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You hear him mutter, followed by some rustling around. He pulled on a loose pair of trousers, a white vest following suit. Standing beside the bed as he pulled his pants up, he can't help once again the way his eyes follow your feet up to your soft thighs.

You had laid over the blanket, wanting to wait for Paddy's return to discuss the actual sleeping arrangements.

Paddy's breathing comes out laboured, noticing the shirt you had borrowed from him had shifted further up as your arms moved when shielding your eyes. He looks to the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts, sending silent threats to himself at the impure images he started conjuring up.

"Paddy?" Your soft voice brings his attention back to Earth, and he clears his throat, mumbling a 'hm?' in reply.

Your eyes were open now, your hands bunching at the blanket below. Your cheeks felt hot, your lower stomach feeling no different as you stared up at the man before you.

He eyes you curiously, and you shamelessly looked down below his waist, attempting to bring his attention to the erection he had started to grow.

It was his turn to blush, and he immediately stuttered your name and an apology, turning around to conceal himself. Paddy nearly chokes when he feels your soft hands on his waist, your delicate fingers urging him to turn back around.

"I'm not uh, I'm," Paddy tries to apologise, noticing you shake your head. "Fuck."

"Paddy," You speak again, slowly this time, as if the very weight of his name on your tongue became a soft hymn. "Don't hide from me."

"M'not hiding," he attempted to argue, the words falling short as another sigh left his lips as you dragged your nails across his hips. He says your name again this time, half in warning, half in protest. "You're just playin' a very dangerous game here."

"So play with me then." Your voice sounded like warm honey, sweet despite the sinful desire that laced your words.

"Christ."

[xuchiya]

the bare minimum? || choi jongho || one-shot

| genre: fluff. slice of life. small tinge of angst. | mentions: no label yet but jongho is making it official soon.

word count: 3.9k

You tossed your phone onto the bed — harder than you intended — the dull thud swallowed by your pillows, but not enough to silence the frustration blooming in your chest. The group chat, once filled with light gossip and memes, had taken a sharp turn. It always did. One moment you were laughing about someone’s new haircut, and the next, it was unsolicited advice cloaked in concern.

"You don’t fall for someone because of their bare minimum."

The words stuck to your skin like sweat — irritating, impossible to ignore. You could still hear your friend’s voice, sharp and sure, echoing like an uninvited narrator in the background of your thoughts. Maybe they were right. Maybe they were just trying to protect you from another heartbreak, another almost-relationship with someone who gave just enough to keep you around.

You dropped onto your bed with a quiet thud, limbs heavy, head even heavier. The ceiling above you blurred slightly as your eyes stared past it, unfocused, as if hoping it might offer answers the world refused to give.

Your fist rested lightly on your chest — not clenched in anger, but curled in quiet hesitation, like your heart was trying to protect itself from breaking open again. You could still hear their voices. Friends who had seen you unravel before, who had picked you up when your heart had turned into a battlefield of “what ifs” and “should’ve known betters.”

"You always love too hard. You give too much."

Maybe they were right. Maybe you were walking straight into the same fire that burned you before. The memory of that past version of yourself — raw, fragile, sleepless — made your stomach twist. You didn’t want to go back to her. You weren’t sure you could survive her again.

You exhaled slowly, then turned your head to the side, not expecting much — just something to distract you from the chaos inside. That’s when you saw it.

A photo strip, slightly bent at the corner, tucked beneath the edge of your journal. Four small squares — moments frozen in time — each frame capturing pieces of something you didn’t quite have the courage to name yet.

It was from that afternoon at the mall. You’d passed by a photo booth and without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward it, “Come on,” you had grinned, heart racing. “We’ve got time for four clicks.”

The first was a blur — you both weren’t ready, caught mid-laugh. The second, he leaned in closer, eyes soft, almost too soft. The third, you were the one looking at him instead of the camera. And the fourth was the one that stuck. His hand resting over yours, your shoulders touching, your heads on top of each other as you both smile as the camera flashes, faces calm like the world could end and you wouldn’t notice.

You reached for the photo strip now, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. The quiet warmth of that moment crept into your chest like light seeping through cracks. Maybe you had loved too hard before but Choi Jongho made it feel different. He made things more soft. Safe and real.

And maybe — just maybe — this time, it wouldn’t end the same. 

Because Jongho

He was not the bare minimum. Jongho didn’t just show up. He stayed — in silence, in mess, in moments when it would’ve been easier to walk away. So no… maybe you shouldn’t fall for someone who only gives you crumbs.

But Jongho? He was the whole damn bakery.

Like that when it always starts with something small. Just small things. Quiet, almost forgettable to anyone else — but to you, they mean the world.

i

You’ve always been the one to fall asleep first. It wasn’t even a question anymore. Two hours before Jongho’s usual bedtime, your eyes would start to flutter shut mid-conversation, your words slow into sleepy mumbles before trailing off entirely. You’d curl up into your blanket like muscle memory, drifting off before the clock even struck midnight.

And Jongho never minded.

Not once.

While your breathing settled into a soft, rhythmic pattern across the call — or when he saw your "last seen" flicker away for the night — he’d simply plug in his charger, shift his weight on the bed, and settle into his own quiet time. Sometimes he worked on homework. Other times, he’d scroll endlessly through his phone — music playlists, dumb memes, chaotic group chats, random reels that made him laugh under his breath.

Then, like always, he'd come across something and think, "She'd like this." But he wouldn’t send the video right away. No. Jongho knew better than to let your phone buzz at 12:42 AM and risk waking you. He remembered the way you stirred the last time, half-conscious and confused, whispering “Huh? What’s going on?” with your hair a mess and voice thick with sleep when he came over to work on your project and you tend to take naps mid-way.

So instead, he did what he always did. He tapped ‘copy link’ then pasted it into messages. And added /silent before pressing send. Just a small detail. Just a tiny slash and a word most people would overlook. But it mattered — because you mattered. Because he cared enough to make sure your sleep stayed undisturbed. Because even when you weren’t awake to notice, he was still thinking of you.

Sometimes it would be three or four links in a row — a chaotic thread waiting for you like breadcrumbs in your inbox. Funny reels. A puppy wearing a costume. A scene from a show you once said you loved when you were twelve. No message. No “LOL” or “this reminded me of you.

Then you wake up, check Messenger first thing in the morning, scroll with tangled hair and bleary eyes, your thumb pausing on the softness of his words. And even before a smile reaches your lips, the warmth hits your chest. A whisper escapes. A soft, disbelieving question, like a prayer only meant for yourself.

A feature most people don’t bother with. But he does. Every single time.

Because he knows. Knows you’re a light sleeper. Know the way your body tenses even in your dreams when your phone buzzes at night. Knows how sacred your sleep is after long days that drain you from the inside out. So he never sends messages with noise. No pings. No vibrations. Just… silence.

And still — even at 3:02 AM — when his mind is wandering, when the world outside is asleep but his thoughts are too loud to silence, he writes.

About music. About the stars. About you.

Short, half-formed sentences. Late-night ramblings about his day or a song that reminded him of you. Thoughts that probably made more sense in his head than they do on the screen. But they’re there. Waiting. Gentle, sleepy words sitting quietly in your inbox like petals placed on your doorstep — fragile, deliberate, sincere.

ii

Then there’s movie night.

Which, with Jongho, is never just movie night.

It’s Discord screen shares and careful audio checks. It’s him adjusting his mic again and again until your voice—already muffled by the layers of your blanket—says, “It’s okay, I can hear you,” even though the connection crackles every now and then.

You weren’t in the mood to go out. Not just today — but most days. Your body was still shaking off the last traces of a stubborn fever, skin too sensitive, eyes too heavy. And even if the sickness hadn’t kept you in, the world outside still felt too loud, too uncertain, too much.

You were never really the type to seek noise or crowds anyway. Your soul was quieter, more private. You liked your room — the way the walls curled around you like a soft shell, familiar and safe. That space had become your theater, your whole damn planet on the days where even the hallway outside your door felt overwhelming.

It was in the way he queued up movies you mentioned once during your lunch break when you were scrolling on your phone and would show him some clips of the movie you wanted to see, or the way he synced subtitles just right so your reading pace could keep up. It was in how he'd listen for your yawns — the sleepy kind, where your responses turn into soft hums and you forget the plot entirely — but he never teased. Never say “you’re boring” or “you always fall asleep halfway.” 

Instead, he’d smile to himself, watching the tiny green light on Discord flicker less and less as your voice faded away. When he was sure you were asleep, he would slowly slide the volume bar down to zero, like dimming the last light in a room you’d just left behind. The scene might still be playing — dialogue, explosions, laughter — but you were already somewhere in your dreams. And then, in the soft glow of his monitor, Jongho would mute his mic.

You don’t know this. You don’t hear the chair creak as he leans back, or the way he stretches his arms over his head with a quiet sigh. You don’t see the subtle clicks as he adjusts the Discord channel permissions — limiting who can join, just in case someone stumbles in and shatters the quiet he’s carefully protected around you.

You fall asleep thinking you drifted off during a movie. But really, you fell asleep in a space Jongho built — gently, intentionally, like tucking someone in without ever touching them. A space made of low volumes, hushed breaths, and unspoken devotion.

You sleep in silence. Not realizing just how much love went into making it that way.

iii

Or when days weren’t filled with softness, you and Jongho had snapped at each other over nothing and everything—too-little sleep, too-many worries, a single text read the wrong way. The fight had been quick and messy, like dropping glass– sharp words scattering across the floor, impossible to sweep up without cutting yourselves.

So you’d gone quiet, convinced a little distance would soothe the sting.

The sun had long since set when the knock came—three hesitant taps that rattled through the hallway. You froze on your steps, frowning in confusion. You padded to the door in mismatched socks, glancing up at the wall clock, heart pounding worse than it had during the argument, I mean who knocks at 8:47 p.m. in this neighborhood?

You cracked the door—and time stuttered.

Jongho stood on the mat, chest rising in ragged pulls, summer sweat plastering his fringe to his forehead. His T-shirt clung to him, half from the humid night, half from the frantic back-and-forth he’d just confessed to.

“I—uh—think I looped your street… twice.” He gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always did when he felt out of place. “Can you remind me which house is yours?”

You blinked. “Why are you here?” The question slipped out, small and startled. He stared at his own shoes, scuffing one against the concrete. “To say sorry,” he murmured. “Text felt… too easy. Too small for how badly I messed up.”

The porch light buzzed overhead; a moth circled lazily between you. In that glow you noticed the smudges of city grit on his sneakers, the faint tremor in his hands where adrenaline still rattled his bones. Your heart cracked open—clean, sudden—like a mug slipping from the counter and shattering the silence of the kitchen tiles. All at once you pictured him missing the correct turn, doubling back under flickering street lamps, stubbornly refusing to give up because ‘I’m sorry’ deserved eye contact, not pixels.

Who does that? Jongho apparently. Someone who refuses to let mis-fired anger be the last thing hanging between you. Someone who thinks an apology should travel the same distance the hurt did—maybe farther. Someone who, even lost, chose to keep walking toward you.

You stepped aside without a word, letting the porch light spill into the hallway, “Come in,” you whispered, voice cracking like the rest of you. And as he crossed the threshold—sweat, nerves, and all—you realized getting lost might have been the surest way for both of you to find your way back.

iv

And you couldn’t forget that moment where you were in the zone — or at least, trying to be.

Hands busy, screens glowing, a half-empty mug of cold coffee pushed to the side of your cluttered desk. Notes scattered like fallen leaves. The air was thick with unspoken pressure — from deadlines, from expectations, from the loud, echoing voice inside your own head that wouldn’t shut up until everything was perfect.

You barely noticed how still the room was. Just the quiet hum of your laptop fan and the occasional clack of your keyboard breaking the silence. Your breathing was shallow, your jaw tense, your fingers flying — until they stopped.

Because your stupid, stubborn hair had slipped loose again. You’d tied it up in a quick bun hours ago, but now, strands had come free and were sticking to your cheeks, brushing across your forehead, falling right into your eyes every time you try to focus. You pushed it back once, then again, more impatient each time.

A sharp breath escaped your nose. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even make a sound loud enough to complain — just a little annoyed huff and a flick of your fingers, trying to twist the strands behind your ear. But it didn’t stay.

Jongho lowered his phone on his lap, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to your bed. Jongho had been there the whole time, on your bed watching you spiral in slow motion. You hadn’t even realized he was still there, honestly — he was so good at just being, without taking up space. Not in a way that begged attention. He never did. His gaze kept drifting back to you — to the way your shoulders rose with every exhale, to the faint frown etched into your forehead, to the way you huffed, frustrated, as strands of your hair fell again.

So when he moved, you barely caught it. No words. No teasing. Just the subtle shift of the mattress, the creak of floorboards, and his footsteps approaching — soft, unhurried.

You felt him before you saw him. He stood behind you, and in that still moment, the world seemed to pause. Not in an awkward way — but in the way it always does when someone does something gentle for you. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t question it. You just let it happen.

And then — his hands.

Fingertips brush across your neck as they gather your hair, removing the non existing messy bun on top of your head. Slow. Careful. He moved like he’d done this a thousand times before — like your hair had a rhythm he’d memorized. There was no tug, no tension. Just the warmth of his palms and the deliberate sweep of fingers, smoothing down flyaways like they were delicate petals.

He pulled your hair into a low ponytail, tying it off with the scrunchie from his own wrist — one he always kept there, whether he admitted it was for you or not. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t styled. But it was secure. It fits. It was exactly what you needed — even if you hadn’t asked.

Your breath hitched slightly when his fingers lingered for just a second too long. The tie settled at the nape of your neck — light, comforting. But it felt heavier somehow. Like it carried meaning, “Your hair always distracts you when you’re trying to focus,” he said finally, his voice just above a whisper. Soft. Almost sheepish. “Thought I’d save you from it this time.”

You didn’t turn around. Because at that moment, everything in your chest unclenched. All the noise in your head quieted, like a radio fading into static. The tension in your shoulders eased. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding yourself together until he stepped in.

And it wasn’t just about the ponytail. It never was. It was about the way he paid attention. The way he remembered. The way he didn’t ask, didn’t wait, didn’t make a scene — just helped. It was in the silence. In the space he made around you without ever asking for space himself. And somehow … somehow his hands on your hair felt more like home than your own ever did.

You took a slow breath, exhaled, and returned to your work — not because the pressure had vanished, but because you weren’t carrying it alone anymore. And as you sat there, posture a little more relaxed, focus finally returning, you smiled to yourself.

You sighed, long and tired, the kind that left your chest feeling a little lighter and a little emptier all at once. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of your night lamp, and the ceiling above you stared back in silence — like it was holding your thoughts for you, just for a moment longer.

You weren’t even sure why your heart felt like this — full, but aching. Like you were overwhelmed by something too soft to name. Your chest heaves in a deep inhale before another sigh escapes.

“What got you so worked up that you sigh like you have fifteen unfinished projects and three babies to feed?” You yelped — actually yelped — twisting to the side, heart skipping like a scratched record. There, leaning casually against your bedroom door frame, was Jongho.

Arms crossed. One brow raised. The corners of his lips quirked in that boyish way that meant he was trying not to laugh at your startled reaction. His hair was slightly tousled, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, and his whole presence felt warm — like a late-night tea you didn’t know you needed.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, pulling your blanket up like it could shield your flustered expression.  “Long enough to watch you battle the air with that dramatic sigh,” he teased, pushing off the door and strolling toward your bed. You opened your mouth to deflect, but nothing clever came out. Just a small huff as you turned to face the ceiling again, blinking fast, hoping the blush on your face wasn’t obvious under the lamplight.

Instead, Jongho sat on the edge of your bed, careful not to pull you out of your cocoon. His fingers brushed lightly against your ankle through the blanket — grounding, patient.

“You okay?” he asked, this time quieter. And you nodded, then whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Just remembering things.”

“Good things?” he asked again, his voice low now, more careful — like he was stepping into a space inside you he didn’t want to rush. You nodded against your pillow. “Too good.” There was silence then. Not awkward. Not empty. Just… still. Full of air that felt too thick with things left unsaid, and yet, somehow, safe.

Jongho’s hand brushed over your blanket again. This time slower. His thumb pressed gently into the edge, grounding himself there, “Guess I’ll just have to keep making more of them, huh?” he murmured with a small, hopeful smile.

Your chest ached — the kind of ache that feels like warmth stretching. You glanced at him, eyes catching the light of the lamp. “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

He blinked. “What?”

“All of it,” you whispered. “The silent messages, the scrunchies, movie nights, showing up when you didn’t have to. You’ve been... making memories for me.”

Jongho’s mouth opened, then closed. Like the truth had been sitting on his tongue this whole time but he wasn’t sure if now was the moment. But something in your voice, your eyes, must’ve made the decision for him.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I have.”

You felt the words settle into your chest like puzzle pieces falling into place. He exhaled, fingers now tugging lightly at the edge of your blanket, a nervous habit. “And I think… maybe I don’t want to keep doing all of that as just a friend.”

Your heart stumbled. “Jongho…”

“I mean,” he laughed gently, eyes flicking up to meet yours, “I think I passed the ‘just a friend’ stage back when I started carrying backup scrunchies for you.”

You could feel your heartbeat in places you hadn’t noticed until now — your fingertips, the hollow of your throat, deep in your stomach. It was the way Jongho said it. Quietly. Carefully. Like he wasn’t just asking a question — he was handing you something fragile. Something real.

“Can I… make it official?” His voice was barely more than a breath, but it cracked the air between you like a soft truth being unfolded. He was still seated on the edge of your bed, one leg turned toward you, but not pressing. Always waiting. Always gentle. His eyes searched your face not for permission, but for clarity — for a sign that you felt it too. That all the small things he did hadn’t gone unnoticed. That he hadn’t just been loving you in silence.

You stared at him for a moment, your chest too full to speak.

He looked nervous. Not because he was scared you’d say no — but because he wanted this to mean something. All of it. The /silent links he sent at 2 a.m. because he didn’t want to wake you. The way he tied your hair without a second thought because he knew how it distracted you. The scrunchies on his wrist. The muted screen shares. The apology he walked in circles just to give you in person.

He’d been writing a love story in the margins — and now he was finally turning the page to show you.

You sat up slowly, blanket sliding off your shoulder. The cool air kissed your skin, but all you could feel was the warmth of him — of his words, his presence, his intention, “Jongho…” you said his name like a secret, like something precious you didn’t want to drop.

“I’m sorry,” he added quickly, voice tighter now. “I know the timing isn’t perfect or — or maybe I should’ve asked sooner, but I just—”

You reached for his hand. Instinctively. Like it was the next natural step. His fingers were warm. A little clammy. He’d been nervous the whole time.

“You already were,” you said quietly, watching the way his eyes flickered at the sound of your voice. “You’ve already been mine. You were just… waiting for me to catch up.”

His breath hitched. You didn’t need to say more. That one sentence carried everything — your knowing, your feelings, your realization that all this time you weren’t just falling for Jongho — you were already in it. Fully. Deeply. Unknowingly wrapped in the love he’d been giving you in ways no one else had.

A laugh slipped out of him — not mocking, but light, airy, like he finally exhaled something he’d been holding for too long, “So…” he said, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “Do I get the whole package now?”

You smiled, laughing softly even— slow, genuine. The kind that crept up from your chest, not just your lips.

“You do.” Something in his face softened completely. Like his entire being melted — his shoulders relaxed, his lips curved into the smallest, most beautiful smile, and his eyes stayed locked on yours like you were the only thing that made sense anymore.

And then, he did something simple.

He brought your joined hands up and pressed his lips against your knuckles — just once. Not possessive. Not dramatic.

"How can anyone say this is the bare minimum?" Not a single thing that is close to being bare minimum. Because it really isn’t in the first place.

It’s love, tucked into silence. It’s choosing you — even in the quietest hours.

[sapphicswph]

you can find the request here ^-^

pairings: jackie x reader

nsfw, mdni

the plane crash felt like a metaphor for her life - sudden, harsh, and completely out of her control. she was used to being in charge, leading her team, being the one everyone looked to. now, she felt small, insignificant. even in this wilderness survival situation, she found herself questioning her abilities.

she shivered, pulling her blanket tighter around herself as the cold wind whistled through the cracks in the old cabin. her eyes flickered to you, who was sitting across from her. the other girls were also scattered around, looking just as cold and miserable. she wanted to take charge, to protect you, to be the strong, capable leader she used to be. but right now, she felt anything but.

jackie's teeth chattered as she hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes never leaving you. she was supposed to be taking care of you, this wasn't right. with a sudden determination, she stood up, blanket around her shoulders. she walked over to you and crouched down, placing a warm hand on your cheek. "you’re cold," her voice was softer than usual whenever she spoke to you. “yeah, no shit jackie… everyone is.” you muttered weakly.

jackie bristled at your response. she wasn't used to being snapped at, especially not by you. she bit her lip hard, trying not to let her feelings show, it was just the hunger and exhaustion. she was used to being the one everyone went to with problems. she was used to being needed. she wasn't needed here. she wasn't the captain anymore. she was just another freezing girl in this cabin.

jackie's hands trembled slightly as she reached out to gently pull you into her arms, wrapping both of your blankets around you both. she held you close, trying to share her warmth. "i'm sorry," she whispered against your ear. "i'm sorry i'm not enough anymore." her voice cracked slightly. "i need you to need me." she kissed your neck softly, desperately. "please need me." she was losing herself in the wilderness of her own emotions, and she needed an anchor - she needed you.

"jackie?" you whispered softly, pulling back slightly to look at her face. you saw the insecurity there, the unspoken question. your heart ached. you knew she was used to being the one everyone relied on. "baby…" you cupped her face gently. "are you having an existential crisis right now?" you teased with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood.

jackie's eyes flickered back and forth between yours, searching for any hint of humor or understanding. she let out a soft, shaky laugh, realizing how ridiculous she must sound. but the insecurity was still there, lurking beneath the surface. she nuzzled into your touch, seeking comfort and reassurance. "god… probably," she admitted quietly. she pouted slightly, her bottom lip sticking out. "i'm used to being needed, baby."

"you are needed," you murmured, kissing her forehead softly. "like, all the time. you're like, the most responsible person ever." you grinned, trying to make her smile more. “you’re being silly. everyone needs you… especially me." your thumbs stroked her cheeks softly.

days turned into weeks, and jackie found herself growing more and more frustrated. she tried her best to help out, but the others seemed to ignore her efforts or take them for granted. they didn't need her leadership skills anymore; they needed someone who could hunt or build shelters. jackie wasn’t good at any of this. she felt useless, invisible even. you were the only one who noticed how she was struggling, how she was slowly losing herself in this wilderness of emotions and lack of purpose.

the sun beat down mercilessly as the other girls went about their tasks: gathering water, setting traps, washing clothes. jackie sat on the porch steps, her hair sticking to her neck with sweat as she fiddled with the broken piece of equipment from the crash. she wasn't good at this kind of thing; her hands were clumsy and uncoordinated when it came to practical tasks like these. she just wanted to do something, to not feel useless.

as the others bustled around her, jackie felt more and more out of place. she sighed heavily, tossing the broken piece onto the porch beside her. she watched as the other girls worked, their faces red and sweaty but determined. suddenly, she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. she turned to see you standing there, your own face flushed from the heat but your eyes filled with concern. “hey baby,” she mumbled, forcing a small smile. she felt guilty for not doing anything, for being a burden. “what’re you doing?” you softly asked, not wanting to intrude.

jackie just huffed. "nothing… it's so hot," she complained softly, watching you approach with relief in her eyes. she scooted over on the steps to make room for you without even thinking about it - an automatic gesture showing that she still needed closeness despite feeling useless elsewhere. "i can't even fix this thing right," she gestured vaguely at the broken equipment beside her.

you sat down next to her, your shoulder brushing against hers. you looked at the broken equipment and then back at her, noticing the frustration and defeat in her eyes. you picked up the piece and examined it for a moment before setting it back down. “it’s beyond repair, babe,” you said gently, turning to face her fully. “and that’s okay. not everything has to be fixed, you know?” your hand reached out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away a bead of sweat that had trickled down her face.

jackie's eyes softened slightly as she looked into yours. she wanted to be needed again; she wanted to feel like herself again. suddenly, she stood up quickly pulling you up with her by grabbing your hand. “come on,” she said quiet enough so that the others wouldn’t hear. “let’s go somewhere else.” she started dragging you towards the woods behind the cabin without waiting for response.

you stumbled slightly as she pulled you along, surprised by her sudden assertiveness. "where are we going?" you whispered, keeping pace with her as you both moved deeper into the woods. the shadows dappled the sunlight filtering through the trees, and you could feel the coolness of the shade against your skin.

jackie didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to lead you further until you reached a secluded clearing. she pushed you gently against a large tree trunk, her hands coming to rest on either side of your head, caging you in. her face was inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off her body. "i need you," she whispered desperately. "let me be in charge..." her hands slid down your arms possessively as she leaned in closer.

your back pressed against the rough bark of the tree as jackie's lips crashed onto yours abruptly, hungrily. one hand gripped your hair while the other slid down to grab your hip firmly. she kissed you with a desperation and intensity she hadn't shown in weeks—a kiss that tasted like frustration and sudden dominance.

you melted into her touch, your hands gripping her waist as the rough bark dug into your back. her kiss was almost bruising in its intensity - a passionate demand for control she'd been missing. your knees weakened slightly. claiming you in a way that made your blood rush.

when she finally broke the kiss, your lips were swollen and your breath came in ragged pants.

"god," jackie muttered softly, watching your lips swell up from the force of her kiss. she realized how aggressive she'd been, how she'd pushed you against the tree like she owned you. she liked that reaction - your body pressed against the hard bark, your breathless pants, your hands clutching her waist. she wanted more. she wanted control. "do you... do you mind if..." she paused, licking her lips.

"if what?" you breathed out softly, still dizzy from the kiss. your fingers were lightly digging into her hips, awaiting her next move. the sunlight filtered through the trees above was casting shadows on her face, making her look even more beautiful. the forest was quiet except for their heavy breathing and faint chattering of the others. goosebumps ran down your arms as she didn't answer immediately but instead brought a hand up to grip your throat gently, as if testing the waters.

jackie watched your throat bob slightly under her hand, her thumb stroking your pulse point gently before she squeezed slightly - not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel it and make you whine, jackie perked up at the noise and smiled. she leaned forward until her lips were just ghosting yours, meanwhile her thigh moved between your legs, grinding against you.

"o-oh… jackie,” you whimpered softly, spreading your legs wider automatically to accommodate her thigh. your back arched slightly as you felt the muscle rub against your center. she was testing your reactions, your sensitivity. your small whines encouraged her more. she nipped your bottom lip softly then slid her thigh up higher, hitting you perfectly.

one hand slid from your hip to grab your ass, pulling you closer. "you missed this, didn't you?" she whispered against your lips. she bit your earlobe gently before trailing kisses down your neck, marking you. her hand on your throat increased pressure slightly. "don't be too loud... they might hear.” yet she continued to grind against you deliberately.

jackie's hands slowly slid down your waistband. she looked around quickly before hooking her fingers into the top of your shorts and panties. she pulled them down slowly, your smooth thighs coming into view. she pushed them down past your knees, your hips moving automatically to help them down past your thighs, until they pooled around your ankles. she bit her lip hard watching you stand there half-naked against the tree. "spread," she ordered softly.

you whimpered and hesitantly spread your legs wider, the fabric of your shorts pooling around your ankles. the air hit your wet center, making you shiver. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on. jackie's gaze dropped to your pussy, her eyes darkening. she slowly unbuttoned your shirt, not breaking eye contact. "keep looking at me," she demanded, tugging at your shirt just enough to free one breast.

you obeyed her command, keeping your eyes locked onto hers as she slowly exposed your body. she leaned forward and captured your nipple in her mouth, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. one hand slid down between your legs, feeling how wet you were already. she moaned softly against your breast as she slid two fingers inside without warning.

you whimpered, hips bucking forward as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. she kept her eyes locked onto yours, watching your reactions intently. she wanted to see every expression, every gasp, every shudder.

"jesus… fuck," you gasped, grabbing her hair as her fingers filled you completely. your head fell back against the tree, breaking eye contact as she continued to suck harder on your breast. her fingers moved skillfully, hitting your deepest spot as her thumb circled your clit. your hips moved on their own, grinding against her hand. “you’re so fucking wet,” she murmured appreciatively.

jackie pulled away from your breast with a pop, watching you struggle to keep quiet as she fingered you harder. she leaned forward again, her breath hot against your ear. "i said look at me," she said softly but firmly. when you did meet her eyes again she smiled before dropping down to her knees in front of you.

you watched her move down to her knees, feeling your arousal drip down your thigh. she gripped your legs and spread them wider before leaning forward and pressing her mouth against your pussy, sucking on your clit like it was her favorite candy. your hands flew to her hair, holding onto her. every time you twitched or made a noise, she moaned against you.

"jackie, please... oh god..." you begged, your hips bucking against her face. she knew you were getting closer, so she slid two fingers back inside you while continuing to suck and swirl her tongue on your clit. "come for me," she ordered between licks. "i want to taste you." you let out something between a sob and a moan as your orgasm crashed over you, flooding her mouth with your release. she made sure to swallow every drop before standing up. prying your mouth open with a hand on your chin she shoved her tongue in your mouth, tasting yourself on her tongue.

jackie gently pulled away from the intense kiss, pressing soft kisses to your swollen lips instead. she carefully pulled your shorts and panties back up, buttoning your shirt and fixing your hair gently. her dominant attitude completely melted away as she held you close against her, her arms wrapped protectively around you. “you okay?” she whispered softly against your hair, her tone gentle and caring once more. “did i… go too far?” jackie had to know, she was always terrified of hurting you in any way. not that she did anything extreme but she was normally softer during sex.

"no," you answered quickly, pulling back slightly to look at her. your hair was messy, your lips swollen, your legs slightly sticky from the orgasm. "you didn't," you smiled softly. "you were actually really gentle..." you laughed softly. "like... too gentle maybe," you teased lightly. jackie was always sweet and caring during sex. you never felt hurt or used.

jackie laughed softly, relieved that you weren't upset. she kissed your nose gently before hugging you tighter against her chest. "i love you," she whispered into your hair. "i needed this today," she admitted quietly. "needed to feel like myself again." she felt better already after that. she was usually never dominant but it felt so right.

please don’t hesitate to invade my inbox with requests or whatever! :3

[pohtaytoh]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗬/𝗟/𝗡

*ೃ༄ Megan Skiendiel x f!reader

Everyone ships Megan Skiendiel with your brother Gabriel, convinced they're endgame. He's always taking credit for the sweet gestures that make Megan swoon, and she totally believes he's the one. But you, Y/N Y/L/N, have been secretly head over heels for Megan for years. You're the one leaving those thoughtful gifts and sending those encouraging messages, watching your brother bask in the glory.

But as Megan starts spending more time with you, she can't shake this feeling. Now Megan's wondering if the person she's really meant to be with has been right in front of her all this time.

part: one. two. three. four. five. <six.>

"What?" Megan's voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the tense, heavy air in Gabriel's dorm room like a sharp blade. Her eyes, wide and filled with disbelief, moved from Gabriel's stunned face to Y/N's tear-streaked one. Every raw, painful word Y/N had just screamed, every hidden truth about stolen kindness and fake charm, had clearly been heard.

Y/N felt a cold wave of dread, worse than anything Gabriel had done. This was it. The absolute worst possible outcome. The truth, ugly and messy, was out. Not just to Gabriel, but to Megan.

The girl Y/N loved, the girl she had desperately tried to protect from the truth, now knew. Y/N’s heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat of terror and shame. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like all her deepest secrets were laid bare.

Gabriel, still frozen in shock from Y/N's outburst, finally seemed to register Megan's presence. His face, which had been pale with anger, now turned a sickly shade of white. His eyes darted to Megan, then back to Y/N, a flicker of panic in their depths. He tried to speak, but no words came out, only a choked sound.

Megan stepped fully into the room, her gaze fixed on Y/N, her beautiful eyes slowly filling with a mix of shock, hurt, and a dawning understanding.

Y/N could see the pieces clicking into place in Megan’s mind, all the things that mysteriously appeared when she was stressed, the perfectly timed coffee, the small notes of encouragement, the way complex topics suddenly made sense. All the little gestures she had praised Gabriel for, all the moments she thought he had thoughtfully done and now, the truth.

"Megan, I—" Gabriel finally stammered, taking a step towards her, his hand reaching out. "It's not what you think. She's just... she's upset. She's making things up." His voice was shaky, trying to sound charming, but the usual confidence was completely gone.

"Making things up?" Megan's voice was still quiet, but it held a chilling edge Y/N had never heard before. Her eyes, still fixed on Y/N's, filled with a deeper sorrow.

She seemed to know, instinctively, that Y/N wasn't lying. "Y/N... the things that you said just now, was that true?" Her voice was so soft, so fragile, that it broke Y/N's heart.

Y/N couldn't speak. She could only nod, tears still streaming down her face, her chest heaving with silent sobs. The truth felt like a physical weight, crushing her. She braced herself for Megan's anger, for her disgust, for her to turn and run back to Gabriel, because surely, surely this would be too much.

Megan slowly turned her head to Gabriel, her gaze now colder than the campus night. The sadness in her eyes was replaced by a quiet fury. "You... you lied to me?" she whispered, the words barely audible, but vibrating with profound hurt. "All those times? You let me believe... you let me thank you for things Y/N did?"

Gabriel flinched, shrinking under her steady, disappointed gaze. "Megan, please, it's not like that! I just... I didn't want you to think I wasn't thoughtful. I was busy, sometimes, and I just... I wanted you to be happy. Y/N always does those little things, she's like that. I didn't mean any harm, I swear!" His voice was desperate, pleading, completely unlike his usual smooth self.

Megan didn't raise her voice, but her next words were sharper than any shout.

"You used her kindness. You used your own sister to make yourself look better to me." She shook her head, a slow, disbelieving movement. "And all this time... you let me think you understood me? You just wanted me to think you were perfect. You didn't care about what I felt, or what she felt." Her eyes, once so bright when talking about Gabriel, were now dull, lifeless. "It wasn't real. It was never real with you, was it?"

Gabriel stood there, defeated, his shoulders slumping. He looked utterly broken, caught in his own web of lies. He knew, in that moment, he had lost her and worse, he had deeply hurt his sister. He glanced at Y/N, seeing the raw pain on her face, realizing the depth of her silent sacrifices, the endless times she had put him first. A fresh wave of shame washed over him.

Megan finally turned back to Y/N. Her anger at Gabriel had faded, replaced by a profound, overwhelming tenderness, mixed with a deep, crushing sorrow for Y/N. She saw the years of unacknowledged love, the quiet acts of devotion, the silent pain that Y/N had carried. She saw it all, clear as day.

"Y/N," Megan whispered, her voice trembling, as if each word was fragile glass. She walked slowly towards Y/N, her eyes never leaving hers. Y/N noticed then, clutched carefully in Megan's hand, was her poetry book, the one she had dropped on the staircase.

"All this time... you did all those things for me? And you just... let him take credit?" Her voice broke. "Why? Why didn't you ever say anything?" Her eyes filled with fresh tears, not of anger, but of sorrow for Y/N’s quiet suffering.

Y/N felt a fresh wave of tears, her own throat tight with emotion. "Because," she choked out, her voice raw, "because I just wanted you to be happy, Megan. I... I knew you liked him. And I thought... I thought as long as you were happy, even if it wasn't with me... that would be enough. And I didn't want to cause trouble between you two or with Gabriel." The words were an honest, painful confession, spoken from the deepest part of her heart.

Megan reached out, her hands gently cupping Y/N's face, wiping away the tears with her thumbs. Her touch was soft, comforting, sending shivers through Y/N.

"Oh, Y/N," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion, "my sweet, brave Y/N. How could you ever think that? How could you ever think that was enough?" Her eyes searched Y/N’s, filled with an understanding so profound it felt like a healing balm. "I've been so blind. So, so blind."

She pulled Y/N closer, wrapping her arms around her. Y/N stumbled forward, collapsing into Megan's embrace, letting out a sob that had been trapped inside her for years. Megan held her tight, rubbing her back, her own shoulders trembling with silent tears. It was a hug filled with comfort, apology, and a deep, unspoken promise.

"I actually came back because I felt bad," Megan whispered into Y/N's hair, her voice muffled but clear. "I felt guilty, after all these weeks, how little time Gabriel and I have been spending together. I was going to ask him to hang out tomorrow, just us, to make up for it but then I saw your book on the staircase, and I knew it was yours, so I grabbed it to bring it to you after I talked to him. And then I heard... everything." She tightened her embrace.

"I'm so glad I came back. So glad I heard you, Y/N. All this time... I thought I had fallen for the right Y/L/N, turns out it was the wrong one and that the right person was here, in front of me, all along."

Gabriel stood in the background, watching the scene unfold. The raw emotion, the quiet devastation, the deep connection between his sister and the girl he thought was his.

He saw the genuine comfort Megan found in Y/N's arms, a comfort she had never truly found with him. He heard Megan's tearful whispers, full of a tenderness he had never received. He finally understood the true depth of Y/N's love, and his own selfishness.

He had been so focused on being the center of attention, on maintaining his perfect image, that he had trampled over the true feelings of the two most important people in his life. The weight of his actions crashed down on him.

He took a shaky breath, stepping forward, his voice hoarse and broken. "Y/N," he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at his sister, truly seeing her, perhaps for the first time in a very long time. "I... I am so, so sorry. I was a complete idiot. A selfish jerk." His eyes moved to Megan, filled with deep regret.

"Megan, I am so sorry I lied to you. I was a coward. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness." He looked down at his feet, unable to meet their gaze. "I'm sorry, both of you. For everything."

The apology was raw, painful, and painfully real. It was nothing like his usual charming words. It was genuine. Y/N, still in Megan's arms, felt a flicker of surprise. This was new. This was Gabriel, stripped bare of his usual act.

Megan slowly pulled away from Y/N, but kept her hands on Y/N's arms, her eyes still fixed on Y/N's face. She looked at Gabriel, a long, assessing look.

"Gabriel," she said, her voice soft, but firm. "You really messed up. Badly." She paused, and Gabriel flinched, expecting more anger. But then, Megan's expression softened slightly. "But... I heard you. And it sounds like you actually get it, this time." She glanced at Y/N, then back at Gabriel. "You owe Y/N so much more than an apology. You hurt her more than you know."

Gabriel nodded, tears welling in his own eyes. "I know," he choked out. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'll make it up to her. To both of you." He then slowly, quietly, turned and walked out of the dorm room, leaving them alone once more. The door closed softly behind him, a stark contrast to how it had opened.

The silence that followed was different now. It wasn't tense or suffocating. It was soft, comforting, filled with the promise of something new. Y/N and Megan stood there, facing each other in the quiet room. Megan's hands were still on Y/N's arms, her thumbs gently stroking Y/N's skin. She reached her free hand down and gently placed the poetry book back into Y/N's grasp.

Megan looked into Y/N's eyes, her own filled with a mixture of relief, wonder, and a profound, undeniable love. "He was the wrong Y/L/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible, echoing Y/N's deepest, oldest fear. "All this time... you were the right one. You always were."

Y/N’s breath hitched. Those words. The words she had always wished for, now spoken, real and true. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but these were joyful, overflowing. "Megan," she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion.

Megan's gaze dropped to Y/N's lips, then back to her eyes, asking a silent question. Her hands slid from Y/N's arms, moving up, one resting gently on Y/N’s cheek, the other sliding to the back of Y/N's neck, drawing her closer. Y/N instinctively leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut.

Their lips met, softly at first, a gentle press that was full of all the unspoken words, all the secret longing, all the quiet understanding they had built between them.

It was a kiss that tasted of tears and hope, of long-held secrets finally revealed, of a connection found in the most unexpected way. It deepened slowly, tenderly, a universe of emotion unfolding between them.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her entire being, a sense of belonging so profound it stole her breath away. In Megan's arms, in that moment, under the soft glow of the dorm room light, Y/N Y/L/N finally felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be, finally, truly, the right Y/L/N.

previous part.

a/n: Here you go! The last part of this story. I truly enjoyed writing this one. Shout out to my lovely 🌹anon, you're the reason behind all this! I hope I gave justice to your idea. I was smiling the whole time I was writing this part. Thank you to everyone who read this and liked it, whether you're a silent reader or not, I truly appreciate you.

[tyunningism]

Campus Sweetheart (2)

── .✦ pairing: c.yj + k.th

After getting caught up with Soobin at Yeonjun’s party you’re the talk of the town !! Everyone’s dying to get a piece of you (or peace of mind away from you), nevertheless Yeonjun can’t help but want his share too!! And so does a certain someone who’s had his eyes on you since ><

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead... haven’t read part 1? Visit here !!

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 5.5k words

mentions!! and warnings!! - Smut , alcohol consumption + partying but no drunk sex etc., hard!dom taehyun and dom!yeonjun, threesome, dacryphilia, extreme exhibitionism, daddy kink, nipple play, voyeurism, spit roasting, food play, spanking + hair grabbing + spitting, degrading names, blow job, filming, unprotected sex, breeding etc.

tyunningism’s note: been putting this on hold for a bit but the people wanted the threesome so here it is 😼, not proofread !!

Dynamics between you and your roommates have always been out of the ordinary, and by that you mean you’ve never met someone else whose roommate offers to do all of their laundry regardless of their protests, is always walking back in to the apartment with at least one bag of clothing a teeny bit too tight for them, or even offer to eat them out after a bad day- so maybe you really hit the jackpot with Soobin.

Pinks, browns and beiges that littered your closet were now packed straight to the edge with a new set of short strapless dresses, red silk two-pieces and miniskirts riding so far up your thigh they were basically non-existent.

The frequency of these parties that the frats held every week or two meant that you’d constantly have to whip up a new dress completely in contrast to your usual sweet girl look, but Soob has no problem paying for the dresses- as long as you let him pick them out <33

“This one looks sweet on you don’t you think bunny?” He flashes two dresses on their hangers still interchangeably against your chest, his dimple pops out as he thinks long and hard about what would suit you best for Mark’s party, and as much as he adores you and your frilly mid-skirts, he really wants to push you a bit further this time; eyes locked on the maroon open-back dress in his right hand.

Woven out of thin silk he reckons it would rip within seconds if he even used the tiniest bit of force on you, which is exactly why he chooses it.

“Soobin..I think- I think we should try a different dress..” You propose timidly behind the curtain of the changing room, the dress he picked out for you was way too tight at the waist, practically cinching in to your skin and felt so stretched at the chest it would’ve ripped straight down the middle if you moved too much.

“Awh, why so? I thought it was a lovely dress.”

“No no it is lovely !! It runs a bit small that’s all.”

A slender hand tugs gently at the curtain, “It zips up doesn’t it? Let me see, bunny.”

You shy away behind the curtain as you slowly slide it across and it’s so teasing, you don’t even realise it cause fuck, you look so small beneath him, so tempting in that dress he chose for you, eyes so hopeful for praise you nearly knock a straight boner in to him.

“It’s perfect, promise you it fits you great, now will you wear it to the function?” He cocks you a wide smile you can’t say no to as he leads you through aisles and shelves of the store with a warm hand, comical in the sense that it could cover your whole face if he tried.

An empty spot in the queue lands you and Soobin at the till, the taller male fishing in his pockets for what you assumed was going to be his wallet ends up being..a laced set of panties?

Discarded right on top of the rest of the clothing you give Soobin a questioning look and a tug on the sleeve of his shirt- what else could he mean by this ?!!

“Don’t like the gift?” You shake your head and avoid eye contact with the cashier in the hopes that she doesn’t remember you ever again in case you ever thought about shopping here again, but you can sense it in your veins the judging and instigating look that’s headed straight your way. Really Choi Soobin?

beep!-

”Back so soon?” Taehyun turns his head around to welcome you from the couch before laying back down with his arms behind his head, mindlessly scrolling on his feed with boredom racking his head.

Recently Taehyun’s been harder to get close to :(( Despite being roommates for quite a while now there’s still this barrier of unease between you whenever you’re together that neither of you can quite put your finger on, an unease that only started to grow since you first put on a whole show dry humping Soobin in front of him; he’s been purposely ignoring your attempts to make small talk to try break the ice between you ever since. You don’t know what you did that was so terribly bad to upset him :(

It’s a hard swallow every time you see him hanging around with his usual crowd, laughing at a couple of his guy friends’ jokes while a new girl clung to his arm every time he briefly greeted you on campus,

So why can’t he be so friendly with you like he is to everyone else?

What about you puts him off so much?!

But heavens is Taehyun grateful for your brain that runs at 3 thoughts per hour, because if you could read minds you’d be able to see the dirty image he’s envisioning as Soobin pulls out the dress he bought for you to show it off. Barely a dress, more like meagre strands of thread compiled together with how thin it is. Thinks about the way you’d mewl at him as he pinches your perked nipples through the sheen fabric; squirming and trembling as his finger spreads your folds apart in a scissoring motion beneath you, it’s so vivid in his mind he can practically hear your wanton moans in his head already:

‘Hurry s-stop teasing mmh!’

‘O-oh fuck, feels s’ good Taehyunnie please!~’

And who can judge him? (Certainly not Soobin who’s sharing the exact same predatory thoughts as you stretch your back against the counter.)

He can’t pinpoint when it started, when he first got his first wet dream starring you like some prepubescent teen after watching porn for the first time, when he started envisioning you as the girls he was fucking and dumping on the get go to relieve the stress within him.

Maybe it was when his eyes wandered to check if there was anyone eyeing Stacy before he entertained her but settled on observing the way you rocked you hips so clumsily against Soobin at Yeonjun’s party a couple weeks ago. Definitely thought he would’ve taught you way better than Soobin ever can, he’d teach you how to move your hips right so you could get the most friction out of rubbing your swollen clit over his bulge, he’d teach you where to place your hands that would turn on a guy the most. Perhaps it’s just jealousy as he watched Soobin litter all kinds of kisses down your collarbone.

Yeah, that’s exactly what it is, jealousy.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧

“What’s up?” Fwap-

“Yeonjun! You comin’ to Mark’s on Saturday? He’s hired some private dancers so Kai can get his dick wet., it’s gonna be sweet.”

Fwap- “Fuck- Nah i’ll sit this one out.”

“Come onn, everyone’s gassed about how this is the biggest party of the year man! That guy’s blown his wallet off even trying to get Mina from Architecture there!”

Not like he can take a proper phone call right now with a sticky hand weakly holding up his phone to his ear, only letting out a couple grunts barely different in pitch to show his approval or not.

“Dude..are you jerking off right now?”

Yeah, yeah he absolutely is jerking off right now with his head plump against his pillow, tip so red it stings from how long he’s been edging himself over the last hour, a thumb pressed right against his slit every single time he felt too close to paradise.

He’s been non-stop jerking off to some photos on Instagram, your photos on Instagram. Especially the one where you’re laid on your back on a beach towel with tanning oil all over you in your pink flowery bikini..featuring Soobin’s hand which rests over your stomach rubbing it in- God that drives him crazy. It’s a playful photo, he knows you don’t see it as anything major in that tiny little head of yours but anyone else seeing it would’ve thought you were dating with how touchy Soobin is with you- it annoys him so much sometimes he loses the will to actually cum just thinking about his smug grin.

But today he’s extra fixated on the plush of your thighs, soft and so fuckable like his own perfect little fleshlight. He’s going brain dumb by the minute as he quickens his pace- thrusting his hand along his cock at record speed and squeezing as tight as he can until his knuckles bore different shades of white with a string of whimpers dissipating from the curve of his lips.

“Gross..I’m never calling you again fuck. Well..that cute chick with Soobin at your party last time is coming too I heard, Heeseung wants a taste of her real bad.”

And just like that he’s lost the urge to cum again, not even needing his thumb’s interference, simply feeling pissed hearing another fiend’s name.

“Nevermind. I’ll be there.”

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧

Saturday night rolls by in a blink of an eye but no worries because Giselle’s stormed by your apartment, a blunt rolled between her lips and ashing on to the floor of your bedroom. It’s mainly self affirmation that she whispers to you as she ties a necklace around your neck, a couple pecks and girly giggles as she admires her work on your hair again.

“Don’t hotbox the damn apartment.” Taehyun reveals himself after eavesdropping on the conversation, leaning against the door frame not really knowing what watching you get ready would serve a benefit to but he’s tempted by the v-line cut dress which props up your tits so prettily, the sheer fabric exactly how he imagined: tight, vulnerable.

“I can see you staring at her tits you loser, nothing gets past me.” Giselle retorts slyly, you couldn’t even pick up on the fact he was eyeing you so intently but now that you do embarrassment starts to creep on your face.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

“At least try to sort out the problem down there before you talk back, I know my darling’s hot but it’s really off putting seeing that thang in front of us-“

Shit- when did he get hard??!!

A quick cough and a ‘bathroom break’ is all that time has to offer you both as you squeeze in to Taehyun’s car. Unfortunately, Soob’s down with a diseased cold and coughing up phlegm every three seconds like some unfortunate Victorian, bed-ridden and numb in the limbs so he leaves you in Taehyun’s care, all the better for you to try and resolve the iffy status your relationship with him is in!

The car ride is amped up with Giselle’s playlist; a combination of Japanese rock and rap she’s developed a taste for for years- screaming her heart out in the back seat loud enough to reach the next city. “You guys are no funnn!! My shit is on !!”

“Y/N, did she have something to drink before the party because I’m starting to think I’ve got a whole psychiatric unit in my car.”

You attempt to stifle a laugh in case Giselle heard and was preparing a pinch straight to your arm, “A couple back at the dorms, she usually does whenever she’s going to a party her ex is also at.”

“I see. Don’t drink too much tonight, Mark’s place is a dangerous area.” Taehyun grips the steering wheel at the mention before pulling in to a small drive way with music booming through open windows, a couple drunks limp over the fences and the smell of alcohol starts to overwhelm your senses.

“Wasn’t planning on it, my head hurt super bad last time gosh..”

But Taehyun doesn’t carry on the conversation further apart from lending out a hand to pull you by his side before you could even get both feet out of the car, a strong hand glues to your waist as he strides up the stairs where the music was truly concentrated, poor Gigi was still trying to stumble her way up to follow after you ><

You’ve gotten used to the crave of booming sound blasting in your ear but not quite to the numerous stares you always get whenever you walk through, usually either in an attempt to rate you suitable enough for Taehyun and Soobin or in an attempt to oggle shamelessly at your ass with all the tight dresses Soobin swears he lives by.

“Tae! Y/N come over!” Yeonjun hollers from a far distance dressed in a loose sports jersey at an empty pool table with a couple others gathered around it, most likely for a drinking game. He’s beaming like he’s been waiting eons to see you again and it’s proven right when he snatches you out of Taehyun’s hold and in to his lap.

“Oh my bad, there’s only a seat for Taehyun left~ I guess we’ll just have to share one together okay sweetheart?”

Anyone paying attention can blatantly see the stack of chairs behind him that were unused but your tunnel vision only focuses on Yeonjun’s roaming hand which rubs along your side down to the crevice of your inner thigh, touching too dangerously close than you’d expect >< And if the glare on Heeseung’s face at the opposite end of the cleared pool table wasn’t speaking volumes to you then Taehyun’s intense stare for sure did.

“What’s up Hee? You don’t look so good.” His voice drips like honey in a condescending tone.

“Didn’t take you to be such a clingy guy, I’ll gladly give up my seat for her.” The other male responds, attempting to keep the tension level, but the vein popping out of his forehead from strain says other wise as he pours himself a shot off the girl next to him.

“Likewise, Minho told me a little something the other day.”

“That fucker..”

The music pulsed through the dimly lit room as people clustered in groups, swaying with drinks in hand, laughter mixing with the bass of shitty house music as they shoved in and out of the area around the pool table.

It wasn’t obvious, but the tension in the room started to bend between the two men and everyone was waiting for the moment it would break.

Yeonjun laughs obnoxiously enough to pass off as sarcastic, mimicking wiping tears from his eyes as he claps his hands in entertainment at Heeseung.

“You’re funny Hee, honestly,” he pats down on your thigh again before slithering his hand up to your neck to play with the dainty gold necklace which accentuated your sun-kissed skin, “you’re just so desirable aren’t you, baby?”

Confused, you just had to look right up at him with those sparkling eyes didn’t you? One more second of eye contact and Yeonjun thinks he’ll explode quite literally; he needs to blow off some steam (most likely at Heeseung) before he blows a load without even being touched in front of his drinking buddies at parties he’s had since starting uni. That’s when he spots it, a subtle glint in his eye no one else catches except Taehyun who’s boringly swirling the liquid in his cup leaning all his weight on to one shoulder.

“You trust me don’t you sweetheart? I’m gonna pull a little stunt for everyone over here, you’ll be a good girl for me and show them right?” Yeonjun whispers so sultrily it’s like your entranced by everything he does, the finger he’s dropped from your necklace that slides between and down the seams at your chest, looking back down at you once he stops his finger between the mounds of flesh only to cock his head to the side as if he wanted something.

And whatever he wanted with your chest you gave him. Instantly, he’s propping you up all prettily on to the pool table which makes Heeseung kiss his teeth because he can basically predict what kind of stunt the manwhore Choi Yeonjun is capable of, he doesn’t give two shits about what people think about him- not when the girls lined around the table are begging to get a piece of him too.

What was once a drink in Taehyun’s hand is now snatched off him by Yeonjun who observes the contents, fruit juice, that’s cute- he thinks, Taehyun’s probably assigned to the steering wheel tonight.

Staring straight in to his eyes it’s like you’re lost in a trance while he tilts your chin upwards towards him gently, the cold of his finger tips from holding the iced cup started to nip barely at your skin, and for a moment the noise fades- replaced by the sound of your pulse threatening to come out of the cavity of your chest any moment now as he holds your mouth still.

Sweet. Something sweet and fruity trickles down your throat delectably- a contrast to the usual alcohol Soobin would plead you in to trying every time. He pours the red liquid down your throat which is unable to keep up with the pace of the down pour and instead starts to diverge down your chin and drip down between the crevice of your chest which heaves up and down at him.

There’s a couple or ‘ohhh’s and ‘ahhh’s that the show you put on gained from the rest of the pool table, clapping and cheering for you to chug it ‘faster’ and ‘swallow it all” as you gulp down the last few drops of the juice, cold and sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the burn of his gaze which sparked something different, something electric.

“Good girl.” are the last words you hear before you’re pushed back against the hard wood of the pool table padded with splotches of red juice among the forest green as your hair spreads across the surface messily. A quick tug is all that Yeonjun needs to rip the seams of the maroon dress Soobin had bought you, earning him a gasp and frantic tapping to his shoulder in panic of how expensive the dress was.

“Relax, baby, I’ll buy you a new one jus’ let me show them.”

Your tits are spilling out of the dress as the thread snaps one after the other after being restricted by a bra that Yeonjun unclasps with expertise, the flat of his tongue is desperate to suck at the sticky remnants of juice between the mounds of flesh, licking his lips at the taste of watermelon. “No turning back after this baby, are you sure?” He whispers loud enough for only you to hear among the loud funk of music blasting all throughout but the only thing that clouds your mind is the drag of his tongue against your nipples which perk up under the reveal of colder again, so you nod your head gently, letting him swirl his tongue over the nub of your nipples, pinching them between his teeth lightly and sucking off of them with a lewd pop!-

From the end of the pool table Heeseung spins Yeonjun a light metal can which he bites the lid off; white whipped cream dollops on top of your tits which sensibly has his mouth panting like a bitch in heat as the older male dives back in to latch on to the heat of your nipples, squeezing the other boob with his giant hand which only erupts a bubble of moans out of your throat.

Everyone here is watching you intently, at the way Yeonjun’s eating off your tits like a starved man, the way your chest sits so prettily for him to enjoy and in jealousy of both of you at the pornographic sight. Apart from Taehyun who’s digging his nails in to his thigh so hard he’s probably drawing blood.

He doesn’t like it one bit, that Yeonjun’s showing you off to a whole audience of lustful men cheering and jostling over to get a better view- he hates it more than anything that Yeonjun’s got a taste of you before he did, so he does something completely irresponsible to his best friend.

“What the fuck? Hah!” A new completely drenched Yeonjun detaches himself from marking all sorts of pink and purple bruises on your chest which makes you whine at the loss of contact, looking straight towards the culprit- Taehyun who’s squeezing a now empty water bottle with a cold discerning eye.

“Pack it up fucker, let her go.” Taehyun hisses and tosses the empty plastic lazily behind him, grabbing your wrists and pulling you upright against his chest which stirs a bunch of uproar around the table. The party lights dim further the more Yeonjun stays silent; combing a hand through his dripping hair and cussing under his breath.

“Oh yeah? Guess Soobin’s been telling you how heavenly she tastes down there too huh? Bet she feels a fucking lot like it too, because the moment it’s my turn everyone wants a taste now too hm?” He sends an indirect hint towards Heeseung who’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat in an attempt to hide the growing erection in his sweatpants, eyeing the way the two men were fighting over you.

But you don’t want to have Taehyun and Yeonjun fighting like this over who gets to have you :(( You’d hate to get Taehyun all hot and bothered because you haven’t paid him any attention since you arrived.

You tug gently on Taehyun’s shirt and speak in a meek voice, “B-both of you..can share?”

Yeonjun smiles fondly at your suggestion, he never really thought about ‘sharing’ but your eagerness turns him on so fucking much and it’s sending shockwaves straight to his throbbing cock.

“You sure princess? Everyone’s going to be watching.” Taehyun’s whisper melts in your ear, but you couldn’t care less about what others saw of you today, not when you can feel the imprint of Taehyun’s boner prodding at you through his jeans, giddy over the fact that he doesn’t dislike you as much as you thought he did with the way he’s practically fucking your ass already with how hard he is.

More rallying fills your ear as Taehyun lifts you up off the pool table and on to the nearby coffee table in one swift motion, a stealthy audience following straight behind as Yeonjun places a small cushion where your knees rested, guiding your hands to press on to the cold metal of the table while Taehyun settles behind you. “been waiting for this for month princess you don’t even know.” The low vibrato of Taehyun’s confessions shoot straight to your core and clasps your thighs together in anticipation.

Taehyun doesn’t want to break you, oh not quite yet, so he hitches up the fabric of your dress just below your tits to give him space to hook your black laced panties to the side with one finger, a whole litre of slick pulsing out of your pussy wildly. He scoops it up to show the clear liquid staining his fingers to Yeonjun who moans at the sight,

“Fuck baby you’re so drenched already? Shit that’s so hot, didn’t know you liked being slutted out to us so badly~”

“Shut up and fuck her mouth already.”

Duh, he was obviously going to with the way his hand itched to pull down the fly of his zipper to pull out his fully erect cock, lean and prettily curved at the base, tapping teasingly against the flat of his stomach as he presses his flushed tip against your pursed lips. The taste of precum make you wince at the saltiness but you give puppy licks to it anyway, savouring every last drop.

“O-oh don’t do that baby I’m sensitive there.” He really will cum singlehandedly if you continue to give gentle lips at his reddened cockhead, you’d think he was joking if he wasn’t profusely sweating and laughing nervously.

In the mean time, Taehyun’s fisting his cock with his spit-covered hand, each vein that rang along it pulsing and twitching as he watched your weak attempt at sucking Yeonjun off.

“Go on. I won’t fuck you until you start sucking like a proper bitch.” He spits. An unoccupied hand reaches to grab a tussle of your hair to guide your mouth towards Yeonjun who’s desperate to feel the warmth of your mouth and he’s not disappointed at all!!

Your hand works at twisting at the base all the way up towards where your lips met his tip, sucking ludicrously through your clumsy hand work, globs of saliva dripping down your chin and on to his balls as he tried to hold himself back from bucking in to your face and fucking it directly instead. The sounds of you gagging around his cock drives him insane from the extra stimulation from the vibrations of moans gargling down your throat.

“S-so obedient for me, such a good slut aren’t you? Can see why Soobin’s so eager to a-ah, fuck, to eat you out every time hm? I won’t be that easy on you baby, I’m only getting started.” A mantra of moans falls from Yeonjun’s open mouth as he throws his head back in gruelling pleasure, the combination of the warmth of your mouth and the fat tears threatening to fall from your eyes is heavenly, so pornographic he’ll come apart the moment he locks eyes with you.

“You can go deeper than that you whore, I know you’ve taken more with Soobin.”

Slap!-

Taehyun strikes a hand against the globe of your ass which stings causing you to yelp and lurch further forward on Yeonjun’s throbbing cock, cheeks glowing red even under dim lighting, the hand print starting to swell only ticks the built up anger in Taehyun further as he pushes through his saliva-lubed cockhead between your folds finally.

The feeling of your gummy walls clamping down right on to the foreign feeling of being dicked down for the first time like a vice drives him insane, Taehyun’s head leans forward to the point that his hair is covering his eyes, staying still for a moment so he doesn’t cum straight away because he’s embarrassingly close already.

“Fuck this slutty pussy’s so tight, if you don’t relax princess you’re gonna snap my dick off-“

But Taehyun doesn’t wait for you to get used to the size of him, he doesn’t hesitate in pounding you right in to the table, the prodding of his cockhead against your cervix so deep you could feel it in your gut!! <33 He’s relentless with it too, each thrust harsher and deeper than the last, hitting so rough you were on cloud 9!!

“You like that don’t you bitch? Want everyone to see how big of a whore you are for your roommate and his best friend huh?” Taehyun mutters from his lips, screwed shut and biting them hard enough to draw blood.

“T-that’s it baby shit shit shit keep sucking me like that, god.” Yeonjun holds on to your bobbing head to keep in place as he picks up the pace, thrusting his thick cock down past the uvula of your throat to chase his high, his balls slapping against your chin at a chasing rhythm. The feeling of being filled up so deliciously in both of your dripping holes starts to become unbearable as you choke on Yeonjun’s dick, causing him to pull out and lightly tap his cock against your face before cooing at you,

“what’s wrong baby? Too much for you?” You look back up at him, still whimpering from Taehyun starting to ruin your soaked cunt from behind and talking in broken sentences,

“can- ngh! Can feel you all the way h-here mmh fuck, Tyun!” You grin dumbly at him, pointing towards the middle of your throat so cock dumb and fucked out, and the sight of it all sends Yeonjun on edge, he can’t cum yet- he needs to hold it in a bit longer but all he can focus on is the dirty image replaying over and over in his head like an x-rated movie scene, the way your tongue is slightly lolling out from pleasure with the way Taehyun’s trying to fuck a baby in to you at the rate he’s going, a hand plush against your tit to engineer him to his release quicker, the harsh grip on it is bound to leave you sore tomorrow.

Slap!-

”No one told you to fucking stop slut. Go on, show Yeonjun how desperate of a whore you are to make him cum hm?” Taehyun’s hips are starting to stutter as his thrusts become sloppier, his thighs are starting to buckle in the more your cunt clenches and sucks him in further making him groan in pleasure as he manhandles the fat of your ass.

“Should’ve fucked you earlier y-yeah?”

Another slap lands on your ass which makes you moan around Yeonjun’s reentering cock, creating bliss for him as he picks up the pace to chase after his release, your hips wiggle back to feel Taehyun’s thrusts harder and closer, each stroke of his cock deliciously abrasive against the inside of your walls.

“Probably was planning on taking us both like this anyways with how often you walk around with- ugh shit, those flimsy shorts in. Just a whore pleading to be dicked down constantly aren’t you? ‘ Can feel you clenching down on me fuck- you like it when I call you those nasty words don’t you? Bet Soobin never fucks you this good, bet his cock’s never reached this deep inside you.”

Taehyun lifts your hips slightly higher at angle which makes you feel everything, the singular bulge of the large vein running along his dick makes your eyes roll back as you feel the knot building up in your stomach start to come undone, feeling waves of overwhelming pleasure flood over you while Yeonjun simultaneously pulls his dick out of your mouth again, nearing his own high as he gives his dick a couple more strokes towards your face.

“You’ll let me record this won’t you? Wanna show Soobin how good you’re being for us hm?”

“A-ah!~ Yes just please jjunie, give it to me!” The sticking out of your tongue ready to swallow his cum in to your mouth makes him reel in all sorts of lewd images as he presses the red ‘record’ button, he’s jerking off his cock until it hurts like a bitch before spurting out thick ropes of white that paints your tongue, swallowing it before sticking it out again to show how obediently you’re following his instructions as Taehyun still plows in to you from behind.

“Tch. Always so incompetent, couldn’t even last a second in her mouth can you?” Taehyun’s comment irks Yeonjun further; he grabs you by the chin to twist your head back towards the camera, focusing on the tear stains that ran through your makeup and the drool still leaking out of your chin.

You feel the way Taehyun hits a particular sensitive spot which makes you squeal, “Fuck ! Taehyun fuck me harder please I’m so close!!~” Your voice is whinier than ever before,

“Gonna cum for daddy? That’s right slut, bet that’s all that’s running through that little head of yours.” You unravel on his dick, cumming all over him as he follows not too quickly behind, filling you up with his gloopy seed and pressing in to you just a little longer to savour the moment.

“Fuck you bastard you came in her.” Heeseung groans with his dick in his hand, the whole table is filled with phones recording and girls eyeing your blissed out state in jealousy, thinking of whatever dirty rumour you had to prepare for next.

“You’ll live, she started birth control since she started messing about with Soobin anyway.” He laughs as he reaches out a finger to spread your hole wider, watching your puffy cunt attempts to push out his cum, only for it to end in futile effort as he forces it back in. At the same time Yeonjun presses a chaste kiss to your forehead,

“You’re so good baby, might have to keep you for myself.” He winks before wiping off the remaining mixture of cum and drool off your chest, instead looking over towards the crowd.

“Jealous? I can see you’re seething right now Heeseung it’s hilarious, bet you can’t cum without the feeling of her can you?” Laughing and throwing up a middle finger towards the infuriated receiver, Taehyun cleans you up amidst cheers from his friends and dirty comments about ‘how hot that was’ , he leans over to whisper in your ear.

“You did well for me today princess, handled it like a good girl hm? Does it hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head and blink rapidly, tugging on his shirt again to make him lean down further in to your scent, “No, I liked it, you make me feel good Taehyun.”

He understands it now, heck everyone sat near the coffee table understands it, how you’ve earned the title of ‘Campus Sweetheart’ because it’s disgusting how desirable you are when your holes are being absolutely ruined by two men, something to keep their minds going for weeks.

And Soobin who’s back at the apartment and groggily rubbing his eyes to see the attachment Yeonjun sent him can see it too, specifically on the thumbnail which gives him the clearest view of just how dirty you are!! <3

tyunningism 's work !! 2025

do not steal, copy or repost.

taglist: @chocomoas @sunsetpossum (for those who req a yeonjun part !!)

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

Reblogged from @grison-in-space for this tag:

For anyone who doesn't agree with the OP, let me introduce you to Benton.

Benton was obtained from rescue as a 9 week old puppy with the belief that he was most likely a Texas Heeler, which is a working mix consisting usually of border or smooth collie and Australian Cattledog. It was the pandemic. I had great dreams of finally having the time to train my Ultimate Sport Dog and service dog prospect. I was so excited. Now a bit of background: I am not an inexperienced trainer. I used to work professionally as a dog trainer. My specialization wasn't actually obedience or sport, however, it was aggressive/reactive dog rehabilitation. I had worked my ass off and I was a damn good dog trainer, but when I moved countries, it was way too much work to try and build a new customer base so I went back to school and became a nurse instead. What you need to know is that I was a damn good dog trainer and I have a lot of experience. I brought home this little ball of joy and started working with him. We started small--even with the pandemic I made sure he got his puppy socialization and level one group obedience classes. I took him literally everywhere I could with me. I would call liquor stores at the height of the pandemic and see if they were open to letting my dog come train in their store because there's hardly anyone in a liquor store at 10 am on a Tuesday. I had all the time in the world and I would spend at least two hours a day on training exercises when he was small, broken up into tiny pieces throughout the day. He learned the basics quickly enough. Sit? His autosit is near-perfect to the point that when I take him to (dog friendly) places, everyone assumes he's a service dog and keeps their own dogs away from him even without a harness or anything. Down? Check. Leave it? Hell yeah. The problem was his base temperament. Puppies go through fear stages. One day they're brave, then suddenly they're afraid of everyone and everything around them. Their first is at around 8-14 weeks. Their second is usually the most challenging and happens between 6 months and 14 months. Some have a third one around 18 months or when they hit maturity. Benton never went OUT of his fear stage. Every day of his life was a fear stage from 9 weeks until he was over 2 years old. And I worked hard on this. He ate over a litre jar of treats and kibble every single day for nearly the first two years of his life JUST on desensitization training. He was afraid of everything that flapped, everything that moved suddenly, everything that was in a new location from where it had been yesterday. Our walks around the block were sometimes an hour or two long as I did look-mark-treat exercises for everything in the neighbourhood. This work had to take extreme precedence over trick training or sport training because his temperament was so risky I was afraid if I didn't work my ass off, I'd end up with the most reactive dog imaginable. He washed out of service work, obviously, but I continued to pursue dog sport. When he was 18 months old, we started taking agility foundations classes together. This is a pre-agility safety course at our local agility school. It usually takes 6-9 months to graduate. Dogs must learn to walk backwards on command, to step up with their back feet, to keep their back paws on an elevated board even if their handler walks past them, among other things. In working so hard to get Benton through his VERY prolonged fear stage, he became a velcro dog. He wants to be within 6 inches of a human at all times. He responds to any pressure by sitting down and looking bereft, which means that teaching him to go backwards on command took 8 months ALONE even though I had watched him walk backwards up stairs before. As a result, it has taken us 3 years to complete a 6 month safety course. His trainer has 35 years' experience teaching THIS COURSE and it still takes 3-6 months to develop a new way to teach him each exercise. Benton is a dream to live with. He's my best friend and I love him. But he is nearly impossible to train.

man it´s so easy to talk shit about how other people "don´t train their dogs" if you never worked with a hard to train dog

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (15/20)

Hey, my boos!

We are getting at the final chapter....I know I know! Actually, I'm trying to write the perfect ending but my routine is so crazy! I'm thinking to stop for few days to organize it, and then, back.

Anyway! I'll let you know, okay?

Enjoy it!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: angst.

Pairing: Governor! Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: Agatha finds your behavior strange.

Skewer

noun

a tactic where a more valuable piece (like a king, queen, or rook) is attacked, and when it moves to defend itself, a less valuable piece behind it is exposed and can be captured. It's essentially the opposite of a pin, where the less valuable piece is in front.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee was the same. Strong, bitter, and persistent. Thanos loved making coffee. It was one of his small daily gestures, a ritual that seemed like affection.

“Do you have a meeting today?” He’d ask, still in expensive cotton pajamas, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

“I do, at the Chamber.”

Silence would follow, broken only by the soft clinking of a spoon against a mug.

“Don’t you think you’re getting too involved in all this? Politics is… dirty.”

She pretended not to hear, took a sip. “That’s exactly why.”

Thanos gave her a small, measured smile. The kind that always came before a perfectly crafted phrase.

“I just think it’s too much exposure. It changes people, Agatha.”

She smiled back. Because smiling was easier than arguing. Because he never yelled, never laid a hand on her. And yet, every word felt like an invisible clamp pinning down her wings.

Their house in the Hamptons was beautiful. Classic, quiet, and immaculate. She used to run her fingers along the golden frames in the hallway, where his diplomas were displayed.

Economics at Oxford. MBA at Yale—where he’d been her mentor during undergrad, and how they met—and a smaller frame with her name on it, from a speech she gave at Harvard.

A speech Thanos had read and rewritten three times before letting her take the stage.

“It’s not about censorship, love. It’s just a matter of tone. You tend to sound… aggressive when you talk about the system, and no one likes aggressive women.”

That night, Agatha didn’t sleep.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember when exactly she started being tamed. When she had been boxed up and commanded.

On their wedding anniversary, Thanos took her to a French restaurant, all candlelight and background piano.

A toast to love!

He gave her a gift: a pearl necklace. 

And she gave a speech. Polished and empty.

On the way home, in the car, Thanos placed his hand on her leg.

“See? When you want to, you know how to behave. Everyone loved you tonight.”

She never wore the necklace.

Years later, she could still remember the taste of that wine. The scent of his skin. The impenetrable silence that filled the house.

And how, on the outside, everything looked perfect. 

The businessman and his wife. The philanthropy. The meetings. The smiling photos at gala dinners with his investors.

And a woman slowly disappearing inside herself.

[...]

The bathroom mirror was fogged up, steam curling up the tiled walls. Agatha braced her hands on the cold marble sink. Her reflection looked younger today or maybe just more real.

Her body still pulsed with what had happened a few hours earlier.

The tight stall.The bass thumping through the walls. The taste of your kiss. The muffled moans against your neck.

She closed her eyes.

God, that had been wrong.

So wrong.

Inappropriate, reckless, impossible.

And yet...

She thought of you.

So young.

But it wasn’t just your age. You were movement, impulse. Raw, generous desire.

You gave yourself like someone who had never learned to hold back, like someone who hadn’t been broken into small enough pieces to fear pleasure yet.

And that… that destroyed her, because she wanted to break you.

Wasn’t it wrong?

Yes.

Of course it was.

But... maybe not that wrong.

What happened in that bed, in that stall, it wasn’t casual. You touched her with hunger, with reverence, with a kind of freedom Agatha thought she had buried under layers of power, fear, and duty.

Freedom.

The word echoed with a summer taste.

Being with you was like an unexpected breeze on a stifling afternoon. A light, cool, rebellious wind. The kind that enters without asking, slams windows, sends papers flying, and makes curtains flutter like freed ghosts.

You were that.

An impossible wind.

And Agatha…

She’d spent her whole life closing windows.

She sighed, bracing herself on the sink, and remembered the word:

Mommy.

You always called her that, like it meant nothing. Or maybe it did?

It didn’t matter.

Because the effect was immediate and consuming.

It wasn’t just erotic, no—although it was, searing and incandescent to her. It was what it said about how you saw her.

With surrender, with trust, and need.

Agatha shuddered.

She felt exposed, yes. But also… adored. As if, for one night, she’d stepped out of her armor, as if someone had seen something in her beyond strategy and control.

You saw her. Whole. And still… you wanted her.

You were so sweet you might have been naive. There was a wild insolence in you, a thirst that never apologized.

You wanted the world and you wanted her. Even with her contradictions, her sharpness, her fears and mistakes.

And for some reason... that didn’t scare her.

Not like it should.

You were intense, generous, unfiltered, and maybe— just maybe—The best thing that had happened to her in seventeen years.

She straightened slowly, running her fingers through the wet dark strands falling over her shoulders. The robe touched her skin with silent tenderness.

She took a deep breath.

Maybe she wasn’t the kind of woman who deserved love, maybe she wasn’t the kind who knew how to love, but for now… maybe she could allow herself.

After all, even the most powerful king was once just a pawn trying to cross the board.

When Agatha stepped out of the shower with her hair still damp, skin warm under the cotton robe, she didn’t expect to find the bed so quiet.

You were there, lying on your side, one knee bent, sleeping deeply on the messy sheets.

She stopped, just watched you.

You breathed slowly, long strands falling across your cheek. Moonlight slipped through the cracks in the curtain, sketching soft shapes across your face.

So young.

So confident. 

and yet… so, so reckless.

She sat down beside you but didn’t dare touch. She just stayed there, watching over you like someone guarding something precious and fleeting.

That night, she slept beside you without armor. 

And dreamed of freedom.

In the morning, the shift was obvious.

You woke up first. Spoke little, almost distant. Irritation shimmered in your eyes, even though you tried to hide it.

Agatha furrowed her brow, confused. But she slipped the armor back on and didn’t ask.

Like every dream, your days of peace had ended.

The car drove in silence back toward Seattle.

She gripped the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her thigh in anxious stillness.

You stared out the window. Silent, closed off and inaccessible.

“Is everything okay?” She asked in the gentlest tone she knew, though it still came out stiff, almost automatic.

You just nodded.

“You can drop me three blocks before campus.”

Just like this. Dry and unaffectionate.

“Alright.”

And when the car stopped, you murmured a thank-you far too soft to reach her fully.

She didn’t reply with words. Just nodded, feeling her heart crack with a silence so heavy it ached in her bones.

She shouldn’t be this shaken. It was just sex. Just youth —in the purest sense of the word. Just a detour in the middle of a war.

But why…

Why did it feel so wrong to leave you there?

Hours later, back at her house, the longing ached in the most unexpected corners of her body.

Where was her good girl? That one who smiled with her eyes and obeyed with her body?

Where had she gone?

“Mom?”

Nicky’s voice snapped her out of it.

She smiled, drained.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He walked in slowly, his eyes too perceptive for someone so young. He noticed the small suitcase and the fatigue on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied too quickly. “I went to Oregon. Some company matters to sort out...”

Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded hollow.

She loved her son, with every cell in her body. But holding a real conversation with him—one that didn’t involve numbers, deadlines, or expectations—felt like trying to grasp something that always slipped through her fingers.

Still, she tried. As she always did, even if it was already too late.

She stepped closer and took his hands gently, as if trying to touch something that no longer belonged to her.

“Tell me, sweetheart… how are things? The SATs are coming up and—”

“Mom, please.”

He sighed, eyes shifting away—impatient, yes, but there was something else.

A deeper fatigue. 

An old disappointment.

“Can we, just this once, not talk about that?”

Agatha froze.

“About what…?”

“This. School. College. Career. How I always have to be perfect. How you only—”

He stopped himself, swallowing hard, like choosing between speaking and not hurting her.

“What is it, Nicky?” Her voice came out smaller, frightened. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just… sometimes it feels like you know me as a resume, not as a son.”

The words landed like a punch to the stomach.

He went on, calmer now, but cruel in his honesty.

“When I was little, we used to go to the park. You made picnics, you’d run with me. You laughed, mom!”

His eyes were shimmering with tears.

“Now I don’t even know what you like to do in your free time. I don’t even know if you have free time.”

Agatha felt her chest collapse inward.

“Sweetheart, I…”

What could she say?

That she was trying? That she’d spent years walking invisible tightropes just to keep everything running? That loving the right way always seemed to slip from her grasp?

He shook his head, disappointed.

“You keep asking what I want to be, but have you ever stopped to ask what you’ve become?”

Silence.

A brutal pause in time.

He let go of her hands with care. It wasn’t violent or cruel. It was just… final and that hurt more.

Agatha stood there, fingers still curled in empty air, as if she were still holding the five-year-old who used to run through fields with scraped knees and an easy smile.

But he was gone.

“I’m sorry…” she said, but he was already walking out the door.

And just like that, everything was loneliness again.

[...]

Dinner had been set for 7 PM sharp, but Agatha arrived at 7:10. Evanora had taught her well: Men should wait.

Tony Stark was already at the table of an upscale restaurant in downtown Seattle, a nearly untouched glass of white wine in front of him.

When he saw her, he smiled like an ad campaign — standing with the practiced charm of a seasoned flirt.

“Agatha Harkness,” he said, taking her hand as if she were rare porcelain. “You look stunning.”

She looked him dead in the eye, then withdrew her hand and casually wiped it on her dress.

“Spare me the bullshit, Tony. Let’s get to the point. Tell me what you want.”

She sat down without ceremony, crossing her legs with surgical precision.

He gave a low chuckle, settling into his seat with the smugness of a man who thought he was in control.

“What I want?” He twisted the ring on his finger, pretending to think. “I want you… submissive.”

Agatha laughed. It was loud, unexpected and a little terrifying.

“Submissive?” She repeated, leaning over the table, eyes gleaming. “Oh, Stark… how many years have you been dreaming about that?”

“Since you wore that blue pantsuit in the Senate. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

She smiled, but now it was pure ice.

“Shame it didn’t finish the job.”

Tony laughed, but there was a sharpness under the surface.

“No need to pretend you’re still some saint in heels. We’ve all sold something to get where we are. I’m just offering a better price.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying him like one would examine a dissected animal.

“You’re pathetic.”

He opened the black folder beside his plate with a theatrical snap.

“And you’re predictable.”

She saw them.

Photos.

Full color.

Too sharp. Too clear.

Her, at your dorm room door—that night when she couldn’t think of anything but you. You, stepping into her car wearing that purple sweater, still smelling like Cuir de Beluga—Agatha could still smell it. Your faces much too close to be professional.

She froze.

Tony turned the first image toward her and smiled like a snake.

“Didn’t know our golden woman had a thing for little girls.”

Agatha’s face remained impassive, but her hand gripped the glass so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“You’re bluffing.” She said quietly.

“Am I?”

He pushed more photos her way.

“You think the public will understand? A powerful fifty-year-old woman with a college girl in her lap? It all sounds very… nineties. And look…” he pointed at one photo. “this one’s right in front of her dorm. Underage or not, the headlines write themselves.”

Agatha didn’t respond immediately.

She took a deep breath and picked up one of the photos, examining it closely.

Tony seemed to savor the silence.

“You could end all this with a nod, Agatha. Be reasonable. Back my campaign. Step down with dignity, and maybe… I’ll offer you a role. Something symbolic. Decorative. Pretty. Like you.”

God, he was so repulsive.

Her stomach turned. The wine threatened to rise.

Agatha looked at him.

For a second, something in her face faltered. A muscle in her jaw, a tremble in her lower lip.

But she didn’t break.

Not there.

Agatha would never break in front of a man.

She gathered the photos one by one, each motion calculated and precise.

“Are you finished?” She asked, emotionless.

“For now.” He replied, smug.

She stood.

Her dress skirt was immaculate. Her posture, flawless. But there was a shadow in her eyes, a crack only the very observant would see.

Tony thought he’d won.

And maybe… for the first time in a long while, Agatha wasn’t sure he was wrong.

~*~

Can I kill Tony?

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqlz @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4 @jaylie-bee @holystrangersalad @chlondykebar @natashashill @harknessshi @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @ahintofchaos @lowlyjelly @xblinkx2 @rmaximoff @loveshineslikethesky

[lunatf-ao3]

SICK CARE ☀︎︎

[BAYVERSE] Optimus Prime/Human!Reader

[⚠︎]: Flu

Now comes a wave of sick care!!

-

Being cautious, Optimus slowly stirred the small pot of soup before him with a ladle, trying to bring it to the right warmth for you.

The size of the tools was certainly... inconvenient, especially when he could crush them and ruin the food in seconds, just like the first time. He hadn’t expected human cookware to be so delicate beneath his fingers.

So, for now, he remained cautious.

"The soup will be ready soon. I apologize for the delay. I failed in preparing it the first time.

His optics shifted to you, voice heavy with guilt. He had seen you open your eyes, weak and teary beneath the cold cloth he’d placed on your forehead.

"It’s okay, Optimus... You didn’t have to do all this," you murmur, offering him a faint smile. "But it’s kind of funny watching you make soup."

That smile, fragile as it was, warmed his spark in a way he tried not to acknowledge.

He could pretend he was doing this solely out of responsibility, because you were his ward, and you were unwell. But deep down, to his quiet dismay, he knew there was something more.

Something difficult to admit, yet something he had already accepted.

"It is no trouble."

You didn’t respond. The light had started to bother your eyes, so you shut them again. He noticed.

Without a word, he set down the ladle and turned off the row of lights in that section of the room.

His room.

Since your arrival at NEST, sick and fragile, Optimus hadn’t been able to leave you unattended. He had used the excuse of having reports to file, but in truth, he brought you into his quarters and took charge of your care himself.

And now here you were, resting on his berth, wrapped securely in a neat arrangement of sheets he had gathered just for you.

He knew he shouldn't indulge the feeling. But seeing you like this, so defenseless, so small...

He couldn’t help it.

He approached you. The tip of a single digit gently brushed your cheek in a soft, fleeting stroke, following its path until reaching the damp cloth on your forehead.

It had warmed up.

Carefully, he removed it, wrung out the liquid, then dipped it again in fresh cold water and replaced it over your brow.

Then he noticed your nose, it was running. Without hesitation, he retrieved a tissue, pulled out a piece with careful precision, and offered it to you.

"Thank you, Optimus."

You smiled, setting the tissue aside after wiping your nose.

"This is really sweet of you."

"There is no need to thank me."

You laughed softly, enough to make his spark fill.

"How humble."

"...Was that humor?"

"Yeah."

He gave only a quiet nod.

"Your temperature remains elevated," he murmured, before returning his attention to the soup. He stirred it twice, and finally found the temperature adequate.

"Optimus... I’m hungry, but I don’t want soup. I want a hamburger."

He paused.

"A hamburger would only strain your system at the moment. The soup provides warmth, hydration, and the nutrients your body is currently lacking."

"Ah..." you sighed, but didn’t argue further.

Optimus carefully lifted the pot into one servo, along with a spoon, a napkin, and a small bucket, just in case your system rejected the meal.

You looked at him, slightly alarmed.

"It’s... a lot. I think just one bowl would be enough. And, uh aren't you burning yourself?"

"The temperature is low for me. It does not harm me. I assumed this was the standard portion humans consume. I did not anticipate needing a bowl."

"We do eat this much, but in parts. It’s okay, you don’t have to bring a bowl. I will just take spoonfuls straight from it."

Optimus nodded, watching as you weakly tried to sit up.

You pressed the cloth against your forehead, trying to keep it in place.

Then reached for a spoon... and failed. Your hands felt wrong, your fingers too stiff and unfamiliar. Too heavy. Too uncomfortable.

And the steam from the soup, it stung your face. It was too much.

You let go of the spoon.

"I can’t."

A bit taken aback, Optimus looked at you, concerned.

Caring for a human... was more complex than expected.

"May I assist you?"

"Huh?"

"May I feed you? If you will allow it."

"You really don’t have to."

"It is no burden."

He raised a spoonful carefully.

"Please. Allow me."

"Uh... alright."

-

"I regret if I have caused you discomfort."

The familiar apology passed quietly through the room’s cool air. Optimus was methodically arranging the small place where you would sleep, laying out the sheets and pillows with the care of someone preparing a bed for royalty.

"You don’t have to apologize so much... I’m not uncomfortable. You’ve done a lot for me today."

Your voice was softer now, fading behind a yawn that made him pick up the pace.

You waited patiently at the side.

The Autobot leader had fed you, like a baby. The thought was strange, sure... but not unpleasant.

In fact, you liked it. You really liked the care he was giving you.

Optimus’s soup was very good.

Made for you. Just for you.

It made you feel special.

Without warning, Optimus gently picked you up and placed you in the carefully made nest of fresh blankets. The relief of it, so soft, so warm, only made your body feel heavier with sleep.

You snuggled into the layers while your guardian dropped a few pills into the tip of his servo. "Open."

You obeyed, letting him place the pale pills on your tongue. The taste was immediate and unpleasant. But Optimus quickly brought a glass of water to your hands.

You drank, then handed it back in the comfort of silence.

He set the glass aside, securing it on a shelf.

Lights dimmed throughout the room.

And you knew... your tired brain needed to shut down.

"Optimus" you called softly a last time. "...Thank you."

"...Rest now, little one."

You didn’t resist. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into sleep’s deep embrace.

He hoped you wouldn’t have nightmares.

-

"Hm...?"

You hummed with sleepy confusion. Did you hear something?

You were still too tired.

Keep sleeping, it’s still early. You could see the faint blue of morning slipping in through a small vent.

Perfect time to keep dreaming.

You adjusted on the pillow, hugging the cold side.

And gave one last glance around the room.

There was a hamburger on the table.