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wongyuseokie · 1 month ago

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Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 3: Fucked Up, Still Falling

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 15,457

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: yelling, swearing, LOTS OF ANGST HOLY COW shit really hit the fan here. Mingyu is very sad and angry (rightfully so) cheol is very very mean, but its warranted, hoshi is mean but not as bad more bitchy than mean. seokmin is snippy but sunshine cant ever be truly cruel. Smut Warnings: no smut actually, suggestive sure, but no sex mentions of anal sex its more jokey but none of it. lots of kissing, fingering (but its not y/n) dun dun. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 3, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

That evening, your bedroom was a mess of indecision.

Three dresses lay crumpled on the bed, all rejected for reasons that now felt trivial. Too safe. Too bold. Too pink. Too much like the last time you tried too hard.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, bare-faced and half-dressed, clutching a blouse by the hanger like it might whisper the answer to your dilemma.

“Why am I like this?” You muttered under your breath, heart already fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Tonight was a date. A real one. With Mingyu.

And you wanted it to be perfect. You needed it to be.

Your fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp of your necklace, the one Mingyu once complimented offhandedly—the one you hadn’t worn in months.

He made you feel... like maybe things could be different.

But even as you spritzed perfume along your collarbone and fluffed your freshly styled hair, the undercurrent of guilt pulsed just beneath the surface.

He didn’t know. Not yet.

About the article. About how much you’d withheld. About everything that came before the version of you he was finally getting to know.

You’d planned to tell him. You would tell him.

Just... not yet. Not tonight.

You needed this evening. One moment where things felt light again. Where the flutter in your chest was excitement and not fear. Where his gaze stayed soft and adoring and not clouded by betrayal.

You just needed one more night.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down the front of your dress and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror.

“You’ve got this,” you whispered.

And maybe, for just a few hours, you could believe it.

“Wow,” Joshua said, eyes widening as you stepped into the living room. “You clean up… shockingly well.”

You smirked, smoothing down the front of your satin dress. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“I mean it,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’ve never seen you look so—wait, is that contour?”

“Shua,” you warned, grabbing your purse.

He grinned. “Okay, okay. You look gorgeous. Just—please tell him tonight.”

Your smile faltered. “What about tomorrow? I just want to bask in tonight, it might be the last time he wants to be around me. I promise, just give me tonight and I’ll tell him.”

“You keep saying that,” he replied gently. “And the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to feel.”

You glanced down at your heels, then at the tiny clutch in your hands, where the journal—a condensed version of your article draft—was tucked beneath your lipstick and phone. “Just… let me have this night. One last perfect date.”

Joshua didn’t say anything else. He just stood up and kissed your forehead. “Then go get your perfect date, bub.”

When the knock came at the door, you inhaled sharply before opening it.

Mingyu stood there in a crisp, charcoal suit, holding a single sunflower. “Hi.”

You blinked. “You wore a suit.”

“You said fancy,” he replied, extending the flower with a sheepish smile. “And you look… beautiful.”

You took the flower and gave him a bashful smile. “You clean up alright too.”

“Alright?” He scoffed. “I wore cologne for this.”

You laughed, letting him lead you down the hallway. His fingers found yours the moment you stepped into the elevator, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, and warm.

Still, the journal in your clutch weighed heavier than ever.

“Okay, no hints?” You asked as you slipped into his car.

“None,” he said, grinning as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But I will say this—you’ve never been to this place.”

Mingyu’s car smelled like him — something warm and clean and distinctly comforting. He played music as he drove, humming along quietly.

“This song’s cute,” you said, smiling as the melody filled the space between you.

“I thought you'd like it,” he replied, sneaking a glance at you. “Do you want me to sing it to you someday?”

You grinned. “You sing?”

“Only in the shower. Or when I’m drunk. Or when I think you won’t hear.”

“Maybe I’ll catch you one day,” you teased. Then, softer, “I’d like that.”

The rest of the drive was warm and easy, and you found yourself leaning toward him even without meaning to. Everything felt so natural — his jokes, the way he opened your door, the way he pulled you close when you walked toward the restaurant.

And then you saw where he’d brought you.

“Wait. This place is—Mingyu, it’s fancy-fancy.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I said dress fancy, didn’t I?”

“You also said you weren’t trying to impress me.”

“I lied.” He held the door open with a dramatic bow. “I’m trying to impress the hell out of you.”

Your heart swelled. And cracked.

Over candlelight and wine, you let yourself enjoy the night. Mingyu was in his element — charming, attentive, funny. You kept catching yourself staring, forgetting the food in front of you entirely.

“So,” he said between bites of risotto, “on a scale of one to ten… how good of a date am I?”

You choked a little, caught off guard. “What?”

Mingyu smirked. “Come on. You’re a journalist. I’m sure you rate everything.”

You forced a laugh. “Please, I only rate movies and bad exes.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What if I want to be rated?”

You tilted your head. “Dangerous request.”

“Hit me with it.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Everything in you wanted to say ten. But your throat tightened and the number stuck in your chest like a stone.

“Solid… nine,” you managed, lifting your wine glass to cover your mouth.

He gasped. “Nine? What the hell do I have to do for a ten?”

You laughed. “You’ll figure it out. You’re annoyingly good at that.”

Mingyu grinned and leaned over the table. “I’ll earn it. Just wait.”

You smiled back, but the weight of your secret pulled a little heavier.

You spent the weekend scribbling in your journal like it was a secret lab notebook. Bullet points. Observations. Emotional barometers. You even rated the dates, which—when said out loud—sounded ridiculous. But somehow, it helped. Date one: a six. Sweet, funny, respectful. He kissed you. You left out the part where his hands were on your hips for half the movie and your thigh was slotted between his.

You were trying to be scientific about it. But there was no method for what was happening to your heart.

And the worst part? He still didn’t know.

“How’s the story going?” Keira peeked over your shoulder, her iced coffee in hand and her voice low.

“Is that a hickey?”

You slammed your laptop shut with a yelp. “Keira.”

She grinned. “Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re going over to his place today, maybe wear a scarf. Or concealer. Or both.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

“He gave you that hickey?”

You didn’t answer. Keira smirked. “His lips do look soft.”

You laughed nervously. “They are.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Use protection, Hemingway.” ~~

Later that evening, you flung your arms around Mingyu’s neck as he lifted you off the ground with a grunt.

“Koala mode activated,” he teased, carrying you inside.

“Mingyu what time do you need me at the gallery tomorrow? You said you needed help moving some stuff right around right for your showcase?”

Mingyu pondered for a second, “maybe around 4?”

“Cool, anyway, you lovebirds, keep it PG,” Seungcheol muttered as he passed by, smirking over his bowl of pasta.

You giggled and buried your face in Mingyu’s shoulder. The scent of him, faintly earthy and warm, made your stomach flip. Mingyu carried you straight to his room, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in leaving it.

The door to Mingyu’s room barely clicked shut before you were on each other.

His hands cupped your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss—hot, urgent, toe-curling. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, one hand already sliding beneath the hem of your dress.

“You’re sure?” he asked against your lips, his voice already thick with want.

You nodded, tugging his shirt up in answer. “Off. Now.”

He chuckled softly, but obeyed, yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was warm against your palms, all firm lines and soft skin, and you couldn’t stop your hands from roaming.

“God, you’re unreal,” you muttered.

“Right back at you,” he said, already working on the zipper of your dress.

Clothes came off in between kisses and breathless laughter, piece by piece—your dress hitting the floor, his jeans half-kicked off before he stepped out of them entirely. By the time you tumbled onto his bed, you were down to just your bra and panties, and he was in nothing but his boxers, hovering over you with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.

And still kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.

“You never told me you had a showcase,” you murmured later as you lay on his chest, slightly breathless from the makeout session your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of his biceps.

He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d want to come.”

You looked up at him. “I’d love to. You know I’d love to.”

His ears pinked at your earnestness. “It’s not much. Just a small gallery set-up. Some portraits, mostly candid stuff. I’ve been working on this series of people mid-laugh.”

“That’s adorable,” you whispered and meant it.

Mingyu ran his hand down your back, fingertips grazing the base of your spine. “You have a very nice butt,” he said, dropping a kiss on your shoulder.

You turned, smirking. “Do you plan to fuck it?”

His face went crimson. “Hey! That’s unfair.”

“Why? I’m merely asking questions.”

“You’re mean.”

You rolled onto your back, stretching. “Do you remember that night in the shower? After the party, when you touched me there…it felt so fucking good.”

Mingyu groaned and immediately rolled away from you. “Nope. No. We’re not doing this.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stood, pulling on his sweatpants like it was armour. “I already broke the rule once. We said no sex until we’re ready, and I want to do this right.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realise all I’m wearing is my bra and panties?”

He winced. “You’re killing me.”

You sat up. “So what? You just want me to deal with it? Touch myself and journal about it later?”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, and Mingyu’s head jerked toward you.

Oh no. You hated the way it sounded. You could feel it—the guilt slowly bubbling under your ribs like carbonated dread.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just… I really like you, okay?”

You softened. “Let’s make a new rule: no more dates at anyone’s house until we’re ready to break all the rules.”

He smiled and tugged you back to bed. “Deal.”

You curled into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And yet, your mind was elsewhere. On your laptop, your notes, the dates you were documenting. You wondered if he would’ve ever agreed to be part of your “research” if he had known.

You were halfway to falling for him. And he didn’t even know he was being measured.

“Have you told him yet?” Joshua asked you the next morning, watching you poke at your cereal like it had personally wronged you.

You didn’t look up. “No.”

“How many dates has it been?”

You mumbled, “Ten.”

“Y/N.”

“I know. I know, okay?” You sighed, “I’m telling him. Just… not tonight. He is preparing for his showcase. I don’t want to mess with his head.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes but let it go—for now. ~~

The gallery was empty, but you could see Mingyu inside preparing for his showcase at the end of the week. Minimalist lighting, deep charcoal walls, the soft hum of polite conversation. You stood in front of one of Mingyu’s photographs, a candid of an older couple laughing over a chessboard. It made your chest ache.

“You came,” Mingyu whispered, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I’m almost done here, just ensuring the lights and all are set for the showcase, at the end of the week.”

You turned to smile at him, but his tie was crooked and his hair was slightly damp—like he’d been nervously running his fingers through it all evening.

“You look like someone’s proud boyfriend,” you teased.

He blinked. “Am I?”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer.

You were walking home, your heels in your hand, when Mingyu tugged you under a streetlamp.

“I didn’t want to ask you like this,” he said, his voice unsteady, “but I’ve known for a while now… I like you, and we’ve been through so much, but I like you. A lot. You make me nervous in the best way. You make me want to be better. So—” he swallowed, “—will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him. You should’ve said it right then. About the article. The dates. The reason you were writing everything down.

But you didn’t.

You just said yes. And kissed him so he couldn’t hear your guilt screaming in your throat.

“You said yes,” Mingyu whispered into your hair, almost in disbelief. You could feel the grin on his face as his hands slid around your waist and pulled you into a deeper hug. His voice was low, warm, and giddy. “I have a girlfriend.”

You laughed softly into his chest, but guilt bloomed like ink in water.

“I was going to ask you another day, actually on the day of my showcase, well after it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “I had this whole plan. Photos of you projected behind me, a cheesy slideshow. But tonight felt… right.”

Your stomach twisted. Photos of you?

“You’re serious?” You asked, half smiling. Mingyu nodded, almost shyly. “I’ve been taking candids whenever you weren’t looking,” he admitted. “I know, creepy boyfriend behaviour. But they’re… they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. I wanted to capture how you make me feel when I look at you.”

You didn’t know what to say. A part of you wanted to cry — from the sweetness, and the shame.

“That’s really… thoughtful,” you said, trying not to choke on the words. Your smile faltered. “I can’t wait to see it.”

But you could barely look him in the eye.

That night, after Mingyu walked you home and kissed you with all the sweetness in the world, you sat on your bed with your journal open on your lap. You hadn’t written anything since the first few dates. The number six still stared back at you, innocent and clinical. You hadn’t added the last four dates. You didn’t know how to write about the way he made you laugh when you were angry. Or how he told you he dreamed of printing photos in black and white because that’s how he saw the world when you weren’t in it. Or how his lips felt against your forehead after he sang on stage like he was made of stardust.

You crossed out the six and wrote nine.

Then stared at it for a long time.

You closed the notebook and shoved it into your work bag.

You’d tell him. You had to. But not tonight. Not when he was smiling so brightly. Not when he called you his girlfriend like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.

You curled into bed, burying your face into your pillow, guilt prickling at the edges of your happiness.

Soon, you told yourself. You’d tell him soon.

The next few days blurred into a montage of camera flashes, coffee dates, and late-night phone calls where Mingyu would talk about lighting setups and lens choices like he was describing magic.

“I’m thinking of opening with black and whites,” he said over the phone one night, his voice sleepy. “The ones I took of you. You know, that photo from the coffee shop? You were laughing at something dumb I said.”

You clutched the phone tighter. “You took a photo of that?”

“I take photos of everything,” he said. “But that one… that one’s my favourite.”

You didn’t know whether to melt or cry. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in a gallery,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

“You’re not just in the gallery,” he chuckled. “You’re the inspiration.”

You could hear the grin in his voice. And you wished you could deserve it.

By Thursday, Mingyu was knee-deep in final edits. You stopped by his place with snacks and coffee, trying not to let your nerves get the better of you.

Seungcheol glanced up from the couch. “Hey, muse,” he teased. “He hasn’t stopped pacing for two hours.”

You smiled awkwardly. “I brought croissants.”

Mingyu looked up from his laptop like he hadn’t noticed you come in. “You’re here,” he breathed, and suddenly all the tension in his body melted. “Come see.”

He beckoned you over, pulling you gently into his chair as he stood behind you. Dozens of thumbnails filled the screen — shots of city streets, shadows cast on faces, hands mid-gesture — and scattered among them were photos of you.

One of you reading in the park. One with your hair messy and your lips parted in laughter. One where you were looking directly at the camera, unaware he’d even lifted it.

“Gyu,” you said softly. “These are…”

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “You always say you don’t know how you look when you’re not trying,” he murmured. “I do.”

You didn’t trust your voice. You turned toward him, and he kissed your cheek gently.

And all you could think about was the notebook in your work bag and the words “latest article” scribbled across the first page.

Later that night, curled up together on his couch as he scrolled through playlists for the showcase.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

He hesitated. The words perched on his lips like a bird on a wire.

“I’m just nervous,” he said instead. “Big night coming up.”

You squeezed his hand. “You’ll be amazing.”

You almost laughed at the irony. Instead, you smiled and leaned into him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your heart had started to race.

You stood outside the gallery, trying to convince yourself your knees weren’t trembling. The venue was elegant — all high ceilings, exposed brick, and warm ambient lighting. Mingyu’s name was printed in glossy serif font across the entrance: Kim Mingyu: Through My Lens.

You took a breath. Then another.

“Are you going to walk in?” Joshua whispered behind you, “or just stare at the door until the exhibit’s over?”

You shot him a glare but let him loop his arm through yours.

“I can’t tell if I’m nervous for him,” you muttered, “or just a horrible person.”

“You’re not a horrible person,” Joshua replied easily. “Just… an occasionally dumb one.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he added as you stepped through the door.

The second you entered, it was as if the air changed. Soft music played overhead, the scent of white wine and something citrusy floating in the space. People lingered over photographs mounted on pristine white walls, murmuring appreciatively. You spotted Seokmin and Keira by the drinks table, and Wonwoo near the back corner with Mia.

And then your eyes landed on him.

Mingyu was in black slacks, a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled up, the camera still slung around his neck even though tonight wasn’t about taking photos — it was about showing them.

When he saw you, his smile was so instant and so sincere it nearly shattered you.

“Y/N,” he said, slipping his hand into yours as you approached. “You came.”

“You asked me to,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t miss this.”

His hand lingered at your waist as he leaned down. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered.

You smiled, kissed him quickly before you lost your nerve. “So do you, artist boy.”

Mingyu turned you toward the display. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You followed him through the crowd, weaving past strangers and small talk until you reached the far wall — a quiet corner lit by a single spotlight.

There were three frames there.

The first was a cityscape at sunrise. The second was a candid of Seungcheol asleep on the couch with a book covering his face. And the third was you.

The photo was simple: you, sitting at a window, eyes closed, sunlight brushing against your cheeks like a secret. It looked like peace. Like love.

Your breath caught.

“I call it Falling,” Mingyu said softly.

You swallowed. “That’s…”

He smiled down at you. “I took it three weeks after we met, when we were hanging out in the park, that’s when I realized I was in trouble.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice barely audible over the soft clinks of wine glasses and distant chatter. “I knew you were going to wreck me, and I didn’t care.”

You could feel your heart cave in on itself.

“Gyu,” you whispered, and he turned to you, expectant.

But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t ruin this night.

So instead you leaned up and kissed him, slow and soft. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Let’s celebrate later. After this, it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, your smile shaky. “I’d like that.”

But the words stayed trapped in your throat like a secret begging to be released.

The showcase wrapped up to rounds of applause, handshakes, and endless praise. You watched from the sidelines as Mingyu basked in the limelight — cheeks flushed with pride, hair slightly tousled, still laughing from something Seungcheol said. He looked like he belonged in a painting, and for a moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the room.

But also, the most deceitful.

He found you again before you could spiral too far. “Come on,” he whispered, curling his fingers around yours. “My place. Just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you out of the crowd, out of the venue, out of the guilt temporarily.

Mingyu's apartment smelled like him. Warm, slightly musky, with a hint of cologne and something sweet — the remnants of a scented candle from weeks ago. You curled up on his sofa while he kicked off his shoes and brought over two glasses of wine.

“To you,” he said, raising his glass.

You blinked. “Me?”

“For showing up. For holding my hand through all this. For being the reason I made half those pieces.”

You stared at him, heart in your throat. “Mingyu…”

He leaned closer. “Can I say something stupid?”

You nodded.

“I think you’re it for me.”

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t breathe. The wine turned to acid in your stomach.

“I mean, we haven’t even been together properly that long, but every time I see you, it feels like everything falls into place.” He laughed softly, bashfully. “Sorry. That was probably too much.”

“No,” you choked, voice barely holding steady. “It’s not. I just…”

You paused, fingers tightening around your wine glass.

Say it. Tell him. Just say it.

“I’m really lucky,” you said instead, forcing the words out like poison disguised as honey. “Lucky to have you.”

Mingyu smiled at you like you’d handed him the world. He reached for you and pulled you into his lap. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You know that?”

You nodded against his chest, burying your face in his shirt. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t deserve to.

His fingers stroked lazily up your spine. “I’m happy,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You swallowed the truth. You kissed him instead.

The guilt didn’t disappear. It just burrowed deeper.

And as his lips brushed against your collarbone, his arms wrapping tighter around you like you were everything he’d ever wanted—you promised yourself, next time. Next time, you'd tell him.

You had to.

“Y/N, do you have a hair tie? I’m trying to see how I’ll look with a ponytail,” Mingyu called out to you one evening later from the living room, his voice light.

You smiled, “yeah, in my bag!” You called back, tugging your blanket tighter around you. You didn’t think twice—Mingyu had gone through your bag a dozen times before, always fishing for snacks or stealing your lip balm. You only grew concerned when the silence stretched a little too long.

“Gyu?” You asked, walking out of the bedroom.

And then your heart stopped.

Mingyu stood completely still in the middle of your living room, your journal clutched in his hands like it had scalded him. His brows were furrowed, lips parted in disbelief, and you could tell he had been flipping through it for a while. You followed his gaze to the open page. Your handwriting. His name.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck is this?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

You blinked. “Mingyu—”

“Are you seriously rating me?” He said, louder now, shaking the journal for emphasis. “Is this what this was to you? A fucking science experiment?”

You took a step toward him, arms up as if approaching a wild animal. “Gyu, I can explain—”

“No. Don’t. Because right now my brain is running in circles trying to understand how the hell I could be so fucking stupid.” He threw the journal on the couch like it physically burned him. “I thought I was in something real with you, Y/N. I thought this meant something.”

“It does,” you whispered.

“Does it?” He snapped. “Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it. You wrote down bullet points like I was some test subject. You kept track of our dates like I was a fucking checklist.”

You flinched, guilt crushing your chest. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?” His laugh was sharp, humourless. “After you published it? After you hit ten dates and figured out whether I made the cut or not?”

“No! God, no. I just… I didn’t expect to actually fall for you.”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make this better.”

“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” you continued, helpless now. “It started as an idea, a pitch for a column. But then we kept going out, and it stopped feeling like research. I started liking you. A lot. I still do.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. And then he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “So the night you said yes to being my girlfriend… you still wrote about me?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Mingyu let out a strangled laugh, blinking rapidly. “Cool. So the moment I thought I’d finally found someone who actually gave a shit about me, I was just another subject in your notebook.”

“No, Mingyu, please don’t say that—”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” He shouted. “You let me fall for you while you kept notes behind my back. You smiled at me, kissed me, touched me—and you were always thinking about your next paragraph.”

You took a shaky breath, reaching for him, but he recoiled like you’d burned him. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t touch me.”

You felt your throat tighten. “Gyu, please. I know I should have told you, I just—I was scared. Scared it would ruin what we had.”

“Well, it’s ruined now,” he said coldly. “So congratulations.”

“Mingyu—”

He brushed past you, but paused at the door. “You know what hurts the most? I told you things I’ve never said out loud. I let you in.” His voice cracked then, just a little. “And all the while, you were writing me down like I was disposable.”

And then he left.

You sank onto the floor, the weight of everything collapsing on top of you. The journal sat on the couch, open and damning. You couldn’t even look at it.

You had wanted to fall for him.

Now you weren’t sure you’d ever stop. ~~

You woke up the following morning to silence. No hum of Mingyu’s heater, no soft snores beside you, no faint scent of his cologne in the air. Just your own bedroom, dim and cold.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, heavy, as if even they didn’t want to face the light. The moment you tried to sit up, a dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, the aftermath of hours spent crying into your pillow.

You reached for your phone automatically, more out of habit than hope. No new messages. You hadn’t expected one… but some small part of you still wanted it. Still wanted him.

You groaned softly, dragging your blanket over your head like it might shield you from your own thoughts. But it couldn’t. Not from the way he’d looked at you. Like he didn’t recognize you. Like something in him had cracked—and you had no idea if it would ever be whole again.

You got up eventually, padding into the bathroom. Your reflection startled you: eyes puffy and red, lips chapped, skin blotchy from salt and regret. You splashed your face with cold water, trying to erase the damage, but the guilt clung stubbornly beneath your skin.

The kitchen was too quiet, too neat. You set a pot of water to boil, more for the comfort of routine than any real desire to eat.

As you leaned against the counter, your phone buzzed again.

Still no messages from Mingyu.

Just a calendar reminder. Dinner with Gyu — 7PM ❤️

You deleted it. And still, your chest ached like you'd just done something irreversible.

You whispered into the silence, “I’m sorry.”

But no one was there to hear it. It was just you sat in the living room, feeling awful.

The front door creaked open sometime late afternoon, followed by the shuffle of sneakers and the low hum of conversation.

“Should we pick up more oat milk next time?” Joshua’s voice drifted down the hall.

“I’m not the one finishing it in two days,” Wonwoo replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You didn’t move from where you sat, curled into the far corner of the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, your oversized hoodie practically swallowing you whole. The television was on, playing a random episode of a show you weren’t watching. A forgotten cup of tea sat cold on the coffee table.

Joshua was the first to see you. “Y/N?” His voice softened instantly. “Hey... what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo paused behind him, his eyes immediately taking in the puffiness around your eyes, the slumped shoulders, the blank stare.

“Y/N?” Joshua’s voice shifted instantly. You hadn’t even realized your face had crumpled until you saw the way both their heads snapped up. “What happened?” He asked again, this time standing up, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the way your shoulders shook.

“He knows, he found out.”

Joshua was beside you in a second, arms wrapping around you as you sank into him. You didn’t even bother holding it together anymore. You let yourself sob, the ugly kind, the kind that made your throat burn and your chest ache. Joshua whispered something softly—comforting, aimless sounds—and rubbed your back.

Wonwoo stood silently, his jaw tight as he looked down at the journal, then back up at you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you finally whispered after a while. “I really didn’t.”

Joshua pulled back just enough to see your face. “What happened?”

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He found it. The journal. The whole damn thing. I think he was looking for a hair tie or something, and it just… fell out.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“He thought it’d be cute or romantic or something,” you said, your voice hollow. “You know, me scribbling little lovestruck notes. But instead, he found ratings. Fucking ratings. Breakdown charts. He read them all. And then he looked at me like I was the worst person he’d ever met.”

“What did you say?” Joshua asked gently.

“That it was for an article. That I had this stupid idea—this dumb, terrible idea—and that I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” You looked down at your hands. “But it did. I fell for him, and I never told him the truth, and now he thinks everything I said was a lie.”

Neither of them said anything.

“He stormed out. Thinks I’m a liar. Asked if I had to force myself on dates with him just to see how long it would take to fall for someone like him. Like he wasn’t enough on his own.”

Joshua sighed and sat back down, rubbing his temple.

“I begged him to listen. Told him I didn’t mean to hurt him. That I’d planned to tell him. But he just—he didn’t believe a word of it.”

“And now?” Wonwoo finally asked, voice flat.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I don’t think there is a now.”

You hadn’t planned on coming by. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing until your knuckles rapped twice against the door to Mingyu’s apartment. There was a half-second where you considered turning around, pretending like you’d never shown up. But the door swung open before you could.

“Y/N?” Seokmin blinked at you in surprise. “Hey, wow. Uh—Mingyu didn’t say you were coming by?”

You offered him a small, nervous smile. “I just... wanted to talk to him. Is he in?”

Seokmin hesitated. “Yeah, he's around... sure, come in.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to walk through. You did, clutching your bag a little tighter to your side. You didn’t know what you were hoping for. A moment. A conversation. A sliver of the version of Mingyu who used to laugh when you messed up the coffee order.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Then, Mingyu stepped out of the hallway, stopping dead when he saw you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t raised yet, but it landed like a slap.

Cold.

Sharp.

You flinched. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent weeks documenting me like a lab rat.”

“Mingyu, please—”

“No. Don’t ‘please’ me.” He was walking toward you now, slow and deliberate. “Do you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t find out eventually? You thought you could just scribble notes behind my back, rate my kisses out of ten, and I’d what—fall even harder for you?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu was already shaking his head.

“Seokmin, why the hell did you let her in?” Mingyu snapped.

Seokmin looked between the two of you, piecing together what he had clearly walked into the middle of. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she—”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” Mingyu’s gaze flicked back to you, burning. “Did you come back to take more notes? See what heartbreak looks like up close?”

“Gyu, I just needed to explain,” you said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” He asked bitterly. “You chose to keep lying. You chose to keep writing.”

“I was going to stop,” you said quietly.

“But you didn’t,” he bit back. “You kept going. Even after I told you how I felt. Even after I asked you to be mine. You rated the date that same night, didn’t you? What was it—an eight? A nine? Was it good content at least?”

Your throat closed up.

“I was falling for you,” you whispered. “I still am.”

He laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Too late. You already wrote the ending.”

You took a step forward, and he took one back.

“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re the one who’s heartbroken. You wrote this story, Y/N. You chose the arc. And now you get to live with the ending,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, and for a second, just a second, you saw it. The pain. The betrayal buried under all that rage. The way his eyes shone—not with hate, but heartbreak.

With all the noise you noticed that Seungcheol had stepped out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about.

You wanted to reach for him.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You saw how they all looked at you–their expressions cold, unreadable, like they didn’t even recognize you anymore. You bent down slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on your spine, and collected your scattered things.

“Mingyu…” you whispered, one last attempt.

But it was Seungcheol who answered, you didn’t even know when he left his room to join the commotion he heard outside. his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Leave. For your own good, leave.”

You nodded. Numb. Ashamed. You turned without another word and closed the door behind you.

The second it clicked shut, the tears came fast and merciless. You barely made it down the hallway before they overwhelmed you, hot and humiliating. By the time you stumbled into your own apartment, your face was blotchy, your breaths short and uneven.

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t.

“Well?” Joshua asked softly.

“He’s done with me,” you choked, “and please, if you can spare me the I told you so lecture—” But the rest of the sentence never made it out. It dissolved into broken sobs as you crumpled into Joshua’s chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you without hesitation, while Wonwoo just let out a sigh of disappointment.

They didn’t say much that night. There wasn’t much to say.

You were silent through dinner. Silent through the movie Joshua tried to put on to distract you. Silent even when you crawled into bed hours later, the covers pulled over your head like they could shield you from the reality you’d created.

It had only been a day since it happened, but already the weight of it sat on your chest like a brick.

The next afternoon, as you walked home from work — eyes bleary and head pounding — you spotted Seokmin across the street. He didn’t wave. Just kept walking. You jogged across to meet him.

“Seokmin,” you called, a little breathless. “Please, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Seokmin turned, slow and stiff. His face was unreadable at first, then slowly twisted into something sharper. “Just go back to pretending you never knew us, yeah?” he muttered. “You’ve done enough damage.”

You swallowed hard, heart lurching. “Will he ever forgive me?”

Seokmin’s jaw tightened. “Who knows. You don’t deserve it. But if you’re lucky… he’ll forget you.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes. But Seokmin didn’t wait for your response. He shook his head in disgust, walked up the steps to their apartment, and slammed the door in your face.

You stood there for a long time. Just breathing. Just trying not to fall apart again.

You hadn’t expected anyone at your door that afternoon, so when you opened it and were met with a stranger, you were already bracing to explain you weren’t in the mood for conversation. But then she smiled politely and said. “Hi, oh shit you’re not Mingyu, I must have the wrong apartment. ”

You blinked, as a beautiful woman with soft curls, glossy lips, familiar doe-eyed charm greeted you outside your door.

“You’re looking for Mingyu?” You asked, your voice flatter than intended.

“Yup!” She said, eyes lighting up.

You nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. The doors look the same.”

Before she could respond, the door across the hall swung open. “Hey, baby,” Mingyu’s voice floated out, smooth and warm like nothing had happened. “Sorry, I disturbed your neighbor. All the doors look the same.”

The girl giggled and practically leapt into his arms.

“Missed me?” She asked.

Mingyu smirked at her, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second. That smile you once thought was just for you felt like a blade this time. “Let me show you how much,” he said, pulling her into his apartment.

“Mingyu, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not knowing why you did. Reflex, maybe. Hope, maybe.

He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, the door slamming shut before you could get another word out.

You closed your own door gently, like the sound might shatter you if it echoed too loud.

“Y/N?” You turned to find Wonwoo entering the living room. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you.

“He has a girl over. He’s moving on. And I...” Your voice cracked before you could finish. The lump in your throat grew too big, too fast.

Wonwoo stepped closer, placing the groceries down and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned in, too exhausted to pretend you weren’t breaking anymore.

“I need to fix this,” you whispered into his sweater.

Wonwoo let out a slow sigh as he pulled back. “Or you could just let it go,” he said gently. “Mia wasn’t impressed by it either.”

You stepped away from him, frustration bubbling up beneath your grief. “Who told you to tell her?”

“I didn’t,” Wonwoo replied, his tone calm but stern. “She asked. And you think she wouldn’t have heard it from the others? I told her what happened, and yeah—she got mad. Not just at you. At me too. She’s upset you hurt someone like him.”

You closed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just—I wanted to fall for him. I wanted to try. And I did.”

“Then let him heal,” Wonwoo said quietly. “Maybe he’ll come back to you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then maybe it means he’s not supposed to.”

You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest pulsing harder. ~~

You had been chased out of your apartment by Joshua, something about you moping and crying killed aura, and plus he said you needed to get out. So while you where in the grocery store, you didn’t expect to see Mingyu. You certainly didn’t expect him to catch you staring at a magazine with the poster from the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Because that was you. You were Andie Anderson, and you’d lost him. Not in ten days, but close enough. You reached out for the magazine, maybe just to laugh at the irony.

“That’s rich.” The familiar voice hit you like a slap. You turned to find Mingyu standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Looking for more inspiration to screw someone over?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the aisle like a whip.

You turned slowly, heart already sinking. “No. I wasn’t.”

He glanced pointedly at the magazine. “Actually, the funny thing is—you didn’t even need ten days.”

You didn’t answer, just grabbed a basket and kept moving. Mingyu stayed behind for a moment, then stepped up beside you. “You tried to see how long it’d take for you to like me. You lost me instead. Ironic, huh?”

You flinched, but didn’t stop. You just grabbed your milk, turned toward the cashier.

By the time you paid, rain had started pouring outside like some kind of melodramatic movie set. Your umbrella was sitting back at your apartment. Of course.

“Fuck,” you muttered, arms full of groceries, glaring at the downpour like you could will it away.

“Need a ride?”

You turned around slowly. Mingyu. Hands in pockets, shoulders tense.

You shook your head. “I’ll wait.”

“It’s going to pour for hours. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Mingyu grabbed the bags from your arms anyway. “This is not an inconvenience, you dating me for an article and breaking my heart? That was an inconvenience.”

You followed him out in silence, too tired to fight.

The drive was quiet, tense. The rain drummed on the roof like it was keeping time with your heartbeat.

“I’m not writing the article anymore,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Mingyu didn’t look at you. “Because you didn’t get enough content?”

You looked down at your hands. “Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t care if you write it or not,” he muttered. “I don’t care about anything that involves you anymore.”

You nodded, throat burning.

“I didn’t mean to let it go that far,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Mingyu said, his voice suddenly small. “Just don’t.”

You shrank into your seat.

“She’s pretty,” you said after a moment. “That girl. She seems light. Happy, and pretty.”

Mingyu said nothing, eyes fixed on the road. But he tightened his grip on the wheel.

You glanced down, feeling foolish, and reached out to rest a hand over his. He flinched.

You pulled away instantly.

“I can carry my bags,” you said.

“I know,” Mingyu replied. But he still walked you all the way to your apartment and didn’t say another word.

~~The elevator ride was agonizingly silent, save for the soft hum of movement and the rhythmic buzz of the floor numbers lighting up. You didn’t dare look at Mingyu, not when your reflection in the metallic doors already looked wrecked enough. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on a spot just above your head like if he made eye contact, he’d combust.

The ding of your floor felt more like a punch to the gut. You stepped out, expecting him to turn around and go, but he didn’t. He followed you.

“Mingyu?” You asked softly, turning to look at him as you unlocked your door. His arms were full of your groceries, but it wasn’t the gesture that threw you. It was the fact that he looked more exhausted than angry now—like he'd screamed himself hoarse in silence, and only ashes were left.

He didn’t answer. Just walked past you once the door opened and placed the bags gently on the kitchen counter. You watched him, unsure what to do. Unsure how much space to give someone who already felt galaxies away.

“Oh uh you-,” you said after a beat, trying to sound firm but it came out smaller than intended.

“Save it, I’m just dropping this off,” Mingyu replied without looking at you. “I’m just dropping this off.”

He lingered by the door, hands in his jacket pockets now, as if grounding himself. “Do you… want anything?” You asked, and it felt like asking a stranger if they needed water before they left your home forever.

He looked up at you then, and for a second, you saw something. Sadness? Regret? Longing? You weren’t sure. It flickered across his face and disappeared before you could name it.

“I wanted to hate you, you know?” He said, voice low. “That night, I really thought I could. But then I remembered everything else. The way you’d smile at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way you’d write things down when you were nervous. The way your voice always cracked just a little when you were excited. You didn’t make it easy.”

You swallowed hard, tears already welling again. “So you don’t hate me?”

Mingyu shook his head. “No. I think that’s what makes this worse.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what now?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I still can’t look at you without remembering that I was just another chapter in a story you were writing. Whether or not it became real for you, I’ll never stop wondering if it ever started that way.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Every word felt like another nail into your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was guilt or grief that made your throat ache more.

“I should go,” he said quietly, already stepping backward toward the door. “But for what it’s worth, I hope the story was worth it.”

“Mingyu, wait—” you called out as he turned the doorknob, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Determined to show how much you cared for him, you still continued to speak. “I really hope that she makes you happy; you deserve it. I’m so sorry.”

Mingyu looked at you then—really looked. But there was no softness in his gaze, no flicker of the man who once spooned you in his sleep just to be closer.

He stepped away from your reach, disgust curling on his face like it physically hurt him to see you cry.

“I hope that you never find love, Y/N.”

He said it low, like a curse.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

The door clicked shut with all the finality of a goodbye you weren’t ready to accept.

You stood in your kitchen, surrounded by your groceries, heart pounding in your ears and chest aching. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until the sound of your own sob cracked through the silence.

Then he was gone. The door slammed shut before you could blink, and you stood there, a hand still reaching out for him like some pathetic remnant of a memory. The sob left your throat before you could stop it, and this time you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

You didn’t deserve to.

The next morning, your eyes were puffy, your voice hoarse, and your heart too hollow to carry the weight of your body properly. You dragged yourself into the office anyway, needing the distraction, needing something to hold onto.

Keira spotted you before you could slip past her.

“Y/N, can I speak to you?”

You stopped, wincing. God, you weren’t ready for another confrontation.

“Hey,” you muttered as you stepped into her office.

“Can you shut the door behind you?” She asked gently.

Your stomach dropped. “Please don’t fire me,” you said with a half-laugh, though it came out far more desperate than funny.

Keira softened. “Honey, I’m not going to fire you. I’m calling you in because I’m concerned. You look like you haven’t slept in days. And you scrapped the article?”

You sank into the chair across from her, shoulders folding inward like you were bracing for impact.

“It’s a long story.”

Keira studied you for a moment, then reached for her purse.

“Okay, how’s this? We skip the desks and head to the bar across the street. You tell me everything over a very strong drink. My treat.”

You blinked at her. That small gesture—kindness without demand—was enough to make your throat tighten.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d really like that.”

And for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of something that almost resembled relief.

“So,” Keira said, finishing off her drink and eyeing your fourth glass like it personally offended her. “Do you like him?”

You didn’t even hesitate. You nodded, your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass as though the condensation might cool down the burn behind your eyes. “Yeah,” you said quietly, “I do.”

Keira leaned her chin into her palm, her eyes narrowing as she watched you. “Then go get him.”

You laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “He told me I don’t deserve love.” You stared down into your drink. “And maybe he’s not wrong. I hurt him.”

“Sweetheart,” Keira said, straightening her spine, “you did a stupid thing. A spectacularly dumb thing. But that boy likes you, and he’s bleeding all over you because he’s hurt, not because he doesn’t care.” She reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t give up on him just because he’s angry.”

But her words barely reached you. Your mind was elsewhere—caught in the sound of his laughter, in the way he used to absentmindedly brush your hair behind your ear, the warmth in his voice when he called you by your name like it meant something.

You blinked, and suddenly you were crying.

“Hey, no tears tonight,” Keira said quickly, passing you a tissue from her purse. “Drinks first, tears later.”

It was a promise you failed to keep.

Two more drinks in, and you were barely standing. Keira kissed your cheek and called you a cab, but you insisted on taking the bus. Said something about needing to “feel things.” You weren’t sure what that meant now. By the time you reached your apartment building, you were too drunk to even recognize your floor. You stumbled into the elevator and prayed to whatever higher power existed that your key would match the door.

You cursed under your breath as your keys jangled uselessly in the lock. “Why won’t you open?” you muttered, knees buckling as you reached forward again—and missed. Your balance tipped, your body about to crash into the floor when strong arms caught you mid-fall.

Your head lolled against a familiar chest.

“Y/N,” Mingyu said, sighing. “You’re trying to break into my apartment.”

You blinked up at him, all wide eyes and bright smile. “This isn’t mine?”

“No it’s not,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

“I’m allowed to be drunk,” you mumbled stubbornly.

“It’s literally seven p.m.”

You beamed. “Then I’m very early.”

Mingyu didn’t laugh. He groaned, lifting you with ease and carrying you into his apartment. “You’re lucky Seokmin and Seungcheol aren’t home,” he muttered. “They’d kill you for this.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder. “They’d have to catch me first.”

He sat you down on his bed and fetched a glass of water. “Drink. Please.”

You did as told, the cold water clearing your throat but not your thoughts. The alcohol had cracked your walls open, and guilt was spilling out in waves. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“No kidding,” he replied, but his voice was gentler than his words.

“I don’t deserve you, or your kindness, or your stupid soft hoodies.”

Mingyu knelt in front of you, jaw tightening as he watched your face crumble.

“Your eyes are really sparkly,” you said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched—just slightly—and the movement sliced right through you.

“I should go,” you whispered, making a shaky attempt to stand. You wobbled, and his hands shot out instinctively to steady you.

“Okay, let’s just get you lying down before you face-plant.”

You groaned. “I need to shower. I’ll just sleep naked. It’s fine.”

“You are absolutely not sleeping naked in my apartment,” he muttered, ears turning red.

You grinned, delighted by his discomfort. “You used to love when I was naked.”

“And now I just want you clothed and far away from my fragile self-respect.”

Eventually, he helped you to the bathroom. You showered—sloppily, messily, shampoo probably still in your hair. But you got through it. You managed to step out, towel clutched around you, and found him waiting exactly where he said he’d be—on the edge of your bed.

“See?” You mumbled. “Didn’t die.”

But the joke didn’t land. Not when you looked at him and remembered everything. The notebook. His shattered expression. The sound of his voice when he told you to leave.

“Mingyu?” You whispered, voice suddenly small.

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

There it was. The truth. Raw and exposed and echoing through the air like an apology too late to be heard.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Seokmin said you’d never earn my forgiveness. But maybe, with enough luck, I’d forget you.”

You swallowed thickly. “Can you?”

“No,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I’ll never forget you. But forgive you?” He shook his head. “That’s something I don’t think I have in me.”

You nodded, and even as he stood and walked to the door, even as he didn’t look back, you whispered a soft. “I get it.”

Mingyu didn’t see the tears that fell the second the door closed behind him. But he heard the sound of your sob breaking the silence, and it tore him apart to keep walking.

~~“Oh, Y/N,” Keira sighed, tapping her mug against yours as the two of you sat in the quiet corner booth of your favorite café on a dreary Monday morning. “You’ve got it bad for him.”

You gave her a wry smile as you swirled your tea. “Yeah, well… that makes two of us, apparently.”

Keira raised an eyebrow, already sensing the storm brewing in your voice. “I have some news that’s probably going to ruin your morning.” You glanced up sharply. “Do not freak out,” she warned, glancing toward the main entrance of your office.

“What?” You asked, heartbeat stuttering. You turned—and froze.

Mingyu.

He walked in like he belonged there, tall and calm in his oversized hoodie, camera bag slung over his shoulder. Your stomach twisted into a knot.

“What the fuck,” you whispered under your breath.

Keira quickly stood and put on her most professional smile. “Mingyu, welcome! This is my main feature writer; I believe you’ve read her work?”

He nodded, eyes on you. “Yeah. Sandy Beaches.” His lips twitched at the name, and you wanted to murder Joshua for convincing you to use a beach pun as your pen name.

Mingyu turned to you, his voice clipped. “So, neighbor. You ready to do the artist spotlight on up-and-coming photographers?”

Keira let out a nervous laugh, clearly sensing the tension. “Okay, I’ll leave you two to it.” She bolted.

You led Mingyu to your office, conscious of every footstep behind you. The second the door closed, you rounded on him.

“What the hell is this?” you hissed.

He leaned casually against the wall. “Before you get mad, I was contacted the day of my showcase about doing a feature. I thought it’d be... ironic, you know? My girlfriend writing about me.”

“You know I can reassign this—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in coldly. “You write well. It’s just a profile. I figured I could survive your presence for an hour.”

You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I’ll need to see your work.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “You already have. Remember the night you agreed to be my girlfriend? That was me, in my element.”

You said nothing. Guilt chewed away at your insides.

“Anyway,” Mingyu continued, “you know more about me than anyone else on staff. Do a decent job. Unless you’re planning to spin this into a tragic tale of the stupid boy who thought he was worth something.”

“Mingyu,” you sighed. “I didn’t lie.”

“No?” he snapped, pushing off the wall. “Then what do you call it?”

You didn’t answer.

“I came in as a formality for your boss,” he continued. “Not for you. You know enough—write your fluff piece, send it off, and we’ll both pretend it’s the end.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

You were exhausted from the day’s emotional whiplash and stayed late at the office to avoid running into anyone. By the time you arrived home, it was well past midnight.

The elevator doors creaked open and you stepped out, only to be met with the sound of moaning echoing down the hallway. You frowned, pausing mid-step.

“Harder,” someone panted.

Your stomach dropped.

Your eyes followed the sound—and there she was. That same girl from who knocked on your door by mistake, the girl Mingyu was moving on with, pressed against the hallway wall, legs wrapped around Mingyu’s waist. His back was to you, hands gripping her thighs. Her head lolled back in bliss.

“Gyu, stop. Someone’s here,” she giggled.

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “She’s nobody.”

You blinked. And then you ran—into your apartment, slamming the door shut before the tears could fall. “Oh hi guys,” you greeted Joshua and Jihoon once you entered your apartment, and Jihoon simply stared at–correction–through you.

Joshua looked up from his laptop. “You okay?”

You tried to smile. It cracked at the corners. “I guess being forgotten feels worse than being hated.”

Jihoon sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because you hurt someone and now you have to watch them move on?”

“Jihoon,” Joshua warned quietly.

“No, I’m serious,” Jihoon snapped. “You don’t get to stomp on someone and then cry when they refuse to crawl back to you.”

You clenched your jaw, the shame burning under your skin. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Well, you’re getting one,” Jihoon stood. “Mingyu is like a little brother to me. I didn’t say anything because Joshua begged me not to. Said you were a good person. But I don’t see it.”

That was enough.

You turned without another word and left your apartment, ignoring Joshua’s calls. The hallway was empty—thank god. You slipped out the building and found the nearest bar.

By your second glass of wine, the edges had dulled just enough to stop shaking.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out.

You turned. Soonyoung, another one of Mingyu’s friend.

The only time you’d spoken was at the party months ago.

“Or should I say... heartless?” He said with a crooked grin.

You exhaled. “Hi, Soonyoung.”

He slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry, I just needed to get that out of the way. You don’t look great.”

“I’m not.”

He eyed your wine glass. “You drinking alone?”

“Apparently, that’s all I’m good for.”

Soonyoung watched you, head tilting. “Why did you do it? Why write about love like it’s a science experiment?”

You shrugged. “I guess I was scared. Falling for someone the normal way felt… too easy. Too vulnerable.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well. You broke the rules. And now you’re stuck trying to rewrite an ending that was already perfect.”

You blinked down at your glass, throat tight.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said quietly.

“Okay, and why didn’t you tell him that? Like say something like hey I think I sort of have some feelings for you, but I want to go on a few dates to solidify them?” You sighed, dragging your finger around the rim of your empty glass. “Hindsight is clearly not my friend.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “So why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Well, I saw Mingyu with his fingers deep inside another girl, and he acted like I wasn’t even there. Then Jihoon, I guess, said what he wanted to.”

Soonyoung winced. “Yikes.”

“Why are you here?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“Just wanted to use their restrooms, and I saw you, so I decided to come by and grill you,” he replied, lips quirking. “Look, before I go—what you did was really fucked. But did you like him?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“I still do.”

Soonyoung sighed and leaned forward. “Then tell him. Be creative. Tell him until he acknowledges it. I’m not saying he’ll forgive you, but he’ll feel less like an idiot.”

You stared at the condensation slipping down your glass. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m trying to help my buddy find some comfort in knowing that he’s someone worth loving, and not just a catchy headline.” Soonyoung sighed and then spoke again. “Y/N, just don’t wait too long if you really do like him. Before someone else writes the ending for you. Anyways, I think the staff here can tell I’m not a patron, so I’ll see you around, I guess. Take care!”

You watched him go, and when the door shut behind him, you realized just how quiet the bar had gotten. And how late it was. You’d lost track of time—again.

The chill in the air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, and it sank in just how far from home you really were. You turned a corner, tried to retrace your steps, but your stomach dropped when none of the streets looked familiar.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

You fumbled for your phone and called the one person you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” “Mingyu.” Your voice was small, unsure. “Hi, I know you hate me, but I… I’m lost.”

A groan crackled through the speaker. “You—”

“No, never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you,” you blurted, ending the call before he could say anything else.

Your screen dimmed before the app you opened for a taxi could even load. Your phone powered off completely in your hands.

“Fucking wonderful.”

You sat down on a nearby bench, staring into the dark, unsure if you should wait it out until morning or hope that someone—anyone—might pass by.

Just as your thoughts started spiraling and panic bloomed in your chest, a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey.”

You turned with a jolt, nearly jumping to your feet. But there they were—Mingyu’s familiar doe eyes, breath visible in the cold air. “So you hung up, and it was a real struggle to find you and I…” Mingyu trailed off, startled when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.

“You okay?” He asked softly. His arms didn’t move to return the hug.

You stepped back, cheeks flushing. “How did you find me?”

“I assumed you’d gone drinking,” Mingyu said, his voice low, careful. “Soonyoung-hyung texted me, said he saw you at that bar. I just traced my steps.”

You nodded, brushing the back of your hand across your eyes.

“Come on, let’s go back,” he murmured, guiding you toward his car. The silence between you was heavy, but not hostile.

When you reached the car, he hesitated before opening the passenger door for you.

“Hey, um… nothing happened, right? Like, no one tried to hurt you?” He asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

Mingyu nodded. “I’m sorry for what you saw earlier.”

You bit your lip. “No… I mean. We aren’t together. And I hurt you. So, it’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone turned sharp. “That’s fucking toxic, and I’m sorry. We were just caught up in the moment. I didn’t even realise until I saw your face.”

You looked out the window. “Do you like her?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think I’ve been on enough dates yet.”

You winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated. “I just meant… it’s too soon to tell with her.”

You took a breath. “I knew. With you.”

Mingyu froze. His hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled over.

“What?” You turned to him, your heart thudding. “I knew I felt something for you. I knew it when I saw Mia and I got jealous. I got jealous of the rock climbing receptionist and then that girl you’re dating now. No one gets jealous unless they care.”

Mingyu’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

You sighed. “Because I should’ve said it when it mattered. Because I miss you. And I hate that I ruined it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the crack in his silence was louder than any words.

The ride back to the apartment was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid. When Mingyu pulled into the lot, the car barely came to a full stop before you unbuckled and got out. You didn’t wait for him, didn’t speak—just walked briskly toward the front of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement like punctuation to every aching beat of your heart.

You didn’t expect him to follow. But when you reached the elevator and hit the button, you caught a brief glance over your shoulder—and there he was. Mingyu, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face unreadable. For a second, your eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but something passed between you—an unspoken permission, a quiet nudge.

You took it as a sign and stepped into the elevator. When he joined you seconds later, the air between you thickened, pressing against your chest like gravity.

The elevator ride was short, but the silence felt infinite.

Neither of you said a word as you reached the hallway. Mingyu unlocked his door, then paused—just for a breath—before stepping inside. He left it open. You followed.

His apartment looked the same, but everything felt different.

Mingyu didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I need you to know that every single emotion I felt with you was real,” he said softly, his back still to you. “Every time you kissed me, it felt like fireworks. Every time you hugged me, I felt safe. And every time we—” He paused, his voice catching. “It wasn’t just sex. It felt like a journey. You made me feel special every time I was with you.”

You swallowed. “Mingyu, I made a stupid mistake. But I wanted to fall for you… because I knew there was something there. I just—I went about it the wrong way. I was scared. But you? You’re someone worth loving. Not just… someone worth writing about.”

He turned around at that, slowly. His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for the lie.

“Are you just pushing me into forgiving you?” He asked, but there was more pain than malice in his voice.

You shook your head. “No. I just don’t want what I did to affect how you see yourself. What I did was on me, not on you.”

For a flicker of a second, you saw something shift in him—like your words hit somewhere tender. But then he stepped forward, and the moment shattered.

“Oh, really?” Mingyu scoffed. “Me? Affected? I’m the one getting laid. Not you.” His words came out harsher than intended, bitterness rising. “Fuck, has anyone ever even wanted you? Approached you? Your ex cheated on you, even Wonwoo Hyung avoided you—he warned me, you know? He knew you were a ticking time bomb.”

You flinched. Your stomach twisted.

“And I still fucking fell for you,” Mingyu said, voice rising. “Ten dates. Don’t worry I’m over i, clearly, I don’t care, because not too long ago, my fingers were inside another girl.” He said it like a weapon, wielded cruelly, “She was tight. Fuck. Her body was—”

“Enough,” you said, barely a whisper, but Mingyu stopped. Like he finally heard himself.

You turned away and made a move to leave his apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mingyu asked, eyes wide.

You didn’t answer, just tried to get out of his apartment.

“Y/N! Fucking stop.”

You froze as Mingyu walked up behind. “Y/N,” he said again, softer now, “look at me.”

You didn’t move.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You slowly turned your face toward him. His expression was crumbling.

“I know I crossed a line. What I just said… it was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. As toxic as it is, I just wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me, but I went too far.”

You held your hand out to stop him. “I fucked up, Mingyu. I know that what I did is unforgivable. I want to thank you for tonight. I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll have your artist profile written and sent to you for your kind perusal in a week.”

“Y/N—”

You smiled, and Mingyu could see the tears threatening to fall. “Goodnight, Mingyu,” you whispered, leaving his apartment, walking across the hall and entering your own apartment, and closing the door behind you.

He stood there long after the door closed, your words hanging in the air like smoke.

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor,” Joshua called out, poking his head into your bedroom the next morning. You were freshly showered, curled up in your robe, sipping on kombucha when you caught sight of a familiar figure hovering behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked. Mingyu.

“Can he stay, or do we not like him today?” Joshua asked, squinting at Mingyu like he was trying to summon a glare.

“He can stay,” you replied, quietly.

Joshua nodded. “Alright. But if I hear her cry, I’m calling Wonwoo Hyung to hurt you.”

“Why not you?” Mingyu asked, brow lifting.

Joshua shrugged. “Your stupid golden retriever face makes it hard to stay mad. I can’t hit a puppy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shua.”

“I’m going. Holler if you need me.” He winked, disappearing into the hallway.

You gestured toward the bed. “You can sit. I won’t bite.”

“You seem better,” Mingyu said, stepping inside and cautiously sitting down beside you. His eyes scanned your face, your posture—like he was trying to read how much of your recovery was real.

“Getting there,” you lied, sipping your drink. “You gave me closure last night, so I guess now I just… learn and heal.”

That lie tasted bitter. You weren’t over him. You weren’t even close.

“Really?” Mingyu asked, his expression tightening. “You got over me so quickly?”

You shook your head, voice soft. “No. I just… I’m leaving you alone.”

He looked down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look I’m so fucking sorry for what I said, I was being spiteful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said about her. Or… you.”

You gave him a small nod. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Silence stretched between you until Mingyu glanced around the room and started to get up. “Okay. I guess I should go?”

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a hesitant step toward you and knelt on the edge of your bed. His hand brushed your cheek—light as a whisper—and you froze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Truly.”

Then, just like that, he was gone. His hand pulled away. His body retreated. And he rushed out of your room like a man on fire, leaving you stunned, confused, and just a little less miserable.

The following evening, you were sprawled on the couch in your favorite hoodie, arms crossed stubbornly as House Hunters played in the background at low volume. The sunlight had long since dipped behind the skyline, casting a moody blue over the apartment. You hadn’t moved in hours — not since Mia’s party invite had come through the group chat.

“You’re going,” Wonwoo said, nudging your foot with his knee as he walked past holding a bowl of popcorn.

You didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not.”

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. “Come on.”

“I’d rather attend my own funeral,” you muttered.

“Dramatic,” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “It’s not her wedding, it’s a party. Mingyu will be there. Your friends will be there.”

“Only you and Shua, no one else wants me there.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “You can’t avoid everything that makes you uncomfortable.” “Mia does,” Wonwoo tried to lie.

You rolled your eyes at him “that’s because she’s dating you and she cares about you.”

“I’m not avoiding,” you snapped. “I’m choosing peace.”

“That’s funny, because you look like a woman actively losing her mind in a hoodie cocoon.”

You finally sat up, scowling. “I’m just not ready to go to a party where everyone knows I screwed up.”

Wonwoo gave you a pointed look. “Everyone screws up. But only some people decide to marinate in guilt like a mopey rotisserie chicken.”

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” you muttered.

“Still worked.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a throw pillow to hug. “Wonwoo, what if he’s there and just—ignores me? What if Mia says something? What if I cry into someone’s jungle juice?”

“Then you cry. But at least you’re not crying alone on a couch watching reruns of sad real estate couples.” He leaned forward, voice softer. “You’re allowed to show up for yourself. Even if it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.”

You stared at him, torn. “Ugh. Why are you good at pep talks?”

“Because I know you,” he said with a small smile. “And you hate feeling left out more than you hate confrontation.”

“God, I hate when you’re right.”

“And yet you listen every time.”

You took his hand. “I’m blaming you if this ends in disaster.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” ~~

Later that evening you were in full panic mode.

“Wonwoo, I can’t do this. Everyone there hates me,” you groaned as he paced around your living room.

“Oh also, plans changed, Mia needs help so you need to go yourself,” Wonwoo said sheepishly

“What the hell, no I’ll be walking into a lions den!”

He shrugged. “Jihoon and Joshua are already there setting up. Mia’s with me. So yeah, it’s just you. Good luck.” And with that, he ducked out the door before you could protest.

You knew you’d have to face the crowd, you decided to suck it up and get dressed.

You chose your silk blue dress—short, elegant, and dangerous. The kind that hugged all the right curves. You were slipping on your heels when someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” you called out.

“Hey. Oh—wow,” Mingyu muttered, stepping inside. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and you instantly felt your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze.

You cleared your throat. “Uh hi?”

He smiled faintly. “Mia’s party. Seokmin and Cheol are already there setting up. I figured… maybe we could share a ride?”

You hesitated. “Isn’t your date going with you?”

He shook his head. “Yeah… she’s not really relevant anymore. Turns out I was just the decoy to make her ex jealous. She got him back.”

He let out a short laugh. “Guess I’ve got that ‘easy to fuck over’ vibe.”

You didn’t say anything, but your silence was loud.

Mingyu glanced at you. “Anyway. I called us a cab. You ready?”

You nodded.

The cab ride to the party was quieter than expected. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet. Mingyu sat beside you, elbow on the window, tapping a soft rhythm against the glass. You stared ahead, feeling the buzz of anticipation, dread, and god-knows-what else coiling in your stomach like a tightened spring.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

He smiled at the floor of the car, like he didn’t quite know what to do with your voice.

When you both arrived, the apartment was already buzzing. The bass of the music thumped low through the walls, and there was a faint glow from the string lights Seokmin had insisted on. You could hear laughter, someone singing off-key, and the gentle hum of people who weren’t thinking about you at all.

“Ready?” Mingyu asked, already stepping out and circling to open your door.

You paused. “Not even a little.”

He chuckled. “Same.”

The second you stepped in, all heads turned. Not because of you—no, definitely not just you—but because of you and Mingyu, together. He was in all black, stupidly tall and maddeningly handsome, and you were in a dress that had already gotten three glances and a whisper before you’d made it past the entryway.

You felt the pressure of every gaze crawling up your spine. Your hand brushed Mingyu’s by accident. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t reach back either.

“Hey!” Seokmin grinned, running over, arms already halfway to a hug before he remembered. “Right, hi.”

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.

“Come on Mingyu, party’s started,” Seokmin said guiding Mingyu, and reluctantly you to the bar.

Mingyu gave him a nod before grabbing a drink from the bar and handing you one without asking.

“I thought you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, muttering, “God, yes.”

The night unfolded in slow motion.

Joshua and Jihoon were manning the playlist and playing hype-men near the drinks table. Mia was radiant, bouncing around in a sequin dress, glowing like a mirrorball. Wonwoo hovered at her side like a quiet shadow, until he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.

You raised your glass in a silent toast.

Mingyu disappeared midway through the night, and you let him. You weren’t sure if you were meant to follow, but you didn’t want to look like you were chasing him. You ended up nursing your drink on the balcony, alone with the music and the pulse of memories.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Joshua step out beside you, two drinks in hand.

“Not sure,” you admitted.

He handed you one of the glasses and stared ahead into the city lights. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

“Only mildly crumbling.”

“Progress.”

You both sipped quietly.

Back inside, you caught sight of Mingyu again—laughing at something Seungcheol said, his head thrown back. That laugh used to belong to you. That laugh used to be something you could earn, like a reward. And now it was just… public domain.

You turned away, heart thudding like a warning.

You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until you heard the voice.

“Hey, pretty thing. You’re that girl, right? The one Mingyu dated?”

You turned to face a stranger, his breath laced with tequila and whatever cologne he’d bathed in.

“Excuse me?” You asked flatly.

He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, he clearly upgraded. You should see the new one.”

Before you could reply, you felt someone step between you and the guy.

“Walk away,” Mingyu said, low and lethal.

The guy held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Touchy.”

He slinked off, and for a moment it was just you and Mingyu. Again.

“Thanks,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s jaw was tight. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m getting used to it,” you admitted. “Not being liked very much.”

Mingyu looked at you, really looked at you. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

You didn’t know what possessed you in that moment—maybe the warmth from the drink, or the weight of his words—but you reached for his hand and found he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he gave it the smallest squeeze.

Just once.

Mingyu didn’t let go of your hand.

He hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place, but when you slipped beside him in that quiet moment by the balcony doors, your fingers brushed his—and he didn’t move. And neither did you.

From inside, the party carried on. Someone shouted about food. The lights shifted warmer. The bassline of an old familiar track pulsed through the floor. But here, in this sliver of quiet between the hallway and the chaos, everything stood still.

Your hand was still in his.

And he was still staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like if he looked at you now, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I should go and get some food,” you said finally, barely above a whisper.

But he still didn’t let go.

“I miss you.” The words dropped like a weight between you. Unprepared. Raw.

You turned your head sharply, breath catching in your throat.

“Mingyu—”

“I shouldn’t,” he cut in, eyes still fixed ahead. “I shouldn’t say that. But I do. I fucking miss you.”

Silence.

You looked down at your joined hands, his thumb just barely brushing your knuckle. It felt like fire.

“I never stopped missing you,” you murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering down to the floor. “That makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“I see you, Y/N. At the café, in the elevator, even when you don’t look at me. I still feel like I’m watching the version of you I used to have… and I don’t know how to unsee her.”

You blinked fast, swallowing around the lump rising in your throat. “I’m still her. Just... more broken.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, softer this time. “And I don’t know what it says about me that part of me still wants to.”

That hurt.

But you nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just needed you to know... that none of it was fake. Not a single second.”

Mingyu finally turned his head to look at you. And when he did, the full weight of the ache between you crashed like a wave. The room behind you could’ve gone silent or exploded into flames—you wouldn’t have noticed.

“You made me feel like I was everything,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And then you made me feel like I was nothing.”

You didn’t even realize your hands had tightened together until he pulled away.

“I need air,” he muttered. “There’s food inside.”

And just like that, the warmth of his touch vanished.

You stood still, heart racing, fingers burning in the space where his had just been.

Inside, Mia was mid-toast, giggling through champagne bubbles and surrounded by friends. “To a great group of friends, lets have a great night and make regrettable choices!” She shouted, and the crowd cheered.

You laughed weakly, even as your eyes found him again—across the room now, leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, nodding along to something Wonwoo was saying. He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

But his foot tapped restlessly on the floor.

And you knew he felt it too—the storm, the crack, the pull that hadn’t gone away, no matter how much damage you’d done.

You took a step forward.

Then stopped.

Somewhere between the beat of the music and the hum of the laughter, you realized: this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

And you… you weren’t sure if your heart could take another hit just yet.

So you turned, smiled at Mia, and raised your glass instead.

But still, in every reflective surface—windows, wine glasses, the shine of the fridge—you kept catching glimpses of him.

And you knew he saw you, too.

You had found a quiet corner near the bar, nestled just far enough from the dance floor to avoid being dragged into conversation, but close enough to still look like you were trying. You sipped your drink slowly, hoping that the low lighting and loud music would blur you into the background.

That hope lasted all of ten minutes.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Look who showed up like she was invited.”

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Seungcheol. You tensed, your hand tightening around your glass.

“I was invited,” you replied coolly. “Mia said—”

“Mia invited you because Wonwoo wouldn’t stop pushing for it,” Seungcheol cut in, stepping in front of you. “And even then, we all said it was a bad idea.”

You glanced over his shoulder and caught Seokmin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression wasn’t hostile—just cold. Closed off in a way that hurt more than yelling ever could.

“You think just showing up fixes what you did?” Seungcheol asked, voice low enough that no one else around you could hear, but sharp enough to slice. “You think looking pretty and keeping your head down makes it all okay?”

“I didn’t come here to start anything,” you said, eyes flicking down to your drink. “I just wanted to show up for Mia. That’s all.”

“Then show up somewhere else,” Seokmin said finally, stepping forward. “Anywhere but here.”

You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but it was getting harder with every second they kept looking at you like you were a stain on the floor.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Seungcheol added, not quite as kind as his words claimed. “Mostly for Gyu’s sake. But if you’re still here in the next hour, I’m not going to hold back. Got it?”

You gave a small nod, lips pressed together so tightly you could taste the metallic bite of blood from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t wait for them to say anything else.

You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowd, each step heavier than the last.

And then you were outside—air crisp, music muffled behind the walls, and your breath fogging out in short, shallow bursts. You rubbed your hands along your arms, trying to breathe, trying to forget the way Seokmin wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

That’s when you felt it—a hand around your wrist.

You yelped, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu.

“Y/N?” He said, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why did you leave?”

You exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome,” you muttered, pulling your wrist gently from his hold.

Mingyu blinked. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, suddenly so tired your bones ached. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Mingyu stepped closer, voice gentler now. “Wait—Y/N, it’s freezing. You didn’t bring a coat?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get a cab.”

Mingyu frowned, glancing around. “There’s a diner around the corner. Let’s get food? I’ll make sure you get home safe after, I promise.”

You hesitated. “Gyu, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to.”

The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed quietly above you, a stark contrast to the bass-heavy chaos of the club. The booths were faded vinyl, the menus laminated and slightly sticky, and the warmth inside made you realize just how cold your skin had gone. You were still clutching your arms like a shield, and Mingyu noticed.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “It’s quieter.”

You slid into the seat without argument. Mingyu sat across from you, tapping his fingers nervously against the salt shaker before picking up a menu he didn’t bother reading.

The hostess from earlier walked over with a soft smile. “What can I get you two? Drinks to start?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu beat you to it. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream, if you’ve got it.”

Your eyes flicked to him, startled.

He offered a small shrug. “You always get hot chocolate when you’re sad.”

You blinked, the lump forming in your throat again. “And for you?” the hostess asked, turning toward him. “Coffee. Black.” He paused, glancing at you. “Unless you want to split something.”

“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, looking down at the menu without seeing any of it.

“We’ll share the fries,” he told the waitress softly. “Thanks.”

When she walked away, the silence pressed in between you again, dense and tight. You stared at the table, tracing the ring of condensation left by a glass long since cleared.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mingyu asked eventually.

You hesitated, your voice low. “Seungcheol and Seokmin. They cornered me. Said I wasn’t welcome. That they were being nice for your sake, but if I stayed… it’d get ugly.”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, jaw tense. “They had no right.”

“They were defending you,” you murmured. “You were hurt. I get it.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Can you?”

That made him pause. He looked tired suddenly, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know they said that to you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you admitted. “Because I already knew. I knew I didn’t belong there. Not anymore.”

The waitress returned with the hot chocolate and coffee. You wrapped your fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into your hands.

“You know,” Mingyu said, eyes on his cup, “for a long time, I hated myself for still caring.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I’d see you around and I’d want to yell, or kiss you, or run in the opposite direction. Sometimes all three in the same minute.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s... fair.”

“But tonight, when I saw you outside?” His voice dipped. “You looked so lost. And I didn’t think. I just ran.”

You stared down at your mug, unsure what to say. So instead, you took a sip. Whipped cream clung to your lip, and Mingyu leaned forward, gently swiping it away with his thumb. Your eyes locked for a breath too long.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“So why are you?”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever stopped hoping you’d surprise me.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“Are you still angry?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “But less than I was yesterday.”

Your lips curved upward slightly. “Progress.”

He nodded, then signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll get this. And I’ll put you in a cab, like I promised.”

You stood together, walking toward the door in silence. But just before you stepped out into the cold again, Mingyu turned toward you.

“Don’t listen to Seungcheol,” he said. “You weren’t unwanted.”

With that, he opened the door, walked you up to your apartment like a gentleman, and bid you goodnight.

You could only hope that tonight was the start of healing for you both.

182 notes · View notes

basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 1 year ago

Text

Big Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Spencer, are getting ready for a night out, when your insecurities start to get the best of you.

Word Count: 1531 -- it's just a lil guy

Warnings: Body insecurities, maybe a little bit of a big-girl-soapbox

A/N: I definitely wrote this very quickly this afternoon because I literally just felt like it. This is just a short lil one for the big gals who just want someone to notice them.

Anyway hope you enjoy! Thank you all who have commented/reblogged/liked my last fic!!

Your jeans hugged your curvy hips as you tugged them up to your belly button, covering the bottom, larger part of your stomach. You were tall, for a woman, but not taller than Spencer. He was, what, 6’1”? You stood around 5’9”, so he still towered over you, still had to look down at you when he spoke, still had to crane his neck to whisper in your ear.

You were wearing a flowy, sage green blouse. Why were clothes so hard to find for a larger girl? It was all cold-shoulders and obnoxious patterns. You just wanted something that flattered your body type and made you feel sexy. Apparently that was just a ridiculous request. This blouse was cute, but modest, with a ruched, fluted bunching of the fabric in the middle. The collar was low-cut to accent your breasts, but the sleeves were long, which was annoying. You were going dancing tonight with your boyfriend and his coworkers. You didn’t want to show off all of your body, by any means, but you wanted to look hot. Who could blame you? And it was also going to get hot, temperature-wise. Long sleeves just didn’t feel like the most pragmatic choice.

Sometimes you just gave up and went with the best option. And this blouse, that made you feel like you were going to a casual church event, not to a bar, was, unfortunately, the best option.

You inhaled sharply and shrugged your shoulders as you looked in the full-length mirror hooked on the back of the closet door. Your hair looked really cute - the two biggest pieces on either side in the front were braided and dangled in front of you, effectively bringing your hair out of your eyes but also provided something to give your hair a little pizzazz. Your makeup looked great - a simple, subtle smokey eye and glossy lips. Your black boots looked good, peeking out from your wide-legged jeans, which hugged your hips and, honestly, made your butt look really good.

It was just this stupid shirt. And maybe you were getting too much in your head about it. But you were transfixed on it, hating the way the sleeves bunched up a little, how the bottom half flowed beneath the ruched fabric, effectively covering your stomach, meeting your jeans and the top of your thighs. The color was too muted for a going-out top - you wished you could wear something more exciting.

You sometimes wished you looked like Emily or JJ, or had the self-confidence to rock loud looks like Penelope did. But then you remembered that you were who you were for a reason. You looked like you simply because that was what you looked like. And there was no point in wishing you looked like someone else.

Plus, Spencer was really into your body. He was nearly always staring at your breasts when you were in private, sometimes to the point where you had to snap your fingers in front of his eyes to garner his attention.

It was flattering. You didn’t mind it if your boyfriend objectified you a little bit. He was respectful about it.

“Y/N, are you about ready?” Spencer walked into your bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met Spencer’s and you saw his neutral expression turn into a full-fledged grin, biting his tongue and all. “You look really nice,” he said, and you shook your head.

“I look like a chaperone at a middle school dance,” you frowned, tugging at the fabric of your blouse in some illogical attempt to make it look different.

“What?” Spencer stood behind you in the mirror. His chin basically met the top of your head, like too puzzle pieces. One hand rested on your hip, while the other slowly brushed your hair to one side so he could press a kiss to your neck. “I think you look great,” he added.

You immediately felt tingly and your knees wobbled at the action. “But I’m not dressing for you,” you said, your voice instinctively dropping as Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck. You were having trouble concentrating on what you were trying to say. “I’m dressing for me, and I want to look cute. I can’t believe you’re even going tonight. You don’t dance, Spencer,” you pointed out, your self-control somehow beating out your desire for Spencer in the moment. You broke away from him and turned around to face him.

“You do look cute, Y/N. I don’t understand what the issue is?” Spencer’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at you. “Also, I’m going out tonight because you want to. And I’m trying to keep an open mind. I might enjoy it.”

You were proud of him. When you started dating about six months ago, he would have simply politely declined an invitation to a night out. And while you didn’t love going out every night, or even every weekend, for that matter, you did enjoy a night out occasionally.

Regardless, he still didn’t quite understand what you were feeling about that damn shirt. “The issue,” you began, heaving a sigh, “is that I’m insecure about my body. Like any woman. You don’t get it, because you’re a man, and you literally have nothing to be insecure about.”

You knew the words were incorrect the moment you said them, but something kept you from backpedaling. You watched as Spencer shook his head, letting a small laugh escape him. “You could not be further from the truth,” Spencer pointed out, and you knew he was right. Men had plenty to be insecure about, and it was, in some ways, even more difficult for men to express those feelings.

“Well, I think you’re perfect,” You let a small, playful smile creep onto your face, and Spencer rolled his eyes as you used his own tactic from earlier. He stepped towards you and his hands found your waist, contouring to match your curves. He knew them so well now, he could probably draw a map of your body with his eyes closed.

“I appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice a little softer as your eyes met his. His head dipped down, and you thought, certainly, that he was going to kiss you, but instead, his lips stopped just barely by your ears. You could feel his breath on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as he spoke. “You might be insecure, Y/N, but I am, too. You’re just human.”

“What are you insecure about?” You found yourself asking, pulling your head back to look at him properly. Now you were curious.

“My hands, mostly,” Spencer removed his hands from your waist, holding them palm-up, as if to present them to you for the first time.

“What’s wrong with your hands?” You asked, placing your palms atop his.

“They’re really big,” Spencer said timidly, and, admittedly, they were. But just by comparison. Your hands fit into his with plenty of extra space. You used your index fingers to trace his palms.

“They’re not too big,” you told him, and Spencer just smiled down at you, shaking his head, like he was just humoring you. “I love your hands,” you continued. “I love that you can put your palm over an entire half of my face,” you said, guiding his palm to your cheek and grinning when his skin touched yours. Spencer’s thumb brushed your cheekbone.

“And I love your body,” Spencer replied, and you just pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, Y/N, listen to me.”

You let out a frustrated little exhale through your nose and let him continue.

“I love the way you look. But I wouldn’t care if you were any bigger or any smaller. Because I love you. I’m attracted to you, to your mind, to your sense of compassion, and to your body. I love the way your hips fill out your jeans, how your stomach looks in your yoga pants,” he said. “I love the way you wiggle your toes when we’re watching something funny on TV, how you do a little shimmy in your seat when you’re eating something you really enjoy,” he explained, mimicking the movement. You looped your arms around his neck. “But mostly, I’m in love with your personality. How you challenge me, how you seem to bring out the best version of myself.”

You let out a wistful sigh. If this were a Jane Austen novel, you would have swooned. But instead, you used your grip around his neck to bring his face down to yours and kiss him. It was slow at first, then a little more intense, and when you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his.

“You ready to go now?” Spencer asked, and when your eyes opened, you saw that he was smiling down at you.

You shook your head, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Not yet,” you said, your hands sliding down his arms until your palms met his. You tugged him in the direction of your bed. “I want to show you how much I love these big hands.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spence reid x plussize!reader #plus size reader #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi

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kyoshithewriter · 16 days ago

Text

The Assistant.

Wc: 5.2k

Warnings: Smut (18+).

A/n: And boom, the ‘start’ of the erotic series (even though I have smut in most my works lol) but this series will be little to no plot fr. It will feature some AUs (strictly writing about them as athletes is boring!) and of course, some good ole cliches. Remember you can request who you want to see next in this series. Enjoy?

Rich, jet black coffee threatens to spill over the white porcelain mug as Desiré’s limbs tremble on her slow trek toward the large, wooden door. She should be used to this, she has been here for more than five months now; yet, every time she has to enter his office it’s a nerve wracking experience. The man behind the door is intimidating— the kind of intimidating that would shake you to your bones when you had to visit the principal’s office in middle school. It also doesn’t help that she’s super attracted to the man sitting behind the door. The golden plaque on the door has three initials: VVD. Desiré takes only a second to take a deep inhale before raising a fist to knock on the door. She’d hate to bring him his coffee a minute later than 9:00.

“Come.”

One word. Gruff. Muffled. Yet it makes something in her belly flip dangerously. Twisting the handle, the door gives way allowing her to enter his office space. It’s spacious with floor to ceiling glass that gives a great view of the bustling city of Chicago. He’s seated behind a large, sleek, black desk with his brows furrowed as he focuses on his laptop screen.

“Good morning, Sir. Um coffee— black, no sugar.”

Desiré doesn’t know why but she feels the need to announce it every single time.

“Good morning, Ms. Thompson, thank you. Appointments?”

Desiré gingerly places the mug against his desk and removes the ipad from beneath her right arm.

“Um, you have a meeting with Mr. Han at 10:15. Then another with Mr. Smith after lunch at 1:30. There’s to be a budget report in the conference room at 3-”

“Reschedule with Mr. Smith. I have to leave the office today at 1.”

Desiré resists the urge to tremble under his gaze. The dark blue suit fits his 6’5, lithe frame so well. He looks straight from an Armani advertisement. His hair is kept in his signature man bun: slick, smooth, curly with not a strand out of place. His caramel skin is smooth and his brows sharp. His eyes though— those intimidating brown eyes always do it for her. He has a way with his stare; Desiré has witnessed grown, powerful men almost cowering beneath his scrutiny.

“Noted sir. Um, anything in particular for lunch today?” She adjusts the thick frames of her clear glasses on her face, trying not to shrink away from his stare.

He eyes her in a way that she can only describe as contemplative. A quick scan of her sharp, shoulder length black bob, to the flowy, floral pattern blouse that’s tucked into her pink work pants and white heels on her feet.

“No. Just get me something light. Also, I need the minutes from the meeting with Mrs. Watkins typed out and emailed to me before the budget meeting today.”

“Yes sir.”

**********

Desiré scowls at the dimly lit laptop screen. She’s almost slamming her fingers against each keypad as she types. Her eyes drift to the bottom corner of the screen again and she grinds her teeth in annoyance seeing the ‘6:54 pm’ staring back at her mockingly. She should’ve been home by now— everyone else left almost two hours ago. The only other people in the building are the custodian that comes in after 6 pm to clean the office and the night shift security guard that seldomly patrols. The budget meeting was a long one; one that her boss kept postponing to accommodate other matters and now he needs the minutes typed up before the end of the day because he’ll be needing them soon. And as always, Desiré is the one who suffers. Don’t get her wrong, she’ll be compensated handsomely, he’s a… reasonable man. He allows her to use the company card to get herself meals when she gets his; he pays well, especially for extra work. But she hates that she has to suffer because he’s so busy. She wants to go home; she should be in bed rewatching Game of Thrones with a warm plate of dinner by now. Instead, she’s still in the office with a lot left to type. Desiré flips through to check the amount of pages she still has left and can’t help but whine. Slouching against the cushioned chair, she throws the papers haphazardly on her desk with a pout on her lips.

“Too much?”

The deep baritone of his voice startles her so badly she gives a shrill little scream. Desiré blinks up at him from beneath her frames in wide-eyed stupor. He doesn’t look amused.

“Erm… I didn’t know you’d be back this evening. It’s not finished yet, I’m sorry. It was a long meeting.” She says breathlessly, heart still racing from his scare and… just him.

“I know it was a long meeting, Ms. Thompson. I was there. I asked if it’s too much.”

“I can handle it.”

Desiré’s heart stutters at the subtle innuendo. She stares up at him shyly to see him cocking a brow.

“I just need a bit more time.” She hurries to add on.

He hums, eyeing her with the kind of intensity that makes her squirm. Her brown skin feels so warm she’s wondering if it’s possible for her to actually blush. He dangles a white, plastic bag in her line of sight.

“I have some things to do before leaving tonight as well. Come finish up in my office, I brought you food.”

Desiré nods almost dumbly before gathering her things and following after him like a lost puppy.

The only sounds that can be heard are the noise from the traffic below and their fingers tapping away at keyboards. There’s a nice spread of dragon and avocado rolls between them that Desiré will pause her work occasionally to indulge in. Virgil hasn’t touched a single one.

She clears her throat quietly. “You should eat too.”

He eyes her from his peripheral vision before replying. “I was just at dinner with business partners, this is for you.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Tense silence stretches on as they work. Desiré feels pathetic for the way her eyes keep drifting in his direction while he continues on like she isn’t even in the room. She can’t help it though. The way his brows almost meet with the small furrow between, the look of pure concentration in his eyes illuminated by the device as he almost glares at it— he’s so fucking attractive it makes her angry sometimes. Desiré watches in horror as her boss unbuttons the jacket of his suit to remove it from his body. He rolls the sleeves of his dark blue button down to his elbows. And tattoos. He has an arm full of them down to his wrist where an expensive, classic watch sits. He keeps his eyes forward all the while, unaware of the turmoil he’s stirring in her hormone riddled body. Break. She needs a break.

Desiré eases her chair back with a bit too much force and almost stumbles in her haste to stand. She becomes even more flustered under his confused gaze.

“Sorry, um… break… my neck.” She emphasizes her point by kneading it.

Desiré stumbles over to the window overlooking the city. Occupied as she was, she didn’t even notice that it was raining. Much lighter than a downpour but heavier than a drizzle. Rhythmic pitter pattering drops dot the now cooled glass as the city bustles beneath. A kaleidoscope of colours reflects into the drops of water that fall steadily from the sky. People are running with briefcases or newspapers above their heads; rain was not forecasted so they make do with what they have. Unsurprisingly, because of the rain, there’s still traffic even though it’s almost 8:30.

“You pout a lot.”

“Are you a freaking ninja or something?” The words tumble out of her frightened mouth before she can stop them. This is the second time he has snuck up on her without her even hearing his footsteps. Him being this big and moving around so lightly is a little unnerving.

“Why are you pouting?”

Desiré eyes his barely visible reflection in the glass in front of her. Seeing the way he towers over her, just a few inches behind, makes her body quiver.

“I… it’s unprofessional, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d see.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Desiré.”

She wrings her hands together anxiously even though her heart skips several beats. He has never called her that before. Only Ms. Thompson.

“It’s just… trying to get home in these conditions is going to be difficult and my neck really does hurt-”

“I asked you earlier if it was too much. Why weren’t you honest with me?”

Gosh she loves his voice so much. Deep and rich like expensive dark chocolate or liquor. She knows he’d sound perfect talking her through-

“I didn’t want to come across as incompetent.” She admits shyly.

“If I thought you were incompetent I would’ve fired you already.” He eyes her in the glass contemplatively before raising his hands to hover by her neck.

“May I?”

Desiré swallows and almost chokes as her mouth suddenly runs dry. ‘He’s about to touch me. Holy shit.’

“Sure.” It’s a breathless whisper shared just between them. Virgil steps closer, heat almost radiating from his body. The first touch of his big, warm, slightly calloused hands on her skin shocks her entire system. She prides herself on keeping her body upright.

“I know I don’t show it, but running a multi million dollar business takes its toll. I’m stressed most days, so I taught myself some massaging techniques because my neck muscles tighten up quite often too.” His gruff voice sounds almost far away in Desiré’s liquefied brain. He starts by making soothing little circles on both sides of her neck. She bites her lower lip hard enough to bleed to keep the moan burning at the back of her throat trapped inside her body. He applies a bit more pressure as his hands trail to the base of her neck.

“You’re really tight.”

She’s too high on pleasure to feel shy about his innuendo. “Uh-huh.”

He audibly sucks in a sharp breath but remains quiet. His fingers dig into a tight knot of muscles causing her to whimper from the slight pain. He tutts while keeping firm pressure to work the muscle. It finally releases under his skillful fingers and Desiré moans at the pleasurable ache before she can stop herself.

“There you go.” His breath ghosts the shell of her ear, making her hyper aware of his sudden proximity. Her pussy pulses between her thighs. Aching. Empty. She needs-

“Feels better?”

“Fuck me.” She accidentally blurts the words out.

The man tenses behind her, hands still on her neck. Desiré doesn’t dare look up at him or even breathe as the seconds tick on. Arousal and humiliation burns her skin. Then, his right hand moves to gently cup the front of neck; he tilts her face toward his to hold her captive with his intense eyes.

“What did you just say?”

Desiré eyes him anxiously. She can’t decipher how he’s feeling. Fuck. ‘You’re going to lose your job because you have no self control.’

“Um… I said… ‘m sorry. I’ll lea-”

“I didn’t ask for an apology and I didn’t ask you to leave. What did you say, Desiré?” His tone is the type he uses in meetings when partners are being difficult or pushy. Firm. Authoritative.

Desiré gulps. “I said… I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes to release a string of curses under his breath. “That’s inappropriate, Desiré.”

But he presses his front to her back so his erection nestles perfectly against her plush behind. She whines, grinding against him without hesitation.

“Then I won’t tell.”

She reaches up to touch her lips to his. Even in heels, she has ways to stretch and he’s not making it easy. Puckering her lips a little, she eyes him desperately. He dips his head downward. Not enough for them to actually kiss, just enough to breathe each other in. Just enough for his soft, warm mouth to whisper against her plump, eager lips.

“Virgil..” she whines petulantly.

He smirks at her pout.

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?”

“M not.” She blinks up at him innocently.

“You are. And that’s okay, baby. I know how to handle brats.”

He presses their lips together and turns her brain into mush. Desiré licks against his lips and waste no time in plunging her tongue in his opened mouth. She licks into it eagerly, lips closing around the pink muscle to suckle on like a piece of candy. Virgil groans, his grip on her neck tightening. Desiré keens softly when he returns the favour. She turns putty in his arms as he starts exploring her pliant mouth with his tongue. He’s so meticulous. Thorough. The slick sounds of their mouths meeting like sultry music. Slithering a hand between them, she subtly moves down to grasp his crotch. Virgil pulls away from her lips to drop his forehead against hers as she gives him a firm squeeze. Desiré marvels at the feel of him— girthy and long. Of course he has an impressive dick. She could tell just by his energy, but finally being able to prove her theory correct makes her head spin.

“I knew it.” It’s an accidental whisper full of awe.

“You’ve been thinking about my dick a lot, Ms. Thompson?”

She’s way past the point of shame or care. “Uh-huh.”

“Still think you can handle it?” He inquires in a serious tone.

Her face would be cherry red if she wasn’t brown.

“Yes.”

“Knew exactly what you were doing. Get on your knees and get me wet, baby.”

She doesn’t have to be told twice. Desiré sinks to her knees, blinking up at him in anticipation from beneath her frames. He brings a thumb to caress the apple of her cheek softly.

“So pretty. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to have you like this? I look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning with my coffee. With your pretty almond eyes behind your glasses and your flustered little face.”

Desiré watches in a daze as he slowly moves to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the buckle jingling seems to reverberate through the office.

“The smell of your powdery, sweet perfume and don’t get me started on that ass… fuck do you have any idea how many times you’ve distracted me in meetings, baby?”

Desiré squeezes her thighs together to alleviate the intense throbbing of her clit. Hearing him speak while watching his deft fingers work to unbutton and unzip his pants is almost overwhelming with how desperately she needs him. His pants pool around his thighs then he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulls it down just far enough for his dick to spring free. Desiré’s tongue is almost lolling out her mouth watching it bob a few centimeters from her face. She takes a few seconds to drink in the sight of him. She’s sure he’s at least eight inches; there’s a sparse patch of hair at the base that leads from his happy trail. It’s a shade or two darker than his light caramel skin with thick prominent veins. Silky. Smooth. Pretty. But so so intimidating just like the rest of him. She gulps. It’s been awhile since she has done this and definitely not with one this big but she’ll be damned if he leaves this experience disappointed. Virgil says nothing. He stands and waits patiently. Desiré shuffles forward on her knees to press her nose against the length of him. His scent is clean but musky— masculine, she’d almost describe it as bitter. Flicking her tongue out, she teases along the vein that runs along the side of his dick. His breath hitches above and it emboldens her. She moves to the other side to do the same while keeping her hands firmly folded in her lap. Closing her mouth around the tip, she suckles against it softly while turning her eyes up at him. His thighs tense and a quiet grunt falls from his slack mouth. A flash of lightning illuminates his face and Desiré moans around him in her mouth. Ecstasy makes his jaw slack, his brows furrowed and colours his eyes with soft disbelief. It’s so fucking hot that Desiré hurries to unzip her pants and stick her fingers down the front. She jerks when she comes in contact with her swollen nub over her slick panties. A bead of sweat trickles down the middle of her back making her hyper aware of the fact that she’s still fully clothed. She wants them off. But she chooses to focus on her task at hand instead. She pulls off him with a quiet pop; Desiré stares up at him and sticks her tongue out of her mouth. He stares in surprise but she doesn’t budge. Virgil puckers his lips and allows spit to dribble from his mouth onto her waiting tongue.

“What the fuck, Desiré?” He moans as if the visual of it physically hurts. She only blinks at him innocently as she rolls his saliva around her tongue before spitting it directly on his dick. Sucking in a deep breath, Desiré steels her spine and gently sinks her mouth forward. Virgil moans above her head as he slides deeper in her mouth, hands falling on the glass behind to brace his body against.

“All of me, baby.”

She whines at his gentle command and keeps going. She pauses when he’s more than half way in to take a couple of deep breaths, fighting against her gag reflex. Tears prick at her eyes and saliva leaks from her stretched mouth but his moans are so euphoric that it spurs her on. On another deep inhale, Desiré sinks all the way down until her nose brushes against his lower belly.

“Fucking hell. My good girl. So fucking good, Desiré.”

She tries to moan but ends up swallowing around him instead. His hips push forward and the sound of him hitting the back of her throat is obscene.

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much.” He instructs gruffly.

Desiré gives him a little nod as best as she’s able to and braces herself for what’s coming next. He pulls back, sliding from the back of her throat then pushes forward.

“Fuck.” It’s a moan from the pit of his belly as she keeps going, fucking into her mouth at a slow pace. Her jaw aches but she’s too turned on to care. Desiré rubs her clit in tight little circles as Virgil uses her mouth for his pleasure. He sinks all the way to the back of her throat and rocks his hips side to side. She gags but stays put.

“Shit, baby.”

He hastily pulls out with a mess of saliva following his trail and he fists at the base of his dick as he takes several deep breaths. Desiré heaves a few heavy breaths; the back of her throat feels wrecked but she would do it all again. Virgil eyes her for a few seconds before cupping her chin in his palm.

“So wrecked and still so pretty hm? Get up and kiss me.”

Desiré stumbles in her haste to stand but he steadies her with a hand around her waist. He ducks his head to lick into her mouth, uncaring that she just had his dick kissing the back of her throat. His hands move to cup her breasts over her top and it makes her whine.

“Off?” Her request is muffled by his insistent mouth but he seems to hear because he starts unbuttoning her blouse. Desiré helps him push the sleeves down her shoulders and he wastes no time in reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. It feels good for her tight nipples to finally be free; it feels even better when his thumb and index fingers gently squeeze them before he begins rolling them around. She goes slack jawed and keen into his mouth.

“Virgil please. I’m ready, please fuck me.” She begs desperately. Her body is coiled tighter than bow strings. She needs him inside her. She needs to come.

“And I haven’t put my mouth on you yet? You eager little thing. Take your pants off, baby.”

Desiré hurries to shimmy out of her pants and panties with stuttering breaths. She kicks her shoes off her feet to kick her clothes off her legs. She’s a lot shorter than him without her three inch heels to help her 5’6 frame. It heightens her desperation tenfold. She stares up at him in anticipation, her thighs damp with evidence of her arousal. He forces her back until her body meets the cool surface of glass. She arches away on instinct at first but slowly presses her back against it as she watches him stoop on his haunches.

“Hah! Please don’t tease.” She begs as he flicks his tongue in her bellybutton. The muscles in her belly quiver against his unhurried mouth as he licks his way down her belly. Lifting her right leg, he places it over his shoulder so she’s spread open right in front of his face. Glistening, warm and beautiful. Virgil rubs his goatee on her sensitive inner thighs, inhaling her potent scent. A hand comes to grip hair but he doesn’t care if she leaves it a mess. He has been wanting to have her like this for months. It’s inappropriate; he’s her boss, he’s in the position of power. So he decided to ignore the desperate need every time she struts in his office in an outfit that hugs her curves just right. And every time she’d stutter in his presence, clearly attracted to him as well. But hearing her beg him desperately to fuck her is something that not even a saint could resist. He doesn’t know what will happen after but consequences be damned when he can finally-

Desiré’s sob echoes around the room as he presses his tongue flat to her swollen clit to give it a languid lick. He hums against her and the vibration makes her double over.

He slaps at her thigh firmly. “Up.”

With a gasp, Desiré hurries to straighten her trembling legs, using the glass behind to support her weight. She wonders belatedly if anyone passing by below will look up to see her naked ass presented to the busiest part of the city.

“Virgil, please.” She tries again. His tongue teasing her clit is only making her more frustrated.

“Patience, baby.” His words are muffled against her wet folds.

“But I want to come.” She says petulantly.

He slithers his tongue expertly down to her entrance. Desiré’s lower body tenses, a helpless moan falling from her lips as he shoves his tongue as far inside as he can reach. His nose presses against her throbbing clit and she can’t help but grind against his face. Virgil can hardly breathe but he doesn’t dare stop. Who needs air when you can hear the pitch of Desiré’s moans growing higher? Who needs oxygen when she starts stringing his name along with gibberish as she begins to shake? Who needs to breathe when you get to witness her crumpling under the force of an orgasm that wracks her entire frame and brings tears to her eyes? Virgil groans as she throbs rhythmically against his tongue, hips undulating without finesse as she rides her high.

“S-so good. Fuck, please please.”

He digs his fingers in the flesh of her thighs to keep her upright. Virgil finally pulls back to suck in a deep breath when her sobs turn to quiet, satisfied sighs. Belatedly, he realizes that his pants are still around his ankles and he feels so ridiculous. He’d laugh if he wasn’t harder than fucking granite. Standing, he pulls his underwear down his legs to kick them off along with his pants.

Desiré eyes his soaked mouth and goatee, belly clenching at the erotic sight. She keeps her eyes locked on his as he kicks his shoes off and moves to unbutton his shirt. But her eyes drift when he’s finally naked. His body is something to behold. His build is athletic, and she wants to roll her eyes in exasperation at him being fucking perfect. Where does he even find the time to work out with running an empire like this? His body is lithe, muscles and abs defined that dips into a narrow waist. He’s majestic, even with his hair a bit unraveled. Desiré’s breath hitches as he stoops to pick her up by her thighs. She dips her head to capture his wet lips in a kiss as he moves with her toward the desk they were just working at. She moans at her taste on his tongue. Heady. There’s a loud clatter and ruffle of papers before her back gently meets the hard surface of his desk.

“Virgil… I’m going to have to sort through all those papers again… and you probably broke the laptop.” She says with a pout.

“Do I look worried about that?” He cocks his brow at her. And no, he doesn’t. He reaches to open one of his drawers on his desk to pull out a condom.

“You keep condoms in your office desk?” She tries to sound nonchalant even though she feels green with jealousy.

“I keep them everywhere. But I haven’t been with anyone else here so stop pouting.” He says with a subtle smirk.

“So why keep them here?”

“All these questions, are you my woman?” He rips the packet between his teeth, keeping his eyes on her face.

“Not yet.” She immediately responds, staring at him with challenge in her eyes even though anxiety buzzes under the surface of her skin.

There’s a look of contemplation on his face while rolling the condom on. “I agree.”

Desiré bites her lip to contain the smile that threatens to stretch her lips a little too widely. She holds her breath feeling him tease along where she’s soaked and pulsing.

“Stop teasing.” She mewls, feeling him bump the head of dick against her clit a few times.

“Next time I’m going to edge you until you cry.”

She barely has time to process his words because he begins pressing against her entrance. Desiré gasps then whimpers as she stretches to accommodate him. Virgil eyes stay locked between them, his mouth slightly agape watching as her body slowly opens up around him. For him.

“Fuck, baby.”

Desiré whines in response to his grumbly moan. She takes him to the hilt, shifting her hips as he touches something deep inside that makes her eyes roll.

“You’re so tight around me and look how wet you are, hm? Can’t wait to fuck you raw.”

Desiré’s toes curl and she moans wantonly. She’s so full of him that it makes her brain scattered.

“Mmmmffhf.”

Virgil gently rests a hand against her lower belly before setting a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking into her deep and slow. Desiré’s head thumps against the table, her eyes squeezing shut as she succumbs to the pleasurable ache of his dick exploring every single crevice inside her.

“Nuh-uh, baby. Eyes open. Watch me fuck you; it’s why I haven’t taken your glasses off.”

She whimpers but lifts her head to obey. Desiré’s eyes lock where they’re joined between them. His hips are fluid and he almost glides through the wet heat of her. It’s so erotic she can only moan at a volume that’s embarrassing.

“Not so loud, baby. We aren’t the only ones here.” He says through hitching breaths.

“But it feels so g-good.”

Virgil tutts and moves to press her knees against her shoulders. “Hold your legs.” He demands.

Desiré grasps her legs, uncaring of the slight protest of some of her sore leg muscles. The position seems to open her up a bit more for her to feel him deeper. She’s about to whine loudly when her mouth is stuffed full of his fingers. She eyes him in surprise for a few seconds before she begins to suckle on his slightly salty digits.

“There you go. That’s my girl.”

Desiré’s eyes roll at the back of her head. His words coupled with how he’s dragging so deliciously against her fluttering walls it’s too much. The familiar starts building in the base of her belly causing her toes to curl.

“I can feel you fluttering around me, baby. Are you going to come for me, pretty?”

Desiré nods at him with wide eyes. He presses harder against her lower belly and fucks into her faster. The added pressure from outside while he stimulates her body from inside makes her suck on his fingers harder to keep the scream bubbling up in her throat at bay. The audible squelching grows even louder as she begins to tremble.

“Shit shit shi-”

Desiré’s sweaty palms slip from her legs as the pressure snaps. She tenses from head to foot as she spasms around him wildly. Tears flow freely from her eyes, her screams muffled by his fingers as the orgasm is wrung from her body. His loud grunt sounds miles away but she feels him fucking into her sloppily, deeper, his grip bordering painful on her flailing legs. She clenches around him, drawing the pleasure out for both of them.

His moan comes from the pit of his belly. “Just like that, baby. Milk me— fucking—” he cuts himself off with a sharp, drawn out groan. The tension headache that he could feel building behind his eyes earlier now a distant memory as his hips stutter. The pleasure makes his limbs weak; he’s even a bit light headed. Fuck. He hastily lifts Desiré off the desk to plop unceremoniously on his chair with her in his lap. He’s still inside. He wishes he could stay inside her forever but overstimulation is beginning to burn his skin, so he slowly pulls out, rubbing a soothing hand up her back as she whines.

“Baby, are you with me?”

She buries her face further into his neck before responding. “Uh-huh.”

Comfortable silence stretches between them as they bask in each other’s presence for a while, sweat cooling on their skin. A flash of lightning illuminates the room reminding him of the weather outside.

“Get dressed, I’ll take you home.” He presses a kiss on her cheek.

“But- but what about the minutes I was typing.” She says around a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it. Email what you’ve typed so far. I’ll have to replace my laptop first thing in the morning.” He says with a weak laugh. Desiré giggles against his neck but doesn’t make a move to stand. He allows it. His body tenses briefly before melting against his seat feeling her soft lips and warm tongue against his neck. She pulls a small patch of skin between her lips and begins to suck. His breath hitches.

“Marking me up like you own me, huh?”

She hums against his neck. He brings a palm down against the swell of her ass. Firm enough to watch it jiggle without causing real pain.

“It’s late. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” She raises her head to admire her work, the bright red spot pretty against his neck. Then she blinks innocently at him. Hair ruffled, face wet with tears and lips swollen, yet still so beautiful.

“May I have the day off tomorrow?”

He chuckles from the pit of his belly. “Sure, baby.”

#football #black woman #football fanfic #virgil van dijk x black oc #virgil van dijk x black reader #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk #lfc #virgil van dijk x you

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rheya28 · 2 years ago

Text

Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe Lot size: 40x30 Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

➽ Mods:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

#sims 4 #thesims4 #ts4 #sims #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 cc #thesims #sims 4 builds #ts4 build #builds #build

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authorhjk1 · 11 months ago

Note

Possible prequel to the yuju bronze?

https://youtu.be/u1mBqgU8q4g

Grey

(Yuju X Male Reader)

Your watch says 4 am. It's way too late to be working. Why does your current client have to be in a different timezone? You just finished your video call and are about to head out.

The first hint of the morning light starts to appear on the horizon. You haven't slept since last night. On one hand, you just want to fall asleep, right where you stand. On the other hand...

Your client looked way too good. The young woman had an almost see through white blouse on and a black lace bra. Throughout the entirety of the last two hours, you involuntarily got hornier and hornier.

But who would still be up at this time? Or who has just woken up? Probably no one.

As you walk to your car, you remember that you have more than enough videos on your computer. But why look at videos, when you can feel the real thing? You think it over for a moment. Your need for pleasure finally outweighs your sense for empathy.

After a twenty minute drive, you pull into an underground parking lot. It's not the building you're living in and you're not used to the layout of the structure. You get lost once, before you finally find the elevator. Sixth floor, here we go.

Once you're there, you type in the code for her door lock. You close the door behind you and walk through her living room. Another door leads to her bedroom. This one is cracked open. You push it open all the way, revealing the sleeping idol.

Yuju is sprawled out on the large bed. She must've kicked the covers off herself throughout the night. You can see she is wearing a night gown. A grey one. The flower patterns on it and her messed up hair makes her look cute. You lean down to cup her cheek.

Yuju moves a little. Your hand moves from her cheek to one of her breasts, squeezing it. It makes Yuju flinch.

"Wake up."

You whisper into her ear with the softest voice you can muster.

"Hmm?"

Yuju's eyelids flutter open and she looks up at you.

"W-What time is it?"

Her sleepy voice sounds as adorable as she looks. You would've loved to cuddle with her at any other moment. But now, her cuteness only enhances your desire to use her for your own good.

"4:30."

"Mmm!"

Yuju groans in disappointment.

"Be quick."

You see her eyes close again and you slowly roll her over so she lies on her back.

"You're an angel, Yuju."

You kiss her lips as they form into a smile.

"Thank you."

She sighs, still not fully awake.

You quickly rid yourself off your pants, before reaching for the lube inside her nightstand. You usually don't need it. But this isn't the first time you've woken up Yuju in the middle of the night. She made sure she is always ready, in case you have midnight cravings.

Your cock is quickly covered in lube, already hard because of the woman lying in front of you. Quickly pushing her gown up, you reveal Yuju's cleanly shaven pussy.

You hear her whimper as you push inside of her. She is only half awake and yet you are already inside of her. She slowly rubs her eyes as you start thrusting.

"What a way to wake up."

She moans as you hold onto her thighs, driving yourself deeper.

"Good girl."

You praise her as you bottom out inside of her.

"Taking my cock first thing in the morning."

"Morn-Morning?"

Yuju sighs as you slowly fuck her. Your thrusts aren't hard or fast. You're tired too.

"It's the middle of the night."

"But your pussy feels as good as always."

"Oh gosh."

Yuju's weak and sleepy sigh makes you shiver. It turns you on to know, that she loves you so much, she takes your cock at any time, without you having to even ask for it.

"Damn, Yuju."

Your forehead has sunk down on hers. The two of you have your eyes closed as you enjoy the first rays of the sun.

The lube only helped you to start fucking her. By now, her juices take over. You feel her getting wetter, how your strokes become more smooth. There is less friction now.

Your thrusts automatically become faster.

"P-Please. A little slower."

You reduce your speed, willingly acknowledging her state. Yuju is not there yet to take your full pounding. But she is more than able to take your shallow thrusts.

Her pussy squeezes and hugs your cock. You feel yourself growing tired. Even more than you already are.

"I'm never leaving your pussy ever again."

A promise that makes Yuju smile. A promise you'd love to keep. A promise you made too often already.

With a low grunt, you finally finish inside of her. Yuju moans into your ear since your head has sunk next to hers, onto the mattress. You fill her up to the brim. Your seed painting her walls.

You feel yourself drifting off. Yuju closes her eyes too. You're still deep inside of her, her pussy keeping you warm. She rests a hand on the back of your head, slightly stroking you to sleep.

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #gfriend smut #gfriend yuju #gfriend #yuju

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

Text

When your Character Wears Pearls

Historically worn by royalty and the wealthy, pearls are a timeless fashion trend. Consider the following ways to wear pearl jewelry:

Go glam. A pendant necklace with large pearls can be an excellent statement piece to wear with a cocktail dress or formal attire. Large pearl drop earrings are also glamorous.

Layer a string of pearls. Layering strands of pearls of various lengths or wearing a multi-layer pearl necklace makes for a dramatic effect.

Opt for a single pearl stone. A necklace with a singular pearl stone is a classic look from daytime to evening wear. A pearl pendant necklace can elevate a simple T-shirt and jeans outfit, or you can pair a simple pearl necklace with blazers and cardigans for the office. A pair of pearl earrings, like studs, is also appropriate for a casual look and formal attire.

Play with necklace length. For an edgy look, try a pearl choker necklace. A medium-length pearl necklace, known as a princess-length necklace, or a long pearl necklace, known as an opera-length necklace, is an elegant look.

Showcase the jewelry. Blouses, dresses, and sweaters featuring simple necklines effectively showcase pearl necklaces. If wearing pearl earrings, pull your hair back into a ponytail or bun to highlight the accessories.

Wear dark colors. Opt for clothing items of solid colors, especially when wearing white pearls. Bright colors and busy patterns distract from the beautiful simplicity of the pearl necklace. Wearing pearls with a little black dress is a classic pearl look.

Pearl - a type of gemstone with a high luster.

These gemstones are usually small, round, and white, though they come in various shapes and colors, including blue, gray, and pink.

Pearls form when particles, such as sand, slip between the shell and mantle of oysters.

These natural pearls are the most expensive type of pearls.

Freshwater pearls, also known as cultured or farmed pearls, are made by inseminating mussels.

Natural, freshwater, and imitation pearl stones are popular forms of fine jewelry and fashion jewelry.

Pearl necklaces, pearl earrings, pearl bracelets, and pearl rings are timeless jewelry pieces.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#pearl #character development #writing reference #writeblr #literature #dark academia #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #light academia #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing resources

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violetrainbow412-blog · 8 months ago

Text

Day 19: yarn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Upon arriving at the building, the first thing Spencer encountered was a figure skillfully moving their hands, sitting in a lotus position, hunched over the sofa in the common area of the apartments.

The man was renting that apartment. Most of those who rented in that place were young people, some studying at university and others simply too comfortable to find something better. You, however, did not fall into either of those categories.

You were the niece of the elderly landlord and apparently lived with her after some unpleasant family situations. That’s why you were usually around, and seeing you knit had become a habit of his.

“Hello”

“Hi, Spencer! How have you been?” you asked, with a cheerful expression on your face. You weren’t wearing shoes, and there was a basket with a bunch of yarn on the floor, from which you were probably taking for whatever garment you were making.

“Good, a bit… busy, but everything has been fine.”

“I heard that the other day you helped my aunt with some plumbing work that needed doing. I didn’t know you had that kind of knowledge.”

“It was something very basic, nothing out of this world,” he murmured, trying to be modest. “What are you knitting?”

Spencer wasn’t used to talking much with the other tenants, perhaps out of shyness or perhaps because he didn’t want to interact with people in general. But with you, it was different; you always seemed interested in what he said and often showed yourself to be friendly. That’s why he didn’t mind sitting on the other sofa for a while.

“A blouse; I have a rough idea…” you carefully pulled out a simple handmade drawing from the basket and held it out to him. “I still don’t know if those will be the colors; I’m deciding.”

“How do you have so much time to do that?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Knitting isn’t that hard once you get used to it. It’s all about following patterns, and before you know it, you have something solid to wear.”

You carefully approached him and developed quite an informative chat about the types of stitches, needles, yarn, colors, thickness… you were quite the expert on the subject.

He didn’t know there was so much to know to carry out such an activity, and suddenly, he felt a certain admiration for your work. He was known for his clumsiness when it came to motor skills, so conceiving the idea of being able to do that was something extremely strange for him.

Suddenly, you took out your phone to show him some other pieces you had made: sweaters, blouses, scarves, mittens, hats, dresses…

“Have you ever considered selling your work? They’re beautiful.”

“Oh, no. It’s too personal, you know? That’s why I only knit for myself, my family, and friends.”

“Well, you’re very skilled, to be honest. If you made custom pieces, I’d definitely buy one.”

“What do you like most?” you asked excitedly, moving closer to him “Sweaters? Vests? A scarf, maybe?”

“No! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was just an idea. Don’t worry about it,” he murmured immediately, trying to dismiss the thought from your mind.

However, you were already plotting a plan. You knew from your aunt that his birthday was coming soon, and you thought: what could be better than giving him something?

Although you pretended to let the matter pass, you continued seriously considering what would be the most suitable gift to knit for your friend. Because you were friends, right? You hoped so.

You both continued talking about trivialities after that, and you continued with your work as the conversation flowed. You clearly knew he couldn’t stay with you all afternoon, so when he told you he had to leave to fulfill other obligations, you thanked him for the time he had given you.

From that day on, you kept mulling over the idea of what could be the ideal gift for your aunt’s tenant. For several days, you tried to come up with a pattern, something good enough that would match his personality until you finally hit upon it. You were going to make him a collection of gifts, in fact, simply for the excitement of having someone admire your work so much. Besides, he had suggested it, and of course, you were going to stick to your rule: you only knitted for yourself, family, and friends.

Spencer went weeks without seeing you. He felt somewhat worried about your absence but assumed you were busy with your own life, not daring to ask your landlord about your whereabouts. Sometimes he saw the light in your room late at night and wondered what you might be doing, but he would never commit the imprudence of knocking on your door to look for you. That would be inappropriate because, while you weren’t a child or anything, he was a couple of years older than you, and the idea of someone getting the wrong impression worried him greatly.

He couldn’t see you on his birthday, and he didn’t expect you to know (he hadn’t told anyone in the building, as far as he remembered), but he thought it would have been nice to have your company.

It wasn’t until a week later that Spencer had a clue about you when a note with something he recognized as your handwriting slid under his door.

Come to the living room :)

He was confused by the invitation, which was very unconventional, so he prepared to go where you were asking him. Once there, he was surprised to find you with a huge smile, a piece of cake with a lit candle, and a large box on the coffee table.

“Surprise!”

“How do you know?” he asked, slightly confused but also touched by the show of affection.

“I know it was last week, but your gift wasn’t ready yet, and you weren’t here for your cases, and… well, you know. It’s late, but I hope you like it. Come on! Come, sit down.”

You offered him the plate with the piece of dessert, and he happily blew out the small candle burning on it. After applauding that, you patted the box in front of him and brought it closer.

“Did you buy me a gift?” he asked kindly as he sat down next to you.

The box was nothing more than a cardboard box, with no decoration or flashy papers. It was just a plain, brown, large box.

“Open it and find out.”

You looked anxious for him to see the contents, and he had no heart to refuse your excitement. When he opened it, however, he was surprised by something greater than he expected.

Inside were only knitted items: some strange-colored squares (which he would ask you about) and underneath what seemed to be a beautiful brown cardigan with a beige trim and another shade of brown. When he took it out, he was completely moved by the beauty of the garment and smiled widely when he felt the softness of the yarn.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

“I also made you some covers for your books, or your planner, or any notebook you want,” you exclaimed excitedly. Oh, so that’s what the squares were for “Try it on! Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he finally said, genuinely excited. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I told you, I only knit for people I care about.”

Spencer felt extremely honored by the distinction, and for a second, he also felt embarrassed. He didn’t know you considered him a friend at that level and wished he had something to give you too, even though it was his birthday.

He complied with your request and put the piece over his plaid shirt. It fit perfectly, was quite warm, and matched him very well. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say, stunned by your attention toward him and your personal gift. You had spent weeks knitting that just for him.

“And there’s one more thing,” you pointed out with a smile, and he peered inside.

It was true; there was a pair of socks. But they weren’t ordinary socks; they were knitted in the same way and had a particularity that made him burst into laughter.

“They’re mismatched!”

“I know you wear them like that. So I thought you’d like them,” you murmured, smiling.

You looked so kind and lovely that Spencer couldn’t help but want to hug you, feeling grateful for what you had just gifted him.

“Let me pay you for your work.”

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, sounding offended. “It’s a gift, Spencer. Gifts aren’t for sale. Happy late birthday!”

He didn’t expect something like that from you, and just for that, he felt even happier. Throughout the winter season, he made sure to wear your cardigan as much as he could, proud to recount that you had knitted it every time someone complimented the design.

At some point during the winter, he realized that, both literally and figuratively, you had brought unparalleled warmth to his life. First with that cardigan, and of course, then with your friendship.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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sultrydxrling · 9 months ago

Text

Expanding on an idea I had, I'll link the post :3

(MULTIMONSTER/GLORYHOLE/AFAB/FTM/ANY BODY TYPE/WERE-TIGER/ORC)

(3.8k words)

(CNC/FREE-USE/MONSTERKINK/GLORYHOLE/ANAL/ORAL/VAGANAL)

SCROLL DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE THE REFERENCES OF THE CREATURES!<3

(Heads up, pink text is just for unassorted side characters, they might make an appearance in future parts of the fic, and might have their own colors then.)

You walk into the facility excitedly. You had passed the screening, background check, drug test, lab work, and numerous other loops to fill the position you had applied for. You knew it was a sex-working job, but didn't have much more information than that, which you didn't mind.

You walked up to the front desk with your paperwork to greet the busty woman sitting there, her bright green eyes darting up at you from beneath her bangs. Her long black hair draped over her shoulders and the coils, along with her breasts bounced lightly as she moved. A flush of red swam across your cheeks and you tried to avert your gaze, pushing your view back up to her eyes.

"Hello!, I'm (y/n)! I'm here to see-", By the time you'd gotten past your name, she'd already found you on the list.

"Ah! (y/n), Spelled like this right?", She showed you the clipboard and smiled, pointing to your name with a pen. You nodded and returned her cheery expression.

"Yep! That's me!", She nodded and stood, you could now see her red, partially unbuttoned blouse and tight, black, knee-length skirt. As your eyes traveled down her body, they fell on her lovely bright red heels. All of these colors complemented her Olive skin delightfully, so much so that it was very difficult not to stare.

"Come on, hun. Follow me.", I wandered closely behind her and she led me into a large warehouse-type hallway, with many different doors leading into different hallways or rooms. We walked down the hallway and into a blue door on the left. She scanned her keycard and the door buzzed open.

"Once you've been here for a couple of days and decide that you'd like to continue, we will give you a keycard. Until then, I will come let you in."

The door opened into a large waiting area, The flooring was a beautiful dark wood, leading up to the furniture. All of the furniture was luxurious, the arms swirling elegantly. The couches and chairs were a red fabric with black flowers strewn across them, little whisps of swirls against the flower pattern. There was a Traditional Gold Damask on Bright Red Wallpaper lining the walls, all the way to a front desk with another woman with red hair and blue eyes looking up from her paperwork through her glasses.

"Oh! Is this the new hire? They're gorgeous!"

"Yes isn't he? I just know the clientele is going to love him. Alright, Cassandra, I'm going to take him back. Don't send in anyone too rough until his third day please."

She smiled and Cassandra nodded, "Of course Andromeda. As always."

She returned to her paperwork and the dark-haired woman led me into a room with an "Employees only" Sign.

"Alright, and If you just strip down, You'll be led to your room for the night. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, would you prefer human clients or monsters-", You'd almost forgotten monsters would be an option, but you felt your heart race at the idea. You'd never been with a monster before and the very thought put slick between your thighs.

"Monsters- please.", You said politely. She nodded and left you in the room by yourself. You looked into the body-length mirror as you undressed, hearing Cassandra's words in your head, calling you gorgeous. You were feeling super confident.

You heard a soft rap on your door, "May I come in, (y/n)?"

"Yes, I'm ready...", You bashfully covered yourself but only slightly. Andromeda smiled at you and gave you a soft look up and down.

"You look beautiful, come with me this way to your room.", You nodded and walked slowly behind her as she opened the door and led you down the red hallway, Along the wall, there were dark, red cushioned lifts that hung about 3 feet above the ground. The same wallpaper as the waiting room shines softly in the dim lighting. The woman opened a door with her keycard, another "Employees only" sign hanging from it.

As you entered, the hallway wrapped around as if to mirror the one you were just in, full of box-like rooms that were slightly elevated. She opened one of the secure doors, as you looked inside, the room was filled with that same, cushioned material, a pillow built into a table in the middle, and a red button hung next to the door.

"I'm going to open the door and you will put your rear end and your knees on the other side of the wall. It will secure your hips in place, and you will put your abdomen on this table. when your lower half is secured, this wall will open a small hole in front of you and the table will adjust you fowars slightly, or this wall will get closer to you."

You tried to keep up with what she was saying as you looked all over the room, figuring out how the mechanisms functioned so well. There must've been a lot of science, engineering, and thought put into these rooms. Andromeda scanned her card on the button pad, which helped adjust the walls and seating.

Once your hips were through the wall, and your knees were comfortable; you adjusted the closeness of the wall, and a hole opened up. The hole was right up next to your mouth and you couldn't help but daydream. Just thinking about the randomly colored cocks that would be in your face, how they might taste, and how thick they might be. More slick dripped down your thigh and you prayed no one would notice.

"Alright, are you comfortable?"

"Yes, Ma'am", She looked over her clipboard at how you addressed her as she checked off boxes, you almost wished she would play with you herself, now shamelessly staring at her chest, or at least what you could see under her clipboard.

"Would you like an aphrodisiac?", You looked at her confused and blushed.

"What- is that?", Andromeda put her clipboard to her hip and smiled,

"It's a drug, more spasifically a gass for us as a compsany, that makes you feel extra- in the mood."

She winked and chuckled. You nodded and looked down shamefully, "Yes please-"

"Alright hun, I'll be sure to set you up before we open. I'm going to ho around to the other side and make sure your legs are as open as they need to be, Ill close the wall once you're adjusted and we'll help all the other girls in. While you're waiting well hit you with the drugs okay?"

"Mhm"

You answered softly and let yourself relax, resting your arms on the rectangular table, your back arching softly as you adjusted. You were happy to find there was another armrest and a small lift button for the table. You messed with it, raising the table slightly and lowering it. You rested your arms on the wall, armrest, practicing how you would suck on the monsters that offered their cocks to you. Andromeda could be heard behind you,

"Oh, my~", she giggled softly as she examined you.

"Someone's exited huh? Alright, do you mind if I touch your legs and thighs? Make you look presentable?"

"No, I dont mind."

She hummed softly as her soft hands wrapped around your calves, pulling your legs carefully apart and gently spreading your pussy lips but making sure not to touch your aching hole. You wished she would, you imagined her acrylics gently rubbing at your insides, her fingertips rubbing your G-spot. You gasped softly when you felt her spread you, and she heard.

"Alright, you're all set up and look monster-ready", She chuckled and made her way back to the front hallway.

"Ok sweety, I'm going to close the holes around you and obviously the one in front of you will just close. The room will fill with a light gass, but it shouldn't feel suffocating. If it does, or anything hurts or goes wrong, press that red button to your left. Am I understood?"

You nodded and looked into her bright green eyes. You wanted to make her proud and prove you deserved to stay and that you could do the best at your job. Maybe you'd get a reward for doing well.

The hole closed and the wall behind you clenched tightly around your hips. This made you feel secure and the squeeze made you feel secure. A robotic voice sounded in a speaker,

"Is your waist secured too tightly?", I sat there for a moment and I answered out loud not sure what else I could do.

"No."

"Good. Prepare for Aphrodisiac.", As the voice went silent, you heard a soft hissing, and quiet music began to play. You took a few purposeful deep breaths as you let your mind wander to the various creatures that might violate you.

You hadn't realized how much time had gone by and soon the hole in front of you opened up and the hole around your hip loosened slightly. You could hear talking behind you, a deep gruff voice sounding out.

"Good- gods... Look at this one-", Another voice soon to follow.

"Damn, I wonder how good his mouth is...(y/n) huh? Cute name. I'll take the mouth first then we can swap out."

You looked down to see the drool pooled against your chin and your face flushed in embarrassment. You sat upright, trying to ready yourself for the fun.

"Ooh. You're really exited for this huh?", A harsh slap fell across your ass, causing you to moan out. The creature laughed and you felt a pointed tip against your sloppy hole.

Soon a thick, green cock was pushed through the hole in front of you, the pre-cum-covered tip pressed lightly against your cheek. The feeling of it was amazing, the drugs filling your head with so much glee. You rested your weight on your elbows and took hold of; what you were assuming was an orc's cock with both hands and rubbed the leaking, pink-tinted tip all over your face.

A soft groan could be heard from the other side of the wall and the creature began to thrust into the hole and against your face.

"Fuuck yes.. god whatever you're doing, pretty boy- keep going-", This excited you, and you happily obliged, and began to softly kiss against his soft tip. You smeared his leaking cum against your lips like salty lipgloss.

The animal behind you thrusted into your cunt roughly, causing you to pull the Orc just into your lips and moan out around him.

"Mmm!", You pushed your hips back against the man behind you.

"Very eager arent you, Sweetheart... I'm going to make you into a delightful little cum-mutt.", he growled as he began to push his hips forward into you, filling you and letting your walls stretch around him, all the way down to his inflating knot.

You were praying it was a Were-Tiger, you loved how handsome they were, their enticing colors, a Lion, or maybe a panther- the daydreams swam around in your head as you began to throat the Orc without much thought, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip.

"Oh my god, that's so fucking good- yes- Good boy. I might become a regular if you keep this up...", this was encouragement, and you began to suck him into your throat deeper, bobbing your head faster.

You felt a set of claws sink into your hips deeply, but not breaking skin as the creature behind you pounded into you and pressed his knot as hard as he could against you. It was obvious how much he wanted to force it in.

The hole in front of you was big enough to fit the orc's balls through and you used one hand to steady his cock in your mouth, the other reaching down to fondle and squeeze them teasingly. Another soft hissing noise filled the space next to you and a little of the gas spilled out of the holes, encouraging the monsters to be more aggressive with you.

Your holes were getting violently fucked from both ends now and you could feel their lengths pulsing and throbbing against your walls and esophagus. You moaned loudly over the orc's cock, the vibrations sending him into a thrusting frenzy as he forced himself as deeply into your mouth as he could, cum filling your throat quicker than you could swallow, the warmth flooding your chest as you tried not to gag and choke.

Soon after, you felt the man behind you shove his knot into you as he came, his sharp tip pressing against your sensitive cervix. You squirted against him and pressed back against him, trying to ride out your orgasm on his knot. As your pussy clenched and grabbed at his cock, he made sure to grind with you, milking himself as much as he could. The orc pulled out of the hole in front of you and you could hear his heavy breathing as he leaned on the wall.

"Oh my- fuck that was so good.."

You moaned even louder, now that your mouth wasn't full as the man began to fuck you with his knot, popping it in and out as he continued to drain himself. He pulled out and groped your ass affectionately. You happily spaced out and arched your back, laying down and breathing for a moment. After about two minutes you felt a set of two giant fingers rub up and down your pussy and asshole.

The orc was using both you and the man's juices to lubricate both of your holes. You pushed your hips back against his fingers needily.

"Hold on sweet boy. I'll be inside of you soon.", This made you let out a soft pathetic whine, and then a thick, red, textured cock entered the hole in front of you. You immediately wrapped your mouth and hand around him excitedly, circling your tongue around his length.

A roar sounded from the other side, and he immediately began to fuck your mouth, which you were practically begging for. One of the orc's fingers slipped into your pussy, filling it even more than the other creature's cock did.

You drooled more around the man's length and rubbed him vigorously as you finally got to see the knot that filled you. You reached up with your free hand and treated him as you did the orc, massaging his knot and squeezing it tightly.

The orc pushed his fingers into you, into both stretching your holes. He eased them into you and your walls clenched hungrily around them. He chuckled and removed his finger from your pussy, keeping one in your virgin asshole. He moved his finger gently in and out and you could feel his tip against your cunt. The idea of his pretty tip against you made you clench more, just to squeeze out any of your slicks that you could. You'd spend all day sucking it if you could.

"Good boy~ Keep up like that and I'm going to cum down your delicious- feeling throat. God yes- right there-", The man in front of you cooed at you and you moaned around his tip louder as the orc entered you. You swirled your tongue aggressively around his tip and flicked your tongue over the small crease and hole.

His hips spasmed, forcing his cock into your mouth as his throbbing cock spewed warm, sticky cum into your mouth. You pushed your head forward to get the rest of him into your mouth, even trying to fit his knot into your mouth. You felt like your jaw was going to unhinge, but were almost excited to suck on it.

"Ugh- F-God!!", He milked himself into your mouth and tried to help shove himself into your hungry jaws, almost getting off to the feeling of your teeth scraping against his large knot.

The orc pushed himself into you deeply, enough to tease himself by rubbing against the hole of your cervix.

"Mmm, you're so tight-", He chuckled deeply and pulled his finger out of your ass and took your hips into his hands, gripping you securely as he began to thrust in and out.

The man in front of you pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to gasp and cough softly. You wiped your mouth and giggled dazedly, happily arching your back for the monster behind you.

It wasn't long before he couldn't help himself and began to greedily move faster. A soft tapping could be heard as his balls slapped softly against your clit, providing extra stimulation for yourself. You moaned loudly and cursed softly.

You began to grope your tits, pinching at your nipples with one hand and ducking on your fingers with the other, missing the feeling of something in your mouth. Your tongue felt lonely, but your pussy was being very well taken care of. The orc was shaped so wonderfully, his cock was slightly thicker in the middle, rubbing every single weak spot you had. You wanted to hold in your orgasm for as long as possible but were not successful, squirting against him and pushing your hips back into him to encourage your orgasm.

He happily moved his hips slower, guiding you through the rest of your orgasm. After you'd finished, he pulled out of you and pressed himself against you asshole.

"Now, I get to treat you like a real boy-", He laughed and pushed himself roughly into your ass and moved aggressively. The orc was needy for your tightness, huffing and grunting like an animal as he took you. You could feel his big hands wrapping around your whole waist as he used you like a fleshlight.

A heavy fog settled over you as you lay down against the table, happily just trying to relax your body for the other. You could hear the other creature talking to the orc behind you.

"God he looks so good when he's full, and his pussy is leaking cum.", The orc laughed as he thrusted.

"Isn't he? and his ass is so fucking tight- I can't get enough. We'll- UIgh- definitely have to come back-", The orc leaned forward and rested some of his weight against your back, you could feel the warmth and sweat on his chest. Your whines and whimpers subsided to quiet breaths of foggy salvation.

"We should request a private room with him, if he ended up a perma-hire." You could sense the other monster's eyes on you. You imagined him looking down at you like a steak and drooling against the soft fabric beneath you.

"God- I'm so close-", The orc grunted as he drove himself as hard as he could into you, groaning and laughing as he fucked you into a happy stupor. You felt a hot liquid burst into you and you screamed out, your tongue hanging out like a dog.

He panted and held himself inside of you for a moment before carefully pulling out. They both laughed softly and ran their hands and paws over your thighs and waist.

"You did so good for us pretty boy, we'll be back to see you again if we can. Maybe we'll have the pleasure of seeing your gorgeous face. It has to be as beautiful as your body."

They both gave your ass a good slap before you heard them leave. After a moment, you heard mechanisms wiring and the door around your hips was opened as well as the door in front of you. Your eyes drifted up to see the busty secretary who led you back here.

"Hiii Andromedaaa...", You slurred softly and giggled, absolutely fucked out of your mind. She smiled down at you and moved the hair out of your face.

"Did you have fun darling?", Her voice was soft and she held her clipboard up with her pen ready.

"It was very wonderful, I had so much fun.", She nodded and wrote something down.

"Mhm. Did they treat you well?", Her eyes didn't leave her paper.

"Yes, Ma'am.", She once more wrote something down and helped you out of the machine after tucking the clipboard under her arm. You smiled and wobbled slightly.

"Would you like some help? We have some really strong staff who can hold you up or carry you to your room to rest.", You nodded and looked around, trying to find something for you to steady yourself. Andromeda pulled a small walkie-talkie from her pocket and spoke into it.

"Hey, Can you send a carrier here, to hall 3-A please?", Within mere moments, a woman walked into the hall, she must've been at least 5ft 11'. You gawked at her, she was built very strongly, her breasts blending with muscle.

"Hello, I'll be your Carrior for the night. May I?", She smiled and opened her arms, taking a step closer. You nodded and replied softly. She had a soft Southern accent that made me swoon.

"Mhm- Please-", You reached out for her and did your best to stumble over to her. She picked you up carefully, bridal style. You looked up and studied her features. She had Darker skin than Andromeda's olive tint, a delightful, deep caramel color. Her hair was up in a ponytail or a messy bun, you couldn't tell very well. It looked to be a box dyed red but over her already dark hair.

She carried you to the room you had undressed in and into a side room you hadn't noticed. It was a bathroom with a luxurious bath and she gently laid you in it.

"Would you like me to turn on the water for you?", Her face tinted slightly darker as she looked you over.

"Yes please", You smiled up at her, blushing as well. She turned the water on to a nice hot temperature used a small picture and filled it with warm water, gently rinsing you off. The bath was then plugged and she pulled another pitcher off of the counter that was full of a creme-colored liquid and what looked like flower petals.

"If you dont mind my sayin' so- you look very pretty, uhm-", She gingerly poured the milk bath mixture into the water and over your body.

"(Y/N)", You added and giggled at her bashfullness.

"Got it. Well, I'm gonna let you clean up alright? Sure you can manage?", She stood, folding her arms in front of her like a bouncer at a club.

"Yes, I think I'll be alright.", You giggled more and smiled big. She nodded and opened the door to leave.

"You just uh- Let me know if you need me alright?"

"Alright.", You watched as she left and waited until hearing the second door to your room close before squealing happily, the night had gone amazingly and you'd been carried back to your room by the most attractive woman you thought you'd ever seen. You'd definitely be staying.

(Not my art, found on google :3)

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glowettee · 6 months ago

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⊹♡the ultimate coquette girl's guide to organizing your closet⊹♡

hello lovelies! today i wanna help you transform your closet into a magical wonderland of perfectly arranged clothes and accessories. if you love coquette, this guide will literally be perfect for you. a perfect start for your coquette style/fashion inspo.

essential organization categories:

dresses (sorted by length and color)

blouses (organized by sleeve type)

skirts (mini to maxi)

accessories (bows, ribbons, hair clips)

shoes (mary janes first!)

color coordination rules:

pastels together (pink, mint, lavender)

whites and creams in their own section

darker colors at the back

prints and patterns grouped by theme

must-have storage items:

pearl-handled hangers

vintage hat boxes

clear acrylic organizers

ribbon-tied storage baskets

lace drawer liners

maintenance schedule: monday: dust and reorganize shoes wednesday: refresh sachets and reorganize accessories friday: rotate seasonal items sunday: plan outfits for the week

remember to make your closet aesthetic:

install fairy lights

add a vintage mirror

place dried flowers in corners

use matching hangers

display your favorite pieces

keeping your closet organized isn't just practical - it's a form of self-care! 🎀 hopefully this can help you with organizing your wardrobe, and give you inspo

#self improvement #girl blogger #girlblogger #it girl energy #pink #that girl #study tips #glowettee #dream girl #becoming that girl #vanilla girl #cinnamon girl #clean girl #girlhood #girlblogging #im just a girl #it girl #just girly thoughts #this is what makes us girls

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iiftnepal · 2 years ago

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"Exploring the Latest Trends in New Blouse Designs for Partywear in Nepal"

When it comes to trendy blouse designs for party events in Nepal, there are types of blouse patterns options that complement sarees beautifully. Here are some popular blouse designs and types of blouse patterns that are currently in vogue for new blouse design in Nepal:

Halter Neck Blouse Design in Nepal:The halter neck blouse design is a chic and contemporary choice, featuring a high neckline that ties behind the neck. It’s an elegant option for parties and adds a modern twist to your saree look.

Off-Shoulder Blouse Design for Saree in Nepal:Off-shoulder blouses are all the rage, and they’re perfect for party events. These blouse design for saree in nepal showcase your shoulders and collarbone, giving you a glamorous and trendy appearance.

Cold-Shoulder Blouse Design in Nepal:Cold-shoulder blouse designs have small, stylish cutouts at the shoulder, creating a fashionable and edgy look. They are great for adding a touch of drama to your saree ensemble.

Puff Sleeve Blouse Design in Nepal:Puff sleeves are making a comeback. These sleeves add volume and drama to your blouse, creating a retro-inspired party look. You can choose between long or short puff sleeves, depending on your preference.

Peplum Blouse Design for Saree in Nepal:Peplum blouses feature a fitted bodice with a flared peplum waist. This design creates a flattering silhouette and can be embellished with embroidery or sequins for a glamorous party look.

Backless Blouse Design in Nepal:A backless blouse is a bold and glamorous choice for parties. It can feature intricate designs, ties, or embellishments on the back to make a striking statement.

Full Sleeves Blouse Design in Nepal:Full sleeves with intricate embroidery or sheer fabric can add a touch of elegance to your party saree look. These blouses are suitable for cooler evenings.

High-Neck Blouse Design in Nepal:High-neck blouses with embellishments, embroidery, or sheer fabric can give you a regal and sophisticated appearance at parties.

Cape Blouse Design for Saree in Nepal:Cape blouses are a unique and trendy choice. These blouses have a detachable cape that adds drama and style to your saree outfit.

Asymmetrical Hem Blouse Design in Nepal:Asymmetrical hem blouses feature an uneven hemline, creating a contemporary and fashionable look. They can be paired with plain or printed sarees for a trendy party ensemble.

To stay updated with the latest blouse design in Nepal, you can visit local boutiques, fashion magazines, or explore online fashion platforms. Additionally, you can consult with a professional fashion designer or tailor in Nepal to customize these blouse designs according to your preferences and the saree you plan to wear for your party event.

#fashion designing #interior design #fashion school #diploma in fashion designing #diploma in interior designing #interior design course #interior decor ideas #diploma in fashion #fashion designing course #new blouse design in nepal #blouse designs for saree in nepal #types of blouse patterns #blouse design in nepal #types of blouse necklines

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shroomerr · 3 months ago

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My Fashion HCs for Teenage/YA Kyle Broflovski

Disclaimer: These are just my design notes that I consider when designing/drawing Kyle and my personal interpretation of how I think he would dress and present himself! You're free to disagree or even take inspo from this. I don't own clothes nor your opinion. 🫶 Please also feel free to let me know your personal fashion HCs through the comments or tags as well. I'd love to hear other people's interpretations of these characters and I'm always collecting new HCs!!

Getting this out of the way first: he's a bad dresser.

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS PC DESIGN?

The boy does not know how to dress himself.

I imagine he gets his clothes mostly from Sheila and Gerald.

When he gets Gerald’s clothes, he looks pretty good, albeit sometimes it can be a bit big on him when he’s younger.

God help Sheila though. She’s doing her best but I HC her to be a second-generation immigrant and she dresses Kyle up from time to time. HAVE YOU SEEN HIS CLOTHES? Sheila is 100% the type to put Kyle in some funky ass patterned zigzag stuff and thinks her bubbeleh looks adorable.

Absolutely no sense of layering. He wears one thing and that's the outfit. Has to be told how to wear a sweater vest/vest over a dress shirt. The most layering he’ll do is a flannel over a t-shirt. Someone save him.

The worst part about getting his fashion sense from his parents is that he dresses like a dad /derogatory

At least he wears belts.

Also: no sense of customization. He will buy the clothes and he will wear them as is. If he’s feeling adventurous, he’ll tuck the shirt into his pants.

He absolutely bought the same green ushanka after his old one grew out. Whether it's the same color or if it's a slightly more desaturated one, idk (for his sake, I hope it's a more desaturated one). But that dude definitely bought the same one because he likes to hold onto the things he holds dear for longer than he should and not let go. He's stubborn and that hat is going nowhere.

He strikes me as someone who would wear Lacoste and Ralph Lauren

A sneakerhead.

I like to HC he got into sneakers because he initially wanted to fit in with cool people, but then he genuinely got into it.

Colors

God awful. He chose the worst kind of saturated green and the worst kind of saturated orange to be his favorite colors, and constantly pairs them together thinking it looks good. He does not in fact look good. He looks like a High-Vis Jacket. Or a traffic cone.

He gets one or the other: Either the colors work and his clothes are horrendous, or the fit kinda eats BUT YOU CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT IT BECAUSE YOUR EYES ARE BLEEDING FROM THE COLORS

Also, horrible patterns oh my god the patterns. From zigzags to stripes to argyle to gingham to plaid. The thing is these patterns aren’t bad BUT PAIRED WITH HIS CLOTHES AND THESE COLORS? He looks like a carpet shop. Christmas sweater looking ahh

At the very least, occasionally he'll wear neutrals like brown, beige, black and white.

In terms of actual clothes:

Tops

Ugly ass polos. Either a beige one or an Uncle Roger type of orange polo.

Also polo knit sweaters

Boring ass t-shirts. Either in neutral colors or his all time favorite saturated green or saturated orange.

Sweatshirts.

Sweaters.

Turtlenecks

Dress shirts, blouses, and button ups. Long and short sleeves.

Probably his dad’s Alma Mater hoodie.

His basketball jerseys.

If and when he learns... some vests and sweater vests. Must be given guidance on this (mostly from Butters).

Pants

Skinny jeans. Enough said. At least has the ass for it.

Or any tight-fitted pants, like chino pants.

Or dress pants from Gerald that are too big on him.

His basketball shorts.

Fishing shorts.

(that skinny jeans picture kills me. yes he'd wear skinny jeans like this. yes he'd cuff them up and you can see his ankles.)

Jackets/Coats

Blazers.

Flannels.

Fleece jackets.

Waxed cotton jackets.

Barn coats.

Wool car jackets.

Sometimes he'll wear the jackets fully zipped too.........

I imagine him wearing stuff with a tweed material, like a tweed blazer.

When he's older, he'll wear longer coats that his dad gives him, like topcoats or overcoats.

Some sporty windbreakers.

Maybeeee bomber jackets. Has to be given guidance on this or borrows Stan’s.

Shoes

Again, sneakerhead. So New Balances, Air Forces, Air Maxes, Air Jordans, Adidas, basketball sneakers, etc. (Disclaimer: I'm not a sneakerhead. This is just what I was able to gather based on one quick google search).

“DON’T CREASE MY JORDANS!!!”

Cartman's probably the one creasing them.

Some Timbs too.

Sometimes dress shoes when he wants to feel fancy, but he always gets called a douche for it.

For snowy days: heavy duty winter boots.

Accessories

No jewelry. Very boring. Just belts.

Sweatbands for his head and wrists, but only when he’s playing basketball or working out.

For gloves, I imagine those thicker, heavy duty winter finger gloves.

He tries ties, but they are not good. Once again: ugly patterns or colors.

Sometimes needs his reading glasses (he tries to deny it, but he does need them occasionally).

Edit: FORGOT TO ADD he'd totally wear watches.

Hats

His stupid ushanka/trapper hat.

Some sport caps

Other miscellaneous stuff:

One thing’s for sure: he’s well groomed.

Not a single wrinkle on his clothes. He knows his way around an iron.

Buttons up every button, though sometimes that makes him look a loser nerd or an uptight douche. Stan has to tell him to at least unbutton the two top ones.

At the very least, his clothes are well tailored to fit his body.

His sneakers are always pristine white. Takes good care of them.

I want to say he sometimes wears cologne but no. I know in my heart he’s an axe body sprayer user. Give him some time, he'll learn.

Hair

At some point went through a phase where he just shaved off all of his hair.

It takes a while for him to learn how to take care of his hair, but he gets some tips from Bebe + a barber shop recommendation from her and he’s never looked back.

Before that, he would just tie it up or hide it under his hat. He still does that though when he's overwhelmed with schoolwork and can't properly take care of it.

Uses some kind of hair product Bebe gives him to make his curls defined (another disclaimer: I have straight hair and not a curl expert so im not tooo sure on this 😔, my only knowledge is based on those curly hair GRWM youtube shorts that pop up on my feed).

But yea, well defined curls and a bit of a little bit of a fade just to get rid of some weight off of his head. Though he probably only gets the fade when he's 17-18.

Diagnosis: BAD BAD BAD. DESPERATELY needs an intervention.

#i want to dress him in academia...#but i know in my heart i know he would never be physically capable to pick out a fit like that #its ok butters will be there to teach him how to dress himself #oh badly dressed kyle you are special to me...#thats not gonna stop me from dressing him in academia though lmao #anyways LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND/OR YOUR OWN HCS AS WELL!!!#more to come!!!#dw. kyle's not the only one to have glasses :)#stan has them too.#so does cartman.#only kenny has 20/20 vision.#anyways. stan's next!#kyle broflovski #south park #south park hcs #south park headcanons #shroomer talks !

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ozarkthedog · 2 years ago

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summary: while having a private moment with your boss, the ceo unexpectedly drops by… or so you think.

pairings: Boss!Layla El-Faouly x afab intern!reader x CEO!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Alt Universe. slight dubcon but reader is willing. power imbalance. free use. f/f -> f/m. established relationship (layla x reader). oral sex (fem receiving). fingering. sex in a private office. dirty talk. praise kink. cum feeding. cream pie.

word count: 3.8k 😅

author’s note: if a fic could come to life, i'd choose this one. thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta'ing and the mental support. i haven't written a fic this long in a while. hope you enjoy. 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“I have the paperwork all ready for you to sign, Ms. El-Faouly.”

Your boss, Layla, peers up at you with her deep brown eyes from behind her monitor. “Hey, one second. I’ve got to finish this email real quick.” She sends you a soft smile in return before nodding to the right towards a big stack of papers sitting messily on her desk.

Layla had one of the corner offices and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite spot in the entire building. It floods with sunlight all day long and it’s got a great view of the city. Layla was also another reason why it was your favorite.

“How was your day?” She asks, typing as you place the paperwork on top of the stack.

She’s wearing that dark gray, silk blouse and skirt combo you helped her pick out last week during a night out on the town. You told her it made her look powerful and inviting as you got down on your knees for her later that same evening.

“It’s going alright.” You sigh, drawing imaginary patterns on the corner of her desk.

Layla clicks send on the email and turns her attention to you. She leans her elbows on the edge of her desk with a pensive brow. You can see her brain working on ways to fix your problems before you even tell her. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong, I swear.” You raise your hands, shaking your head while the gorgeous woman looks you over quizzically.

Stretching your arms over her desk, you grasp her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just..”

“What is it?” she asks, tucking a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She leads you around her desk by your clenched hands and pins your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”

Your eyes dance around the room, landing everywhere but on her. She gives your chin a slight shake and forces your eyes back to hers.

You take a deep breath. “Am I doing a good job?”

Layla’s heart sinks. “Of course you are. Why on earth-”

“It’s just, it’s so much work.” You cut her off, spilling your worries now that the dam has been broken. “I hate not being able to get everything to you on time. Not to mention there’s so much paperwork. No one ever says thank you but they’ll definitely yell when you’ve done something wrong. I don’t know if I’m doing things right-”

“C’mere, baby.” She ceases your ramble and pulls you down into her lap and into a searing kiss that makes your head swirl.

Tender, yet fierce lips encompass your own, stealing your gasps with fond affection as she winds her arms around your waist and maneuvers you into the position she wants.

You settle into the pose, kneeling over her lap with your legs on the outsides of her thighs, the cushion of her expensive chair a grateful soft bedding as she forms you to her body.

“Should we really be doing this?” You ask between broken, breathless kisses. It was after 5pm, so it was less likely anyone would walk in on you and her. Still, hesitation nestled in your belly.

“Everyone is gone for the night.” She confirms before lewdly dragging her tongue along the seam of your lips. “There’s no need to worry about them.”

Layla presses her forehead against yours sensing your apprehension. She searches your timid eyes for a moment trying to find the right words to express her gratitude.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone. So if they have an issue, they haven’t told anyone,” she says, holding your gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you more about how lucky I am to have you. My life has been so much better since you started working here.”

She holds your face, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek. “In more ways than one.” She winks, playfully.

“Layla!” You gasp, lightly swatting her on the chest.

She sends you a look you know all too well. The raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips mean trouble is coming. In a good way.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you started.” Her hands tickle your ribs in a flash making your eyes bug as you try to keep your giggles at bay. You squirm incessantly in her lap, wishing you could break free but she had a strong hold around your waist.

Your skirt slid up your thighs in the process of all your wriggling, no longer hiding your want for her as your panties are noticeably soaked through.

“Oh, baby, you really are desperate for me.” She coos, eyes growing soft as she feigns a pout. “Poor baby.”

She skillfully undoes the pearly buttons on your white, flower-patterned blouse, sliding the thin material off your shoulders and onto the floor. Soft, warm hands palm your breasts, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin before she makes you gasp by wickedly pinching your sensitive nipples.

She teases her fingers down further then and along the soaked cloth of your panties, drawing light circles over your throbbing, hidden clit. You whimper into her chocolate curls, a soft pathetic mewl, begging her for more as you perch wearily in her lap.

“What do you say?” she asks with a sharp tongue and pointed stare.

She weaves her arm around your hips, smoothing a palm over the curve of your ass and dragging your panties down in the process before seeking out your aching warmth once more. A well-manicured finger teases down the slick, puffy seam of you from behind, teasing and torturing you until she’s satisfied. She loves breaking you into little pieces and putting you back together.

“Please-” You gasp as your hips buck on their own accord, chasing her fingers for relief. “Please, Layla.”

The older woman’s painted lips tug into a sly smile, “That’s my good girl.”

Your world is consumed. Her brunette curls smell of lavender and spice. They tickle your cheek and senses as she plays your body like a well tuned piano. Her hold on you is immense. There’s never any doubt that she doesn’t adore you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Layla coos, grasping the back of your neck with her free hand as her other cups your searing mound. You jolt from the touch but do as she says, meeting her soft yet stoic expression with watery eyes.

She pins you with a firm stare as she slowly presses two fingers into your soaked core. You know better than to turn your gaze from her but your eyes flutter as she finally grants you the sweet relief you’ve been begging for.

“That’s my good girl,” Layla praises as she fills you to the hilt, knuckles grazing your puckered hole and claiming every inch of your cunt.

Deft fingers glide with prowess as a steady, toe curling rhythm is set. Your body trembles as a foggy bliss rolls into your mind. Your knees shake, desperately meeting her thrusts, wanting nothing more than to come around her fingers.

“You take what I give you, sweet girl.” Layla coos, nudging her nose against your cheek. She doesn’t like it when you get greedy. “You know that.”

One of your hands clutches the back of her chair while the other has her blouse in a death grip. A scolding is in your future but you could care less as you rock back onto her fingers chasing the pleasure she’s finally allowing.

Something heavy in your gut twists. The knot Layla began tying when she first got you onto her lap starts tightening. Your muscles ache, ready to collapse under the pressure when she gives you the word.

Just then, a quick succession of knocks rap on her door.

Your head whips up as Layla’s fingers go still. Ice courses through your veins freezing the searing wildfire that burns in your abdomen. You knew it was stupid to try anything at work. Besides the occasionally secretive kiss, you both kept things to a dull roar. No one knew about your relationship and you wanted it to stay that way.

“Shh. Be still.” Layla whispers, unfazed, as she cups her free hand along your jaw. “You trust me. Right?”

You nod in her tender hold, hips pressing just a bit harder into her palm. “Good girl.”

“Who is it?” Layla calls out. Your body jolts as her fingers begin moving again and you send her a bewildered look.

“Marc,” a gruff voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Shit — it was the CEO.

Marc Spector built this company from the ground up. He and Layla had been working together since almost the beginning. They explicitly trusted and respected one another even when they didn’t meet eye to eye.

You’d met Marc only once. It was a brief interaction as one of your coworkers showed you around on your first day. He was personable and made you feel welcome even though you were a lowly intern.

You thought he was handsome and could kill someone with his smile. His jet black quiff would curl on humid days when he forgot to gel it. It made you admire him even more for some reason.

“Come in.” She answers while holding your worried gaze with her own unwavering one.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Layla, what’re doin-” you hiss, squirming to get free from her arms again.

“Remember your safe word.” she says, quickly just before Marc walks in.

“Layla, I was wonderin-” Marc starts as he steps into the office and instantly cuts himself off at the lewd display.

You can’t breathe. Shame and embarrassment flood your system. If the floor could open up, you’d gladly jump in.

Marc stands in awe. You couldn’t turn to face him but you spy his reflection in the darkened window and that’s more than enough. You don't know how you could ever look him in the eye after this.

“What’s this now?” He ponders, intrigue shaping his words as he steps closer, tapping his knuckles on Layla’s oversized desk.

“I was just rewarding her for doing such a good job,” Layla responds like she doesn’t have you propped in her lap with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

You see Marc nod in the reflection and take another step closer. Your body burns like red hot coals as you feel his eyes on your body mainly where Layla’s fingers slowly thrust into your shiny, slick opening.

“That right?” Marc questions with a curious tone as he rubs a hand along his rough five o’clock shadow.

“She’s so attentive and such a hard worker.” Layla praises, finally looking in your direction. “I had to show how much I appreciate her.”

Marc chuckles. It’s a deep huff of laughter that rumbles from his chest and it makes your insides melt. “Is she any good at helping relieve some stress?” he asks pensively while looking at your holes like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“She most certainly is,” Layla smirks, raising a sculpted brow before sliding a finger under your chin, tipping your face in toward her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

You’d been with Layla since the first day you started working, shared any and all free time together along with the inner workings of your bedroom. Explored each other’s bodies freely and with such passion. Falling to Layla’s feet came naturally to you and she made you feel complete; loved even.

You trusted her to push your limits whenever the time came but you didn’t think you’d ever be in this situation.

“Why don’t you show him how much you love being employed here, baby.” She dubiously insists, slowly nodding her head for you to comply.

You finally gather the courage to look over your shoulder.

Butterflies flutter wildly in your belly as you take in the devilishly handsome man. His hair is mused, like he’d been running a hand through it all day and his button up shirt is loose at the collar, exposing a column of tan skin with two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up exposing his muscular forearms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

A nervous chortle bubbles up your throat at the nickname. Your insides turn to jelly; and your brain to mush. Your core can’t help but clench as the older man takes you in with a ravenous gaze.

“Oh, she likes that.” Layla quips upon feeling your pussy clamp down on her fingers.

“Does she now?” Marc croons, stepping up right behind you. He smooths his hands along the shape of you. His warmth feels good against your skin and you can’t help but moan when Layla curls her fingers along that spongy spot that makes you feel lightheaded.

“Damn, that’s a pretty pussy.” He drawls, crouching down behind your bent form. With your ass in the air, you already felt so exposed and now the owner of the company was getting a front row view of the most private parts of you.

Sticky, wet noises fill the room as Layla splays her fingers deep inside your velvet channel. You bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. So overstimulated and heated, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Want a taste?’ Layla asks, jogging you from your stupor.

Marc grunts in response. You look back in time to watch Layla feeding him her shiny, cream coated fingers. The debauched noise he makes while he licks and sucks her fingers clean has your heart falling into your lower half.

You meet his lust filled gaze as he stands. Layla’s fingers leave his lips with a pop, and he palms his hard length through his dark slacks. “You gonna show me how good you are at serving your superiors?”

A nervous whimper escapes from your throat at his question.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, lapping at some of your fallen cream as he pulls his cock out and gives it a languid tug. You watch dumbstruck as he pumps his length, from the obscenely thick base that’s littered with dark wiry hairs to a bulbous, desert blush tip that weeps in his hand after every twist.

“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” he questions.

A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth at your stupefied gaze. Marc raises a hand and grasps the back of your neck, moving your head in a crude up-down motion. “This is how you say, yes.”

Another deep chuckle burrows into your brain and makes you go even more dumb.

Fire ignites in your belly and races up your body, making your face burn. Your mouth bobs open and closed like a fish, wanting to answer him but you can’t even form the simplest word.

“She tends to go a bit brain dead when she gets overwhelmed.” Layla thankfully answers for you.

She thumbs your cheek. “But that pretty pussy of hers makes up for it.”

“You don’t say…” Marc quips before tapping his tip on your soaked folds. Your slick drips down your inner thighs showing that you would indeed make up for your lack of communication.

He notches the thick head past your dripping opening before slowly sinking into your cunt. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, pressing his full length all the way and grinding the cut of his hips against your ass.

“God damn.” Marc grits, hissing through his teeth at the way you squeeze him.

You whimper from the immense stretch. It feels like his cock is burrowing a new space inside your body. “Layla. Too much–” You gasp, having never felt so full before. “So. Big.”

She cups her hands around your face, hushing your cries. “I know, baby. I know.”

Marc’s hips never falter. He plunges into your heat with an unyielding, merciless pace, pushing slick and cream from between your folds, making your belly twist in pleasurable pain.

His strong hands knead your fleshy hips, pulling you back on every brute shove, forcing you to take every inch he gives. “Such a good girl. Doin’ just what we say.”

Your core clenches that much tighter knowing you’re making them happy. “You love it don’t you, pretty girl?” His heavy balls slap against your exposed clit making you mewl and writhe in the combined hold they had on you.

Sticky, sweet bliss drowns your senses. You’re a wanton mess. A plaything between two beautiful gods as they have their fun..

You whine when Marc slows his rhythm, canting his hips so his cock stays buried deep. “I thought you were one of the best.” Marc sighs with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “But it seems you’re not as attentive as I thought.”

Your brow furrows as you look at him over your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to show your Boss how much you appreciate her.”

Marc moves quickly, dragging you out of Layla’s arms and down onto your knees in front of her spread legs. Layla quirks a brow at him.

“What? I wanted to see how attentive she really was.” Marc says, talking about you like you weren’t speared open on his heavy cock.

Layla pulls her dress up over her legs and spreads her thighs. Her panties looked much like your own, wet, sticky, and just begging to be removed.

“Go on. Show her how much you love being on your knees for her.” Marc commands. With a snap of his hips, he jolts your bones and forces your head between Layla’s thighs. “Eat your boss’s cunt.”

Heat flames your face at his words when a familiar hand curves around your jaw. Layla pulls her panties to the side and leads you gently, well as gently as she can while you’re being plowed from behind, to her slick folds.

She sighs as your tongue licks a long stripe from her weeping opening to her clit. You flick the tiny nub, drawing tight circles for a brief moment before sliding down her folds. You lap hungrily at her slit, freely licking into her tight hole and sliding your tongue in and out from her heat.

“There you go.” Layla coos down at you with a smile. She scratches her nails along your scalp making you purr against her clit. She grinds her cunt against your mouth, chasing her pleasure. Nothing made you happier than making Layla feel good. Your core throbs when she gasps and fucks her mound onto your tongue.

A rough, grating moan crawls from Marc’s chest as your cunt quivers and milks his length. “Such a good girl letting us use you like this.” He grits, slamming his hips harder into your ass and knocking your face steadily into Layla’s cunt. “Like you were made for it.”

Your core spasms at his words. You did love being on your knees for them. At their beck and call, wanting to be of service however they needed.

Marc lays his body along your spine, pressing his clothed chest against your bare back, and nuzzles his curved nose along your cheek. A large hand slinks around your hip and notches nimble fingers against your clit, swirling tight circles around the throbbing nub. “Wanna know all the pretty noises you make when you come.”

“Oh, they’re just the sweetest.” Layla moans, breathlessly as your lips lock around her clit. You suckle the tiny nub until

she’s digging her fingers into your hair, writhing and gasping.

Marc groans at the sight of his business partner unfurling with pleasure. His breath is hot in your ear and he crowds you even more, leaving no chance of escape.

“Come on, girl. Be good and come for us.” Marc commands, shifting his hips until his throbbing tip grazes that hidden spot behind your clit.

With Layla humping your face and Marc sheathing his cock further inside you with every shove, you’re pushed to the edge before you can even think. Your cream coated lips fall open with a feverish wail as your body locks tight.

Your muscles shake uncontrollably as you careen off the edge. Your soaked core clenches like a fist, forcing Marc’s pace to stutter and drag him along with you. He lets loose a dark roar when his balls draw up and he fucks your trembling core to the brim with his thick seed.

His cock twitches between your folds, pumping you full with every last drop. “God damn, you weren’t kidding. She more than made up for going all dumb eariler.” He slowly eases from your core with a hiss and tucks his half hard length back into his slacks.

Your head is still reeling from the powerful orgasm and Marc’s compliment makes you just that much more lightheaded. Thank goodness you were already on the ground.

“Oh you’re making such a mess.” Layla gasps when she sees the thick river of white that runs down your thighs. Your knees ache from being on the hard carpet for so long but the pain is forgotten as the pair crowds over you.

You whine as Layla and Marc drag their fingers through the hot stickiness and press them into your mouth.

You gag heavily around the two sets of fingers, tears pricking your eyes as they cover your tongue in the combined spend. “Good girl. Clean up the mess you made.” Marc nods slowly, heavy lidded with a deep moan of satisfaction as you choke and sputter while Layla proudly smiles down at you. “Did so well for me; for us.”

She shares a curious look with Marc before turning her gaze back to you and thumbs the last bit of white into your mouth.

“Might need to borrow her again sometime soon.” Marc comments as they help you onto your feet. “You know how stressed I can get.”

Your legs are shaky, like a newborn doe, as Layla brushes down your crumpled skirt while Marc helps you back into your blouse, securely buttoning you up.

“We’ll see about that.” Layla responds as she gathers you into her arms and sits back down on her chair, tucking your sleepy head under her chin.

“I’ll see you ‘round the office, sweetheart.” He raises a hand and tenderly grazes your dewy temple with his knuckles.

As he sees himself out, he winks at Layla and she smirks before he shuts the door leaving the two of you in peaceful silence.

As you relax in Layla’s arms, burrowing yourself into her safe warmth, you notice through sleepy eyes that her monitor is still on. The email she was typing when you dropped off the paperwork lights up the screen.