#let me know if I'm forgetting to tag anything else

[neilsbeloved]

underneath the covers

summary: freshman year of college has you going insane. good thing clark has a knack for knowing exactly when to sweep you off your feet, way before any unwanted crashouts happen.

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader (same universe as the alchemy and so high school)

warnings: fluff then pure smut / established college relationship / penetration (f) / teasing / public stuff?? idk u do it with another person in the room / clark being a sweet (and horny) bf / dirty talk / foreplay / alludes to cockwarming

a/n: i’m bad at tagging warnings so forgive me if i missed anything else

A choir of relieved sighs—including yours—echoed throughout the auditorium-styled classroom.

You had already packed your stuff five minutes before the bell rang and so you literally dashed out of the classroom as soon as you could. You don't think you could spend another second in that wretched classroom without going insane.

You already spent an all-nighter last night trying to finish your research. Earlier this morning, you slept in. If it weren't for Chloe waking you up with a cup of coffee, you would have definitely slept through the day.

Walking through the halls of the building with a frown on your face until you reach the entrance door. Your phone rings the moment you stepped out. The ringing sound making you cringe as you put it close to your ear.

"Hello?"

Instantly, a voice you've been waiting for comes through. "Hey baby."

"Clark." You melt into the phone, sighing relievedly as you sit on the steps, running your hand through your hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you even more, sweetheart. How was your day?" Clark's tone softens even more, his voice bordering a mother's cooing.

You don't respond to him, simply shaking your head side-to-side as if Clark could see you do that. You're on the brink of going into a mental breakdown when you hear Clark speaking again. Only this time, not through the phone.

"I'm guessing it wasn't good, huh?"

An overly joyed yelp leaves your mouth as you lunge yourself at him. Clark's strong arms wrapping around your body as you nuzzle yourself close to him. Your eyes close, letting his scent infiltrate your senses as you forget about the world for a second.

"You couldn't even imagine," you groan, placing your hand on his chest.

"Good thing I have something planned for us," Clark smiles, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head before you pull your head away from his shoulder. "I'll take you back to your dorm, okay? I have DVDs in the truck, take-out, weighted blankets—everything. It'll be fun."

You look at him confusedly, "Sounds like the perfect night-in, Clark, don't you have classes tomorrow?"

"Well…" he trails off, glancing at your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. "I may have a free day tomorrow."

"You're kidding."

"And, I asked Chloe for your schedule—looks like I'm not the only one with a free day tomorrow," Clark's tone held a tinge of teasing to it. His hand pinching the naked skin of your hip affectionately. "So, what d'you say? You up for a movie night with take-out?"

"That's like asking me to marry you, Clark," you pause, narrowing your eyes. "Of course, I would!"

Clark grins, pulling you in for a sweet and longing kiss in front of all the students walking in and out of the building.

Clark's own definition of a movie night and take-out date is simply you and him, underneath the weighted blankets, eating chow mein while your favorite comedy movie plays in your laptop.

You had pretty much the same definition as well, the only difference is that Chloe's in your definition.

"I can't believe you invited Chloe," Clark says, snaking his arms around your stomach, resting them on your belly button while you leaned back comfortably on his chest. "Wasn't she busy interning?" He takes a glance at Chloe at the other bed—focused on the movie, busy eating a dumpling.

You crane your neck to look at him, meeting his eyes despite the lack of light in the room. "Clark, Chloe was the only reason I got up on time today. It's the least I could do after practically zombie-ing around the dorm.

Clark sighs, rolling his eyes as he went back to watching the movie.

You shifted quietly in your position, scooting up just a little bit so you could rest your head on his shoulder, the rest of your body nestled in between his legs. Clark clenches his jaw, moving his hands to rest on top of yours.

"You sure she doesn't have things to attend to?" Clark asks, still keeping his voice low as to not disturb a focused Chloe.

"Clark, I'm sure. She wouldn't agree to this if she had things to do, obviously," you reply back sassily, voice just as quiet.

Clark inhales sharply, thinking of a way he can continue his original plan now that there's one more extra character. A light bulb pops in his head, prompting him to lean down to your ear, his nose bumping with the shell of your ear.

Clark only notices now how engrossed you've gotten with the movie when you don't even move. The subtle crease in your forehead giving it away.

He removes one hand from yours, trailing it just an inch lower from your belly button before he begins to rub soft circles on the flesh. Clark kept his eyes glued on the wall, eyebrow arching ever so slightly the moment he felt your stomach tense.

"I've already asked Chloe if we could spend the night, though," Clark whispers in your ear. His neck stretched in a way that he can still watch the movie while keeping himself close to the open space by your neck.

You spare him a glance, a quick one that barely even lasted a second. "Clark, watch the movie."

Clark clenches his jaw, this time because of the way your body rubs on his lower region. Again. Like you didn't even notice his hand tightening its hold on yours, or the way blood starts rushing into his cock the more you keep the warmth of your back on it, completely unaware.

He inhales, licking his lips before pressing it softly on the side of your neck. "Fine."

You thought that'd be the end of it, that Clark would finally let the subject go and actually watch the movie with you. However, you quickly realized that he had other plans the moment you feel his free hand play with the garters of your pajama.

You swallow on nothing—clenching on nothing, trying to keep your breathing calm and steady as you did your best to focus on the movie.

"Clark, what're you doing?" You try to move your hands but the hold Clark had on it kept you from doing so. His other hand—the one by your pajamas—slipped underneath the fabric.

His eyebrows shoot up in sheer surprise when his hand is met with the soft skin of your pussy, bare and naked, seemingly waiting for him all this time.

"You're not wearing panties," Clark says, not as a question, but as an observation. The amusement evident in his tone as he keeps himself from chuckling loud enough for other ears to hear. "You planned this, didn't you?"

You ignore him, doing your best to focus on the movie despite his hand descending lower and lower.

He swipes a finger through your slit, smiling contentedly as the answer to his prior question comes in the form of your wetness. His eyes focus on the way your features twitched with the subtlest of movements, how your breathing slowly changes into labored breaths, and how your heart starts thumping even louder.

Clark pulls his hand out of your pants carefully, watching the way your shoulders relax as he did so. You keep yourself calm, still trying your best to wriggle out of his one-hand grip that's restricting you from using your hands.

"Can't believe you told me to focus on the movie when you didn't even bother wearing panties…" his voice drops, the deeper timbre of his voice has you squirming in place. "Are you giving me mixed signals or what?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say through gritted teeth. Never moving your eyes away from the projector.

Clark chuckles softly, licking the shell of your ear before he moves his hand underneath your pants. He wastes no time searching for your clit, rubbing soft circles on it the moment he does. "I think you do, baby."

You melt into his touch involuntarily. The pleasure he's giving you with just two fingers on your clit was enough to have you mewling like a cat in heat.

He lifts his fingers from your clit, sliding them down your slit once more to gather the wetness seeping from your hole. He moves back up, slathering it on your clit messily, this time rubbing figure 8s.

"Looks like you really got some stress in you, sweetheart," Clark says, picking up the pace while you drop your head weakly, his legs moving to rest on top of yours, keeping you wide and open for him. You look up at him, locking into his eyes when he smirks at you. "Let's take some of it off of your shoulders, yeah?"

The coil in your stomach tightens, lips falling open as quiet moans left your lips. Quiet enough that Clark only heard it through his superhuman hearing.

You turn your head to Chloe’s direction, watching her watch the movie in utter silence. Completely unaware of the absolute filth going on between two of her best friends.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you feel yourself release all of a sudden. The pleasure coming onto you in one strong wave, not even a warning before it snaps. Clark helps you ride it out as he slows down, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while leaving kisses on your neck.

Clark smiles proudly. Gathering your release from your hole before slipping his hand out of your pajamas and into his mouth. Your eyes round as you watch him suck it hard and hungrily, as if making sure to remember the taste of your sweet release until he gets his next fill.

"You're welcome," Clark whispers, releasing your hands from his grip.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, Chloe lets out a loud groan, her bed creaking loudly. Both you and Clark turns your heads to the projector, noticing how the movie had gone static.

"Sorry guys, give me a sec, I'll fix it." Chloe, who had suggested the idea of a projector, felt burdened to fix the situation.

The exact second Chloe turns her back to the two of you, Clark's pulling you up, strong hands lifting you like you were nothing. You shake your head continuously at him, eyes widen and clearly nervous. Clark simply grins at you, contradicting your head shakes with a nod.

"It'll be fun." Was the only thing he says before he quickly moves up your bed. Once more reminding you of his superhuman speed as he has you on top of his hips, cock resting on your cunt, blanket covering both of you—all in record time.

Chloe turns around with a smile, one that says she successfully fixed the projector. You two return the gesture, though for very different reasons.

When the movie began again, picking up from where it left off, Clark's back to having his way with you.

"I already gave you one release, baby. This next one, you're gonna have to cooperate with me—so tell me, what do you want me to do?" Clark's heavy cock twitches in between your pussy lips, aching to be inside of you.

You sigh, the arousal clouding your brain. "Whatever you want, Clark, just…" he lifts his cock before letting it fall back down. The sound of it colliding with your cunt easily drowned out by the movie. You bite your lips, continuing, "Just make me fucking come, please."

A liquid substance then drips on top of your cunt, sliding down onto his length as it left a cooling sensation everywhere. You look to Clark with a question, while he only smiles at you reassuringly.

"I may have snatched a few things from your drawer."

Then, you feel his cock push into you. The liquid he poured a moment ago letting him slip through your walls with ease.

You gasp, hand slapping on your mouth to stop the sound from going into unwanted ears.

"Clark," you struggle to get out. "You're… It's so big."

Clark chuckles, shushing you with a kiss. "I know I am, baby. But you can take it, right?"

"Yes." You say breathlessly.

"Good girl," he thrusts up carefully, hearing your soft moans from underneath the hand on your mouth. "Because this is the only thing you're gonna get from me tonight. After all, it was you that wanted to invite Chloe, right?"

When you nod, head dizzy with his cock inside of you, with his fingers continuing their attacks on your clit, Clark already knows he's gotten you exactly where he wants you⎯underneath the covers.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[nicheshameless]

Niche Shameless: Intro Post

The goal of this account is to share and promote the parts of Shameless US fandom that tend to get less love and focus. Both by hosting events and reblogging creations (art, fic, vids, gifs sets, meta, crafts, etc.).

I want to encourage people to create more things about the niche aspects of Shameless. And, in return, to make those creations easier to find so we can support creators with reblogs, likes, kudos, and comments.

As a bonus, I'm hoping this account makes it easier for followers to find others who love the same character, pairing, sibling duo, etc. There's nothing better than finding people with the same obsession so we can hype each other up!

What do you mean by "niche"?

Currently, that means everything other than Ian/Mickey* as a pairing.

There's a great variety of events in the fandom, but all of them are focused exclusively on Ian/Mickey. It's similar when you look at the fics posted under the Shameless US fandom on AO3: 91.9% are tagged with Ian/Mickey (yes, I did the math).

So, as a result, the "niche" side of fandom becomes everything else. I wanted a place to talk about those aspects of the show where they wouldn't get drowned out.

*This account will still have some Ian and Mickey, but the goal is to focus on them as characters (not as a couple), and on their other relationships. Those relationships can be sexual, romantic, or platonic. They can be canon or not. So if you have fanart you've been dying to share for Mickey/OC Mexican boyfriend, that's welcome here!

Can you give me some examples?

A non-exhaustive list of "niche" topics:

Gen (as in: not focused on a sexual or romantic relationship)

Friendships

Mentor & mentee

Familial relationships (found family included)

Canon ships

Non-canonical ships

Plot-focused works

other? Maybe you really love that rooster mug from the Gallagher's kitchen and want to make a gif set about it? (To be fair, it is very cute.)

Wait, so no Gallavich?

Not here, sorry.

But there's tons of fun events specifically for the pairing sprinkled throughout the year. @gallavichthings has a calendar up in their pinned post for easy access.

And on AO3, there's currently over 18000 fics for the pairing. If that's what you're looking for, there's plenty to enjoy. (Don't forget to leave kudos and a comment!)

I have more questions / something wasn't clear.

If you have questions: great! The ask box is open. Also, I'll try to put together a FAQ in the next week or so.

If anything was unclear, please let me know and I'll see if I can clarify in my answer and/or edit this post to make it easier to understand. Small disclaimer: English isn't my first language. If anything is unclear, or if I use run-on sentences, I'm sorry. I re-read this post at least a dozen times, but grammar was never my strong suit. I'd love if anyone else wanted to contribute to the admin of the blog, even if it's just beta-reading my posts so they're clear to English speakers.

💙 🐓 🥱

If you've read this far, thank you. Here's a cute photo of sleepy-morning-toussled Kev and that rooster mug as a reward.

[spicywreck]

Season 4 AU where Mike leaves Rachel after finding out about the kiss but doesn't want to go back to Pearson Specter. He's done living as a fraud. Harvey, feeling guilty and sympathizing with Mike's pain, offers up his guest room to stay at while he figures out his living arrangements (Mike doesn't want to go back to his apartment because it was Rachel who made it look like a home... it all feels too much like Rachel.)

It's hard to live with Harvey because Mike knows that Harvey expects great things from him, but right now he's adrift, clueless, at times he doesn't know what he likes; did he ever know what he really wanted?

Harvey tries to make it easy for him: he doesn't ask for rent, offers to pay for groceries, buys Mike a new bike when his old one ultimately falls apart. Mike wishes to return his genorosity so he starts cleaning around the house, tidies up the place, makes dinner (his famous Grammy's spaghetti sauce) on the days he knows Harvey has had too much take out.

They build a routine, Mike and Harvey. They have breakfast together. They text each other throughout the day. They plan movie nights. They go out for drinks every Friday.

(tags for under the cut: domesticity, misunderstanding, love confessions, soft & yearning!Harvey, mild sexual content, Mike and Harvey are in love and meant to be, your honor!)

Mike doesn't even realize their dynamic has changed till he watches Harvey reject a pretty waitress, "It was nice chatting, but we're gonna have to go home pretty soon. Early morning."

Which is bullshit. Harvey doesn't have "early mornings", he arrives to the office whenever he damn well pleases. Mike confronts him when they get home (and when did he start seeing Harvey's apartment as theirs?), which Harvey first rebuffs as "letting the girl down easy". Mike calls him out on it.

"You haven't brought anyone since I moved in," Mike says, feeling flustered for some reason. "You haven't gone out with anyone, actually! You spend all your free time here—with me."

"Mike," Harvey warns, voice sharp and authoritative; so reminiscent of their old dynamic. "Just let it go."

"No. I'm not letting it go!"

Because Mike is stubborn. Mike knows Harvey is lying to him. Mike's brain won't let him forget Harvey's softness in the mornings, Harvey's easy smiles, Harvey's dorky nature behind closed doors. He can't. He won't—

"Just tell me if I'm an inconvenience to you," Mike finally says. "Just... You need to stop living your whole life around my comfort. I'm a grown man. I can find a job. I can get a new place. I can stop bothering you."

Harvey stares him down, face hard, unreadable. Mike's insecurities rise to the surface at that expression.

I have been bothering you, he thinks. And starts walking to the exit, keys in hand, mind racing for solutions: to get a new place, to save his friendship with Harvey.

Mike makes it about three steps before Harvey stops him.

"You were always shit at reading people," he says, still standing exactly where he is.

Mike turns back, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Mike," Harvey sighs, letting the poker face fall; letting Mike see the vulnerability in his eyes. "I didn't invite the girl back to my place because I didn't want her here."

"Because you need your privacy—"

"Because I haven't wanted to invite anyone back to my place since you've moved in," Harvey corrects. "Because... I want to take care of you."

Mike's mouth falls open. "...What?"

"I want to take care of you," Harvey repeats, drifting his gaze down to the floor; and wow, is Harvey Specter actually nervous? "I want you here, in our home, till— Fuck, Mike. I want you in my life. I don't want anyone else."

Mike continues to stare, dumbfounded. Till his brain finally clicks it for him.

"Oh my God, you're in love with me."

Harvey shrugs, too nonchalant for Mike's liking.

"Harvey—"

"You can stay as long as you like," he cuts him off. "And I don't expect anything, alright? If you're uncomfortable, I can find you a new place right away. But I swear, Mike, don't leave before you're ready just because I said—"

Mike strides across the room on a mission.

He grabs Harvey's cheeks, lifts them up, forces those deep brown eyes to look back at him—and spots the heaviness in them.

Mike won't ever forget. He wouldn't even if he had the choice. The great Harvey Specter, looking at Mike Ross with only love in his eyes.

"You're in love with me," he whispers, dazed. "With me, Harv."

Harvey's eyes twist in pain, and no, no, no— Mike won't allow that.

"You dumb son of a bitch," Mike tells him, which makes Harvey snap from the pain, even if irritated. "I thought you read people for a living!"

"Mike—"

"Harvey, I've been in love with you from the fucking beginning!"

It's Harvey's turn to look out of place, lips parting in shock, eyes softening at the confession.

"God, Mike," and he murmurs his name with so much longing it... Mike's mind is made up.

He cuts the distance between them, smacking their lips together. It's not a perfect kiss, by far. Their noses bump into each other. The movement was too brash, too hard. But he felt Harvey sigh against him. He heard his moan. It was everything.

Harvey's perfect manicured hands come to rest on Mike's hips, pulling him further into Harvey's space. They caress his waist. They find their way under his shirt. Mike gasps as Harvey's warm fingers grip his bare skin.

"Mike," Harvey moans, before his teeth come to pull on his lower lip. "Oh, Mike. We wasted so much time."

Mike imagines brushing his hand down his hair, imagining how it might feel, how it would be like to caress the back of his head. Except Harvey is kissing him on the mouth with tongue. So he doesn't have to imagine anything. He does exactly what he wants, and is surprised at how soft his hair feels. How good it is to hear Harvey groan as Mike's fingers touch his head.

Harvey brushes his forehead against Mike's. And Mike smiles, knowing they can never go back; he doesn't ever want to go back.

"Let's not waste one more second then," he says, and brushes his lips over Harvey's warm neck, sucks a kiss right over his pulse—because if you're closing the love of your life, you go all in.

"God, Mike," Harvey moans his name like it means everything. Mike whimpers without meaning to.

At that, Harvey's hands drift below. Fondle Mike's ass.

Then pulls him up by the back of his thighs. Mike's makes a surprised sound—he did not yelp—and his legs wrap around Harvey on instinct.

Harvey looks up at him with more than amusement. A fondness, he thinks. Sees it.

Harvey smiles like he just won the biggest poker game in his life. Mike can't help but laugh at how soft he looks.

Which Harvey shushes quickly with a second not-so-perfect kiss; a bit too much tongue.

And delivers Mike to the main bedroom. Lays him down on the soft silk sheets. Kisses him, over and over; those kisses turning more perfect by the second. Harvey touches Mike. Makes him come to the point of exhaustion; so, so much, one orgasm after another, till his eyelids turn heavy and he can't help but fall asleep on Harvey's bed.

Which was totally the plan. Because Harvey wakes him with lingering kisses the next morning. Whispers, "I love you," into the back of his neck. Doesn't let him get up till Mike has had another earth-shattering orgasm given by the one and only Harvey Specter.

"I could get used to this," Mike croaks, once he finds the energy.

"Good," Harvey says, all too proud of himself. "Because I have no intention of letting you go."

The amazing Mike Ross snickers. Kisses the confusion off Harvey's face. Before proclaiming, "I was never planning on leaving either, dumbass."

Suffice to say, they don't leave their bedroom till much, much later, when their stomachs beg for sustenance other than each other.

[tridentkickflipper123]

beat the living shit

[genshinluvr]

A Day with The Captain (and Others)

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Capitano x Isekai'd!Reader, Ifa x Isekai'd!Reader, Ororon x Isekai'd!Reader, Kinich x Isekai'd!Reader, Dainsleif x Isekai'd!Reader, Kaveh x Isekai'd!Reader, slight Mavuika x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Capitano journey into Natlan for his Fatui business, but you injure yourself in the process (clumsy you). During your trip to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, you and Capitano meet familiar faces.

Note: Hiiiii, sorry for not posting in so long TT_TT I have been really busy and 2025 was not nice to me at all. I have decided to get rid of my posting schedule because it puts a lot of pressure on me, and I want to be able to post a fanfic when I'm satisfied with the outcomes. I'm going to try to post more fanfics, but the posting schedule will be different every time. If you want to be notified when I post (aside from turning on my blog notifications), I will alert everyone in my Discord server that I have linked at the very bottom of this post. I never realized how Capitano-centered this fic was until I completed it. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of, aside from bad writing after not writing anything in months. Maybe the mischaracterization of the Natlan men.

Word Count: 6.2k

“You didn’t have to carry me, you know?” You murmur as you rest your chin on Capitano’s shoulders, letting the Harbinger carry you on his back.

Capitano chuckles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have to carry you if you hadn’t tripped on a rock and twisted your ankle,” Capitano retorts. “I knew you were clumsy, but not this clumsy.”

Your face heats up at Capitano’s comment, causing you to bury your face into his neck. Capitano’s shoulders bounce as he softly laughs. You tighten your legs around his waist as Capitano adjusts you on his back before proceeding to make his way toward the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. While the other men are tending to their duties (work and other pressing matters), you and Capitano are in Natlan. Capitano has some pressing Fatui matters to tend to in Natlan, but you wanted to tag along with the Harbinger because you never really spend time with him alone. Then again, you’re usually not able to spend some alone time with any man because of how possessive some men can get. 

“We should get you medical attention as soon as possible. Your ankle is swelling up,” Capitano mutters, breaking you out of your daydream.

You blink and shake your head. “I may have twisted my ankle, but it’s not that bad!” You protest, wiggling your ankle to prove to Capitano that you’re okay. 

However, in doing so, sharp pain shoots up your legs, causing you to wince. Capitano stares at you, not saying a word. 

You look away, heat creeping up your neck. “I twisted my ankle a few minutes ago, Capitano. Of course, it’s going to hurt.”

Even though Capitano has his helmet on, you can tell that he rolled his eyes at your poor excuse. Sometimes, you forget how protective Capitano is when it comes to you. Heck, the others are just as protective, but Capitano’s level of protectiveness is on another level. Wait… is it protectiveness or possessiveness? The two go hand-in-hand when it comes to the men you hold near and dear to your heart. 

Capitano proceeds to give you a piggyback ride to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, not caring about the strange looks people give the both of you as you two walk past them. The fur on Capitano’s cloak makes it nearly impossible to wrap your arms around his neck due to how puffy it is. 

“What’s on your mind?” Capitano asks, tilting his head back to look at you.

You adjust your arms around his neck, shaking your head. “Nothing. I’m wondering if we’ll run into Kinich and Ororon while we’re in Natlan, that’s all,” you lie. 

Capitano grunts in response, stopping in his tracks. “Why? Do you not want to spend some alone time with me?” Capitano asks.

You can’t tell if he’s joking or if he’s being serious. “Huh? What makes you say that?!” You exclaim, unwrapping your legs around Capitano’s waist. “Put me down.” You mumble, tapping on Capitano’s biceps.

The black-haired Harbinger hesitantly places you down on the ground, making sure you don’t hurt yourself in the process. You look down to see Capitano with his arm around your waist, refusing to let you stand on both your feet; you raise an eyebrow at Capitano while he continues to stare at you without saying a word. 

You waddle closer to Capitano, cupping his face (helmet?) in your hands. “Why are you pouty when I mentioned running into Kinich and Ororon in Natlan? We’re in their nation! It’s very likely we’ll run into them or Mualani and Kachina.” You said, staring up at the Harbinger. 

You can almost hear Capitano roll his eyes as he places his unoccupied hand over yours. “I’m not pouty. Am I not allowed to want to spend some alone time with you without someone interfering?” Capitano mutters, pressing his forehead against yours.

You gulp, slowly turning your head, but Capitano grabs you by the chin and forces your head to remain in place. Capitano stares into your eyes, waiting for your response. The longer you two look into each other’s eyes— well, you’re staring into complete darkness because of his helmet— the more your face becomes warmer. 

You pat Capitano’s head, smiling at the Harbinger. “I didn’t think someone of your caliber would feel and act this way when it comes to little ol’ me,” you murmur. “This side of you is very cute and endearing. I want to see it more, Capitano.”

Archons, you’re fighting the urge to squeeze Capitano. No matter how tall or short you are, the Captain towers over you. 

Capitano chuckles and pats your head. “Only you are allowed to see this side of me. No one else but you.” Capitano then proceeds to lift you and carry your bridal style, continuing the trek to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. 

The once peaceful atmosphere between you and Capitano is soon interrupted by a familiar voice. “Aw, the Captain and the weasel are having a sweet and intimate moment! How disgusting!”

Capitano stops in his tracks and turns around, seeing Kinich, Ajaw, and Ororon approach the both of you. You can almost see Capitano visibly deflate at the mere sight of Kinich and Ororon. You give him a comforting pat on the shoulders, watching the two Natlanteans approach you and Capitano. 

Ororon nods to Capitano before turning to you, smiling. “[Y/N], it’s good to see you in Natlan. What brings you here?”

You smile at Ororon and rest your head on Capitano’s shoulders. “Oh, you know, just spending time with Capitano! We never really got to spend some time together outside of the abode. Capitano has some things to do, but I decided to tag along because I didn’t want to be alone,” you reply.

“Are you sure that’s the actual reason? Or is it because you have a fear of abandonment? You’re dating more than one person; someone is bound to leave at one point because they get bored with you.” Ajaw cackles.

If you had dog ears, it would’ve been flat on your head after hearing Ajaw’s comment. Kinich pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing and shaking his head. The atmosphere suddenly changes, almost like the warm air of Natlan plummets to near-freezing temperatures. You peek at Capitano from the corner of your eyes; if you look closely and squint hard enough, you will see a dark aura surrounding the Harbinger. Maybe murderous is a better word for it. 

You turn to look at Capitano, pointing at the tiny, floating menace that is Ajaw. “Can you give me permission to strangle this little shit?” You ask.

Kinich sighs. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that, but I’ll handle it myself. You have nothing to worry about,” Kinich says. 

You cross your arms over your chest and huff, sticking your nose up in the air. Capitano walks away, kissing the top of your head. You lean into Capitano’s arms, thinking about what Ajaw said. How in the world does Ajaw know that you have a fear of abandonment? Are you that easy to read? You’re so deep in your thoughts that you don’t realize that you and Capitano have arrived at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. The stadium is as lively as ever, with a bustling crowd and children running around, laughing and screaming. 

Capitano helps you sit on one of the seats, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would advise you not to listen to the creature. He’s merely trying to get a reaction out of you for entertainment,” Capitano says gruffly, kneeling before you and reaching for your injured foot.

“Ajaw is such a jerk. I don’t get how someone can tolerate something as rotten as Ajaw.” You mumble, wincing when Capitano gently massages your swollen ankle. “What if he’s right? What if you all slowly get bored with me and start leaving one by one?” 

Capitano laughs sarcastically, shaking his head. “I highly doubt that will happen, [Y/N]. If you have any doubts, we will not hesitate to quell your concerns.”

You stare at Capitano, engrossed in your thoughts while watching the Harbinger gently massage your swollen ankles. While both you and Capitano are occupied, the two of you fail to notice Ororon, Kinich, and a mysterious man approaching both of you. 

Capitano lets out a slow exhale, cupping your ankle with both hands. “I believe it’s best for Doctor Baizhu to check up on you when we return to the abode,” Capitano murmurs, his hands gradually getting colder.

For some reason, it had slipped your mind that Capitano’s vision is cryo. Wait— does he have a vision? Your eyes immediately start scanning Capitano from head to toe, searching for a cryo vision. Someone clears their throat, grabbing your attention. 

“Need some help, you two?” The light grayish cyan-haired man standing between Kinich and Ororon asks, smiling at you and Capitano. “Ororon and Kinich informed me of what happened, and while I may not be a doctor, I can provide some temporary relief until you take them to see Doctor Baizhu.”

Capitano stands up and shields you from the three Natlanteans. Capitano crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the new addition to the group. You peek from behind Capitano, making eye contact with the mysterious man. The man smiles at you before glancing at Capitano, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ororon sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’re protective of [Y/N], and we all are, but Ifa can provide temporary medical care for them. Ifa is my friend, Capitano. You have nothing to worry about.” Ororon reassures the Harbinger, occasionally looking over at you.

Capitano continues to scrutinize the three men before turning to you. You and Capitano stare at each other as if communicating telepathically. Capitano holds his arm out towards you as you stand up, making sure you’re not putting too much pressure on your injured ankle. Capitano debates whether he should give you a piggyback ride or just carry you to wherever Ororon, Ifa, and Kinich wanted you and Capitano to go. Capitano wraps his arms around your waist and scoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. 

Ifa leads the way while Kinich and Ororon walk beside Capitano. You glance at the four men after making eye contact with bystanders as the five of you walk further into the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. You can’t help but realize that from an outsider’s perspective, seeing a Fatui Harbinger carrying an injured person with three other men following along is an interesting sight. But dear Archons, the number of stares you’re receiving is making you feel a bit out of place. 

You rub the back of your neck. “So, where are you leading us exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ifa stops in his tracks and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m leading you away from prying eyes. I figured you don’t want to draw a crowd while I tend to your injuries.” Ifa replies, shooting you a charming smile.

The five of you approach a table that is tucked in a corner of the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, away from prying eyes, just as Ifa wanted. Capitano sits you on one of the chairs and stands close by, refusing to leave your side. Ifa chuckles to himself, kneeling before you and reaching for your injured ankle. 

You gaze at Ifa curiously, wondering what he found funny. “What are you laughing at?” You ask, watching the man before you place an ice pack on your swollen ankle—wait, when and where did he get the ice pack from?

Ifa shakes his head. “Oh, nothing. I find it— what’s the word? Funny? Adorable? Interesting? Yeah, that could work. It's interesting that you have quite a few people wrapped around your fingers. A Fatui Harbinger being one of them is definitely interesting,” Ifa says lightheartedly.

Ifa wraps your injured ankle before propping it on another chair across from you. You look up at Capitano, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you in the slightest, before looking over at Kinich and Ororon.

Kinich gently squeezes your shoulders. “How did this happen? You two weren’t ambushed by anyone while traveling to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, were you?” Kinich asks, leaning against the table beside you.

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure how to respond to Kinich’s concerns. Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa wait for your response while you awkwardly sit there. You can always lie and say that you and Capitano were, in fact, ambushed, and Capitano saved the day as per usual and got you to safety.

“It must be traumatizing enough for [Y/N] not to want to say anything. Judging by the appearance of both [Y/N] and Capitano, I can safely assume that they managed to escape unscathed. However, during the process of escaping, [Y/N] most likely lost their footing, causing them to twist their ankle,” Ororon theorizes, stroking his chin. 

You stare at Ororon with your mouth agape, amazed that Ororon’s able to come up with an almost convincing theory. It's too bad that the only information Ororon’s correct about is that you twisted your ankle. Ifa looks at Ororon, nodding his head, seemingly impressed with Ororon’s analytical skills based on what he’s looking at.

You slowly nod. “Yeah, I wish that were the case, but I tripped on a rock and twisted my ankle while Capitano and I were on our way to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. There was no ambush, fortunately and also unfortunately,” you reply sheepishly.

“Oh? Why is it both fortunate and unfortunate?” Ifa asks.

“Fortunate that both you and the Captain weren’t ambushed, but also unfortunate because the actual reason makes you look stupid?” Kinich interjects, raising an eyebrow at you with a small smile.

Your bottom lip juts out while you nod in response to Kinich’s question. Kinich chuckles and resists the urge to pinch your cheek. The sun is still high in the sky, meaning your day in Natlan has yet to end, and Capitano’s Fatui duties have yet to begin. The only reason why you and Capitano are in the Stadium of the Sacred Flame is because of your unfortunate accident. 

Your head snaps in Capitano’s direction, eyes wide with worry. “Capitano, you still have Fatui duties to tend to. I’m sorry my clumsiness resulted in us having to take a detour to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame,” you apologize.

Capitano shakes his head, gently rubbing your head affectionately. “There’s no need to apologize. While my duties are important, they’re not pressing matters. We can continue our journey after this,” he replies.

Ifa watches the way Capitano treats you, intrigued by the way you two interact. Ororon has told Ifa about their relationship with you, and it piqued Ifa’s curiosity because, from an outsider’s perspective, how does that work? How can over thirty people share one person? How does the dynamic work exactly? Are they dating each other as well, or do they all share you but don’t care for the others involved? 

Ororon nudges Ifa, giving him a questioning look when the two lock eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for three minutes now. What are you thinking about, Ifa?” Ororon asks, raising an eyebrow at his dear friend. 

Ifa presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. “Oh, nothing! Don’t worry about it, Ororon.” Ifa pats Ororon’s shoulders. “Capitano, if you’re worried, [Y/N] can stay here with the three of us while you’re away tending your duties for the Fatui. It’s best for [Y/N] to rest their injured ankle, and we can keep an eye on them while you’re away.” Ifa suggests.

Silence falls over everyone as you all wait for Capitano’s response. The Harbinger crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the four of you. You can’t tell if Capitano is hesitating, or debating whether he should leave you at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame with Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa. The ice pack on your wrapped ankle soothes the pain of your twisted ankle, making you feel at ease. You want to tag along with Capitano to his Fatui duties, but with a wrapped and iced ankle, it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to tag along with your Harbinger significant other. 

You gently touch Capitano’s forearm. “I can stay here and wait for your return, Capitano. I don’t want to be a burden to you. What if we do end up getting ambushed? You won’t be able to fend for yourself because I’ll be dead weight—”

“You will never be a burden.” The three men— Capitano, Kinich, and Ororon— interrupt your rambling.

Ifa’s gaze shifts from one man to another, amused by what’s unfolding before him. “[Y/N], are you aware of the power you have?” Ifa mutters, stroking his chin.

You look at Ifa, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Hehe, what power?” You feign ignorance, looking over at your beloved partners from the corner of your eye.

Ifa raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk as he gazes at you with amusement. 

You clear your throat before turning to look at Capitano, Ororon, and Kinich. “But in all seriousness, I can stay here and rest. I shouldn’t be moving too much when I’m injured.”

Capitano sighs, unsure of how to respond. Capitano looks at your wrapped ankle, then at your face while you stare at him, waiting for his response. Even if he’s okay with temporarily leaving you at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame to deal with Fatui matters, he doesn’t want you to be in Natlan “alone.” Sure, you’ll have Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa keeping you company while he’s away, but you were looking forward to having some alone time with him, even though he has Fatui matters to handle.

Ororon hums, stroking his chin. “If it helps you ease your mind a bit, [Y/N] can still go with you, but we’ll tag along with you and [Y/N] to keep them company while you’re dealing with Fatui stuff.”

Capitano ends up reluctantly agreeing to Ororon’s suggestion in the end. Before continuing your journey to wherever in Natlan the Fatui business is, you all decide to take the opportunity to eat before continuing the trip. 

You stare at the menu, eyes wide. “Everything looks so good! I don’t know what to choose,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest while skimming the menu.

Ifa leans close to you, “Why don’t you order one of everything and try them out?” Ifa suggests, looking at you through his long lashes.

You stare at Ifa and then at the menu, debating whether to order one of everything, as Ifa has suggested. If you do, there’s a chance that everyone won’t be able to finish the entire thing, and you don’t want to bring back leftovers. 

“Is it possible that you’re scheming something, Ifa?” You mutter, raising an eyebrow at Ifa.

Ifa presses his lips into a thin line, suppressing a smile. You turn to Capitano, Ororon, and Kinich, only to see them stare at you and Ifa. Oh, shit, did something happen? Ifa nudges you and shoots you a look, as if he’s egging you on. 

You narrow your eyes at Ifa before pointing at the menu and turning to the other men. “Would it be possible for me to order one of everything on the menu? Minus the alcohol because I don’t intend on drinking.”

Kinich raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his seat. “Are you going to be eating everything? No judgment, of course.”

You slowly nod your head. “I’m trying everything! But I also want to bring something back to the estate for the others, you know?”

Everyone sits in silence for a moment, glancing at each other like they can communicate telepathically—it’s not entirely impossible. You all end up ordering everything on the menu and trying out every dish the beautiful Pyro nation has to offer. Because you wanted to try every dish from Natlan, you took one bite of every dish (with different cutlery, of course), and ultimately finished the one you enjoyed the most. 

After everyone finishes eating their food, they pack the leftover food and put it in their inventory. Sometimes you forget that you’re in a video game and inventories exist. Now you don’t have to worry about bringing back a large amount of food to the estate and having to deal with unintentionally luring saurians with food. 

Capitano turns his back in your direction and squats; you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. Capitano grasps onto your thighs and adjusts you on his back before beginning your journey to somewhere in Natlan. You rest your head on Capitano’s shoulders, closing your eyes. The amount of food you have consumed was more than you would usually eat, and you’re starting to regret it.

Kinich peeks at you, eyebrows furrowing. “[Y/N]? Are you alright?” Kinich asks, walking closer to you and Capitano.

You close your eyes, nodding. “I’m okay, Kinich. Why’d you ask?” You mumble, cheeks squished on Capitano’s shoulders.

Kinich and Ororon look at each other. While you wait for Kinich and Ororon’s response, you slowly drift to sleep on Capitano’s shoulders. The gentle rocking of Capitano’s pace, the warm sun, and the gentle breeze are lulling you to sleep. Ifa chuckles, shaking his head as he and the others continue walking in silence, afraid of disturbing your sleep. Capitano peeks over his shoulder to get a look at you. For a moment, Capitano’s tempted to carry you in his arms rather than have you cling to him while you’re asleep. But at the same time, Capitano doesn’t want to disturb your sleep by moving you around just to carry you in his arms.

Ifa puckers his lips. “So… tell me more about your relationship with [Y/N]. What’s it like to share a partner with other people?” Ifa asks casually, tucking his hands in his pocket.

“We,” Ororon gestures to him and Kinich, “wouldn’t say that we’re dating [Y/N] per se…” Ororon trails off, scratching the back of his head. 

Ifa raises his eyebrows at Ororon’s response, questioning whether Ororon is telling the truth or is trying to deflect. The two men (Kinich and Ororon) have been spending a lot of time with you at the estate if they’re not busy, and for Ororon to say that they weren’t dating you is both questionable and debatable. Ifa notices how Kinich and Ororon act around you while the five of you were at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. They dote on you, and it’s cute! The not-so-subtle stare, the longing looks they shoot in your direction while you’re not paying attention, the way they would smile whenever you speak. 

Kinich crosses his arms over his chest, looking elsewhere. The sight of blush creeping up Kinich’s face makes Ifa smirk. “It’s complicated, Ifa. We have been talking to and spending time with [Y/N], but we don’t know them enough to consider ourselves dating…” Kinich trails off, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, if you guys want someone to be your relationship counselor, I’m here,” Ifa says nonchalantly, nodding. “It’s not too late for me to be part of [Y/N]’s little harem, is it?” He teases, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Capitano scoffs at Ifa’s cheeky comment, not taking his eyes off the trail before him. Ifa raises his eyebrows at Capitano’s response while Kinich and Ororon give each other the side eye. You mumble in your sleep and crack your eyes open, squinting at the sun. You rub your eyes and yawn, snuggling up against Capitano’s shoulders.

Ororon peeks at you, smiling. “How was your short nap?” Ororon asks, stroking your hair.

You smile at Ororon, blinking at him sleepily. “It barely feels like a nap. Like I only closed my eyes and did not fall asleep at all,” you reply, letting out a deep exhale. “I think the food is making me sleepy. Maybe I should walk instead of being carried around by Capitano.”

The men around you vocalize their protests when you try to get off Capitano’s back, but he refuses to put you down. You give Capitano and the others a questioning look while he shakes his head. 

Ifa chuckles, shaking his head and gestures to your still-injured ankle. “Did it slip your mind that you’re injured? You’re not allowed to walk or stand on your own until you heal,” Ifa comments, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You lightly smack your forehead, sighing. “Right, how could I forget about that?” You mutter. Your face heats up with embarrassment as you proceed to bury your face into the fur on Capitano’s cloak, wanting to die from embarrassment. Capitano chuckles and strokes your hair. The journey continues for another hour or so (you don’t know how long the trip actually is because you’re not keeping track of the time due to constantly falling asleep), and you all finally see a Fatui camp in the distance. 

Capitano squats down, letting you get off him. Ororon and Ifa steady you, making sure you don’t put any pressure on your injured ankle. Yeah, you twisted your ankle, and you can probably walk if you had some crutches, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon, especially when you know that Baizhu, your lovely Doctor boyfriend, will not approve of you moving around with an injury. 

“We got this from here, Capitano. You can go tend to your duties now,” Kinich says, gesturing for the Harbinger to go on ahead without the four of you.

Capitano nods and looks in your direction one last time. You two lock eyes (well, you technically can’t see his eyes, but you’re assuming you’re gazing into his pretty eyes) momentarily; you nod to the Captain as both a confirmation and reassurance. Capitano walks to the Fatui camp, leaving you, Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa behind.

“We can sit under the tree in the shade while we wait for Capitano, if that’s okay with you guys,” you suggest, pointing at a tree about ten meters from where the Fatui camp is.

Even though the tree’s not that far (to you), Ifa offers to carry you to the tree rather than have you hang around Ororon and Ifa’s shoulders while they assist you to the destination. While the four of you slowly make your way to the tree, Capitano makes sure to keep an eye on the four of you, making sure nothing happens to the four of you (mainly you).

The Fatui Agent clears his throat. “Are you alright, Capitano?”

Capitano nods. “Yes, why did you ask?” Capitano replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Fatui Agent laughs nervously, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, sir. Anyway, shall we proceed with the meeting?”

Capitano nods wordlessly, gesturing for the Agent to continue where he left off.

The four of you have no idea how long Fatui meetings typically last, but it sure is dragging on longer than you anticipated. Now you’re sitting in the shade, watching Kinich, Ororon, and Ifa demonstrate their abilities. 

You hug your legs to your chest, resting your chin on your knees. “Why did I get the sense of déjà vu?” You mumble, squinting as you try to adjust to the sunlight.

Ifa leans against the tree, tilting his head to the side. “Care to clarify? How does this feel like déjà vu?” Ifa asks.

Kinich and Ororon sit beside you, sandwiching you between them. You shrug, trying to think back to a time when this situation felt similar to the one now. This is the first time you’re in Natlan for this long and with just the men from Natlan, plus Capitano. Why is this feeling so familiar? Then, it pops into your head.

You snap your fingers, sitting up straight. “Ah! It’s because I somehow always end up injured whenever I step outside of the estate. If I remember correctly— I probably am not, when I met Kaveh, I also got injured,” You say. “But I could also be misremembering it. Shit, is my memory that bad?” You deflate, resting your chin back on your knees with a sigh. 

Ororon pats your head, smiling at you sympathetically. “I think we should visit Doctor Baizhu after we return to the estate. Not just for your twisted ankle, but for your head as well, maybe,” Ororon suggests.

You stare at the man and press your lips into a thin line. I mean, it won’t be too much of a hassle to get your head checked, would it? While you’re buried in your thoughts, a familiar figure approaches the four of you. Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa immediately stand up, greeting the new presence. Biker boots stop in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You slowly look up: from the shoes to the leather-clad legs, you lock eyes with red eyes. Your eyes widen when you finally come to realize who’s standing in front of you—the Pyro Archon. You push yourself off the ground, scrambling to get up.

Mavuika’s eyes widen, quickly grabbing and steadying you. “Whoa, there! Careful now!” Mavuika chuckles, both her hands on your biceps. “It’s good to finally meet you, [Y/N]. I’ve been hearing great things from Capitano, Kinich, and Ororon,” Mavuika says, looking over at the three men with a cheeky smile.

Your eyes widen, staring at the Pyro Archon with a starstruck expression. The Pyro Archon knows of your existence because of the three (now four) men you hold near and dear to your heart?! Wait, they talked about you to the Pyro Archon? You look at Kinich, Ororon, and Ifa with a questioning gaze. Kinich and Ororon look away, acting like they don’t hear what Mavuika says to you. 

Mavuika’s eyes widen. “Ah! Let’s not forget the dear traveler, Aether. You’re all he talks about whenever he visits Natlan,” Mavuika giggles, shaking her head. “Aether wasn’t wrong when he said that you’re adorable.” Mavuika pinches your cheek.

You look away, face warming up under her touch. Today may be the first time you’re meeting the Pyro Archon in person, and you want to make a good first impression, but she’s already pinching your cheeks while spilling information from your beloved partners. 

Mavuika’s eyes widen before gesturing for you to sit back down. “Please sit down! I don’t want you to stand up with an injured ankle,” she says, guiding you over to a tree stump you didn’t notice that was there the entire time. After getting you to sit down, Mavuika turns to the others, her hands propped on her hips. “Now, care to explain how [Y/N] got injured?”

Mavuika reminds you of a mom with how she’s demanding an explanation on how you managed to injure yourself. Kinich gives Mavuika the rundown on how it all happened while you awkwardly sit there, not wanting to see her reaction to the dumb reason you twisted your ankle. After the brief explanation, Mavuika exhales through her nose while stroking her chin, nodding. Mavuika turns to you and pats your head with a soft laugh, “Ah, so the injury is due to your clumsiness. Aether said you were cute, and he wasn’t kidding.” 

You bury your face into your hands. Mavuika snickers and continues to pat your head, her eyes wandering over to where Capitano stands with the other Fatui Agents. Mavuika sighs before crossing her arms over her chest, questioning why you choose to tag along with the Harbinger. Mavuika is aware of your relationship with more than one person, and she’s not one to judge people and who they date! One thing she does question is how your relationship with around thirty men works out because she could’ve sworn there are at least two or more people who are possessive over you, and it’s not Aether.

Mavuika props her hands on her hips, gazing at you with seriousness. “[Y/N]. Be honest with me, alright?” You stare at Mavuika blankly, confused about what caused her to switch up. “What do you want me to be honest about?”

It’s strange that Mavuika, the Pyro Archon, demands that you be honest with her about something despite meeting each other less than an hour ago. Mavuika squats in front of you and grabs both of your hands, squeezing them. “These men have been treating you right, correct? If not, you can tell me everything and I will handle it myself,” Mavuika says, deadpan. 

You smile and gently squeeze Mavuika’s hands in response. “They treat me extremely well! I never knew what real love was until these men came into my life, Mavuika. Trust me, they fill the empty void in my heart.”

Mavuika nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she contemplates. Mavuika sighs and gets up, slowly releasing your hand before stepping away. When Mavuika steps away, you can’t help but notice how close she was to you, so close that her leather pants would brush against your bare legs when she stands up. When did she get so close to you?

Ifa and Ororon look at each other from the corner of their eyes. Kinich looks at Mavuika from the corner of his eyes, almost like he’s judging her by the look on his face. You press your lips into a thin line, debating whether you should say something. You open your mouth to speak, but heavy hands landing on your shoulders startle you.

“Mavuika, what a surprise to see you here,” Capitano says.

You look up to see Capitano towering over you, not sparing you a glance. You place your hands over his, gently squeezing them. “Ah! You’re back! How was the meeting with your comrades?” You ask.

Capitano doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to stare at Mavuika without saying a word. The corner of Mavuika’s lips curves up, crossing her arms over her chest. Both Capitano and Mavuika don’t speak as they stare at each other for a prolonged time. You can feel the tension rise between Capitano and Mavuika as the silence between them drags on.

Kinich clears his throat. “If you are done with your Fatui business, I think now is the time to return to the estate with [Y/N],” Kinich says, turning to you, “don’t you agree, [Y/N]? We should get you to Doctor Baizhu to check out your injury.”

You nod, getting ready to stand up from where you’re sitting, only for Capitano to push you down. “Yeah, what Kinich said! Since you’re done with your Fatui meeting, we can return to the estate now, right? After all, I do need to get my ankle checked out, and we have leftovers that need to be refrigerated.”

Capitano nods, effortlessly lifts you and carries you bridal style while Mavuika scrutinizes you and Capitano—maybe just Capitano. Capitano turns around and starts walking away with Ifa, Ororon, and Kinich following. The five of you come to a stop when a familiar face approaches your small group.

You wave at Dainsleif, smiling at the man. “Dainsleif! What are you doing in Natlan?”

Dainsleif nods, now standing before your group. Dainsleif opens his mouth to respond, but closes his mouth when his eyes land on your wrapped ankle. Dainsleif crosses his arms over his chest, gazing at you with displeasure. “What happened?” Dainsleif demands, now standing much closer to examine your injured ankle.

“Well, you see—”

“You tripped, didn’t you?” Dainsleif deadpans.

You pucker your lips and nod, looking away from the blond man. Dainsleif sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to need to put you in a bubble if you ever leave the estate,” Dainsleif mutters.

Your eyes widen at Dainsleif’s comment, rapidly shaking your head in protest. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be put in a bubble if you ever leave the estate! It’s not like you’re against being safe, it’s because—

“Then that will solidify the fact that [Y/N] is, in fact, an Abyss Mage! The bubble surrounding [Y/N] will also confirm that they are a hydro Abyss Mage,” Kaveh says, strutting up to your group with a shit eating grin.

You stare at Kaveh, deadpan. You throw your hands up in the air before slumping against Capitano’s chest, glaring at the other blond man. If you were a cat, your tail would be flicking with irritation. Kaveh flashes his pearly whites at you and reaches out to ruffle your hair, only for you to smack his hand away with a glare.

“Aw, come on, [Y/N]. Don’t be like that in front of our new guest and potential new housemate,” Kaveh teases, poking your sides after glancing at Ifa from the corner of his eyes.

Ifa quirks his eyebrows at Kaveh’s comment, but doesn’t interject. You burrow yourself in Capitano’s chest after hearing Kaveh’s comment. Ifa being a potential new housemate at the estate? You’re not entirely sure if Ifa is interested in the slightest! You peek over Capitano’s shoulders to look at Ifa, only to lock gazes with him. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you quickly duck down and bury your face into Capitano’s chest, ears becoming hot when you hear Ifa laugh. Okay, so it’s possible that Ifa could be a new member of the estate.

Note: Finally! An update after a trillion years! 😭 I swear, 2025 has been nothing but ruthless to me, and it drained me so much that I could not get myself to finish a single fanfic. I have a lot of things in the draft, but I am never satisfied with how they turn out! It's so frustrating. Anyway, my Discord server has officially been reopened! I was supposed to reopen it in early January, but that plan fell through. If you're interested in joining my Discord server, the invite to my Discord server can be found [HERE]! The Discord server invite links will be different every time I post a new fanfic, and these links have expiration dates. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: @rubyninja1 (I will be making a new and updated taglist very soon 🫡)

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[tan1shere]

My Winner

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: This is how we cope ladies and no gentlemen. Enjoy my loves <3

Summary: after the grammys, Billie finds a way to forget. But you find it hard. Knowing that nothings truly ok. (You'll see.)

Warnings: angst, but heavy on the comfort I promise <3 reader has anxiety so mentions of that

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs

^comment if you want to be added^

Masterlist

What an anxiety filled night. It was nearing the end. The grammys. You know, the big event that always either turns someone's life around or ruins it. You had been anxious all day, surprisingly Billie wasn't. She was so excited to just be there. Happy to be with you especially. But you knew as soon as you took your seats she was masking how anxious she was.

The red carpet was full of stars, full of heaps of people you didn't know either. There was always something about your anxiety, and ever since you had the hunch that your anxiety could always tell you if somethings up, you've been listening to that hunch heavily. Billie also knew of this, but you tried keeping extra quiet currently. If she knew you were anxious that'd set her into a complete state of worry. Knowing you seem to get this way when something is up later on. You couldn't let her get anxious about the night. You hold her hand, walking along as photographers took your photos.

You were next to Finneas and Claudia also, Finn spotting your anxiousness in seconds. You really thought you were hiding it better. He pokes your arm as an interviewer talks to Billie. "Hey whats up?" You look up at him. "What do you mean?" His brow raises. "I've known you for how many years now? Don't bullshit me what's up?" His hand rubs your arm, you grab it softly removing it. "I-" You sigh. "Ok, I'm really anxious for today, I have this odd feeling. I don't want her to see me like this though. She's enjoying herself and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Y/n." - "Please don't say anything." He's now the one to sigh. "Fine, but if she notices something is up, tell her. You know she always worries about you." You nod. "I know I know, just want her happy." He gives you a soft smile, kissing the top of your head. It was nice, he was always so brotherly towards you, you always wanted an older brother. "Like I told her, if we don't win anything it'll be ok." He pipes up. You were about to say, everything about the fact she deserves this though, she has a great right to earn this achievement. But you stay quiet, knowing he is right. You just want what's best for her. Knowing she's always so gracious.

She walks back over to you guys. "Hey, it's almost time to go, you ready?" You nod at her, giving her a smile. As she leads you out with such excitement, you look back at Finneas. He gives you a reassuring nod. Settling some nerves within you. Your mind talks as you get there, finding your seat and such. Telling yourself that this will all be ok. If it doesn't turn out good, you can be there for her. Give her encouragement, telling her she did amazing regardless- "Hello, earth to Y/n." She says standing infront of you. You snap out of your trance. "Hm?" She giggles at you. "Silly cutie." The name eases everything within you, looking into her eyes.

"I said here are our seats." She beams. You sit down, watching everyone else do so. "You excited to perform baby?" You smile sweetly at her. She smiles back. "Hell yeah. I mean a little bit nervous but this is honestly second nature to me now. I'm pumped." You could see how genuinely happy she was. It sooths everything you had previously been worried about.

But not for long, when they were up there singing your chest feels heavy, ignoring it like usual, even not in this situation you enjoy your girlfriends performance. But it doesn't go unnoticed by Claudia. "Babe, you alright?" You turn to her. Her comforting tone makes you let go for a moment. "Im still worried, I don't even know why I said in my mind whatever happens it'll be ok." She places her hand on your shoulder. "I think you're more worried about this than her." You lower your head. "I know." Sighing, but Claudia gets you to look at her. "And that's fine I hope you know, you care so much about her. It's really sweet." You felt teary. "I just want her growing more, this place can be a bit.. stingy." She laughs.

"Yep, don't we all know it." She goes to wipe one tear, but you stop her. "It's best if I get then out now so I won't- just in case of anything." The two if you share a laugh, it felt nice. Considering you usually talk to Billie about your anxiety. But that was off limits right now. You pay attention to her again, feeling calmer after your talk with Claud. Vibing to the music, less stressed. But now the roles were reversed. As the categories she was nominated for go on she seemingly is off, not as bubbly as before. But she puts up a front. "That's ok there's heaps more." You reassure her. She turns to you and smiles, wrapping an arm around you. "I'm so glad you're here." Your eyes flutter shut. "Glad I could be here baby." Her grip on you tightens a bit. And it makes you worried.

Nonetheless you push that down, you wanted to be strong for her. Be there for her. You rub her back going to sit back up as more people come to perform.

Billie was off taking some photos, you spotted her loosening up again, enjoying herself. You just thank whatever. Happy she's not as worried. You though, your anxiety was starting to come back. Little did you know it was all for a different reason. Because as soon as that last nomination comes round you didn't feel as worried, your anxiety was still present but it was for something you couldn't put your finger on. The last one was called and as they spoke, you immediately look at Billie, not hearing her name. Feeling devastated but ready to comfort. Your hand lands on her shoulder.

Noticing her eyes glaze over. You weren't expecting that to be quite honest. I mean sure upset, but it catches you off guard. You gently kiss her cheek. "You're amazing. You're my winner." And it's like she flips some sort of switch, smiling at you. But not saying a word. Odd. She claps like the rest, standing up, randomly seeming different from her state a few seconds ago. You saw it though, you knew she wasn't ok. The flip so fast, it couldn't possibly be all alright. The night ends and you all leave, getting in her car in silence. It was worrying you more. You go to speak but she does before you. "Let's go to Paris."

Your head turns towards her faster than anything. "Billie- what?" You were struck with confusion. "Let's go, get away. I know you've been talking about wanting to go for months, years even. Let's do it." You were at a loss of words. "Baby, you have tour this month, not to mention it's going to take us half a day to fly over there." She shrugs. "Yeah, but tours not until the 18th we have plenty of time." You had zero clue on what to say. "Billie-" You say concerned. She knew you were going to say something so she speaks. "Come onnn let's be spontaneous. Let's get out of here. We can go home and pack or I can just buy you whatever when we are there."

To say the least you were overwhelmed. Turning your head, looking infront of you as she drives. You tossed with the decision. Maybe it would be cool to get away. You suspected she didn't want to talk about anything tonight, so you'd leave it for a few days. "What do you say huh?" She seemed too pumped, it made your worries linger. "Yeah, sure. Let's do it." - "Yes! That's what I like to hear."

You had packed things that you'd need. But it wasn't distracting you from the events of tonight. Not like it is seeming to do with Billie. "Have you told Finn or Maggie and such yet?" She shakes her head. "Nope, it'll be fineee." That set your stomach on edge. No it wouldn't, you always kept in contact. "Better yet as soon as we get there lets put our phones on flight mode!" She goes to grab your zipped up suitcase. You let out a sigh. "Letsgooo." She says, heading for the door. "Baby." You then say, and she freezes. "Leave something?" She looks at you avoiding everything that leads to tonight. Talking, comforting. Crying.

Maybe she needed this, needed to forget, you keep to your word of doing so in a few days. "Nope, just wanted to say I love you." You smile. She comes over to kiss you. "I, love. You. Right to Paris we go!" This could potentially be fun now the moments sinked in, and you had been wanting to go for quite some time. You follow her out the door heading onto your travels.

Sitting and waiting for the flight, in a silence. Again. But it truthfully didn't last long, almost as if she didn't want to be left with her thoughts. "Ok, let's turn our phones off." You were a bit hesitant. But maybe that'll also make the trip more fun. Just with one another, enjoying the moment. You grab your phone going to do so, noticing she had posted a photo on her story of the airport. You decide to keep quiet, thinking on if this whole thing really was a good idea. You hand her your phone. "It's off." She smiles. "So is mine." You tap your your foot, moving your knee feeling that anxiety coming back. Oh. This is what your body was telling you earlier...

This.

It was 20 minutes away. You had taken a nap, had some food. Billie? None of that, they brought food around but she insisted on you having it. Making your heart tighten. Feeling so wrong still. Nor had she been asleep for all of those nearly 15 hours, staying up all day and night. It wasn't good. "Hey look at the sunshine." She points out the window. You turn your head, seeing it. Then everything floats past you. "Wow." You say amazed. You had always dreamed of coming here. It's just now set in that it's a reality. "That's, the Eiffel Tower!" You beam with excitement. "Sure is." It was beautiful. All the buildings. You smile contently.

When you land and get out, you're greeted by people with their beautiful accents. "bonjour!" Someone greets. You smile, having had practiced a tiny bit of French. "Salut!" They smile at you. "Wait you can speak French?" You nod. "Just a little. Told you this was my dream." You both smile at one another. "You're going to love our hotel room then! Looking right at the Eiffel Tower." You open your mouth. "A- wha- are you serious?" She nods, smiling more. "Oh my god!" And her plan was slowly working, not for too much longer when you figure it out though.

You arrive at the hotel, settling in. "This is breathtaking." You go out on the balcony. "Is this even real I feel like I'm in a movie." She comes out with you. "Very real my love." Then it strikes you on why she's doing this- But her mind was quicker than your own. "You see the tower there?" She points, making your mind distract as you look. "Got us a table at the restaurant there." You're shocked. "What?! How?" She smirks. "I have my ways." You laugh at her. "Say, why dont we go shopping just in time for tonight?" You nod, going to go for a pee.

She sighs a little. "Back on track." Her eyes wander off to the scenery, taking it all in.

Shopping was heaps of fun, all the pretty clothes, all the beautiful sights. But almost all of these were too expensive. "Maybe we could just-" Billie grabs the handful you were about to put back, putting it near the till. "Why don't you get those shoes you liked!" You stood there for a moment. "Billie.. Those are so much I-" "Nonsense, go go!" It took you a second to snap you out of, well honestly. None of this felt real. Then that heaviness returns to your chest. When you go to protest she had already paid for it. Shoes and all. "Baby I-" Her finger waves in your face.

The reality truly hit you. She was distracting you, she was avoiding everything. She goes to pick up the shoes heading out. You trot after her. "Can we-" "Oou let's go find a cute Cafe!" Your brows lift upwards, sewing together. Your worries were starting to fly right back. But she takes your hand as you go off to do whatever.

This was far from normal. You were getting ready, doing your makeup but you can't shake the feeling of the past 24+ hours. You felt like your mind was going to explode. You had to talk to her, you couldn't wait another day. You walk out of the bathroom, dress on and everything noticing she was dressed up to. You had nearly forgotten the topic that you wanted to discuss. "Uhm, babe?" You say, she turns around, jaw dropping. "Woah." You swallow. "Are you ready? You sure look it oh my god." You walk over to her. "Can we talk for a second?" She knew exactly what was about to come. "We don't want to be late, I made the reservation for 7." She goes to leave but you grab her arm.

"Baby-" She sighs. "I'm getting a bit peckish, are you?" She was avoiding it like the plague. You wait a moment. "Yeah, sure." She smiles, kissing your cheek. "Sweet!" And so it went on, you get to the beautiful and iconic tower, mesmerized. "Oh wow it's beautiful." She grabs your hand. "Not as beautiful as you." You stare lovingly in her eyes, such a romantic city, a forgetful one too apparently. Because just like that you were focusing on it more, finding yourself getting hungry.

The night goes on, it was peaceful. But your mind was not. There was a voice in the back telling you to just say something, but the other is battling it, saying you should enjoy this moment and the fact it doesn't happen very often. The food was delicious the view was unbelievable. Just for tonight.

It's now two days later. You cursed yourself at the fact you haven't tried talking about it. But that ends today, she needs to just let it out. You know it's hurting her deep down. The way she's handling it wasn't healthy. You were currently out getting a massage, 'her treat' which is basically been the moto this whole trip. You didn't want to waste it or seem ungrateful. But you had snatched your phone from her bag, you had to see if anyone texted. And surprise surprise they had. Maggie blowing up your calls. Finneas texting you non stop. Fuck. You regret it getting this far. You wanted to tell them but not until you talked to her first. Your finger moves to tiktok, watching all that was going down.

People saying that we've gone missing and that no ones heard from us. "Jesus." You whisper. "You alright my love?" The sweet French lady asks. How the hell did anyone even know so quick. "You're very tense." - "Yeah just- just some stuff going on right now. Sorry." She chuckles. "No need to apologize my dear. That's why you're here, to relax and be calm." You take in a deep breath, feeling her massage you further. You wish Billie was here with you, but she had been off for a run when you had woken up, seeing the little note and directions to come here. Then your eyes flutter shut and you soon fell into a peaceful slumber. One you hadn't had the night before. Due to all the tossing and turning.

Billie wasn't facing you but you knew she wasn't asleep. Fuck sake. You just can't not talk about this anymore. "Thank you, for the lovely massage." She nods gently. "Look after yourself mon amour." You give her a smile. "Merci." You reply politely. You head back, opening the hotel room to see her sitting there. "Oh you're back! How was it?" You plop your bag down. "Good but can we-" "On my run I saw this cute little wine tasting Vinyard ad, we can get a taxi and head out to it tonight! We could also stay-" You breathe slightly. "Billie-" "Or maybe that'd be too much we could stay there for the rest I know they can do-" "BILLIE!" You finally snap.

Silence.

Dead, fucking silence.

You stare at one another, and you go to speak. "Talk to me please." She averts your gaze. "I dunno what you want me to talk about." Your eyes look up, hating this weird behavior. "Billie you're frightening me. You've never done such a thing before." - "May want to elaborate." You just wanted her to let you in. "Stop shutting me out then and maybe I will!" More silence. "Please, I'm begging you lets just tal-" "I don't want to talk." She gets up but your body moves in her way. "No, you are. I'm done trying to forget, you need to let whatever this is out and this time you will not distract me." She had no. Emotion on her face. "Baby please." Your eyes were teary. "Let me help. Please." You start to sob quietly.

That's all you wanted to do, ever since that night. And there it is, her own sobs cascading down her cheeks. You nod. Proud to see it. She goes to you, hugging you, putting her head in your neck. You kiss her head over and over, trying to calm your heart down. "Its ok, I'm here. I promise." You hold her tight. "Let it in, it'll feel better afterwards." She sobs uncontrollably, having had it built up for days. "I'm so fucking sorry." You shake your head, getting her to look at you. "Don't, you didn't do anythin-" "I did, I went all fucking weird, took you here to forget, just move on. And that look on your face before fuck I'm so s-" This time you cut her off. Putting your hand over her mouth.

"Can I say something?" She nods. You go to wipe her tears. "Theres no need to apologize. If anything I'm sorry for not just doing this sooner, I thought you needed time then you'd come round. But I couldn't anymore. You were hurting and that was hurting me. I couldn't bear it any longer." She swallows. "Since I didn't get to say it then. I'll say it now. I am so fucking proud of you. You don't need some silly shiny award that honestly means nothing in the long run. You are amazing regardless." She hugs you tight. "I don't want to loose you." Your brows furrow. Confused. Then you realize why she's done all of this. She could've resulted to drinking but it was this cold outburst instead.

She was afraid she'd loose you over some silly award. You get her to look at you. "Is this why you took me here? To the place I always wanted to go buying me all this stuff?" She nods sheepishly. "Baby.." Your head shakes. "When did we meet." Now she was confused. "2015 ofcourse." You nod. "When did you first get recognized?" ... "2017 ish.." You hold her face. "I've loved you, as a friend, a partner way before any of this even happened. If that's what you're worried about, think again. Because you could loose all those trophys and I'd still be here. You matter more to me." You smile softly. "You're the only trophy I need." She says. You kiss her sweetly. "Soo, are you calling me a whore?" Her face panics making you giggle. "I'm teasing you baby." Her eyes roll.

"You're a doofus." "I'm your doofus and you're stuck with me." She smiles. "I can certainly live with that."

Everything felt clear. You two did stay in Paris for a few more days, this time with no worry in the world. Truly enjoying yourselves. That is after she texted her family back.

You sat out on the balcony, drinking your whine and her some bubbly water. The night air, cool but refreshing. "You know." She began. "There was a category I was nominated for that they didn't mention." You turn your head, utterly confused. "Having the best girlfriend." Your smile creeps on your face.

"And I fucking won."

:,) ugh cuteness.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi!, could i please get churros, nanaimo bars and honey cruller with a side of milkshake and dark hot chocolate with oscar piastri?

bakery menu

hey that was quite the hiatus! happy to be back. i spent the holidays trying to figure out how to make a comeback with the bakery prompts. they'll still be scattered in with my other fics, but i hope you enjoy 'em! a little break is never a bad thing and i hope that you've been enjoying my other fan fics! i wanted to start with smaller orders to get back into the groove, but i'll work up to the lovely bigger orders ya'll have sent! thank you anon and i hope you enjoy <3

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?" + nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." + honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes." + milkshake: size kink + dark hot chocolate: sub!reader served by oscar piastri (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, stress relief, oral sex (oscar receives), car sex, dirty talk

sometimes racing felt like hitting his head against the wall. another week, another messy weekend. he was so close, but advised to let lando over take him. oscar honestly hated it sometimes.

they were friends, but lando always seemed to get the spotlight more. he was currently barrelling towards the wdc, and oscar felt like he was being left behind. a seat filler without much to give.

the anger brewed into something else inside of the normally gentle oscar. when you were talking to him on the drive back to the hotel. he made a remark that sent a hot feeling through you, "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

his eyes went wide and before he could say anything, you replied, "promise?"

oscar parked the car quickly, pulled into a quiet car park. he was thankful for his tinted windows as he put the car in park and turned it off. he said, "i'm sorry, i don't know-"

he never spoke to you like that. but you weren't scared of him, instead he knew that you were fairly flustered at his words. he reached to touch your cheek and instead you leaned in to kiss his inner wrist.

"don't worry about it, oscar. you're stressed out. i was near the pit wall when i heard them make the call... you feel bad." you said lovingly. you placed a hand on his thigh, close to his cock and added, "you should lose more if it makes you dirty talk like that."

oscar was able to relax and then leaned in across the gear shift to kiss you on the lips. he was able to cup most of your jaw with his larger hand. he asked, "do you like the dirty talk?"

you nodded as he held your cheeks in his hand. your lips forced to pout as he held you a little tighter. he chuckled lowly and thought it was beyond adorable.

he kissed your lips and said, "i forget how small you are sometimes." he knew that you liked your size difference, while it wasn't the largest gap anyone has seen. his slightly taller frame and bigger hands made you feel safe in his grasp.

"oscar." you said softly.

he chuckled and kissed your lips tenderly. he held you face, letting you feel close to him. he soon pulled away and said, "honey, why don't you help me relieve a little stress... we're all alone here. look at you, so pretty. who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." there was a slight tease to his tone that made your cheeks heat up.

"fuck." you exhaled deeply. it was erotic, you had to admit it. you moved your hands to his jeans and started to work his belt. you licked your lips and made eye contact with briefly before you got the belt undone. you asked softly, "

"no one else i'd rather make headlines with." he said lovingly before he kissed your cheek, "i think we're okay. i'll keep an eye out. you just focus on getting me off."

you got his cock out of his pants then leaned in to kiss the tip. you rubbed your thighs together even with the awkward angle that came with giving oral sex in a car. you kissed the tip softly before you wrapped your lips around it and sank down as deep as you could allow yourself.

you didn't want to choke on his cock. you were spurred on by his soft noises. even when he was angry, he still was painfully sweet. you moved your head up and down, you kept your pace steady and you tried to play with the head as you slid up and down.

"do you want dirty talk, baby?" he asked softly.

you nodded as you looked up at him. he patted your soft hair and held onto the back of your neck loosely. the feeling of his large hand on the back of your neck made your core soaked and goosebumps run down your legs. you shivered and he applied a little more pressure on his hold of you while you orally pleasured him.

"oh i bet you love that." he said, "the best stress relief i could have. they always say exercise or a massage, something. but, my best way to relief stress is to have you between my legs. have you choking on my cock. letting me do it in a car park, what a dirty girl. what would everyone think? they barely think we have sex!" he chuckled lightly. he licked his lips at the sight of you taking him, "but we get up to a lot, right? back home, you and i. i remember those weekends, how good you looked on top of me."

you moaned a little bit and he chuckled softly. you moved your head faster and oscar exhaled deeply from the feeling of your tongue on his cock. you anchored yourself on his thighs as your drool dripped down to his balls, wetting his briefs.

he held onto your hair for better hold of you. your curls in his hair hand as he moved your hips a little to push his cock just a little further into your mouth. he felt the shudder of want through him as the pleasure continued to mount in him.

your eyes fluttered shut as you focused more of your attention on his cock. your lips were slick with the gloss your wore, but it was coming off due to the saliva that was painting them now.

"baby." oscar cooed as he played with your hair.

the pleasure continued to grow in him. it mounted in his core as you pleasured him. you looked beautiful rested up against him. even if the position wasn't the most comfortable. but, he knew that once you got back to where you were staying for the weekend, that he'd take proper care of you. any pleasure you gave him, he would return five times over.

while he still felt the stress in his body, it was nothing that couldn't be fixed with your thighs wrapped around his head. he moaned a little bit and bit back a louder one that followed, "you take me so good. remember when we started having sex, you've only gotten better with each time we fuck. i'm so lucky to have you." he swallowed as he rested further against the leather car seat.

you let out a sweet moan as his cock nudged against your throat. you continued to move your head and even with the slight ache in your jaw, you continued. you wanted to get him off. soon after you took your mouth off of him and jerked his cock with the same energy. you panted heavily as you said, "you're my champion, oscar. even if no one else on the team sees it. i do." you looked at him and leaned up to kiss him on the lips.

he moaned into the kiss and hissed through his teeth when your mouth went back on his cock and you continued to pleasure him. the momentum of lust only picked up further in his body. he swore under his breath as he felt on the edge of orgasm.

you played with the tip against your tongue and he pushed you down further quickly as he came down your throat. you let out a squeaky moan, your mouth full of his cock as he finished. you pulled your head away and swallowed the salty taste in your mouth.

oscar's hand was on your face as he asked softly, "are you okay?" even with all the dirty talk, oscar was still the sweet, kind boyfriend you fell in love with. when you nodded he kissed you on the lips. "good." he said afterwards.

he put his cock back into his pants and patted you on the thigh before he started the car to leave the lot. his hand found your thigh and kept it there like it belonged there. he said simply when he pulled back to the main road, "when we get back. i hope you're ready for more dirty talk. because there's so much more i want to do." <3

[astonmartinii]

fatherhood looks good on you | george russell social media au

pairing: george russell x fem albon reader

there comes a point in the relationship where you take it to the next level

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 783,409 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: looking so good i want to give you a baby

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user1: WHAT

user2: we really be saying anything on the internet these days

alexalbon: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE LITERAL ONLY RULE OF THIS RELATIONSHIP WAS THAT YOU KEEP THIS SHIT TO YOURSELVES

yourusername: gosh a girl can't have baby fever in peace these days

alexalbon: unless that baby is coming by stork you can put that talk on hold real fast

yourusername: just because lily is busy does not mean you have to take it out on me and george

georgerussell63: alex is it illegal for a man to be handsome?

alexalbon: if it's illegal to be handsome, you'd have the cleanest record known to man

yourusername: STOP RIGHT THERE DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT LYING IS A SIN

alexalbon: i'm not going to say YOUR boyfriend is hot, no.

yourusername: just because i got in there first 🙄

user3: i don't think she's serious but also george with a baby is just too cute not to happen

user4: george is the perf instagram boyf like he's so ready to pose

landonorris: well that definitely is something we all want to know

yourusername: i know you would LOVE to know ALL the details norris

georgerussell63: she's never going to let your crush go lando, you gotta just hold it

landonorris: i was THIRTEEN

yourusername: you don't love me anymore? 😕

landonorris: i don't know why i always get in these arguments with you

user5: i love how george just instigates things for y/n lmao

user6: your boyfriend should always support your mess

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63

liked by lewishamilton, alexalbon and 1,209,458 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: fatherhood is a different beast

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user8: alright i am so confused

user9: there's no way y/n can actually be pregnant i saw her down at least three pornstar martinis in hospitality this weekend

alexalbon: this better be a joke or i'm gonna kick you so hard you get a free non-reversible vasectomy

yourusername: stop the violence!

alexalbon: THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GLEE REFERENCES

yourusername: someone is channelling some serious sue vibes right now

georgerussell63: let it be known i like my reproductive systems the way they are

alexalbon: that's kind of the point of a threat, you aren't supposed to want it

yourusername: he likes threats if they come from the right person

alexalbon: i am about one more comment away from knocking down your hotel room door and throwing george from the balcony

yourusername: and deprive our child from a father... alex i expected better from you

alexalbon: that's it i'm on my way

georgerussell63: @mercedesamgf1 PLEASE PROTECT ME I AM PRECIOUS CARGO

user10: these bitches got me actually combing through tiktoks and hospitality menus to see if y/n was actually drinking

user11: i'm gonna be real angry if this is all a big joke

user12: i know kimi antonelli is young but this is NAWT the way to announce him for 2025

charles_leclerc: guys i need you to spell everything out i am confused

georgerussell63: no can do charles you gotta follow the breadcrumbs just like everyone else

yourusername: it's right there sharl

charles_leclerc: actually alex, wait, i'm coming with you these hoes are annoying me

landonorris: don't forget me

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,556 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: our baby is here!

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user15: A CAT?

user16: i just knew george russell would be a ragdoll girl

georgerussell63: they were right i AM a girl dad

yourusername: finally dilf status

georgerussell63: a title i do not take lightly

yourusername: i can confirm libido has gone UP since becoming parents!

landonorris: shut THE FUCK UP

yourusername: you'll understand in time lando

georgerussell63: you just found yourself at the bottom of the babysitting list

landonorris: i don't want to look after it

yourusername: IT? IT? HOW DARE YOU?

georgerussell63: she can hear you lando that's so disrespectful :(

landonorris: ??? i'm not saying sorry to a cat over instagram comment

georgerussell63: expect the same courtesy when i take you out first corner next weekend

user17: i fear that was not a threat but a promise from george

user18: it's kinda hot

liked by yourusername

alexalbon: NEW ALBON PETS LORE AND NONE OF YOU TOLD ME

yourusername: ella can't wait to meet the gang

alexalbon: no offence but ella is kinda a shit name

yourusername: short for mozzarella

alexalbon: i take it back

georgerussell63: cause she's the lil pearl of our life

alexalbon: i love her already

user19: so we went through all this tomfoolery for a cat? a cat called mozzarella?

user20: you have to agree it's iconic

alexalbon

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 889,304 others

tagged: georgerussell63 & yourusername

alexalbon: i knew @albon_pets would get george at some point

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user22: i love how alex became the chill guy again after it was revealed he was not yet an uncle

georgerussell63: hard on the yet

alexalbon: too soon george

user23: the albon pets signature of approval is a bigger sign that george is in the gamily than if he actually proposed to y/n

user24: they've got a baby now he's an albon

yourusername: horsey is going to kick off over having to share george with me and mozzie

albon_pets: bring it on - horsey

yourusername: alex i'm not arguing with you pretending to be horsey, this ain't roscoe and lewis

lewishamilton: rude

roscoelovescoco: meanie

yourusername: did you just call me mean as your dog?

lewishamilton: you were extra mean

yourusername: fine lets let mozzie and roscoe scrap it out at silverstone - she's got the sass of both me and george btw x

lewishamilton: stay AWAY FROM MY DOG

user25: the merc garage gonna be a whole petting zoo at silverstone i can't

user26: you wanna catch up with red bull? sell meet and greet tickets to the petting zoo

maxverstappen1: this is my official invitation to a play date with jimmy and sassy

yourusername: WE'LL BE THERE

maxverstappen1: is mozzarella civilised?

georgerussell63: of course my child has manners?

maxverstappen1: you crash into people all the time, i had to check

georgerussell63

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 896,045 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: all of the family here for the home race

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user27: y/n wearing mozzarella in a baby harness i need to be put down

user28: that really is their child oh my

yourusername: make our baby proud georgie

georgerussell63: anything for you two xx

alexalbon: why do i never get these nice comments

yourusername: they're transmitted through our genes x

yourusername: also george more important 👍🏻

alexalbon: i'm literally your brother? your flesh and blood?

yourusername: george cuter

georgerussell63: can't argue with that

alexalbon: well of course he is this ain't alabama. (sorry logan)

logansargent: i'm from florida?

yourusername: even worse, my condolences

georgerussell63: can we get back to talking about how dashing i am?

yourusername: yes!

alexalbon: NO. SAY GOOD LUCK Y/N

yourusername: good luck y/n

alexalbon: what if i crash and you never said good luck, think about it y/n

yourusername: good luck alex (you're an asshole for weaponising the sport (and you being shit at it))

user29: i think i had about three strokes trying to follow this argument

user30: poor logan is just a victim of the albons at this point

landonorris: have a baby and forget about the rest of us, i see how it is

yourusername: you will never measure up to mozzie lando i hope you know that

georgerussell63: what y/n means is that i love my friends, but a child is a gift from god

landonorris: it's a cat. she can't even talk

yourusername: and yet she makes better points than you, makes you think

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 834,019 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: fatherhood looks good on you

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user31: mozzarella is so big already 🥹

user32: maybe i'm worse than them cause i'm attached to mozzie as well

georgerussell63: no one else i'd rather be cat parents to

yourusername: you're such a romantic

georgerussll63: such a pleasure to take this next step with the love of my life

yourusername: i love you more

georgerussell63: not possible

alexalbon: you being gross about mozzie was better than what ever the fuck this is

yourusername: @lilymunhe does he not treat you right?

lilymunhe: he's a romantic really, he's just exhausting the protective big brother act until george finally proposes

alexalbon: sue me

maxverstappen1: still waiting on the play date ...

yourusername: monaco?

maxverstappen1: done

yourusername: jimmy, sassy and ella will be like the charlie's angles reincarnated

georgerussell63: can't wait for you to see her IMPECCABLE manners

maxverstappen1: okay princess george

yourusername: hey only i can call george princess

maxverstappen1: you keep that to yourself

user33: disappointed that with all the tomfoolery around mozzie that there was no maternity photoshoots

yourusername: oh do not give me a challenge...

fin.

note: NEW SERIES ALERT? i'll create a masterlist after i post this. i hope you enjoyed, this one is more of a tame brother's best friend take but dw they can get more beefy and more sassy - send me any pairings you might like to see! thanks for reading x

[astrakim]

THE SPACE BETWEEN US [Preview]

Full fic out now!

> enemies to lovers | slow burn | bed-sharing | fluff, angst, emotional smut

>genre: childhood rivals to lovers, friends-forced-to-share-a-bed, emotional tension, slow burn

>word count: 17.9k

>summary: They started as neighbors. Then came a stupid night — and suddenly, Heeseung and Y/N were enemies. Years of rivalry, endless tension, and a thousand unspoken feelings between them.

When a group trip forces them to share a bed, everything changes. Jealousy flares. Secrets unravel. And the line between hate and desire blurs in ways neither of them expected.

What if the enemy was never really the enemy?

>warnings: suggestive tension, mutual pining, soft vulnerability, swearing, kissing, a lot of staring, protected sex (wrap it yall), oral (f.rec), fingering, heeseung is a flirt, misunderstanding, Sunoo lowkey OR highkey being a menace matchmaker, thats all ig let me know if I should add anything.

>status: sneak peek below! full fic soon ♡

>note: This is my first fic ever guyss, its not that good yet as I'm just starting out but its worth reading.

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated

Comment to get added to taglist of this fic

Enjoy your read!

“Why Do You Hate Heeseung So Much?”

People ask me that all the time.

Usually when we’re out — surrounded by too many snacks and too few brain cells — someone always turns to me with a grin and says,

“Come on, Y/N. Be honest. Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

And I always have a list ready.

“He’s insufferable.”

“He thinks being tall makes him superior.”

“He flirts with waitresses then tips like a grandpa.”

It’s become a bit. A running joke.

But the truth?

The truth is I don’t actually hate Heeseung.

I just never forgave him.

Not really.

Because back when we were fifteen, there was this one night — the kind you don’t really forget.

The kind you carry with you even when you’re trying hard not to.

It was warm out. Sticky, quiet. One of those summer nights where everything feels a little more honest.

We ended up in the treehouse behind my backyard — the one we used to play in when we were kids. It wasn’t planned. Just one of those things where I looked out the window and saw him pacing his driveway, and he looked up like he was waiting for me to.

So I went.

And we talked.

About things we didn’t talk about with anyone else.

His parents. My insecurities. Feeling stuck. Feeling… seen.

For a second — maybe longer — it felt like something changed.

Like maybe we weren’t just neighbors. Or childhood friends. Or that weird undefined space in between.

There was a pause.

A moment.

I swore he was going to kiss me.

He didn’t.

And that was fine, a little disappointing because I always wanted him to be my first kiss… but it was fine.

But the next day?

He ghosted.

No texts. No calls. No “you up?” late-night window knocks like usual. Just… nothing.

Avoided me at school. Like I had made everything up in my head.

So when my friend asked about it, I said it was nothing. Just a “weird night.”

I laughed it off. Pretended I didn’t care but I did.

Pretended it didn't hurt but it did.

I waited. I gave it a day. Then another. Then another.

And eventually, I got tired of waiting.

I kept thinking: Was I wrong? Did I imagine it?

Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him. Maybe I’d read it all wrong.

So I got angry. At him. At myself. At all of it.

Until one day….

Part 1 of full fic

🛏️ dm or comment to be tagged in the full fic!

[huskersbooze]

Who's in Control?

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1(here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Summary : You sold your soul to Alastor and had no idea how big of a deal this was. Until recently, you finally learn what it means, and realize all that Alastor had been doing was just a lie.. or was it?

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader, Huskerdust? (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : swear words

Additional Tags : Angst, miscommunication, misunderstandings, Alastor actually being nice?!, no use of (Y/n)

Ib : Who's in Control By Set It Off

Word count : 1.8k

"Good morning, dear."

"Morning, Al." You reach the lobby and take a seat on the floor next to Alastor's chair.

"How was your sleep, darling?"

"It was good! And yours?"

"Aha, hilarious, really. You know I don't sleep, my dear." He places a hand on your head and gives your hair a ruffle. "You really do know how to brighten my day."

The rest of the team reaches the lobby, and you all gather around for your daily dose of trust exercises.

-----

You and Alastor had been growing closer and closer ever since your arrival at the hotel. There was no doubt that he was your favourite person there.

And, well, for Alastor, he never wanted to admit it, but everyone in the hotel could tell, and even he was aware.

He was growing a soft-spot for you.

It was never supposed to be this way. He was never meant to grow attached. It just somehow happened, and that was that.

Everything between you two was going great. Except for that one little issue that bothered Alastor.. but you didn’t have to know. He never tried to abuse any of that power when he asked for your soul. He never thought of doing anything to you.

But there comes a time in every relationship where a lie can ruin it all.

“Hey, sugar. How ya’ doin’?” Angel Dust leans by the bar counter, greeting you as usual.

“I'm doing decent. Husk and I were just talking about you.”

“We were fuckin’ not!” You watch as the cat's ears twitch, the drink he was originally pouring tipping over.

“Oh, really? No need ta’ lie Husky~” You laugh at Angel's teasing, which makes Husk let out a low growl. “At least I don't gawk over a certain demon so obviously.”

“Hey! Are you talking about me and Al?”

“Who else would he be talkin’ about?” Angel tilts his head to the side, giving you a knowing glare. “Ya’ can't even deny it.”

“Al and I are just friends.”

“Kid, Angel's right.” The cat can only do so much but sigh. “You don't know him as well as I do. He treats you differently.”

“Still, we're just friends-”

“The Radio Demon doesn't do ‘friends’, kid.”

“Yeah, well, he owns my soul. Of course he'd treat me differently.”

The way it so simply came out of your mouth like it wasn't some big deal. Both Husker and Angel Dust froze in place, staring at you wide-eyed.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“What.. what did you just say?” The spider can hardly comprehend the news you'd just dropped.

“He owns my soul..?”

“Kid. What the actual fuck?!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?! Ya’ alright?! Are you hurt?”

You watch as the two demons skim your body up and down, firing questions at you, checking up to make sure you weren't hurt.

But you were confused.

“What's going on? Why are you guys suddenly acting so strange?”

“Wh- Why did you sell ya’ soul to him?!”

“Fuck I knew he was up to no good!”

“He told me by selling my soul to him he'd protect me from everything and anything at all cost. I didn't see a reason to decline?” You reply to Angel's question, ignoring Husk as he mutters about himself being correct. “I got nothing to lose.”

“Ya’ got everything to lose, shitass.” You hear his voice start to crack slightly as you realise tears welling up in his eyes.

“Angel?! Hey, what's wrong?”

“Damn, kid. You really don't know shit, huh?”

“About..?”

“What it means to sell your soul.”

“I know what it means, Al said-”

“Forget that fucker.” Husk practically spits out his name. “D'you know why I work here at the bar?”

“Because you like your job..?”

“No. It’s because I was forced by the person I sold my soul to.”

“Who..?”

“Hell, kid.. you really can't take a hint?”

And just like that, he says one more name, and your whole world comes tumbling down on you.

He didn't actually care for you, he was just shaping you in case you came to use.

He didn't actually enjoy your company, he was just watching you to make sure you were obedient.

He didn't actually mean any of the things he said. He was just trying to manipulate you.

And you were so damn lost. So damn lost as to whether the control and power you thought you had, really belonged to you.

“Valentino is an overlord.. and he's your boss?”

“Yup.” Angel nods.

“And he owns your soul like Al owns Husk’s?”

“Exactly.” Husk replies.

“And there's no escaping this contract..?”

“No.” The two reply together.

“Fuck.”

-----

“Greetings, my dear! How are you on this fine morning?” The static sounds from Alastor's usual seat at the lobby where you all gather every morning.

There's that usual smile etched on his face, which, you used to believe looked genuine when he was talking to you, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

“Hey, Husk. Hey, Angel.” You greet the two on the couch, completely passing by Alastor and ignoring his whole existence. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Angel scoots over and makes space for you to squeeze between Husk and himself. “Ya’ look like hell.”

“You alright, kid?”

“Couldn't sleep much last night, but I'm fine.” You reassure them.

The rest of the crew were a bit startled at your display, knowing well that you refused to not sit by Alastor's chair, normally.

And here you were, ignoring him completely like he was no longer relevant, and hanging with the other two demons.

“Okay.. what an interesting way to start the morning!” Charlie tries to break the ice.

Everyone turns their attention towards her.

Everyone but Alastor.

He was practically fuming with rage, anger, irritation, but yet, a tiny bit of worry.

How dare you ignore the Radio Demon like he was some piece of useless trash?

But then again.. why were you suddenly acting so cold and distant? What did he do wrong?

He couldn't help but focus his attention on you throughout the entire day, but you didn't even spare him a single glance.

Needless to say, you felt a knock on your door that night.

“Darling, how wonderful to see you! Wonderful, really. Mind if I come in?”

“A little. What do you need, Alastor?” You stand at the door frame, hand still on the door handle, prepared to slam the door in case anything happens.

Meanwhile, Alastor was pissed. You had never rejected inviting him in for late night chatting, in fact, you never rejected anything from him.

“It's nothing, really. I just hoped to have a friendly little chat with you, if that's alright?” Alastor leans down to your level, tilting his head and giving you his usual smile he reserved for you, and you only.

“A bit busy. Maybe next time.” You attempt to close the door, but a hand swoops in and, damn, was he strong.

“Dear, what seems to be the issue?”

“I’m really busy, Alastor.” You sigh. His ears twitch at the name. Where were all his sweet little nicknames? Why were you only referring to him by his full name?

“Clearly, something is wrong, and I ought to find out what I had done to deserve such treatment.” He states, making himself welcome in your room. “Talk to me, darling.”

“Oh enough with the pet names, I’m not your fucking pet.” You roll your eyes, closing the door behind you to make sure no one stumbles upon your little predicament.

Alastor stiffens, then laughs.

“Whatever are you talking about, dear? Of course you’re not my pet.”

“The damn contract says otherwise..” You watch as Alastor shifts uncomfortably, his back still facing you. “I should’ve known you just wanted another soul. Fuck you, Alastor.”

You continue on about how you never should’ve trusted him, and how you finally knew about everything so there was no point in him pretending to tolerate you.

Alastor, however, could barely process anything you were saying. He could hear his own static in his own head, and it was growing louder and louder.

What the fuck was happening? How did you know? What did he ever do? Where did he go wrong..?

“Darling, please.. You don’t understand-” The radio filter in his voice was off, his actual voice coming out as a soft plea.

Taken aback, you stopped talking. Alastor turned to face you, smile still etched high and proud, but his eyes looked like he was about to break.

“Alastor..” You murmur. “I just don’t think I can trust you anymore. I’m sorry.”

“When have I ever used any of that power on you?!” Alastor snaps, eyes darting all over the place, trying to find out what to do to fix all this. “I’ve been nothing but nice! I.. I helped you when you were in trouble! I did nothing to hurt you..”

You watch as Alastor starts losing his usual composure, having it slowly drifting away.. It was heartbreaking seeing him like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him and pretend nothing happened.

“It doesn’t matter when you’re in control..”

“No.. darling, no! You’re in control!” He scrambles, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Really? I’m not sure I trust any of that bullshit anymore.”

“Dear, please, listen to me..!”

“I'm sorry, Al.. I think it's best if you leave.”

He pauses.

“Have a good sleep, dear.” He says, voice filter completely off. It was a rare occasion getting to hear his sweet voice. Too bad it had to be under such circumstances.

-----

“Oh my, Alastor, what's got your ears pinned back?” Rosie leads her friend through the halls and has him take a seat opposite of her. “Is everything alright?”

“No.. no it's not.” He replies. “She found out.”

“About the deal?”

“No, Rosie. No.” He sighs. “She found out what selling her soul to me actually permits me.”

“But you never wanted to abuse that power, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, I'm assuming you didn't tell her?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

“Would it make a difference?" She could practically hear him scoff. "She's irritated at me as is. It's not like she'd even heed my words."

“Come, now, Alastor. You know as well as I that the sweetheart would listen.” Rosie tuts, waving a hand at him.

“She doesn't need to know how powerful she actually is.. she doesn't need to know her soul is being gambled this very second.”

Alastor sighs, getting up from his chair.

“Thank you for your kind words, Rosie. I shall take my leave now.”

“Take care, Alastor.” She smiles. “I'm sure she'll understand.”

“I surely hope you're correct."

———/ TBC. /———

READ PART 2 HERE

[paucubarsisimp]

Can you write for Phil Foden or Lando Norris (or Oscar Piastri), in fact the one you prefer. An imagine in which the reader is insecure about her small chest? If you're not comfortable with that, there's no problem (I'm specifying just in case, I'm not asking for anything smut)

Thank you if you do it and Good Luck for your exam 💕

more than enough

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: in which you’re insecure about your small chest

warnings: none

tagged: @madwolia, @barcapix, @universefcb, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: js a reminder that you’re all gorgeous 💋

the hotel room in monaco was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant noise of the city winding down for the night. oscar had barely put down his phone, but you were lost in your thoughts, the exhaustion from the race weekend settling into your bones. it was supposed to be a time to unwind, yet you couldn’t shake the discomfort crawling under your skin.

you sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in a blanket, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. your mind kept drifting back to the same nagging thought that had been consuming you for days—the one that always seemed to appear when you were around oscar’s world. your chest.

you had picked out a cute outfit earlier that day, one that usually made you feel confident, but now, in the dimly lit hotel room, you just felt small. flat. compared to the women you’d seen today—confident, busty, with curves that seemed to demand attention. you couldn’t help but feel invisible, like you were fading into the background.

oscar looked up from his phone, his gaze flickering to you with a soft frown. he had that look on his face—the one that meant he’d noticed you’d gone quiet, withdrawn, something bothering you. he set his phone down with a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours.

“hey,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “what’s going on? you’ve been zoning out all evening.”

you didn’t want to talk about it. not now, not here. you wanted to bury it deep and forget. but oscar’s quiet concern always had a way of drawing things out of you, no matter how hard you tried to hold them in. you shrugged, not meeting his eyes, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric of your shirt again.

“it’s nothing,” you muttered, but your voice gave you away. “just… i don’t know. i feel stupid. insecure. i guess i’m being ridiculous.”

oscar was immediately at your side, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. he gently placed his hand on your knee, leaning in slightly so you couldn’t avoid him.

“you’re not stupid,” he said softly, his voice rich with understanding. “but you’re not fooling me. something’s on your mind, love.”

you hesitated for a moment before you finally whispered, “it’s my chest. it’s… too small. i don’t know. i just feel… less.”

there was a beat of silence, and you could feel oscar���s gaze on you, the way he processed your words. his hand slid from your knee to your own, fingers brushing over your skin, offering comfort, but also a kind of heat that made your heart race for a different reason.

“what do you mean, ‘less’?” oscar asked, his voice low, but not unkind. “you’re anything but that. your body… it’s perfect.”

you shook your head, biting your lip in frustration, still not meeting his eyes. “but i’m not like the other women you’re around. they have… curves, you know? the kind of bodies that turn heads. i don’t even fill out a top properly.”

oscar’s hand moved up to your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his gaze. his thumb brushed over your lip softly, the touch sending a spark through you that only made the nerves grow worse.

“i can’t believe you think that,” he said, his voice quiet, yet full of something deeper—something raw. “it’s not about curves, sweetheart. it’s about you. i’ve never looked at anyone else the way i look at you.”

you felt a flush creep up your neck, but oscar didn’t let you look away. he took a breath, leaning in just a little closer, his face inches from yours. “you think i don’t notice how you make my heart race when you walk into a room?” he murmured, his lips just brushing against yours as he spoke. “or how i can’t stop thinking about the way you laugh… or the way your skin feels when i touch you?”

you swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. you hadn’t expected this, the heat building between you so suddenly, and it made the insecurities feel… different. not gone, but quieter. less significant.

“but i’m nothing like—”

oscar cut you off with a kiss, soft and gentle at first, his lips brushing over yours with a tenderness that made you forget everything else. when he pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with something unspoken, something that made you feel desired in a way you hadn’t expected.

“sweetheart,” he breathed, his hand slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. “i’m not talking about anyone else. you are what makes me crazy. the way you feel in my arms, the way you look when you’re thinking too hard about something. i don’t care about anything else. it’s you who’s always on my mind.”

you were close now, close enough to feel the warmth of his body against yours, his hand sliding up your back to the nape of your neck. your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in again, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“your chest is perfect, just like the rest of you,” oscar murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i don’t need anything more. i just need you. you’ve always been more than enough.”

you shivered as his words sank in, the way his lips brushed your skin, sending a heat through you that made you forget all about the insecurities you’d been carrying around. oscar pulled back slightly, looking at you with a smirk that was both reassuring and a little daring.

“you’re so damn beautiful, it drives me insane,” he said, his hand resting on your side, his fingers grazing lightly against your skin. “and i’m gonna make sure you know it, every single day.”

the intensity of his gaze, the heat between you, made you feel a little dizzy, but in a way that felt right. it was like the self-doubt had melted away under his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like the most important person in the world.

“oscar…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “are you sure? i mean… i’m really not—”

he silenced you with another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn’t wait another second to prove how much he meant it. his hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer, making you feel seen. wanted.

“i’m sure,” he said, his lips still against yours, his voice rough with sincerity. “you’re more than enough. always have been.”

the moment hung between you, both of you breathless, and you couldn’t help but believe him. maybe you didn’t need to be like everyone else. maybe, just maybe, this—you—was enough.

[kyunghwannie]

"Second Chances" (Part:1)

Yoo Jeongyeon x M!Reader

➤Genre: Romance, Smut, Second Chances in Love, Slight and minor little angst(?)

➤Tags: It's just fluffy lovemaking (Still a smut though)

➤Teaser: Losing the one you loved doesn’t mean you can't find that love in someone else. Because you certainly changed her mind about that. (A/n: Small rant: I hate the 1000 Block limit)

Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

Scene: Jeongyeon’s House – Late Afternoon

The sun peeked through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft orange hue across the modest living room. Toys were scattered here and there—plastic dinosaurs, crayons without caps, a half-built LEGO tower leaning like it was exhausted too.

Jeongyeon stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a pot simmering quietly on the stove. She stirred out of habit more than need, her eyes drifting toward the living room where her five-year-old son was sprawled out on the carpet, deeply engrossed in a cartoon.

There was peace in this routine. And a quiet loneliness she didn’t talk about.

"You should really get a dishwasher," came Nayeon’s voice from behind as she leaned against the kitchen counter, munching on a baby carrot she’d stolen from the fridge.

Jeongyeon didn’t even flinch. "You should really stop showing up uninvited."

"Please. You’d miss me if I didn’t." Nayeon smirked, tossing a piece of carrot toward Jeongyeon, who dodged it with the grace of someone who’d been friends with her too long.

"Don’t encourage her," Jihyo chimed in as she stepped through the front door, holding a bag of groceries. "You know how she gets when she's bored."

Jeongyeon shot both women a tired look but smiled anyway. "You two act like you don’t have lives of your own."

"We do," Jihyo said cheerfully, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. "But this is more fun."

"Intervention, actually," Nayeon added, brushing imaginary lint from her jeans. "We came for a mission."

Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow. "A mission."

"Operation: You-Need-To-Get-Laid," Nayeon said with zero shame and both hands in the air like she was announcing a game show prize.

Jeongyeon blinked slowly. "You’re unbelievable."

"No, she’s just observant," Jihyo defended, lifting out a bottle of wine and setting it aside like a prop. "And she’s right. When was the last time you went out just for yourself? No kid. No work. Just... Jeongyeon."

There was a pause. Jeongyeon stirred the soup again, slower this time.

"It’s been five years, hasn’t it?" Nayeon asked, her tone softening. "Since he passed."

Jeongyeon didn’t answer, but the shift in her posture said enough.

"You’re still young, Jeong," Jihyo said gently. "You deserve more than just bedtime stories and reheated soup."

From the living room, her son let out a laugh—small, pure, and full of joy. Jeongyeon’s lips curled into a faint smile.

"He’s enough."

"He’s your whole world, we know," Nayeon replied, stepping closer. "But you’re still part of that world too. You can’t forget yourself forever."

Jeongyeon met her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t push the thought away instantly.

Jeongyeon leaned against the counter, arms crossed now, as if trying to shield herself from the invisible pull of their words.

"I'm serious, guys," she said, though her voice was softer. "I’m not ready for... anything like that."

"No one's asking you to marry a stranger," Nayeon replied, leaning her hip on the counter, voice smooth. "We just want you to remember what it feels like to be noticed. To laugh with someone new. To look at a man and know he’s looking right back at you—not because you're a mom, or a widow... but because you're you."

Jeongyeon’s throat tightened. She looked away, but Jihyo stepped into her line of sight, eyes shining—not with pity, but with affection.

"You're still beautiful, Jeong," Jihyo whispered. "You still deserve to feel adored."

"You act like I’ve turned into a ghost," Jeongyeon mumbled with a light chuckle, trying to defuse the weight in the air.

"You act like you’re not the most effortlessly stunning person in any room you walk into," Nayeon shot back, flashing her a look. "Do you know what it’s like watching men glance your way when we go shopping? Or that barista last week who practically melted handing you that latte?"

"He spilled milk on his own shoe," Jeongyeon said dryly.

"Exactly," Nayeon grinned. "You're still magnetic. But you’ve locked all that charm away like it’s a sin."

Jihyo stepped closer, voice softer now—more persuasive than pushy.

"We’re not trying to push you into anything," she said, gently taking Jeongyeon's hand. "But tonight... let yourself just exist. No titles. No expectations. Just Jeongyeon. Let her breathe a little."

"Let her dance," Nayeon added, her eyes twinkling. "Let her flirt. Hell, let her be kissed."

Jeongyeon held back a smile, but it flickered at the corner of her lips. The warmth in the room shifted, like the wind had changed direction.

"And if something... or someone... catches your eye," Jihyo said, squeezing her hand, "you don’t have to run from it. You’re allowed to want more."

"More what?" Jeongyeon asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nayeon stepped beside her and whispered with a teasing smile, "More smiles. More sparks. Maybe... more hands in your hair and whispers in your ear. You know. The good kind."

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, but she was laughing now—and the laugh sounded like a piece of her long buried under grief had peeked out again.

"You two are dangerous."

"No," Jihyo said, tugging her toward the hallway. "We’re your best friends."

"And tonight," Nayeon added, already flinging open Jeongyeon’s closet, "we're your fairy godmothers. Now go shower. You're not wearing those mom jeans to meet your destiny."

As Nayeon tore through outfit after outfit, tossing half of Jeongyeon’s closet onto the bed with theatrical grunts, Jihyo remained quiet—just watching her best friend with that knowing, grounded look only she ever truly mastered.

Jeongyeon sat on the edge of her bed, arms limp at her sides, her smile from earlier fading into something more solemn. She stared out the window, watching the sun dip lower, as if uncertain whether she should let the night arrive.

"You know what this feels like?" she said softly. "Like I’m betraying him."

The room stilled. Even Nayeon froze mid-blouse toss, her arms half-raised.

"Jeong..." Jihyo said carefully, stepping forward.

"I know you two mean well," Jeongyeon continued, not looking at them. "But every time I think about putting on a dress, or letting someone flirt with me, I see his face. And it hurts. It makes me feel like I’m choosing someone else over him."

Her voice trembled on the last word.

And that’s when Jihyo stepped in—slowly, purposefully—and knelt in front of her.

"You’re not choosing someone else over him," she said, taking Jeongyeon’s hand. "You’d be choosing someone because of him."

Jeongyeon blinked, eyes glossing.

"You remember that letter he wrote?" Jihyo asked gently. "The one you let us read that night after the funeral... when the baby was just a few months old?"

Jeongyeon swallowed hard.

"I remember."

"Then you remember what he said in the last paragraph," Jihyo pressed, squeezing her hand. "That he didn’t want to be the reason you stopped living. That if you ever found someone who made your heart skip again... someone who could hold your hand when things get quiet and the grief comes creeping back... he wanted you to take it. Take the chance."

Jeongyeon’s lips parted like she might speak—but no words came.

"That’s not betrayal, Jeong," Jihyo said softly. "That’s honoring him. He gave you permission to keep loving. Because he knew you’d have so much of it left after he was gone."

Nayeon slowly walked over, holding a soft navy dress in her hands—simple, elegant, understated.

"You’re not forgetting him," she said, her voice quiet for once. "You’re just remembering yourself."

A silence settled, deep and meaningful. Then finally—after what felt like a century—Jeongyeon exhaled.

Long. Shaky.

And nodded.

"Okay."

Nayeon’s eyes widened. "Okay?!"

Jeongyeon smiled, this time with something lighter in her chest. "Okay. I’ll go."

"Girl, you better—!" Nayeon squealed, rushing forward and throwing the dress into Jeongyeon’s lap.

"But if I end up in the news for kicking some sleazy guy’s shin," Jeongyeon warned, pointing at them, "I’m blaming both of you."

"Please. With that face, that voice, and those legs? They’ll be the ones crawling to you," Nayeon grinned.

Jihyo chuckled. "Let’s just get her ready before she changes her mind."

The navy dress was gently set aside as Nayeon sprang to her feet with a dramatic gasp.

"No, no—wait! I just remembered something better."

Jeongyeon blinked. "Better than that?"

Nayeon darted out of the room like a storm on heels, yelling from the hallway,

"Jihyo, remember that vintage dress we got on that impulse shopping trip last year? The one we said Jeong would never agree to wear?"

Jihyo's eyes lit up. "The polka dot one with the pleats and the bow?!"

"Yes!! Get the steamer ready!"

Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, skeptical but too exhausted to argue.

"You two are acting like I’m about to walk a red carpet."

Jihyo shot her a look. "You’re walking into a bar with us. That’s our red carpet."

Moments later, Nayeon returned, dress draped over her arms like she was presenting a priceless treasure.

"Tada!" she beamed.

Jeongyeon’s eyes widened. It was beautiful—more than she expected. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, the light beige and dark green tones catching her breath. Black polka dots danced across it with just enough flair to be playful. Ruffles framed the front and sleeves, not in an overpowering way, but enough to make a statement. The bowtie neckline sat just beneath the striped high collar, all wrapped up in vintage sophistication.

"You seriously expect me to wear that?" Jeongyeon asked, eyeing the sheer sleeves and dark green pleated panels along the sides.

"I expect you to wear it and make men cry," Nayeon replied proudly.

After a few playful protests and a whole lot of laughter, Jeongyeon found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror, now dressed—unrecognizably so.

Nayeon was behind her, carefully working on her hair. A few elegant twists, pinned and tucked, turned her soft brown strands into a messy updo, with a couple wispy tendrils curling by her cheeks and ears. A faint spritz of floral mist hung in the air.

"I look..."

Jeongyeon didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t.

Jihyo, sitting on the edge of the bed, gave her a soft, satisfied smile. "Like a woman who deserves to be loved again."

"You’re not just a mom," Nayeon added, tying the bow around Jeongyeon’s collar. "You’re still you. And tonight, we want the world to remember that too."

Jeongyeon looked at herself in the mirror. The dress, the hair, the gentle blush of makeup across her cheeks—it was like seeing a memory of someone she used to be, but now stronger, wiser... ready to feel again.

And in her chest, something fluttered. Not fear. Not guilt.

Something closer to hope.

The sound of the front door creaking open was followed by a sudden thud and a loud:

"AUNTY CHAEYOUNG!"

A flurry of small footsteps galloped across the hallway tiles before Jeongyeon’s son, Minjae, launched himself toward the door like a mini cannonball. The boy’s squeal of excitement echoed through the house.

"I’m here! I’m here! I brought snacks, I brought games, and—yes—I brought slime!" Chaeyoung’s voice rang out with chaotic energy, right before Minjae practically tackled her knees.

"SLIME?!" he gasped in awe, his voice bouncing with uncontainable joy.

"Shhh! Indoor voices, tiny human," Chaeyoung teased, ruffling his hair before tossing her oversized tote bag onto the couch.

She crouched down to his level, holding up two fists like she was unveiling treasure.

"Okay, tonight’s options: galaxy slime, or... glow-in-the-dark dinosaur goo. Choose wisely, young warrior."

Minjae’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "BOTH!"

"Wrong answer," Chaeyoung grinned, scooping him up and spinning him once. "But I like your spirit!"

From the hallway, Nayeon called out,

"Don’t spoil him too much or he’s going to start thinking you’re the fun mom!"

Chaeyoung peeked around the corner with Minjae clinging to her like a backpack.

"I am the fun mom. Just ask him."

Minjae stuck his tongue out at his actual mother. "She lets me eat ice cream before dinner!"

Jeongyeon stepped into the living room, her arms crossed—but a smile tugging at her lips.

"And that’s why I said no sugar tonight, Son Chae."

"Relax, I brought sugar-free fruit snacks. I’m not trying to turn him into a raccoon," Chaeyoung said with faux offense, setting Minjae down gently. The boy immediately ran toward the kitchen, yelling something about showing her his new toy spaceship.

As soon as he disappeared, Chaeyoung walked over to Jeongyeon, her eyes traveling up and down with impressed delight.

"Whoa."

"What?" Jeongyeon asked, fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress.

Chaeyoung gave a slow whistle. "I didn’t know we were sending royalty to the bar. Who are you and what did you do with Minjae’s mom?"

Jeongyeon flushed. "I feel ridiculous."

"You look beautiful," Chaeyoung said sincerely, placing a hand on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. "Like... vintage Chanel magazine-cover beautiful."

"I told you!" Nayeon shouted from the kitchen, grabbing a juice box for Minjae.

Jihyo appeared behind her, holding Jeongyeon's coat like a fashion stylist on standby.

"Honestly, if you don’t get hit on at least twice tonight, I’m filing a complaint with the universe."

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"You three are too much."

"You’ve been ‘too little’ for too long," Nayeon murmured, her voice softening.

Chaeyoung caught the tone and stepped back, giving them their moment. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure this little whirlwind is fed, washed, and not jumping off furniture. Go be hot, have fun, and come back with a mysterious story I can pretend to believe."

Jeongyeon turned to her, gaze grateful. "Thank you, really. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable leaving him with anyone else."

Chaeyoung smiled. "Hey, he’s my favorite human under four feet. You deserve one night where your name isn’t ‘Mommy.’"

Minjae came running back, clutching his spaceship in one hand and a crayon in the other. "Aunty Chae! Look, I made him a jetpack! Wanna help me draw fire?"

Chaeyoung dropped to the floor like it was her natural habitat. "Let’s make it explode!"

As Minjae giggled and dove onto the living room rug with her, Jeongyeon stood watching for a moment. The sound of her son's laughter, the softness in the air, the gentle tug of her ruffled dress—it all swirled into a moment of stillness in her heart.

Maybe... just maybe... tonight could be a good thing.

Maybe she was ready to feel something new.

The car engine purred to life as Jihyo pulled out of Jeongyeon's driveway, the city lights starting to flicker in the distance like they were winking at them.

Jeongyeon sat in the passenger seat, her hands clutched around her purse like it was a lifeline. In the backseat, Nayeon had already kicked off her heels and was cranking up the volume on the car stereo.

“Okay, I need to set the tone for tonight,” Nayeon announced. “We’re not going out with the ghost of Jeongyeon’s past clinging to her ruffles. We’re going out with her future sitting on her neckline like a damn diamond.”

Jihyo laughed. “Preach, Sister Pastor.”

Jeongyeon turned with a sigh. “I didn’t even want to come out in the first place, you maniacs.”

“And yet,” Nayeon drawled, sliding forward to point at Jeongyeon’s legs, “those silky stockings say otherwise. Don’t lie to us with your mouth when your calves are giving single-but-open-to-fun.”

“She’s right,” Jihyo added, grinning as she switched lanes. “Your dress says Downtown Abbey, but your eyes say Downtown Daddy.”

Jeongyeon groaned, covering her face. “Why did I let you two do this to me?”

Nayeon reached forward and gently tugged at the bowtie at Jeongyeon’s neck. “Because deep down, under all that ‘Mom Mode,’ there’s still a woman who misses feeling wanted. Touched. Adored. You don’t have to marry someone tonight, Jeong. Just remember what it feels like to be the center of someone’s attention.”

Jihyo nodded, voice softening. “You were always the quiet beauty. The kind people don’t forget. You didn’t stop being that just because life got hard.”

Jeongyeon didn’t reply for a moment, staring out the window as streetlights brushed across her face in a golden rhythm.

“He really wanted this for me,” she murmured.

“Who?” Jihyo asked gently.

“My husband.” Jeongyeon smiled faintly. “He left me a letter. Said he knew I’d bury myself in motherhood and grief. Told me I deserved to smile again. Even if that smile came from someone else.”

The car fell into a still silence.

Even Nayeon, who was rarely quiet, simply leaned forward and rested a hand on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Then tonight... we honor him by letting you feel alive again.”

Jeongyeon swallowed hard, blinking away the unexpected sting behind her lashes. “God. Why do you two have to make me cry right before I walk into a bar?”

“Don’t worry,” Nayeon smirked. “If your mascara runs, just cry on some hot guy’s shirt. Works every time.”

“I’m not you.”

“No one is.” Nayeon leaned back smugly. “But tonight? You’re my protégé. Mama Bunny’s teaching you how to flirt again.”

“I don’t need flirting lessons.”

“You haven’t flirted in five years, Jeongyeon. That’s like... 35 in Flirt Years. You're practically a fossil.”

“Then you’re my fossil friends dragging me into extinction.”

Jihyo cracked up, slapping the steering wheel. “Shut up, that was actually good.”

“See?” Nayeon grinned, reaching over the seat to nudge Jeongyeon’s arm. “The sass is returning. She’s back, baby.”

“Halfway back,” Jeongyeon muttered. “Still feel like vomiting.”

“Totally normal,” Jihyo replied. “That’s just your body rebooting its hot-girl system. Happens to all of us after a dry spell.”

Nayeon tapped on her phone and held it up as a familiar beat filled the car.

“Okay. Final prep song. Cue confidence.”

The unmistakable bass of Doja Cat’s “Woman” flooded the car, and Nayeon howled.

“JEONGYEON, CLAIM YOUR INNER GODDESS!”

As the beat picked up, Jeongyeon couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth as her two best friends screamed lyrics and danced like lunatics in a moving vehicle. It was wild. Ridiculous. Loud.

But it was also warm.

It was home.

And somewhere between the thumping bass and the city lights growing brighter, Jeongyeon realized...

Maybe she was ready.

Meanwhile…

You tug your jacket over your shoulders and slide into the driver’s seat of your modest but clean car, the scent of worn leather and fresh air settling into your lungs like a balm.

The key turns. The engine hums awake.

It’s been a good day. A quietly fulfilling one.

Not loud. Not thrilling. But the kind that leaves a gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips—like something inside you has finally exhaled.

“Alright,” you mumble to no one in particular, eyes on the soft orange hues bleeding into the horizon. “Just a drink. A soft seat. And a little music.”

It wasn’t about meeting someone. It never was.

You weren’t dressed like a man on the hunt—no cologne, no sharp-cut blazer, no coldblooded swagger. Just a loose button-up rolled to the elbows, slightly tousled hair from the breeze, and a book still sitting in the passenger seat like your most loyal companion.

The city moved around you like a lazy river. Headlights flickered past. Some couple laughed on a sidewalk. A dog barked in the distance.

You tapped your fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the faint hum of jazz spilling from the radio.

You weren’t rugged. Or overpowering. There was nothing loud in your presence.

But people noticed you.

The way your eyes lingered just a second longer on a moment. How your words seemed like they were chosen from a shelf of poetry instead of a bin of clichés. How you smiled like you’d seen heartbreak... and forgiven it.

You were the type that women remembered long after forgetting the names of men who shouted for their attention.

“Peace and a pint,” you muttered, parking outside a small tucked-away bar you’d passed a dozen times but never entered.

It didn’t look wild.

It looked... right.

Dim lights. Soft music. A little warmth spilling from its windows like it knew you needed it.

You stepped out, closed the door gently behind you, and with one hand tucked into your pocket, walked in like a breeze—not a storm.

There was no story waiting for you inside.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But the universe doesn’t always ask your permission before writing the next chapter.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in the dimly lit parking lot behind the bar, the neon glow from the front sign casting flickers of amber light across the windshield. Inside, the music was muffled, more like a heartbeat than a song.

Jihyo popped the door open first, stepping out in sleek heels with a casual grace. She took a moment to stretch, arms overhead, as if preparing for battle.

“Alright, ladies,” she announced like a general. “Tonight, the mission is clear: make Jeongyeon remember that she is hot, wanted, and not a ghost living in a Victorian novel.”

“Says the woman who brought two backup dancers to a low-key bar,” Jeongyeon muttered, but her lips were already twitching upward as Nayeon rounded the car.

“Backup dancers?” Nayeon scoffed, flicking her hair dramatically as she shut the passenger door. “Please. We’re the main act. You’re the special guest star. Mystery. Vintage. Forbidden fruit. You're like... emotional Dior.”

Jeongyeon laughed, trying to suppress it, but Nayeon knew that tone was a win. She circled her arm around Jeong’s and looked her up and down.

“No but seriously, this dress is insane on you.”

“It's... weird. I haven’t dressed up like this in years,” Jeongyeon admitted, smoothing the pleats near her hip, feeling the way the silky fabric clung and flowed. “I look like a time traveler who got stuck in the wrong decade.”

“Yeah, the decade where she was the heartbreaker every poet cried over,” Jihyo added, meeting them at the back of the car. “The messy updo? The ruffles? The bow? Jeong, you’re walking cinematic tension. Men will write songs after this.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jeongyeon’s voice was quieter now. The nerves were creeping back in, her thumb grazing her ring finger out of habit. “I don’t want to be anyone’s song. I just... want to have a night where I’m not ‘Mom’ or ‘Mrs. Yoo.’”

The air turned softer. Nayeon’s grip on her arm loosened but didn’t let go.

“Then that’s all this night has to be.”

“And if something more comes along,” Jihyo added, nudging her side with a wink, “that’s just... dessert.”

Jeongyeon glanced at the warm glow leaking from the bar windows. Inside, she could hear laughter. Glasses clinking. A low hum of music and life.

She hadn’t felt part of something like that in... years.

Not since her world became smaller. Quieter. Not since everything good she had felt like it belonged to someone else first—her son, her job, her memories.

Tonight, maybe she’d belong to herself again.

“Okay,” she said softly, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s go inside before I change my mind.”

“Too late.” Nayeon grinned. “Operation: Jeongyeon Glows begins now.”

And just like that, the door to the bar opened with a low chime.

Unaware, just a few feet away, someone else had walked in not long ago—quietly, gently, without expectation.

The door swung open with the soft chime of a bell overhead, spilling warm golden light into the cool evening air. The three women stepped inside, and immediately, the world outside melted away.

It wasn’t what Jeongyeon expected.

No pounding bass. No crowds grinding against each other. No headache-inducing neon. Instead, there was soft jazz laced with the occasional acoustic cover floating through the air. Amber pendant lights hung low over dark wooden tables. Shelves lined with books and vintage record covers adorned the walls. And in the far corner, a modest bar glowed with the gentle flicker of candlelight and a smiling bartender polishing glasses like a movie character who probably had sage advice.

Jeongyeon slowed her steps, eyes scanning the space with open surprise.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered, a low whistle slipping from her lips. “You two really didn’t bring me to a hookup factory.”

Nayeon gave a knowing smirk. “You thought we’d dump you in some club with twenty-year-olds doing body shots?”

“Yes,” Jeongyeon deadpanned. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Jihyo giggled beside her, slipping off her coat as she surveyed the scene like she owned it. “This place has an energy. Like... slow-burning romance. Or whispered secrets.”

“Or freshly-divorced writers meeting strangers who buy them tea,” Nayeon added, pointing to a pair in the corner, laughing quietly over what looked like a plate of shared fries.

“That’s oddly specific,” Jeongyeon muttered as they approached an empty table near the window, tucked just enough into the shadows to feel cozy.

“Point is,” Jihyo said, sliding into her seat, “we picked this place because it felt like... you. Not some version of you we think should exist. The actual you. The real Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon paused before sitting, fingers brushing over the back of the chair. That simple statement... it settled deep. Like honey stirred into tea.

She looked around again. The quiet laughter. The clinking of soft drinks and wines. The music drifting through the space like it had nowhere else to be.

It didn’t feel like a bar.

It felt like possibility.

She sat down slowly, exhaling in a way she hadn’t done in months.

“I like it here,” she admitted.

Nayeon reached across the table and took her hand for a second, squeezing it. “We knew you would.”

Jeongyeon sat in the soft velvet seat, letting herself settle into the unfamiliar comfort. The place still wrapped around her like a new coat—foreign, but warming fast.

The low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the flickering candlelight on the table—it all created an atmosphere that felt suspended in time. She watched the way people leaned in a little closer here, spoke a little softer, smiled a little slower.

It was…intimate. Not in the way that begged for rushed romance or one-night blurs. It was the kind of intimacy built from noticing—the small details, the pauses between sentences, the second glances.

“You good?” Nayeon asked, chin propped on her palm.

“Mm-hmm,” Jeongyeon replied absently, eyes drifting across the bar. “It’s... peaceful. Not what I expected. But in a good way.”

“You look like you’re actually thinking of relaxing,” Jihyo teased with a smile. “Careful, or we’ll think you're enjoying this.”

Jeongyeon chuckled, rolling her eyes before standing. “I’ll grab us some drinks. My treat.”

“Ooh, responsible and generous,” Nayeon smirked. “You really are a catch, Jeongie.”

“Shut up,” Jeongyeon muttered, brushing her fingers through her loosely styled updo as she made her way toward the bar.

The floors creaked softly beneath her boots, the scent of old wood and citrusy cocktails mingling in the air. She wasn’t in a hurry—just letting herself drift between thoughts and the ambiance.

And then—

Thump.

She bumped into something—or someone—solid yet warm.

Her balance tilted, just slightly. Enough to send a quick flutter of panic through her chest, until—

A hand caught her arm. Gentle. Firm.

Steadying.

You.

You looked down at her, brows lifted in gentle surprise, the corners of your lips pulled into the beginnings of a smile.

"Oh—careful," you murmured, your voice a soft lilt, calm and melodic. "You alright?"

Her breath caught.

Not because she was hurt. But because—god—who the hell did she just bump into?

And across the room, Nayeon’s elbow met Jihyo’s ribs.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her eyes laser-focused on the scene.

“Did Jeongyeon just bump into some novel protagonist level man?”

Jihyo blinked once, then again.

“Is he glowing?”

“He might be glowing.”

They both leaned slightly forward, drinks forgotten, curiosity taking full control.

Jeongyeon, meanwhile, blinked up at you, stunned into silence for a beat too long.

"I—uh, I’m okay. Sorry," she finally managed, her voice laced with that involuntary softness that came from being caught off guard.

Your hand lingered just a second longer on her arm, not presumptuous—just enough to make sure she was stable.

"No harm done," you smiled again. "You’ve got the kind of entrance people write about, though."

And that was it.

Something shifted. In the air. In her chest. In the quiet way her fingers curled inward when you let go.

She didn’t even notice Nayeon and Jihyo staring like they were watching the start of a drama they didn’t know they’d been waiting for.

You didn’t move just yet.

Your fingers slid away from her arm slowly, respectfully, and your head tilted just a little as your eyes met hers—curious, but warm. There wasn’t a trace of urgency in your gaze, nor anything predatory. Just... wonder. The kind of wonder reserved for art you didn’t expect to find hanging quietly in a forgotten hallway.

And then you said it.

Soft. Clear.

"You’re... stunning."

Jeongyeon blinked.

There was no smirk behind your words. No suggestive lean-in. No glance downward or over her shoulder. Your compliment wasn’t aimed at the shape of her or the dress she wore. It was aimed at her.

The energy she gave. The quiet grace. The way she stood there, framed in polka dots and soft light, still a little dazed from the bump, still grounded by your presence.

"There’s something about your aura," you added, voice as smooth as old vinyl on a rainy night. "It’s peaceful… like you’ve lived through a lot, but it didn’t break you. It just made you glow differently."

Her lips parted. Nothing came out.

What the hell do you even say to that?

Across the room, Nayeon nearly spilled her cocktail as she leaned into Jihyo’s shoulder with a giddy squeal.

“Jeongie’s blushing.”

“That’s not a blush, that’s a slow emotional meltdown,” Jihyo whispered, her eyes wide with delight.

“He’s like a soft-spoken Miyazaki character—with a jawline."

Jeongyeon felt the heat on her cheeks rise. This wasn’t a line. She knew lines. She could sniff them from ten feet away. But this? This was… disarming.

“Thank you,” she said, quieter than she meant to, eyes searching yours as if trying to find where the strings were hidden.

There were none.

Your smile remained, gentle and easy.

You didn’t reach for her again. You didn’t push. You simply looked at her like someone who’d bumped into beauty and couldn’t help but say so.

Back at the table, Nayeon elbowed Jihyo again.

“This is it. Push her. Go.”

“Push her where?” Jihyo whispered, still entranced.

“To the bar. To him. Push her into fate!”

“You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Jihyo gave her a look—and then stood.

She approached with all the grace of a seasoned general in stilettos, catching Jeongyeon’s eye and mouthing something quick and quiet:

“Get drinks. With him. We’re watching.”

Jeongyeon’s brows shot up in panic, but her mouth betrayed her with a small, flustered smile.

She opened her mouth like she had something to say… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“W-Would you… maybe—want to sit? A drink? With me, I mean? Just—if you’re not busy.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the bowtie near her collar as she said it. Her voice wasn’t the smooth, commanding tone she used when managing a house, calming a child, or brushing off small talk. This voice… was shy, unsure, yet blooming with something that hadn’t stirred in years.

You let out a warm, air-soft chuckle—not at her, but in gentle amusement. She was adorable in the way a spring bloom is after a long frost—uncertain, but undeniably vibrant.

“I’d love that,” you said with a small nod.

Then, you made no move to lead. You let her take the lead.

Her hand gestured toward a more secluded two-seater table, half-tucked near the warm golden light of a wall lamp. The bar buzzed with a calm hum of conversations and clinking glass, but this little corner? It might as well have been its own world.

She sat first, a little stiff. You took the other seat slowly, giving her time to adjust to this unfamiliar gravity between you both.

You smiled again—this time introducing yourself, voice gentle like you were speaking not just to her ears, but to the hesitation in her chest.

“I’m L/N Y/N.”

You didn’t add more. No title. No job. No posturing. Just… a name. Like it was an offering.

She nodded, her fingers still lightly fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

“Jeongyeon.”

Then, like realizing how dry that sounded, she added quickly,

“Sorry, that was—Just. Jeongyeon.”

You smiled deeper, folding your hands on the table as you leaned in just enough to show you were fully present, fully listening.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She looked down at her hands for a second… then smiled. That rare smile—the one people wear when something inside them dares to believe they’re still allowed to be noticed. Desired. Human.

Meanwhile, Nayeon and Jihyo, a few tables down and half-hidden behind a tall potted plant, were peeking like teenagers watching the first episode of a drama they instantly knew they’d binge.

“He said her name like it meant something,” Jihyo whispered, stunned.

“If she doesn’t marry him by winter, I’ll do it myself,” Nayeon muttered, sipping dramatically from her drink.

You didn’t rush anything. The moment had a rhythm of its own, and you let it breathe.

Jeongyeon sat across from you with a polite posture, one hand resting on the stem of her drink, the other slightly curled in her lap. But her eyes—they searched yours like they couldn’t decide whether to retreat or lean in.

You leaned forward slightly, just enough to make your voice feel closer.

“You know… you carry a kind of stillness with you.”

Her brows arched.

“Stillness?”

“Yeah,” you said, with a soft smile. “Not silence. Not distance. Just… something quiet and strong. Like you’ve been through storms, but never let them take away your sun.”

Her lips parted, the compliment slipping into her like warmth after a cold breeze.

“That’s… oddly poetic.”

You tilted your head with a small grin.

“I like finding poetry in people. Especially ones who don’t realize how much of it they carry.”

Jeongyeon chuckled—really chuckled—and something about it loosened the stiffness in her shoulders.

“That’s new,” she said, brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Usually when I get approached, it’s a ‘You look like you’ve got secrets’ or ‘Are you a model from the 80s?’”

“Oh no, definitely not from the 80s,” you teased, your eyes gleaming. “Maybe timeless. Or someone who looks like they stepped out of an old French film, wearing ruffles and stealing hearts with one uncertain smile.”

Her hand flew to cover her mouth, half from laughing, half from surprise at how easily your words slipped under her skin.

“Are you like this with every woman you meet?” she asked playfully, narrowing her eyes with a tiny smirk.

“Only when they make me forget I came here alone,” you answered, sincere, no pause in your tone.

Her fingers tightened slightly on her glass, but her gaze didn’t turn away. She wasn’t used to this—being looked at like she was more than just a pretty face, more than a passing interest.

You gently asked, “So… Jeongyeon. What makes you laugh when the world’s heavy?”

That question. It surprised her. She looked away briefly, then back, and something in her shifted. The part that had been locked behind grief, behind duty, behind years of putting herself last.

“My kid,” she said quietly. “He’s… five. And wild. Like a spark that just never dies out.”

You leaned in slightly.

“He sounds like someone who inherited that spark from you.”

She smiled—this time without hesitation.

And she continued. Talking about her son's obsession with dinosaurs, his habit of making up bedtime stories, how he once dressed as a ‘superhero doctor chef’ because he couldn’t pick just one career. You listened with real curiosity, eyes steady, head tilted occasionally, a soft smile gracing your face like you were learning the story of your new favorite book.

Her guard melted more with each passing minute.

And somewhere between her laughing about her son drawing on the walls with jam, and you sharing a story about how you once tried to "fix" your microwave with YouTube tutorials and nearly blew the kitchen up—Jeongyeon… relaxed.

She leaned her elbows on the table. She played with her straw absentmindedly. She met your gaze without flinching.

The soft hum of conversation and mellow jazz threaded through the bar like silk, gentle and soothing. The lights above cast a golden warmth on the table between you two, but Jeongyeon hadn’t spoken for a moment.

Not since she noticed it.

You hadn’t flinched when she said “my kid.”

You hadn’t leaned back, blinked rapidly, asked, “Wait, you have a child?”

You hadn’t done what every other man she’d met over the years had done—turn that curious sparkle into retreat.

She turned her glass slowly in her hands, watching the condensation bead down its side. And then, after a quiet beat, her voice came out gentle but testing.

“You didn’t react.”

You glanced at her.

“To what?”

“When I said I have a kid.”

You tilted your head, a small, curious smile playing on your lips.

“Was I supposed to?”

She hesitated. Then offered a dry, self-aware shrug. “Most do. Some ask how old. Most don’t ask anything. They just politely excuse themselves. Or they stay… but you can see it in their eyes. That they already checked out.”

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms loosely on the table. Not defensively. But comfortably. Like you were settling in to listen to something important.

“A woman like you,” you said softly, “doesn’t walk into a bar like this alone unless something’s changed. A woman with a child wouldn’t come here on a whim—not unless there was someone to trust the child with. And not unless… maybe she needed to breathe again.”

You paused. Met her eyes fully.

“So I figured. Either you’ve parted ways with the man you had him with… or…”

You trailed off—not out of fear, but respect. Leaving space. Letting her choose.

Jeongyeon exhaled slowly. Something flickered across her face—recognition… and permission. She didn’t even realize how tightly she’d been gripping the ruffles of her sleeve until she let go.

“He passed.” Her voice didn’t break. Just softened. “Five years ago. Illness.”

Your expression didn’t shift into pity. Not the patronizing kind, anyway. Just a stillness. Reverence.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “That must’ve been a cruel weight. Especially right after bringing life into the world.”

She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and reflection.

“He knew.” She smiled faintly, not bitterly. “We didn’t talk about it much, but he knew he didn’t have long. He was sick before I even got pregnant, but we hoped… we tried anyway. And when the baby came, he said it was worth it. That even if he couldn’t stay, he wanted to leave part of us behind.”

You didn’t say anything. Just listened. Her eyes glossed over slightly as her words tumbled out, careful but unfiltered now.

“After he passed, I didn’t try again. Not dating, not intimacy, not… being wanted. That part of me just shut off. I had a baby. I had grief. I didn’t have space for anything else.”

A silence sat between you both. Not awkward—just… honest. She wasn’t someone who aired her heart often. And you? You treated it like something sacred.

Your fingers brushed against your glass absently before you leaned in just enough.

“You know…” you said, voice a low murmur, “you don’t wear sadness the way people think grief should look. You wear it like armor. Beautiful. Silent. But heavy.”

Jeongyeon blinked. Slowly.

“You don’t see me as… broken?”

You smiled, the kind that curved with warmth but didn’t lighten the gravity of her question.

“No. I see you as… someone who’s been full of love. Enough to carry two hearts. And maybe now, your own heart wants to feel something for itself again. Not out of guilt. Not out of need. But because you’re still here.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her drink again.

Your voice lowered even more.

“If love came once… it can come again. And I don’t mean to replace anything. Some things aren’t meant to be replaced. Just… honored, as we allow more in.”

Jeongyeon swallowed thickly. She had been strong for so long. Smiling for others. Crying in quiet corners. Rebuilding herself piece by piece after the storm.

And now, here was someone… offering to see her. Not save her. Not fix her. Just see her.

“You’re kind,” she whispered, her eyes soft now. Exposed. “Maybe too kind for someone like me.”

You tilted your head with a soft laugh.

“I’m not sure you get to decide who you’re worthy of, Jeongyeon.” You met her gaze. “Not tonight, at least.”

And for a moment… she smiled. A real one. Not the polite smile she offered in passing or the practiced one for her son. But a smile from her.

And somewhere near the bar’s far corner, two pairs of eyes—Nayeon and Jihyo—watched with glimmering awe and matching grins.

Jeongyeon didn’t even notice how close she’d leaned in.

Maybe it was the warmth of the booth light catching on the curve of your jaw, or the calm way your fingers played with your drink as if nothing in the world could startle you. Or maybe it was the way you didn’t press too hard, didn’t try to perform.

Whatever it was… she liked it.

And she was liking you.

She straightened slightly, brushing a finger over the ruffles of her sleeve with a smirk tugging on her lips. Her voice came with a familiar lilt—cool, teasing, a bit challenging.

“So…” she started, eyes narrowing playfully, “are you always this smooth, or do you just turn it up when you see a hot single mom in a vintage ruffle dress?”

You blinked, then let out an easy, low laugh.

“Only when the dress comes with a woman who could silence a room just by raising her eyebrow.”

She scoffed. “Okay, that was smooth.”

“I practice in the mirror,” you quipped. “Sometimes I imagine I’ll bump into someone who looks like she walked out of an old film reel.” You gestured to her whole ensemble with a nod of appreciation. “Guess I manifested it.”

Jeongyeon chuckled and rolled her eyes, but it came with the kind of blush she didn’t even try to hide.

“Manifested a woman with a kid, emotional trauma, and sarcasm issues?”

You leaned in slightly, gaze steady.

“No, I manifested a woman who knows who she is. And looks like she could flirt and win a bar fight in the same breath.”

That made her laugh—head tilting back, one hand instinctively reaching for your wrist for support as she wheezed.

From their spot at the bar, Nayeon let out a small squeal and practically slapped Jihyo’s arm.

“Look at her, Jihyo! She's touching him. She's literally touching him.”

Jihyo, biting back her grin, sipped her drink and said, “They’re matching energies already. We should leave before it turns into a drama series.”

Back at the booth, Jeongyeon finally composed herself and gave you a mock squint.

“Alright, Mr. Novel Character. You’ve clearly been trained by romantic comedies. What’s your tragic flaw?”

You blinked like you had to think seriously about it. Then leaned in and said solemnly,

“I snack on cereal at midnight like it’s a drug.”

She bit her lip to suppress another laugh.

“Okay, fair. But if it's cornflakes, I might walk out.”

“Only the sugary kinds,” you said with mock offense. “I’m a man of decadence, Jeongyeon.”

She smirked, her elbow propped on the table now, fingers resting under her chin.

“That so?” she asked, eyes gleaming. “Then tell me, decadent man—what made you come here tonight?”

You paused for a second. Not for dramatic effect—but to be real.

“Good day. Clear sky. Thought I’d end it quietly. Something about mellow bars and soft jazz just makes the soul… hum, y’know?”

She hummed softly, mirroring your answer.

“Maybe we both came for quiet… but found something that made the hum turn into music.”

You smiled at her. Genuinely.

“Maybe.”

And that was when the tension shifted. Still playful. Still dancing on the edge of something flirtatious.

But now it pulsed with something warmer, more magnetic—an energy not born out of want, but mutual curiosity. The kind that builds not from fast-paced sparks but from slowly lit candles.

Jeongyeon tilted her head at you, eyes unreadable but glowing softly.

“I don’t know if I want to kiss you or roast you for being this poetic.”

“Why not both?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

“Dangerous man.” She smirked, but her fingers—delicate and slow—tapped twice on the table, her subtle sign of wanting the conversation to keep going.

And so, it did.

Jeongyeon swirled her glass lightly, the ice clinking as her gaze floated from the amber liquid to your face. Her tone stayed casual, but there was a softness behind her next question—curious, not prying.

“So… have you ever had anyone?”

You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You leaned back a bit, resting one arm on the edge of the booth, your lips quirking up.

“Only once. After high school.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “Wait—just once?”

You nodded. “One. Singular. Dramatic. Cringeworthy. Absolute first love type.” You let out a soft laugh, not bitter, just reflective. “The kind where you think you’d give up everything and leap off rooftops for them if they asked.”

“Yikes,” Jeongyeon muttered, amused. “So what happened?”

You offered a soft shrug, your fingers now lazily tracing the rim of your glass.

“Got two-timed. The guy was older, richer, and apparently knew how to talk like a movie character. And I was just... me.”

Jeongyeon winced, tilting her head. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you smiled faintly. “Cried over her for two whole years. Proper main character arc. Even wrote bad poetry and drank instant coffee like it was whiskey.”

That made her laugh—loud and unfiltered. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” you chuckled, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Dead serious. Like tragic-boy-in-a-hoodie serious. It was my full-time job, grieving that heartbreak. Nine years ago, though. And no regrets.”

Jeongyeon blinked at you for a moment, mouth parted just slightly. Not just from amusement—but intrigue. You didn’t tell the story like it was a badge of honor or a dramatic wound to show off. You told it honestly. Easily. With enough distance to show you healed, but not so much that you forgot the weight of it.

“That’s…” she started, voice a little lower, “...honestly kind of beautiful.”

“The heartbreak?” you raised a brow.

She smiled softly. “No. The fact that you grieved it, and then grew from it instead of pretending you didn’t care. Most people fake it. You sat with it.”

You met her eyes, and this time you didn’t speak right away. Just smiled.

“Yeah. I think pain’s only useful if it becomes fertilizer.”

Jeongyeon stared at you for a beat longer than necessary. Her lips were still curved in a half-smile, but her throat worked in a subtle swallow. Something warm spread along her spine.

It wasn’t just your words—it was the way you said them. Like they had been marinated in years of lived experience, then served up gently without expectation.

And suddenly, she was aware of how close your knees were under the table. Of how the booth light caught the slight gloss of your lips, the graceful tilt of your neck, the calm way your body existed without trying to command attention.

She crossed one leg over the other, maybe just to ease the tension. Or maybe to release it.

“So you’ve been single for… a while then.”

You grinned at her teasing tone. “A long while. Nothing’s stuck since. I don’t chase. If someone stays, they stay. I’ve learned people leave no matter how tightly you hold.”

Jeongyeon’s smirk flickered—there was heat behind it now, tucked beneath her cool exterior. Your honesty had drawn her in. But it was your patience and lack of motive that made her feel safe... and uncomfortably curious.

And you? You hadn’t noticed. You were too busy admiring how expressive her eyes were when she listened. How she sometimes bit her lip to keep from smiling too much.

But the sexual tension? The way her body subtly shifted toward you, her breath slowing when your hand brushed the edge of the table near hers? You were still clueless. She wasn't.

Jeongyeon’s next words came a little quieter, her head tilted.

“You talk like someone who’s had a lot of time alone.”

You smiled faintly. “Alone’s not bad. It makes you more aware of how lovely company can be.” You looked at her with a little tilt of your own. “Present company, especially.”

Her breath hitched just slightly. She covered it with a smirk. “Careful. I’ve got a weakness for poetic men who don’t realize they’re flirting.”

“Ah,” you grinned, playing along, “then I must be a danger to your type.”

“You really are.” Her tone came almost under her breath.

A brief silence passed. Not awkward. Just thick with something. Something warming between the two of you like a low flame.

From across the bar, Nayeon whispered to Jihyo:

“She’s doomed. She’s totally doomed. Look at her! Her legs are crossed, her head’s tilted, she’s—God, she’s in trouble.”

“He doesn’t even know,” Jihyo murmured, sipping. “That’s the worst part. He’s just existing and she’s two inches from falling for him.”

Back at the booth, Jeongyeon was still watching you, her fingers now idly brushing a strand of hair from her neck.

And for a brief second, she wondered what your voice would sound like in the dark. Not just the flirting, not just the clever lines… but the voice that came when lips were close and breaths were shared. And that thought made her shift in her seat. Just barely. But enough to feel her own pulse.

Your booth was dimly lit, with the warmth of golden lights painting her skin like candlelight. Jeongyeon leaned her elbow on the table now, chin cradled in her palm as her eyes fixed on you like a cat sizing up a very interesting beam of sunlight. You weren’t trying. That’s what killed her the most.

You weren’t leaning in too close, weren’t dropping cheesy lines or overly-present hands. You were just you. Calm. Curious. That unbothered charm with no strings dangling behind your words.

And it was working better than any rehearsed move she’d ever known.

She caught herself laughing again—hand over her mouth this time, her head thrown slightly back as you told her the story about trying to cook dinner for your date once and nearly setting your curtains on fire. The way you reenacted it, flailing like an idiot with a flaming towel and a fire extinguisher that wouldn't work, had her wheezing.

But then she looked at you again, and realized something even more dangerous than your sense of humor.

You were handsome, yes. But it wasn’t that. It was how present you were. How your eyes didn’t wander. How you noticed the way she twisted her ring and asked about it. How you smiled like she wasn’t one woman in a sea of options—but like she was the most interesting story you'd found that night.

Her chest tightened. She shifted again—closer without meaning to. Your knees brushed lightly. You didn’t flinch away. You just smiled, and asked her what kind of music she listened to when she couldn't sleep. And that did it. Jeongyeon exhaled, subtly pressing her thighs together under the table.

Across the bar, Jihyo leaned back against the counter, sipping her drink with a raised brow.

“She’s on a roll.”

Nayeon turned, her cheeks already pink from the wine. “Mmhmm. It’s getting warm in here or is that just her sexual tension?”

Jihyo didn’t look away from the booth. “Girl’s vibrating like she’s sitting on a speaker. But she won’t pull the trigger unless we give her a little nudge.”

Nayeon’s lips twisted into a devious smirk. “You want me to go save her with a bathroom break?”

“Save her? No. Coach her.” Jihyo turned, holding her glass lazily. “Tell her to go for it. Just for tonight. Feel it out. Doesn’t have to be a forever-thing. Just a moment.”

Nayeon chuckled. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a realist,” Jihyo said, swishing her drink. “She deserves something that doesn’t come with baby bottles and snack crumbs. Tell her—impulses can be good. Sometimes they lead to the best decisions.”

A minute later, Jeongyeon blinked as Nayeon slid into the booth beside her, gently tapping her on the knee.

“Bathroom. C’mon.”

“Huh—what, why?” Jeongyeon glanced at you, then at her, confused.

“You need air,” Nayeon whispered with a knowing smirk. “And also, I need to talk to you.”

You politely smiled and gestured. “Take your time.”

As they disappeared into the hallway, Nayeon tugged Jeongyeon into the women’s bathroom and locked the door behind them.

“Alright,” she whispered, leaning back against the sink, “here’s the thing. I’ve seen you flirt. I’ve seen you date. But I’ve never seen you like this.”

Jeongyeon scoffed, brushing her hair out of her face. “Like what?”

“Like you’re two seconds from crawling into his lap and whispering Shakespearean sonnets.”

Jeongyeon tried to laugh it off, but the fluster in her face betrayed her.

“I’m not—look, it’s just... he’s different, okay? He’s not pushy. He’s not weirdly smooth. He’s just... nice. And thoughtful. And hot, like a dark academia dream without the pretentiousness.”

“So?” Nayeon stepped forward, arms crossed. **“You’re here. You’re single. He’s clearly into talking to you. If you feel it... go for the moment.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “You mean... like—”

“Yes,” Nayeon said flatly, “I mean sex. One night. Test the waters. See what it turns into. Maybe nothing. Or maybe something. But don’t overthink it.”

Jeongyeon laughed breathlessly. “You make it sound so casual.”

“It is casual,” Nayeon said, tilting her head. “If you want it to be. But here’s the thing, Jeong.”

She stepped closer, gripping her friend’s shoulders gently.

“You’ve been everything for everyone lately. A mom. A sister. A provider. A protector. But tonight... maybe just be a woman.”

Jeongyeon swallowed. The words hit her harder than she expected.

“If it doesn’t feel right, walk away,” Nayeon added, softening her voice. “But if it does… then don’t. Don’t rob yourself of a good moment just because you’re afraid of how it might end.”

Silence hung for a few seconds. Then Jeongyeon exhaled. Looked at her reflection in the mirror. And for once… she didn’t see just a mother. Or a tired woman trying to hold everything together. She saw someone a man like you looked at like a warm story.

Back at the booth, your fingers were tracing a ring of condensation on your glass. You glanced toward the hallway, smiling softly to yourself—no rush, no expectations.

Just hoping she’d come back. And she would. But when she did… something in her eyes would be different. And maybe the night wasn’t going to end as quietly as you thought.

The women’s bathroom wasn’t silent anymore.

The moment Jeongyeon turned from the mirror, still processing what Nayeon had just whispered into her soul, the door creaked open—and in stepped Jihyo, heels clicking, lips curled in that “don’t-worry-I’m-already-caught-up” kind of smirk.

“You look like someone who’s about to back out,” she teased, closing the door behind her.

Jeongyeon groaned and leaned her head against the tiled wall, both palms braced on the sink. “This isn’t just ‘hook up and go,’ Jihyo. He’s different. I know it. What if I mess it up?”

“Or what if you don’t?” Jihyo replied simply. “What if this time… you get to be the one who wins?”

Jeongyeon turned to say something, but Nayeon cut in with a grin so smug it could start a fight.

“Well, if you’re not going to make a move,” she began, sliding her lipstick back into her clutch, “I might go take your place.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “What?”

Nayeon shrugged casually. “I’m single too. Divorced. Been through hell. That man outside? Looks like someone who could make me forget my ex and probably massage my back after I collapse from joy.”

She grinned and added slyly, “And you know… my daughter does deserve a good male role model someday.”

Jeongyeon’s jaw dropped.

“Yah—Nayeon!”

But the way her hands immediately gripped the edge of the sink… the way her eyes flared with something protective, possessive, primal—didn’t go unnoticed.

Jihyo raised both eyebrows and crossed her arms. “Ohhh. That’s new. You jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!”

“Jeong,” Nayeon cut in, chuckling now. “If you don’t want to act on it, then don’t. But don’t expect me to just sit here when I’m watching someone give you exactly the kind of attention you haven’t had in years.”

“He’s mine,” Jeongyeon muttered without thinking, her voice low, like it belonged to someone more confident than she’d felt in ages.

There it was. Jihyo gasped dramatically. “Okay, ma’am.”

“Didn’t know we were doing declarations tonight,” Nayeon added with a grin. “Go then. Take your seat back. Before I do.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smirk tugging at her lips. She fixed her hair in the mirror one last time. Her cheeks still had that warm flush—not from the wine—but from you. When she walked out, she didn’t hesitate.

You were sitting exactly where she left you. Elbow resting on the table, chin on your hand, slowly rotating your glass by the rim like you were passing time with your thoughts. But the moment your eyes caught hers across the room, something happened.

They widened. Not dramatically—but just enough to be noticeable. You tilted your head slightly. A subtle furrow creased between your brows. There wasn’t a trace of suspicion or discomfort—just simple, gentle concern.

Like: "You okay?" “Did I do something?” “Was it something I said?” And for some reason, that tiny, honest reaction knocked the breath out of her. God, he’s so—adorable. Not even trying. And here she was burning up inside.

She slid back into her seat, fingers lightly trailing over the edge of the table before resting neatly in her lap. She tried to say something casual. Didn’t work.

“Sorry, bathroom break turned into girl gang therapy.”

You chuckled softly. “I figured. I was close to sending the bartender with a search party.”

That made her giggle—husky, warm, from deep in her chest. She tilted her head as she looked at you, feeling herself slip right back into that easy current you seemed to create around you.

You smiled at her, eyes still holding that soft glow.

“You okay?” you asked gently. “You seemed a bit… out of it for a second.”

Jeongyeon leaned her cheek against her knuckles now, eyes narrowing playfully.

“You always this observant?”

“Only when I care,” you replied with a playful wink. “Which apparently is… now.”

She laughed again—fully this time. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’m honest.” You sipped your drink, then added with a tilt of your brow: “Big difference.”

The air between you thickened again, but now it was warmer. Heavier. Like something shared and unspoken was starting to wrap around you both.

Jeongyeon ran her thumb along the base of her glass.

“You really wouldn’t have blinked if I said I had five kids, huh?”

You leaned back and grinned. “I’d probably ask if they’re all carbon copies of you or if the world got lucky and mixed in some chaos.”

She blushed—again. And it hit her again: this… whatever this was? It was starting to feel dangerously good.

So when her knee brushed yours again, she didn’t pull away. When your elbow grazed hers while reaching for your glass, she let it linger. And when she caught your gaze lingering on her lips—just for a split second—she didn’t look away.

Maybe Nayeon was right. Maybe it was just a moment. But maybe… just maybe, it was her moment.

The glasses between you both were nearly empty, the clink of melting ice cubes in yours the only sound between the playful laughter and the occasional brush of arms.

Jeongyeon’s eyes had grown a shade softer, lashes fluttering a little slower, gaze lingering longer with each sentence you said. There wasn’t much left of her mask—the cool sarcasm, the effortless hot girl energy. It was still there, sure—but softened now. Not because she was hiding anything. But because, for the first time in what felt like years, she didn’t feel like she had to pretend anything.

She looked up from her drink, resting her cheek in her palm again, but this time her fingers swept lightly across her jaw, showing more of that easy, quiet flirtation.

“You know…” she began, voice slower now, lower, “you’re kind of annoying.”

You blinked, half-laughing as you tilted your head.

“That so?” you grinned. “Didn’t realize I was causing you such distress.”

She leaned forward just a little, elbows on the table, her chin now resting on the back of her hand. “Mmhmm. You’re all… kind, and real, and charming in that annoyingly comforting way.”

“Annoyingly comforting?”

She smiled, shoulders swaying just slightly with that husky chuckle of hers. “Yeah. Like, you say the right thing without even trying. You’re gentle, but not boring. Funny, but not trying too hard.”

You rested your forearms on the table now, mimicking her posture without realizing it. Your smile softened as you replied:

“That’s a lot of overthinking for someone who called me dangerous a few minutes ago.”

She smirked. “You are. That hasn’t changed.”

The music from the bar's speakers shifted to something smoother, more sensual—but not overtly romantic. Just enough to make the space feel closer. More personal.

You didn’t notice it at first, but Jeongyeon’s knee had moved again. This time not brushing—but resting lightly against yours under the table. Her body slightly turned toward you. Like she had stopped debating with herself and simply decided to be there with you. Fully. No hesitations.

You hadn’t pulled away either. Maybe it was the slight warmth from the whiskey. Maybe it was the way she tilted her head when she laughed. Or how your name sounded softer in her voice every time she said it.

But your voice dipped slightly now, your words a little more careful. A little deeper.

“You’re fascinating, Jeongyeon.”

She blinked at that. Not pretty. Not hot. Not fine as hell. But fascinating.

She swallowed once, and that shift? That invisible line between playful flirting and something smoldering underneath? It flickered into place.

“No one’s called me that before,” she admitted, letting her fingers lightly trace the condensation ring from her glass. “It’s always something skin-deep. Sexy. Gorgeous. Fun.”

You tilted your head, voice softer now.

“Well, you’re all that too. But you also got layers. Hidden storms. Quiet confidence that doesn’t beg to be noticed.”

Jeongyeon was suddenly very aware of how warm her chest felt. How the alcohol wasn’t making her dizzy—it was you.

Her lips curled into a softer smile than any before, a hint of shyness breaking through her usual confidence. Then she said:

“What about you? Feeling brave yet?”

You raised a brow, amused. “Brave?”

“To say something about me that’s not poetic,” she challenged gently. “Something bold. If you dare.”

You chuckled lowly. “You sure?”

“Mmhm.”

You leaned in a little closer—nothing dramatic. Just enough so she had to breathe you in a little more.

“I think you’re dangerous too,” you murmured. “But in a slow-burn kind of way. The kind that sneaks into people’s heads at night when they’re alone. And keeps them warm without asking for permission.”

Jeongyeon laughed again, but this one was breathy. Flushed. That laugh that happens when a woman hears something she didn’t expect to love so much. She reached out this time. Fingertips grazing your wrist where your hand rested near your drink.

You looked down, then back at her. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t move. Just let her touch linger. She was quiet for a moment. Then:

“If I kissed you right now… would you stop me?”

That made your throat tighten. You blinked once, expression unreadable for half a beat. Then, your voice—low, calm, honest—spoke:

“I’d ask why you waited so long.”

And her smile—slow, dangerous, magnetic—curled at the corner like the start of a fuse being lit.

But she didn’t kiss you. Not yet. Instead, she let her fingers trail back to her lap, let the tension thrum between your locked eyes, and said with a whisper:

“Good answer… L/N Y/N.”

The game had shifted. And neither of you were playing anymore.

The song shifted again.

A slower groove now—a rhythm with soul, laced with light percussion and that kind of bass that could make your chest thrum if you stood close enough to the speakers. The bar’s lighting dimmed just enough to cast soft golden hues on the scattered dancers by the wooden floor near the back.

You had just taken another small sip when Jeongyeon suddenly stood, smoothing her shirt down casually and reaching for your hand.

“C’mon,” she said.

You looked up, one brow rising with a laugh already building in your chest. “What?”

“Let’s dance.”

“Jeongyeon,” you chuckled, keeping your voice low, a little teasing, “I’m warning you. I dance like Mr. Bean. Real floppy arms. Wrists everywhere. A national tragedy.”

She didn’t even blink. She leaned down slightly, grabbed your wrist, and tugged.

“Good. I need a partner who isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with me.” Her grin was pure fire, teasing and electric. “Besides, camaraderie, remember? Shared humiliation builds stronger bonds.”

“That’s not in any psychology book.”

“Yeah? Sue me.”

You let yourself be pulled, half-laughing, letting her lead you out of the booth like a dare you never intended to take. But here you were, feet moving across the cozy wooden flooring toward the not-so-crowded dance floor.

The first few steps were awkward—on your part.

You did try. It was maybe one part shoulder shimmy, two parts foot shuffle, and ten parts ‘what the hell am I doing with my limbs?’ Jeongyeon, however, was swaying like it was muscle memory. The bass carried her hips, her shoulders relaxed, her body confident.

She turned her head, grinning as she caught your effort.

“You’re not that bad,” she said, laughing.

“You’re lying.”

“Of course I am. But you look hot doing it.”

You gave her a look—mock offended, mildly stunned, and deeply amused. She laughed again, that husky giggle echoing as she moved in closer now, until her hands found your sides, fingertips brushing the hem of your shirt.

You froze slightly at the contact—not because you were uncomfortable. But because it was the first time she touched you with intent. Not teasing. Not playful. But guided. Sure.

Her fingers gripped gently and guided your hips just a little. “Follow the beat. Let your body loosen. Just… feel it.”

You weren’t great—but you let go. You didn’t care anymore. You let the beat thump in your chest. You let your hands lightly hover near her waist, careful not to assume anything. She noticed that too. The respect.

She rewarded it.

Jeongyeon stepped in again—this time much closer. Her body pressed just enough to your front to feel the low warmth between your ribs. And her arms, snake-like, slipped around your neck as she whispered:

“There… better already.”

Her eyes were on you again. Those mischievous, unreadable eyes—burning under dim amber light.

You were about to say something, maybe tease her back—

—but then she tilted her head.

And kissed you.

There was no pause. No hesitation.

She leaned in slow, lips brushing yours like a soft question, then answering it herself with a kiss full of ease and quiet fire. Her fingers curled slightly against your nape as her mouth moved against yours—testing, savoring, not rushing anything.

You froze for half a second.

Then your hands found her waist, light and respectful but steady. You kissed back—slowly, honestly. Letting her lead. Letting her decide where this moment would go.

But you met her there. With warmth. With intent. She pulled back just an inch, breath brushing your lips.

“You kiss like you speak,” she whispered.

“How’s that?”

“Like you mean every fucking word.”

She kissed you again—hungrier this time.

And something in your chest opened like a floodgate. All the warmth, all the tension, all the soft affection now rushing toward heat. Toward something that went beyond playful drinks and dancing.

Jeongyeon pressed closer, her body flush with yours now, her lips moving in sync with yours as the music wrapped around you both like a cocoon.

You didn’t notice the others. The other dancers, the bar chatter, even the world outside. Just the smell of Jeongyeon’s perfume—earthy and elegant—and the feel of her body leaning into yours like gravity had finally found its way.

She murmured against your lips between kisses:

“Still think you’re embarrassing me?”

“Not unless this is a public punishment.”

She chuckled, breathy, one hand sliding behind your neck to tangle softly in your hair. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew where this night was going. But neither of you said it. You didn’t need to.

Jeongyeon had barely broken the kiss when something over your shoulder caught her eye.

She blinked, a little dazed but still sharp enough to spot the two culprits near the bar—Nayeon and Jihyo watching like a live drama audience.

Nayeon’s smirk could be seen from a mile away, glass in hand like a toast to Jeongyeon’s success. Jihyo winked, subtly mouthing, “Get him out of here.”

Then Nayeon raised her brows and pointed to the door like some sexy, smug Cupid.

Jeongyeon bit back a laugh, shook her head slightly, but gave the smallest, most evil smirk in their direction. She tilted her head like, “Yeah yeah, I got it.”

The girls made no effort to stick around. They waved off any sign of goodbye and subtly slipped out the side exit—grinning like they’d just passed a romantic baton into Jeongyeon’s hands.

You were still breath-warm and dazed when Jeongyeon turned her head back toward you, biting her lower lip, debating something silently.

But instead of asking… she just acted. Her fingers slid down from your nape and slipped into your hand—intertwining with a grip that left no room for questions.

“Let’s go.”

“Go?” you echoed, amused.

“Somewhere private,” she said with that same low, husky edge you were growing more addicted to by the second.

And then—without waiting for your nod—Jeongyeon tugged you by the hand, threading through the low-lit bar, through the blurred dancing bodies, and out into the cool evening air.

You didn’t resist. Not once. Your heart was thudding behind your ribs, not out of nerves—but anticipation. A calm, assured pull toward something magnetic and raw.

The two of you reached the curb, breaths fogging lightly in the cool spring night. She stopped, realizing the pause.

“I can’t go home,” she said, almost apologetically. “My son’s with Chaeyoung tonight. I don’t… want to explain why I’m bringing a man home at 1AM.”

You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“There’s a hotel I know. Cozy. Clean. Not a hookup spot. Just…” She paused, eyes locked with yours. “Nice. And quiet.”

You pulled your car keys from your pocket and held them up between two fingers.

“Lucky for us—I drove.”

Jeongyeon blinked at the keys, then looked at you.

Then she smiled. Not a cheeky smirk. Not a flirty grin. A real one.

Like for the first time all night, she was letting herself be present in the idea of this. Of you. No more nudges, no more jokes. Just something that felt right. Spontaneous, but not stupid. Impulsive, but safe.

She led the way to your car, still holding your hand like a quiet lifeline. Neither of you rushed—but there was a tension, a hum beneath the silence.

And when she slid into the passenger seat, she looked over as you settled behind the wheel.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly, even though she had been the one to drag you outside.

You turned your head slowly, meeting her gaze, voice steady.

“It’s okay if you want it.”

That made her inhale. Sharp. Soft. Honest. She nodded, her voice nearly a whisper:

“I do.”

You pulled onto the quiet road, the world around dim and hushed. Only the occasional passing car or night breeze filling the gaps in conversation. Jeongyeon rested her elbow on the edge of the window, her other hand still linked with yours over the gearshift.

Nothing more needed to be said.

The hotel wasn’t far. It wasn’t grand or flashy—but when she led you through the lobby and up the elevator, you saw it was exactly like she said. Quiet. Warm lighting. Comfortable.

You entered the room behind her. She didn’t speak, didn’t joke. She just turned to you once the door closed.

The silence in the room wasn’t awkward. It was full. Loaded with all the unspoken things you both wanted to explore.

She stepped closer again. Hands finding your collar. Eyes scanning your features like she was trying to memorize how you looked before things changed.

And her voice was a soft hush when she said:

“Still not regretting letting me pull you to the floor like that?”

Your smirk was gentle, your tone even more so.

“I think you’ve got a talent for making good decisions.”

She leaned in, forehead pressing to yours. And kissed you again. And this time… it wasn’t just fire. It was home.

The moment the hotel door clicked shut behind you, the air thickened—charged with something slow, deliberate, and intoxicating. Jeongyeon’s hands were still tangled in your collar, her breath warm against your lips as she kissed you again, deeper this time. There was no rush, no frantic urgency—just the quiet, aching need to savor every second of this.

Her fingers slid down your chest, tracing the outline of your muscles through your shirt before settling at your waist. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes searching yours.

"You’re sure?" she murmured, her thumb brushing over your hipbone.

You answered by cupping her face, tilting her chin up to kiss her again—softer this time, lingering against her lips. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

A small, breathless laugh escaped her as she leaned into your touch, her body pressing flush against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, but neither of you moved to undress just yet. Instead, Jeongyeon’s hands roamed over your back, fingers kneading into the fabric of your shirt as if memorizing the shape of you.

Her lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your throat, her teeth grazing lightly over your pulse. "Mmm… you smell good," she hummed, her voice low and husky.

You shivered as her hands slipped beneath your shirt, her palms warm against your skin. She took her time exploring—tracing the ridges of your abs, the dip of your waist—before sliding back up to push the fabric up your chest. You helped her pull it off, tossing it aside, and Jeongyeon exhaled sharply at the sight of you.

"Fuck…" she whispered, her fingers ghosting over your collarbones. "You’re—"

You didn’t let her finish. Catching her wrist, you tugged her closer, your mouth finding hers again in a slow, deep kiss. One of your hands slid up her side, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of her breast through her blouse. She gasped into your mouth, arching into the touch.

"Jeongyeon…" you murmured against her lips, your other hand slipping to the small of her back, pressing her even closer.

She let out a soft, shaky breath, her fingers tightening in your hair. "Yeah…?"

"Tell me what you want."

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. For a moment, she just looked at you—like she was deciding how much of herself to give. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she took your hand and guided it to the first button of her blouse.

"This," she said quietly. "But… slow."

You nodded, your fingers working the first button free, then the next, revealing smooth, pale skin inch by inch. Jeongyeon watched you, her breath hitching as your knuckles brushed against her stomach. By the time the last button came undone, her blouse hung open, the lace of her bra just barely concealing the swell of her breasts.

Your hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking over her ribs as you leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She tipped her head back with a quiet sigh, her fingers threading through your hair.

"God…" she breathed, her voice trembling. "You have no idea how long it’s been since someone touched me like this."

You kissed lower, your lips brushing the curve of her breast just above the lace. "Then let me remind you," you murmured against her skin.

Jeongyeon shuddered, her grip tightening in your hair as you continued your slow descent, worshipping every inch of her with your mouth and hands. The air between you was thick with want, but neither of you rushed—content to let the moment stretch, to savor the way her body responded to every touch, every kiss.

This wasn’t just about pleasure.

It was about rediscovery.

And Jeongyeon was letting herself feel it—all of it—for the first time in years.

The bed dipped beneath you as Jeongyeon guided you both backward, her fingers still tangled in your hair as you continued to trail slow, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. The vintage fabric of her dress whispered against the sheets, the high collar and ruffled sleeves framing her like something out of a dream.

You pulled back just enough to take her in—really take her in. The way the soft lamplight caught on the sheer panels of her sleeves, the way the dark green pleats contrasted against her smooth skin, the way the bow at her neck trembled slightly with each unsteady breath.

"God, you're beautiful," you murmured, your fingers tracing the edge of her collar.

Jeongyeon’s cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached up, slowly undoing the bow at her neck with deliberate fingers. The high collar loosened, revealing more of her throat, the delicate hollows of her collarbones.

"This thing…" she said, voice husky, "is a pain to get out of."

You smirked, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Then let me help."

With painstaking slowness, you worked your way down the tiny buttons at the back of her dress, each one giving way beneath your fingers like a small victory. The fabric parted gradually, revealing the smooth slope of her back, the delicate straps of her bra, the faintest hint of lace at her waist.

Jeongyeon shivered as the cool air hit her skin, but she didn’t rush you. She just watched—felt—as you pushed the dress from her shoulders, letting it pool around her hips.

"Fuck…" you breathed, your hands skimming up her sides, over the dip of her waist, the gentle swell of her ribs. Her body was a masterpiece—soft yet toned, curves that begged to be touched, skin so smooth it felt like silk beneath your fingertips.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, then the crook of her elbow, then the slope of her shoulder. Every inch of her deserved reverence.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched as your lips found the curve of her breast just above her bra, your tongue flicking over the lace. "Ah—" Her fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding, like she needed something to ground her.

You took your time, lavishing attention on every exposed inch of her—the dip of her navel, the subtle arch of her hipbones, the sensitive skin just beneath her ribs. When your fingers finally brushed the waistband of her panties, she tensed for a fraction of a second before melting into your touch.

"Okay?" you asked against her skin.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than okay."

You hooked your fingers into the lace, dragging it down her legs with agonizing slowness, kissing every new patch of skin as it was revealed. By the time the last scrap of fabric fell away, Jeongyeon was trembling, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You settled between her thighs, hands sliding up her legs, thumbs brushing the inside of her knees. "Look at you…" you murmured, your voice thick with awe.

Jeongyeon bit her lip, her messy updo coming undone in soft waves around her face. "I—I haven’t let anyone see me like this in…" She trailed off, her throat working.

You leaned up, catching her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. "Then I’m honored," you whispered against her lips.

And with that, you began your worship in earnest—hands, lips, tongue mapping every curve, every dip, every shuddering breath she gave you.

Because tonight wasn’t about taking.

It was about remembering.

And you intended to make sure she never forgot.

The air between you was thick with warmth, with want, but neither of you rushed. Jeongyeon’s hands cradled your face as she kissed you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours in slow, intoxicating strokes. Every movement was deliberate—every sigh, every shift of her body against yours spoke of years of pent-up longing finally being set free.

You let her lead, your hands resting lightly on her waist as she explored your mouth with hers. When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with something tender yet commanding.

"Tell me what you want," you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

Jeongyeon exhaled shakily, her fingers trailing down your chest. "I want…" She paused, considering, then guided your hand to her thigh, pressing your palm firmly against her soft skin. "I want you to touch me. But how I say. When I say."

There was no harshness in her voice—only quiet certainty. A request, not a demand.

You nodded, your thumb stroking absent circles against her inner thigh. "However you want me."

A slow, pleased smile curved her lips before she leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more insistence. Her hands slid down your arms, guiding your touch where she wanted it—first to the curve of her hip, then higher, skimming the dip of her waist.

"Here," she whispered against your mouth, pressing your fingers into her skin. "Just… like that."

You obeyed, kneading gently, relishing the way her breath hitched when you found a particularly sensitive spot. She arched into your touch, her nails scraping lightly over your shoulders.

"Good," she breathed, her voice low and honeyed. "Now… slower."

You slowed your movements, letting your hands roam her body with agonizing patience—tracing the swell of her breasts over her bra, the flutter of her ribs, the softness of her stomach. Every touch was deliberate, every caress designed to draw out another quiet gasp, another shiver.

Jeongyeon’s control never wavered, but her breaths grew uneven, her kisses more desperate. When your fingers finally brushed the lace of her panties, she stilled your wrist with a firm grip.

"Not yet," she murmured, her lips grazing your jaw. "I want to feel you more first."

You let her guide your hands back up her body, let her set the pace, her quiet commands leaving no room for disobedience—not that you’d ever want to disobey.

This was her night.

And you were more than happy to let her take what she needed.

The room hummed with quiet breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as Jeongyeon arched beneath you, her fingers threading through your hair to guide your mouth lower. You obeyed without hesitation, lips brushing the delicate column of her throat, savoring the way her pulse jumped against your tongue.

"Mmm… right there," she sighed, tilting her head to give you better access.

You nipped lightly at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, smiling when she shivered. Her bra straps had slipped down her shoulders, the lace barely clinging to her curves, but neither of you moved to take it off—not yet. This was about the almost, the not quite, the torturous pleasure of feeling but not taking.

Jeongyeon’s hips rolled up against yours in a slow, deliberate grind, the thin barrier of your boxers and her panties doing little to dull the heat between you. She let out a shaky exhale, her nails scraping down your back.

"Touch me," she murmured, guiding your hand to her waist. "But don’t—ah—don’t move yet."

You stilled, palm pressed to the warm skin just above her hipbone, letting her set the rhythm. She rocked against you again, her breath hitching when your cock strained against the fabric separating you.

"Fuck…" she whispered, her forehead dropping to yours. "You feel so good."

You kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as she ground down again, her thighs trembling with the effort to keep the pace slow. Her hands slid down your arms, fingers intertwining with yours as she pinned them to the mattress beside her head—not to restrain, but to share the moment.

"Like this," she breathed against your lips. "Just like this."

And so you let her lead, let her take what she needed—your bodies moving together in a haze of want and restraint, every touch, every kiss, every whispered plea building the tension higher.

The air between you was thick with reverence, every touch a whispered prayer against her skin. Jeongyeon lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as your lips traced the slope of her shoulder, the delicate hollow of her collarbone. The straps of her bra had long since slipped down her arms, the lace clinging to her curves like a final, flimsy barrier between you and heaven itself.

You took your time.

Your mouth followed the path of your hands—kissing the inside of her wrist, the soft skin of her inner elbow, the gentle swell of her breast just above the lace. Jeongyeon shuddered, her fingers tangling in your hair, not pushing, just feeling.

"God…" she breathed, her voice trembling. "You’re killing me."

You smirked against her skin, nipping lightly at the curve of her breast before soothing it with your tongue. "Good."

Her bra was a work of art—black lace, delicate straps, the kind of thing meant to be seen but not worn for long. Your fingers traced the edge of it, teasing, toying with the clasp at the front.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched.

"You gonna take it off?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the lace-covered peak of her breast, feeling it harden beneath your lips. "Not yet."

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows as you continued your torment—kissing, licking, worshipping every inch of her through the fabric. The lace grew damp with your saliva, her nipples pebbled and desperate for more.

Finally, when her hips were rolling restlessly against yours and her breaths came in ragged gasps, you unhooked the clasp with a single, practiced flick of your fingers.

The bra fell away.

And fuck—

Jeongyeon was gorgeous.

Her breasts were full, perfectly shaped, her nipples flushed and begging for attention. You didn’t rush. You just looked, drinking in the sight of her like a man starved.

"You’re staring," she murmured, her cheeks pink.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice rough. "Because you’re fucking perfect."

Then you leaned down and took her into your mouth—slow, deliberate, savoring the way she arched off the bed with a broken moan. Your tongue swirled around her nipple, your teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

"Ah! Fuck—" Her hands fisted in the sheets, her thighs squeezing around your hips. "Don’t stop, don’t stop—"

You didn’t.

You worshipped her like this for what felt like hours—sucking, licking, switching between her breasts until she was writhing beneath you, her skin flushed, her body trembling with need.

And when you finally pulled back, her chest glistening with your saliva, her nipples red and swollen from your attention, she looked at you with hazy, desperate eyes.

"You—" Her voice cracked. "You’re mean."

You grinned, kissing your way back up her body. "You love it."

She did.

And you were far from done.

The moment your palms cupped her bare breasts, you felt the difference—the way her flesh yielded more generously under your touch, the weight of them heavier in your hands, the faintest stretch marks like silver threads against her skin. Motherhood had reshaped her body, and god, it was perfect.

Jeongyeon let out a shaky breath as your thumbs brushed over her nipples, already stiff and flushed. "They're... softer now," she murmured, a hint of self-consciousness in her voice.

You answered by leaning down and taking one into your mouth, sucking deep—not rough, but with enough pressure to make her back arch off the sheets. "Mmmf—fuck," she gasped, her hands flying to your hair.

The taste of her skin, the way her breast molded against your tongue—it was intoxicating. You lavished attention on one while your hand kneaded the other, your fingers sinking into the impossibly soft flesh. Every gentle pull of your lips drew another broken sound from her throat, her hips rolling helplessly against the air.

"S-sensitive—" she choked out as you switched sides, your tongue flicking over her nipple before drawing it back into the wet heat of your mouth. Her back arched beautifully, pressing more of herself against you. "Oh god, right there—"

You worshipped her like this—sucking gently, then harder, then easing off to lap at the stiff peaks until they glistened. Your free hand roamed the fuller curves of her stomach, her hips, committing every new slope and swell to memory.

When you finally released her with a wet pop, Jeongyeon was panting, her chest heaving, her skin flushed pink from collarbones to cheeks. A thin string of saliva still connected your lips to her nipple for a second before breaking.

"Look at you," you murmured, thumbing over her slick, swollen nipple. "So fucking beautiful like this."

Jeongyeon whimpered, her thighs pressing together. "You—ah—you really love them, huh?"

You answered by sealing your mouth over her again, sucking hard just to hear her cry out, your hand squeezing the other breast possessively. The way her body gave under your touch, so soft yet so responsive—

It was enough to make you dizzy.

A quiet moment settled between you as you pulled back, your lips leaving her flushed skin. Jeongyeon’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, her eyes half-lidded but searching yours—not with hunger now, but something softer. Something vulnerable.

Her fingers brushed your cheek, hesitant. "You’re... not what I expected," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, thumb stroking the curve of her hip. "What did you expect?"

She exhaled a laugh, though it trembled at the edges. "Someone in a hurry."

The honesty in her words made your chest tighten. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead—slow, lingering, letting your lips linger against her skin like a promise. "I didn’t come here for expectations," you murmured. "I came for you."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, she just looked at you, her dark eyes shimmering with something unreadable. Then, with a quiet sigh, she pulled you down into a kiss—not heated, not desperate, but deep, her fingers curling into your hair like she was anchoring herself to you.

When she finally broke away, her voice was steadier. "Then show me more."

And so you did.

Your mouth returned to her breasts, but slower now, savoring. Each flick of your tongue, each gentle suckle drew a sigh from her lips, her body melting further into the sheets. Her hands roamed your shoulders, your back, not guiding, just feeling—relearning the pleasure of being touched without urgency.

The room filled with quiet sounds: the rustle of fabric, the soft wetness of your lips against her skin, her breathy murmurs of encouragement.

No rush.

No demands.

Just her, and you, and the slow, aching pleasure of rediscovery.

Your lips left a trail of slow, worshipful kisses down the soft plane of her stomach—each one a silent question, each pause a chance for her to breathe. When you reached the delicate lace of her panties, you hovered there, your breath warm against the damp fabric.

"Jeongyeon," you murmured, lifting your gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were dark, her lips slightly parted. "Can I keep going?"

A shiver ran through her. For a moment, she just looked at you—really looked—as if weighing the years of absence against the heat of now. Then, with a slow exhale, she nodded.

"Yes," she whispered. "But... go slow. It's been—" Her voice caught. —"a long time."

You pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling the tremor that raced through her. "However you need," you promised.

And then, with aching slowness, you hooked your fingers into the lace and drew them down her legs, revealing her fully.

She was beautiful—flushed and glistening, her thighs pressing together instinctively before she forced them to relax. You didn’t rush. You just kissed the crease of her hip, the softness of her inner thigh, letting her adjust to the vulnerability.

"Okay?" you asked against her skin.

Her fingers tangled in your hair—not pushing, just holding on. "Yeah," she breathed. "Just... gentle."

You obeyed.

Your first touch was featherlight—a slow, reverent stroke that made her gasp. Your name spilled from her lips like a prayer as you leaned in, your mouth following where your fingers had been.

And when you finally tasted her, she arched off the bed with a broken cry, her hands clutching the sheets.

"Oh—god—"

You held her hips steady, your touch as tender as your kiss had been. This wasn’t about claiming.

It was about remembering.

And you’d take all the time she needed.

The first slow drag of your tongue through her folds drew a sound from Jeongyeon that was half gasp, half sob—her hips jerking instinctively before she forced them still. You could feel the tension in her thighs where your hands rested, the way her body trembled with each careful stroke.

"Breathe," you murmured against her, your lips brushing her sensitive skin. "Just feel it."

She let out a shaky exhale, her fingers flexing in the sheets. You took your time, mapping her with unhurried laps of your tongue—learning what made her shiver, what made her whimper, what made her thighs tighten around your shoulders. Every flick, every slow circle was a question, and her body answered in trembling sighs and hitched breaths.

When you finally closed your lips around her clit and sucked gently, her back arched off the bed with a broken cry.

"Oh—oh—" Her voice was raw, unfamiliar with this kind of pleasure after so long. "That’s... different, it’s—"

You hummed against her, the vibration wringing another gasp from her lips. Her hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding on, as if she might float away otherwise.

And you didn’t rush.

You licked into her like you had all night, savoring the way her taste bloomed on your tongue, the way her body clenched around nothing, desperate for more. Every soft noise she made, every twitch of her hips, was a gift—a reminder that she was here, with you, relearning what pleasure could be.

When her thighs began to shake, her breaths coming in ragged pants, you eased back just enough to meet her dazed gaze.

"Good?" you asked, your thumb brushing her inner thigh.

Jeongyeon stared at you, her chest heaving, her lips parted around unspoken words. Then, with a helpless laugh, she covered her face with one hand.

"I... forgot," she admitted, her voice muffled. "I forgot it could feel like this."

You kissed her hip, smiling against her skin. "Then let me remind you."

And as you lowered your mouth to her again, her fingers tangled in your hair, her body opening to you like a flower to the sun—slow, aching, and so damn beautiful.

The moment your lips returned to her, Jeongyeon made a sound like shattered glass—high, fragile, beautiful. Her thighs quivered where they bracketed your shoulders, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers wove through your hair, not guiding, just anchoring herself to the sensation as your tongue traced slow, worshipful circles around her clit.

"That’s it," you murmured against her, your voice honey-warm between her thighs. "Just like that. Let me take care of you."

She whimpered, her hips lifting in tiny, involuntary rolls against your mouth. You rewarded her with a long, luxurious lick from her entrance to her aching peak, savoring the way her taste bloomed sweeter with every passing second. Her breath came in staggered sighs, her stomach fluttering like a trapped butterfly as you teased her—alternating between broad, flat strokes and pinpoint flicks that made her jolt.

When you finally sealed your lips around her clit and sucked—gentle but insistent—her back arched clean off the mattress.

"Ohgod—ah! AH!—" Her voice cracked, her thighs clamping around your ears as she trembled. You didn’t relent. You hollowed your cheeks, drawing her deeper into the heat of your mouth, your tongue swirling in relentless, perfect circles.

Jeongyeon dissolved.

Her orgasm crashed through her with a sob, her body bowing tight as a drawn bowstring before collapsing back into the sheets. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not when she was this radiant—her skin dew-kissed, her lips parted around silent cries, her cunt fluttering around nothing as you gentled your touch but never ceased.

"T-too much—" she gasped, her hips twitching away instinctively, but you caught her waist with careful hands, holding her still without force.

"Shh, I’ve got you," you soothed, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before returning to her with a slow, savoring lick. "Just a little more. You’re doing so well."

And Jeongyeon, oversensitive and shuddering, let you.

Her thighs fell open wider, her fingers tightening in your hair as you laved at her with unhurried devotion, coaxing out every last ripple of pleasure until she was writhing again—not away, but into you, her breathy moans rising in pitch like a hymn.

"I—I can’t, I can’t—oh!"

Her second climax was slower, deeper, a tidal wave rather than a crash. You drank her in, your name spilling from her lips like a prayer as she trembled through it, her body pliant and boneless when you finally lifted your head.

Jeongyeon blinked dazedly down at you, her chest heaving, her lips kiss-swollen and parted. For a long moment, she just stared, her expression caught between awe and something dangerously close to reverence.

Then, with a shaky laugh, she covered her face with both hands.

"You’re…" Her voice cracked. "That was filthy."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her hip. "And you loved every second."

She peeked at you between her fingers, her blush deepening.

She couldn’t deny it.

Her stomach quivered beneath your lips as you traced idle patterns across the soft expanse—kissing the faint silver lines left by motherhood, the gentle curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin as it rose and fell with each shuddering breath. Jeongyeon exhaled a laugh, half-dazed, her fingers combing through your hair with lazy affection.

"Mmm… what’re you doing down there?" she murmured, her voice still thick with pleasure.

You smiled against her skin, pressing another kiss just below her navel. "Admiring you."

She huffed, but you felt the way her body arched subtly into your touch, seeking more. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller," you corrected gently, smoothing your palms up her sides in a slow, worshipful glide. "Look at you. All unraveled and glowing. Like something out of a dream."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—not from overstimulation this time, but something quieter, more vulnerable. Her hands stilled in your hair, her thumbs brushing your temples as she watched you through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Been a while since someone looked at me like this," she admitted softly.

You lifted your head just enough to meet her gaze, your lips grazing the dip of her waist. "Then they were blind."

The sound she made was barely a whisper—half a laugh, half a sigh—before she tugged you up by your hair, her mouth finding yours in a kiss that tasted like shared warmth and something dangerously close to tenderness.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink, her lips swollen, her eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

"Keep talking like that," she murmured, nipping at your lower lip, "and I might just believe you."

You grinned against her mouth. "Good."

The kiss lingered—soft, unhurried, her lips moving against yours with a sweetness that made your chest ache. When you finally pulled back, Jeongyeon’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her flushed cheeks. You brushed your thumb along her jaw, marveling at the way the dim light caught the faint sheen of sweat on her skin.

"You’re staring again," she whispered, but there was no teasing in her voice now—just quiet wonder.

"Can’t help it," you admitted, tracing the curve of her bottom lip with your fingertip. "You’re…" Words failed you for a moment. How could you describe the way her laughter lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes when she smiled? The way her breath hitched when you touched her just so? The way she looked at you—like you’d hung the moon and stars just for her?

Jeongyeon tilted her head, waiting, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

"You’re alive," you finally murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Like… sunlight through leaves. Or that first sip of coffee in the morning."

She let out a breathless laugh, her nose scrunching adorably. "That’s the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever said to me."

"And yet," you teased, nipping lightly at her lower lip, "you’re still blushing."

She was. A pretty pink flush spread from her cheeks down to her chest, her pulse fluttering beneath your lips as you kissed your way along her throat. Her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make you groan—and god, the way her breath caught at the sound, like she was filing it away somewhere precious.

"Say it again," she breathed, arching into you.

"What? That you’re beautiful?" You grinned against her skin, relishing the way her stomach muscles tensed at the words. "That you taste like honey?" Another kiss, this time to the hollow of her throat. "That I could spend forever learning every way to make you sigh like that—?"

Jeongyeon cut you off with a searing kiss, her hips rolling up against yours in a slow, deliberate grind that stole the air from your lungs. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark, her lips swollen, her voice a husky whisper:

"Keep talking. Please."

And so you did—between kisses, between touches, between every shared breath—until the room spun with nothing but her name and the honeyed weight of your admiration.

Her hands were gentle but insistent as she guided you onto your back, her lips trailing fire along your collarbone as she settled between your thighs. You could feel her smile against your skin when her fingers brushed the waistband of your pants—the way she paused, just for a heartbeat, to savor the way your breath hitched.

"Let me," she murmured, her voice thick with promise.

And then, with agonizing slowness, she peeled the fabric down your hips, freeing your aching cock into the cool air. Her breath caught—a soft, reverent sound—as she took you in, her fingers hovering just above your length like she was afraid to touch something so sacred.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, her thumb brushing the swollen head, smearing the bead of precum that had gathered there.

You shuddered, your hips lifting instinctively, but Jeongyeon pressed a firm hand to your stomach, holding you down with a smirk.

"Patience," she chided, her eyes flicking up to yours. "I want to savor this."

And then she leaned in, her lips parting, and took just the tip of you into her mouth.

The heat of her tongue was electric—a slow, swirling caress that made your toes curl into the sheets. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight to your core as her fingers stroked the base of your shaft in lazy counterpoint.

"J-Jeongyeon—" you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets.

She pulled off with a wet pop, her lips glistening. "Mm? Too much?"

You shook your head frantically, your cock twitching against your stomach. "Not enough."

Jeongyeon laughed—a low, throaty sound that went straight to your already throbbing length—before diving back in, her tongue lapping at your slit like she was tasting the finest wine.

And as she worshipped you—with her lips, her hands, her words—you realized:

This wasn’t just about pleasure.

It was about belonging.

Her lips were softer than you remembered—or maybe you'd just never noticed before how tenderly they could worship. Jeongyeon took her time, her mouth a slow, searing brand against your length as she kissed her way down your shaft, pausing to nuzzle the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before returning with deliberate care.

"You taste like sunlight," she murmured against your heated flesh, her breath ghosting over your tip. "Warm. Sweet."

The words alone made you throb, but it was the way she looked at you—eyes dark with affection rather than hunger—that unraveled you completely. When she finally took you into her mouth again, it wasn't with the frantic pace you'd expected. Instead, she lavished attention on every inch, her tongue tracing the veins along your length as if memorizing them, her lips sealing around you in slow, sucking pulls that drew moans from your chest rather than your groin.

"Jeongyeon—" Your voice cracked as her thumb brushed the base of your cock, her other hand cradling your balls with a gentleness that bordered on sacred.

She hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight to your spine. When her eyes flicked up to meet yours—holding your gaze as she swallowed you deeper—it felt less like a blowjob and more like a confession.

Every movement was a whispered I see you.

Every suckle a silent I adore you.

And when your hips jerked involuntarily, she didn't pull away. She simply pressed a soothing hand to your stomach, her rhythm never faltering, her devotion never wavering—

Until the pleasure crested like dawn breaking, spilling into her waiting mouth with a gasp of her name that sounded more like a prayer than a curse.

Jeongyeon swallowed every drop, her lips lingering at your tip to kiss away the aftershocks before resting her cheek against your thigh with a sigh.

"Beautiful," she whispered, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "You're so beautiful like this."

And for the first time in your life—

You believed it.

The moment your lips brushed her temple, Jeongyeon stilled beneath you—her breath catching in that fragile way that had nothing to do with pleasure. You paused, your hand hovering over her hip, waiting.

"We don’t have to—"

"I know," she interrupted softly, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. A single tear slipped free before she could stop it, glinting in the low light. "It’s just… he used to say that. ‘Be happy.’ Like it was that simple."

Your chest ached. You caught her tear with your thumb, cradling her face as if she might dissolve under your touch. "And are you?"

Jeongyeon closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering against damp cheeks. For a long moment, the only sound was her unsteady breath. Then, with a shuddering exhale, she pressed her forehead to yours.

"I think," she whispered, "I could be."

The kiss that followed was salt-edged and slow, her lips trembling against yours before steadying—choosing, with every brush of her tongue, every sigh into your mouth, to stay here, in this moment, with you.

When she finally guided your hips between her thighs, it wasn’t with desperation, but something far more vulnerable: trust.

"Show me," she breathed against your lips. "Show me how you love."

And as you slid into her—slow, reverent, achingly careful—Jeongyeon didn’t cry. She bloomed.

The first push inside her was met with a gasp that had nothing to do with pain—her body arched like a bowstring, her nails scoring lightly down your back as she adjusted to the stretch. You stilled, forehead pressed to hers, your breath mingling in the scant space between your lips.

"Okay?" you murmured, your voice rough with restraint.

Jeongyeon nodded, her hips canting up in silent demand. "Mmm… more."

You gave it to her—not with a snap of your hips, but with a slow, rolling thrust that drew a moan from her throat. Her legs wrapped around your waist, her heels pressing into the small of your back as if to keep you there, deep, where the heat of her threatened to unravel you.

The way her body clung to yours was obscene—every inch of her fluttering around you, her inner walls pulsing as if trying to memorize the shape of you. You groaned, your fingers tangling in her hair as you angled your hips just so, watching her eyes flutter shut at the new pressure.

"There?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongyeon bit her lip, her thighs trembling where they bracketed yours. "Y-yes—god, yes—"

You set a rhythm then—not fast, not frantic, but deep, each thrust a deliberate stroke designed to wring every ounce of pleasure from her. Her breasts swayed with the movement, her nipples pebbled and begging for attention, but you resisted. This wasn’t about chasing an end.

This was about savoring.

Her fingers traced the sweat-slick planes of your back, her breath coming in ragged pants against your ear. "You feel—ah—so good—"

You swallowed her words with a kiss, your tongues tangling as you moved inside her, the slide of your bodies slick and sinful. The bed creaked beneath you, the sheets tangled around your ankles, but neither of you cared.

Not when she was looking at you like that—like you’d hung the moon and stars just for her.

The room filled with the slick, sinful sounds of your bodies moving together—each thrust drawing Jeongyeon higher up the sheets, her breasts bouncing slightly with every deep stroke until her head nearly touched the headboard. You caught her hips, pulling her back down your length with a groan, the muscles in your arms straining as you angled yourself just right to watch her face crumple in pleasure.

Her thighs trembled where they hugged your waist, her slick folds clinging to every inch of you as you withdrew only to sink back in with deliberate, aching precision. A pearl of sweat rolled down between her breasts, catching on her peaked nipple before disappearing into the valley of her chest. You followed its path with your tongue, laving over the stiff peak until she gasped, her back arching off the mattress.

"Mmm... sensitive?" you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing the flushed swell of her breast.

Jeongyeon whimpered, her fingers scrambling against your shoulders. "Y-you know I am," she panted, her voice honey-sweet even as her hips rolled up to meet your next thrust with a wet slap. "A-ah! Right there—"

You obliged, your pace never faltering as you drove into her again and again, the heat between her legs bordering on scalding. Her inner walls fluttered around you, her body trying desperately to pull you deeper even as you kept the rhythm slow, maddening.

Her hands found your face, her thumbs brushing your cheekbones as she pulled you down for a kiss—deep and messy, her tongue sliding against yours between breathy moans. When you broke apart, her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy with need.

"You're beautiful like this," you breathed, your voice thick with awe as you watched her body take you—her stomach quivering with each thrust, her thighs squeezing your hips in silent plea.

Jeongyeon whined, her nails digging half-moons into your biceps. "T-talk too much," she managed, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her.

You chuckled, rolling your hips in a slow, circular grind that had her seeing stars. "You love it."

She did.

And as the room filled with the sounds of your lovemaking—skin against skin, breathless laughter, whispered praise—neither of you cared about anything but this moment.

This feeling.

This love.

The moment your hands found her waist, rolling her hips against yours in a slow, filthy grind, Jeongyeon shattered—not with an orgasm, but with something deeper. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her nails biting into your shoulders as she clung to you like you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

"F-feels like—" Her voice broke as you angled your hips just so, the head of your cock brushing that sweet spot inside her that made her thighs quake. "Like I'm waking up—"

You understood.

Every drag of your length inside her was a reminder—of heat, of sensation, of the way her body could still sing beneath someone's touch. Her back arched off the mattress, her breasts flushed and heaving as you set a pace that was less about friction and more about feeling—deep, rolling thrusts that had her seeing stars with every slow withdrawal, every aching push back in.

Her legs locked around your waist, her heels digging into the small of your back as if to keep you there, buried to the hilt where the heat of her threatened to undo you. The way her walls fluttered around you—clenching rhythmically like a heartbeat—was obscene, the slick sounds of your joining filling the room alongside her breathy whimpers.

"Look at me," you murmured, your voice rough with restraint as your thumbs brushed the damp hollows of her collarbones.

Jeongyeon's eyes fluttered open, glassy with unshed tears—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelm of it all. The way you moved inside her, the way your breath hitched when she clenched around you, the way your hips stuttered when she rolled her own to meet you.

"I see you," you whispered, your forehead dropping to hers as you pressed in deep, holding there as her body trembled beneath you. "God, Jeongyeon—alive, so alive—"

Her answering sob was muffled against your lips as she kissed you—desperate, messy, her teeth catching your lower lip as her hips lifted to take you even deeper. The stretch burned, her inner muscles fluttering wildly as if trying to memorize every ridge, every pulse of your cock as you moved within her.

And when your hand slid between you, your thumb finding her swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles, she broke—her back bowing off the bed as her thighs shook, her walls clamping down on you in rhythmic waves that had you seeing stars.

But you didn't stop.

Couldn't stop.

Not when every gasp, every twitch, every tremor was proof that she was here—Alive, Loved, Maybe...yours

Her orgasm hit like a slow-moving storm—building in the tremors of her thighs first, the way her toes curled against your calves, the desperate clutch of her fingers in the sheets. You felt it everywhere: in the way her breath stuttered against your neck, in the sudden flutter of her walls around your cock, in the choked-off whimper that escaped her lips as the first wave crested.

"Oh—oh god—"

Jeongyeon's back arched beautifully off the mattress, her head tipping back as pleasure rolled through her in relentless waves. Her breasts heaved with each ragged gasp, her nipples pebbled and flushed, her stomach quivering as the sensations wracked her body. You held her through it—your thrusts gentling but never stopping, your lips pressed to the frantic pulse at her throat as she trembled beneath you.

"That's it," you murmured, your voice thick with awe as you watched her come undone. "Let go. Just feel it."

And she did.

Her climax was a living thing—rippling through her in slow, syrupy pulses that had her clenching around you rhythmically, her inner muscles milking your length as if trying to draw you deeper. Her thighs shook where they bracketed your hips, her heels digging into the small of your back as if to anchor herself.

"T-too much—" she sobbed, her hands flying to your shoulders, her nails biting into your skin. But even as she said it, her hips rolled up to meet your next thrust, her body demanding more even as it threatened to overwhelm her.

You obliged, your pace never faltering as you guided her through the aftershocks—each slow, deep stroke prolonging her pleasure until she was gasping, her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted around silent cries.

When the last tremor finally subsided, Jeongyeon went boneless beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin glistening with sweat. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, her touch feather-light as she floated back to earth.

"Alive?" you teased, brushing a damp lock of hair from her forehead.

She cracked one eye open, her lips curving into a drowsy, sated smile. "Mmm... very."

The room was quiet save for the sound of your mingled breaths, the sheets tangled around your legs like afterthoughts. Jeongyeon lay sprawled beneath you, her skin still flushed, her chest rising and falling in slow, contented waves. You traced idle patterns along her hip, smiling when she shivered at the touch.

"Tickles," she murmured, her voice drowsy and thick.

You hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. "Good tickles or bad tickles?"

She cracked one eye open, her lips quirking. "Annoying tickles."

You laughed, your fingers dancing higher, skimming the dip of her waist. "What about here?"

Jeongyeon squirmed, her breath hitching when your thumb brushed the underside of her breast. "You," she accused, though there was no heat in it—just a fond exasperation that made your chest warm.

You grinned, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "Me."

She huffed, but her arms wound around your shoulders anyway, her fingers carding through your hair in a way that was more affectionate than teasing. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," you murmured, kissing the spot just below her ear that always made her gasp, "you haven’t pushed me away yet."

Jeongyeon sighed—a long, exaggerated sound—before rolling you onto your back with surprising strength, her thighs straddling your hips with practiced ease. Her hair was a mess, her lips still swollen from earlier, her eyes bright with mischief.

"Who said anything about pushing you away?"

And then she leaned down, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was less about heat and more about promise—slow, sweet, and entirely too confident for someone who’d just come undone beneath you minutes ago.

You groaned, your hands settling on her waist. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

She smirked, her teeth nipping at your lower lip. "Good."

The words left her lips in a breathless rush, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest. "I love how you love me," she murmured, her voice still hazy from her first climax. "But... I need you to ruin me now."

A shiver ran down your spine at the quiet plea in her tone. You cupped her face, kissing her with a reverence that bordered on worship—slow, deep, your tongue sliding against hers in a silent promise. When you pulled back, her lips were parted, her eyes dark with anticipation.

"How bendy are you, baby?" you asked, your thumb brushing her swollen lower lip.

Jeongyeon blinked, her brows knitting together in adorable confusion. "I—what?"

"Yoga. Stretches. That kind of thing," you clarified, your voice dropping to a husky murmur as your hand trailed down her body, skimming the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip.

A slow, dawning realization lit her features, followed by a smirk that was all mischief. "Oh, please. I could out-stretch a pretzel."

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to her lips before shifting your weight. "Prove it."

With careful hands, you guided her legs up, folding them toward her chest until her knees brushed her shoulders. The position arched her back beautifully, her body open and achingly vulnerable beneath you. Jeongyeon gasped as you settled between her thighs, the new angle allowing you to sink into her with a single, devastating thrust.

"F-fuck—!" Her voice cracked, her nails scrabbling at the sheets as you bottomed out inside her, the stretch bordering on too much.

You stilled, your forehead dropping to hers as she adjusted, her inner walls fluttering wildly around your cock. "Okay?" you breathed, your voice rough with restraint.

Jeongyeon nodded frantically, her hips canting up in silent demand. "More—"

You obliged.

The first pullout was slow, deliberate, your cock dragging against her walls in a way that had her seeing stars. The second thrust was harder, deeper, the head of your length brushing that sweet spot inside her that made her scream.

"There—right there—!" she sobbed, her thighs trembling where they bracketed your shoulders.

You set a brutal pace then—each snap of your hips driving into her with pinpoint precision, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside her broken moans. The angle was obscene, allowing you to watch every inch of your cock disappear into her, her slick folds stretched taut around your girth.

Jeongyeon unraveled beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Her hands flew to her own nipples, pinching and tugging at the stiff peaks as if chasing even more sensation.

"Look at you," you groaned, your fingers digging into her hips as you pistoned into her. "—god, you feel unreal—"

She could only whimper in response, her body alight with pleasure, her walls clenching around you in rhythmic pulses as if trying to pull you even deeper.

And as the room filled with the sounds of your joining—her choked-off cries, your ragged breaths, the lewd squelch of your cock moving inside her—neither of you cared about anything but this.

[miyukisu]

Need Your Lips On Mine .ᐟ

❤︎ | You'd think he'd be more enthusiastic to get his hands on you because of the whole 'secret relationship' thing, but maybe it's time to turn the tables (2.3k wc) ╰ feat. osamu dazai (bsd) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 9 | kinktober masterlist

tags - reader works at the cafe, dom/sub dynamics, dazai is mean and annoying, edging, implied mutual masturbation, semi-public smex, toys, light bdsm (he's bound by the hands lol), blowjob, no p in v, p*rn with plot, reader is feisty, profanity

minors do not interact

"Take your hand off... I swear... they're gonna catch us sooner or later."

Your words fell on deaf ears as one bandaged hand kept itself under your skirt and on your ass. "If you keep quiet, then maybe no one will get caught. Hm?"

You let up, settling for nasty side glances at him every once in a while instead. Of course, you were met with Dazai's cheeky smile. This bastard really thought that by having a secret relationship—he could be annoying anytime he wanted as long as it was done in secret.

His job required to keep the existence of your relationship confidential—at least that's what he said. You were the cashier at the cafe located beneath their detective agency's office. Dazai was a detective, that's all you knew and that was more than enough apparently.

A secret is a secret, you figured.

Kunikida was starting to give you weird looks from the booth. You flashed an awkward smile and tried waving at him, failing to look normal.

Well... maybe Kunikida knows.

Why else would Dazai be standing behind you while you were at the register? It was either you were up to no good or Dazai's begging you to forget about his hefty tab.

"Who're you waving at?" he whispers into your ear. You failed to realize how close he leaned down to you.

"Kunikida. He's starting to realize something funny's going on."

"Funny you say?" Dazai repeats before humming in thought. Whatever it was that was running through the detective's head—it probably wasn't anything good or innocent.

Dazai finally lets go of your ass, opting to drape an arm across your shoulders instead. It wasn't anything unusual—surprisingly—because Dazai has been known to be 'friendly' with the cafe staff.

He calls the attention of all the customers i.e. Kunikida, Atsushi, Kenji, and Ranpo who is sound asleep. "I'll be accompanying our cute little cashier on her break. Don't miss us!"

It was highly unlikely that anyone would. Kunikida doesn't even give him the time of day while Atsushi offered an uneasy smile. Kenji was his usual upbeat self and Ranpo—was still fast asleep.

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It felt like an eternity of tongues clashing and breathless whispers blending into each other. Your hands were all over his lanky build while his hands remained firm on your behind. If you were to guess which body part he liked the most on a woman—you'd probably get it right.

Dazai pulled away first—not that he was breathless or anything; he just wanted to see what expression you had on your face.

"Someone's eager," he says in a lilted tone.

"Oh stop it. You disappear for a week... A WEEK!"

He laughs it off—disappearing for a week is business as usual for him. "Shhh... I'm here now though, aren't I? Besides, I find it quite cute how excited you are to get your hands on me."

That earned him a weak punch on the chest from you. "You're so annoying."

Dazai lets out another small laugh, amused by your irritation at him. "Oh, darling. You haven't seen the worst of it."

Knowing him and all the shit he pulls, those words should've made you run for the hills soon as you heard it. Dazai leans in, breath fanning the sweaty skin of your neck. It felt cool against the humid air of the cafe's storage room.

"I've got an idea," he whispers. "Don't move, okay?"

You hear a slight ruffling. Perhaps he was retrieving something from his coat pocket. Then, you feel something cold—something metallic—drag along your thigh. Though, you were unsure what it could be.

The feeling kept getting higher and higher, until it was at a place where you most dreaded it would reach. Dazai smiled as he dragged the unknown metallic object against the fabric of your panties.

"Wanna guess what that is, darling?"

You had a hint, but you decided not to indulge him in his silly games.

"You don't know?" he asks. "Well, I hope this helps!"

Dazai, skilled with his fingers, swiped the fabric out of the way and plunged the vibrator in one fluid motion.

"Good thing you got insanely wet from kissing me huh?"

Your first instinct was to close your legs, but Dazai was quick to put a knee between them. "W-what the fuck are you doing?"

"Thought I'd make things exciting," he says with an irritatingly bright smile. "Also because I have to go now."

Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him down to your level. "The fuck you mean you're going? You're seriously leaving me high and dry after basically ghosting me?"

He gives you a half-assed 'apologetic' smile. "I won't be too long. You can do anything to me once I come back."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

────────────

The rest of your shift was—to say the least—downright miserable. Of course, the stupid vibrator could be controlled by him. You weren't sure if it was purely coincidence or if he was secretly watching you, but the damn thing seemed to turn on whenever a customer would come up to the counter.

On the times you thought you could finally sit down and relax a bit, he'll make sure to turn it up a notch and give you a good surprise.

He gave you no reprieve as his antics continued until your shift ended and it was time to clean up. You were the only employee left because it just so happens to be the day when the most arduous clean up task fell into your care.

Once you heard the bell at the door ring and the familiar set of footsteps, you were ready to yell a certain man's ear off.

"Hey, darling."

"You son of a—"

Turning around, you were met with a smiling Dazai with a bouquet of flowers in his clutches. Normally, any other woman receiving flowers from a lover would be over the moon, but not you. Dazai was quite the unconventional man. Flowers were a tricky thing to interpret.

His smile turned lopsided before he slowly approached you. "I got you flowers."

"I can see that."

He chuckles again. "Can't you at least act like you're happy about it?"

"I don't want flowers," you exclaim.

He sighs, placing he beautiful arrangement on the counter beside you. "What do you want then, pretty?"

"You."

Dazai laughs a little louder this time as if what you said was so hilarious to him. "Me? Little ol' me? My sweet thing wants nothing else but me?"

"You're so annoying."

A large hand pats your unkempt hair. "Yes, I know, darling. You tell me almost everyday."

"Liar. I haven't seen you in a week. Besides—what the fuck is up with the vibrator? Do you know how many customers I've had toda—"

He silences you once more, placing a slender finger over your lips. "You get to do anything you want to me now though. Isn't that right, darling?"

The realization hits a bit too late, but it does, and small smile creeps on your face. This was going to be revenge for disappearing and for the stunt earlier.

You ask him to get the vibe out and he obeys without complaint—the metal apparatus stuffed in his pocket again. You hadn't realized how drenched you were until it was pulled out. But that doesn't matter right now. You were a woman on a mission.

No words left your mouth as you made quick work of his belt. Dazai's eyes never left your hands as he smiled to himself.

"Getting to the good part already hm?" he insinuates. But you don't respond, only silently walking behind him to bind his hands with his own belt. You've learned plenty of things from him and this was one of those.

"Ah hah... we're doing that kind of thing huh?" he says, continuing to talk seemingly to himself.

You walk right in front of him again, grabbing his collar like you did earlier today. With his face closer now, he should understand the situation he's in. "Be a good boy for me, okay?" you say before planting a soft kiss on his chapped lips.

Thrill and excitement coursed through every fiber of his being as you roughly pushed him back against the counter. He made himself weightless and easy to push around because this was entertainment for him as much as it was for you.

But the glint in your eyes tells him this wasn't simply any kind of entertainment for you. You had a plan and him not knowing anything for once gave him a rush he had gotten only in the past.

With the strength you had in your arms, you pried his vest and button up open—albeit you had to carefully unbutton some of the stubborn ones.

"It's kinda hot seeing you take control for once," he says.

Once all of the buttons were out of the way, you were met by his mostly bandaged abdomen. Even you were unsure of what was beneath these strips, but he was adamant to keep them on.

You ran your palms over his body, stopping at his heaving chest. "I've never seen you out of breath before. Are you that excited?"

"Am I? You should feel my dick," he counters.

You try your hardest to stifle a laugh by kissing his bandaged chest instead. The soft gesture seemingly had a soothing effect on him as his breathing slowed a bit and his expression mellowed out—like you had put him in a trance.

Then the kisses went lower and lower—his chest, stomach, until you were just above the hem of his trousers. His adam's apple bobbed, swallowing in anticipation.

"Wow," you mutter, palming at his aching erection. "You weren't lying huh?"

His laugh came out choppier than usual as if his typical air of confidence had been blown away. Dazai tried playing it cool. "Can you blame me?"

"Guess not," you shrug nonchalantly before working on the button of his pants. Thanks to having the belt off, his bottoms came off pretty easily—not that you needed it all the way off.

Palming at his hardening cock after the thin fabric of his boxers made his mouth water and his palms clammy. Even Dazai was starting to wonder what the fuck was going on with him. Perhaps it was the thick air inside the stuffy room or because someone was finally putting his ass in its place.

Whichever it was, it only served to make him exhilarated.

"This looks pretty painful," you coo at him. Dazai would have loved to gently caress your head as you knelt in front of him so sweetly, but alas, his hands were still bound behind his back.

He found it hotter how well you restrained him actually.

"Yeah, looks like you should do something about it no?"

In response, you pull the pesky fabric out of he way, freeing his leaking cock. Truth be told, you weren't expecting for him to be fully hard after all that. Dazai was rather... hard to impress—for a lack of a better term.

You swipe his weeping tip with a thumb before spreading pre all along his length. Looking up at him, you ask the question: "My hand or my mouth?"

"Be serious, darling. You know you need both to get all of me."

"Fine. Be a smartass and you get neither."

He lets out a labored breath. "Jeez. Fine. I want your mouth. Pretty please?"

For as much of a pain in the ass he is, hearing him be so compliant for once made him hard to deny. You rewarded him with a small kitty lick on his tip—to test the waters—before licking the underside of his length.

You've learned to pay attention to those spots. Normally, Dazai was good at hiding things, but it was easy to catch on his sensitive points. In the bedroom, with you, he was an open book.

You watched him—how his eyes were fixated on you—while you went down on him. It made you particularly satisfied seeing him throw his head back in pleasure.

It egged you on to fit more of him and to go faster. You gagged more than once and it was messy—really fucking messy.

Just how he liked it.

He had grown uncharacteristically quiet which was usually a good sign in this case. It meant you were doing good—so good in fact, that it shut him up.

Feeling his dick twitch, you knew he was painfully close. But he isn't getting that orgasm he craves so easily. No way.

Before he could bust his load, you pull away—a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his reddish tip.

Innocently, you stared up at him as if you've done nothing wrong—as if you didn't blue ball him just now.

"Hah... darling... I was so close..."

He sounded so breathless... so desperate. His heart fell to his stomach when you got off your knees and dusted yourself off. Was that it? Was he going to be left standing there with his dick out and aching?

You turn away from him, walking a couple of steps. He could tell you were fiddling with your uniform, but he was concerned more about his predicament down there.

"Thought you were the only one who could edge me?"

He tries to get out of the restraint while you weren't looking, but that blowjob quite literally sucked the strength out of his body.

But all of his movements were halted once you turned around, blouse open and tits out all for him to see.

"Well, two can play that game, darling. Sit tight while you watch me, alright? Gonna play with myself for a bit. Hope ya don't mind."

You tried copying his sing-song tone, but no matter what kind of lighthearted tone you use, there probably isn't one that can fix the frustrated frown on his face.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I'm kinda tired of writing p in v so here you go!! Some good ol' edging and teasing for the soul!!

[tangyneon]

too busy being yours

Gojo has no need for the sun to break through the dark clouds of rain, when you're standing in front of him, frowning so sweetly at him.

There's nothing brighter than you in his eyes—be they Six, or be they just two—in any case.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; fluffy and not-too-mildly sappy; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you while you tolerate him; he's somewhat obsessed with you but not in a toxic way—yet; very heavy on the 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; word count–2487. warnings: implied bullying—gojo isn't involved!! but that doesn't mean he isn't a warning—the boy very much is, along with his extreme want to be your knight in shining armour and beat the bad guys up. this is a sequel of sorts to 'it was over from the start', but please feel free to treat it as a stand-alone if you wanna!! notes: not me rewriting and reposting one of my most popular works from my old blog—ONCE MORE!!!! the fic title is from "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys. hope you'll enjoy reading this!! ❤️❤️

Gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

One: those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else. And, two: those who aren't, but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world—the latter category housing no one but you—

Tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms, and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when questioned why he wants to meet you out of all the people he could. That too now, when the sky is darkening from a mix of night and storm. That too—to meet you.

Candy crushed between molars, Gojo grins.

"Let's just say I'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

Then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy—if his Six Eyes were working as usual now and weren't fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have determined your location too in a moment or so, and not have had to rely on others for that...

The blinding beacon, which your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self—he adds, "Also maybe because I'm a little in love with her—she's really sweet, y'know?"

Whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

Utahime makes a face. Almost as if she just bit into a lemon... Almost as if she doesn't believe Gojo can fall in love... Almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... That last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's Shoko's girlfriend—

But he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

Your cursed energy caresses his Six Eyes gently. Something burns behind his two eyes. The boy begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him—the directions to you!!

"Go down this hallway, then turn right at the end. She'll still be in the gardens—" The rest of the sentence doesn't reach Gojo.

Nor does anything else, for that matter.

Nothing does—except for the steady thump! thump! thump! against his ribs and in his ears. And, of course—how did he even forget this—the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

Your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

So sweet. So sweet.

It's the sweetest thing Gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. The pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. Legs swaying with the wind. Gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

Everything changes in a beat—or perhaps even less than that—with your eyes no longer on the book.

They're on him. Drowning him. Suffocating him. Squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. Taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

Your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "Why are you here, Senpai?"

"Why am i here?" he echoes your ask. Your frown deepens. He grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "To see you, of course!! Mind if I take a seat beside you?"

You do mind. Gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so—shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. Nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

Your scowl stays unfazed, he watches, heart lurching and tumbling. Falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head, and hums.

"Why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"Please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "And, please don't pretend you don't know why I'm mad—acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"Acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," The boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. It's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. But he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now—plus, don't the two of you appear so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

He continues—not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen: eyes narrowing a touch, lips pursed a pinch. The boy wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

He allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"But i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" Not really. He finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. But since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "—so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so that you aren't sent to any difficult mission, and you have a 100% chance of staying alive, ANDDD your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"Why are you here, senpai?"

Obviously, to see you, silly!!

—is what Gojo should say. Is what Gojo wants to say. But he finds his tongue numb and unmoving; rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

If you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

And the boy loves it. His Six Eyes love it. The boy loves you—

Your brows gather close. His stomach does a flip. Your voice assumes an adorably serious tone, "You didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, Senpai?"

Did he?

Oh, Gojo doesn't really know.

Maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. But maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in Otsu, Shiga.

Only fifteen kilometres away from the Kyoto Jujutsu Tech—you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. Gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like—he decides it is not that bad.

Not when you lean a little towards him. Narrowed gaze. Earnest tone.

"Look—I know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that—but how about this? Instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't I buy you a box of gourmet chocolates? Or a ticket to your favorite band's concert? Or a gift voucher of your favourite clothing store—this is better, isn't it?"

Better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

But the thing is, he isn't. The boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you—he just wants to take you out on a date. Always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

Making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. A very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

Slipping his shades off, he sits up and offers a tiny smile. It feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"You do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

It takes you a while to reply—throwing back a question of your own, "Is this you telling me I can't buy a rich guy's silence, Senpai?"

He is. He very much is. But heaven knows why you make it sound this rude—the same as before, you don't stop speaking. Not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"But everyone likes free stuff, don't they? I mean, I'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. So minute, he almost misses it. But he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

Exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "Don't you like freebies, Senpai?"

He does. He very much does. Even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"You're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now—extremely likely, forever. "I don't get why Utahime doesn't see you to be so."

You make some sort of a noise then.

It isn't quite a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

You hum, "Iori-senpai's the kindest out of everyone here. If she thinks I'm not someone sweet... I don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"Hell no," Gojo mutters in that same instant—a bit miffed at how you refer to Utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say—not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

For the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

It's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a touch, in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

He doesn't really think before adding, "The only bells i can hear when I look at you are—" You frown. He bites his tongue. Maybe... he ought to think a bit before speaking...

Chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"Never mind what I can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds—like, hell no!!" he repeats. Letting some force seep into his syllables, into his unwavering stare, fixed on you—on every minute expression you're making—

He really decides to think, however. Softening himself on noting your shaky exhale, your nails digging into the cover of your book—Gojo lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

Forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"Feel free to text me the names of the dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way—but, don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"I won't ask you out on a date in return for that—I'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as I asked you to—you will text me, won't ya?"

Yeah. No. Thank you. Fuck you—

You say nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

For a very painfully long ten seconds.

During which you do nothing except look at him—just look, only look. Neither glare nor gape nor gawk—just a quiet, scarily quiet looking—Gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

And inquire, words so slow and soft.

"This isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"Hey, no—" he rushes to explain, fuming at himself because how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?—but as is the norm, you do not allow him to speak any more than that. Cutting him off with yet another one of your queries—except this time, it is not too slow.

And more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it—"You did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

No, he didn't. Obviously, he didn't.

Gojo Satoru may be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them. Something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much—but he finds himself not too sure.

Thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

And the torrential rains following not an instant late.

And the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold—only to come back to his face. Wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

Gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. He tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away, and the boy's Six Eyes stare at the trail of your addictively bright and hot—and they are not talking about just the temperature—cursed energy—

He tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

The thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. Or, maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

Yet another lightning streaks across the sky. He twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at its sight—features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

Gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

Or, maybe, he'll die later, he changes his stance quickly—on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

You huff when you reach him.

The boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

Crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

And, exhale a soft sigh. His breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"Next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that immediately after your missions—it is awfully difficult to get mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

No—Gojo does not really know.

But as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm—an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building—and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

Cans of green tea. Chamomile tea. Dark chocolate. Biscuits. Water—

The boy muses if this is your bid to buy his silence—by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to Tokyo...

Oh—it's enough for him to not worry about tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

Gojo smiles.

Deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart—although... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?

© tangyneon 2025 || please don't plagiarise, translate or repost this || characters used here aren't mine || header is from pinterest || masterlist.

[moth-murdock]

No one knows (I wish she could)

My masterlist | Series masterlist

A/n: part two! Let's fucking go! Also, those images were chosen for a very specific reason that you will find out later :)

Genre: angst? Fluff?

Summary: being pregnant is supposed to be celebrated. But how are you supposed to tell your husband when he has such deep emotional wounds?

Warnings: telling your husband you're pregnant

Other tags: Curtis mentioned, max not much :(, confrontation yikes, I'm starting to Google stuff now so bear with me

Word count: 1.6k

You pocket the test and sneak over into your shared bedroom to hide it. After much deliberation, you decide to go back to the bathroom and hide it among your period things. You knew for sure that Frank wouldn't go nosing around in there, and it's not like you'd forget about it. You couldn't if you tried.

Slowly, and with shaking breath, you put your things back to how they were. Then, you felt like you could cry. All the worst-case scenarios were going through your head at once, and you felt like they would all come true and burn down the life you had built with Frank. You wash your face to will the tears away, heading back to the living room. He's still asleep. Good.

After a moment of thinking and a glance at the crooked clock on the wall, you turn the forgotten TV off.

"Honey... Come on..." You say softly as you nudge your husband

"You're gonna be achey tomorrow if you sleep on the couch." You reason, but you are met with a protesting groan from the man

"Not gonna be able t'sleep if I get up..." He murmurs, adjusting the pillow beneath his head

"And I can't sleep without you in the bed with me, sweetheart." You counter, to which he gives a few seconds of thought before getting up.

"Don't say I don't love you..." He grumbles as he stretches, his shirt riding up a bit to reveal his happy trail. You want to have a sinful thought, but that is quickly doused by the knowledge of what is currently hiding in your bathroom drawer. Thankfully, he's too sleepy to notice the worry on your face. 

You both make your way back to the bedroom, crawling into the soft sheets together. He's the big spoon tonight, pressing gentle, sleepy kisses to the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you. You want to be comforted, but this just makes his hands end up on your stomach. Instinctively, you tense for a second. But you don't want him to know something's wrong, so you force yourself to relax. You damn near shit yourself when you're pulled out of your thoughts by his voice, rough with sleep.

"G'night, sweetheart."

"Night, baby"

Baby

The next morning, you take another test. To be sure. Because there's no way, right? I mean, you take your pills on time every day. No matter what. Of course, birth control isn't always effective... But the odds are so slim, there's no way. Right?

Two pink lines.

FUCK

It takes 2 days before you feel like you're actually going to die unless you tell someone. So you call the people you know are close to Frank. You pick up your phone, dialing Curtis's number. There's background noise, like he's probably cooking dinner

"Hello?"

"Curtis! Hi!"

"What did he do this time?" The man chuckles

"actually... I uh... I need your advice on something."

"Alright, what is it?"

"... Well... I uh... I'm pregnant. And I don't know how to tell Frank, and I'm scared of how he'll react."

You hear the click of a stove being turned off and the scrape of a pan being moved off the burner.

"Well... Before anything else, congratulations."

Oh boy.

"... Thank you..."

"I know you know about Maria and the kids. But I need more context."

"Like?..."

"Was this planned? Unplanned? Have the two of you talked about kids before? How did he react to that? All that."

"Oh, um... Unplanned. And I've tried to bring up kids before... He avoids it every time..."

Every time you tried to hint at kids with Frank, you were shut down. A video of a baby in a onesie? He said "cute" and nothing more. Asking to look around the infant section of the store? He asked if your sister was pregnant. You straight up asked him what he thought about kids as you walked past a park one day, and he said "they're alright. Pretty loud."

"Okay... So... Unplanned, and he's been avoiding talking about kids..." Curtis repeats

"Yeah..." You sigh

"Well... I'll tell you what I do know. I know Maria's pregnancy also wasn't planned. But damn it if he didn't love those kids more than anything."

"Yeah, I thought about that too, but I don't know if he'll be the same about me. He didn't have so many... Issues... When Maria was pregnant."

"Good point..."

There's a few more moments of silence before he speaks again.

"The best I can do is this. Tell him, and if he doesn't take it well, call me. I'll try to talk to him."

"Thank you, Curtis."

"No problem. Congrats again." He says before hanging up, after which you put your phone away with a sigh.

You pretty much repeat this process with Dinah, David, and even Matt. You needed all the opinions you could get. And they all said something along the lines of what Curtis said. Frank loved his previous children, and he loves you. But also in case anything goes wrong they would all beat the shit out of him together.

You know you only have so much time before you can no longer hide it. If you did your math right, you got pregnant about two weeks before your period. And given that morning sickness starts at around five weeks, you don't have very long to think about what you want to do and how to do it. 

What you know for sure is that you don't want to get rid of it. But having a baby would affect Frank as well, so he should at least get to put in his opinion. That still means you have to tell him.

It could potentially blow up in your face, yes, but it doesn't seem like Frank would realistically be angry or leave you for it. Hell, when he found out Maria was pregnant, the first thing he did was put a ring on her finger. Their marriage was a good one, from what Curtis and Frank himself have told you. So this can't go too horribly wrong, right?

You take some time to consider your options before you finally come to a decision. You're going to tell Frank. But now you figure out how. You've seen a few pregnancy reveals before, so you have an idea of what you could do that Frank would like. Hopefully, if he likes it enough, he won't blow up.

We need to talk when you come home you text.

Okay. 👍🏻

Despite the situation, that manages to get a small laugh out of you. That seemed to be his response to just about everything.

As you wait for Frank to get home, you decide to pick up some pizza from Lombardi's. You figure that if he's happy, it's celebratory. If he's upset, it's a consolation. You check your phone to see if he's on his way home yet, and he's about 15 minutes out. Fuck.

In an attempt to not go insane, you go to the bathroom to take one more test, just in case. After the longest ten minutes of your life, you are greeted by two pink lines. Double fuck.

You let yourself spiral until you hear Frank's truck pull into the driveway, at which point you go to the dining table. Frank walks in and hangs up his jacket, smirking at the pizza on the table

"Lombardi's and a talk? I hope we're celebratin'" He chuckles in that low voice of his, crossing the room to give you a kiss.

"I hope so too..." You sigh into the kiss, your grip tightening around the positive test in your hands

"You hope so?" He asks, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear

"Frank... I..." You start, trying to avoid the lump that forms in your throat.

Frank, lord bless him, just waits. He has this look when he's listening, so aggressive and yet so soft at the same time.

"What I wanted to talk to you about... Is... It's..." You struggle, trying to speak around the lump in your throat.

And Frank, he just listens. He listens in a way that you know he really is. He has that look on his face, so aggressive and yet so soft. He meets your eyes, and that's all it takes for you to break. Because you don't want to lose him. You don't want to lose everything you have with him.

Frank sees the fat tears brimming on your waterline and immediately wraps his arms around you so tenderly and with such concern that it just makes you cry even more.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Why're you cryin'?"

You can't answer, your nose already so full that you almost can't breathe. When he notices that, he stops trying to get you to talk. He lets you cry it out, your tears rolling off his flannel.

Once your sniffles die down, you gather the strength to speak.

"I just... I love you so much... And I don't want to lose you..."

"I ain't goin' nowhere... Why would you lose me?" He chuckles softly as he cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs

"Because... I don't... know how you'll take it..." You hiccup between breaths

"Take what, sweetheart?"

You finally bring up your hands, showing him the positive pregnancy test

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Frank."

Chapter 3: I want her to know (he don't have it all)

[youreverydayfangirl]

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS

pairing: charles leclerc x singer reader

summary: the one where y/n sainz is getting sick of this on and off game lando is playing with her, she confronts him about it and things end in a way she didn't want them to

warning: mentions of hook ups, angsty

a/n: a bit of a setter chapter for yousss

face claim: madison beer :)

f1 masterlist

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yourusername has posted

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 783, 495 others

yourusername hot ibiza nights

tagged: bsfuser, friend1, friend2

bsfuser maybe tonight dont get lost <3

-> yourusername dont expose me like that

-> user2 what? 😭

lilymhe GORG GORG GORG

-> yourusername miss you so much 🤍

landonorris hope you’re not forgetting about me 😉

-> yourusername idk you're pretty forgettable

-> landonorris hey! thats mean

-> user1 LANDO OMG 😭😭

user2 anyone else think lando is low key weird

-> user3 REAL cause he either likes and comments or ignores the post completely

-> user4 also like this is the first post of hers in two weeks his interacted with and its the only post that has a guy in it. jealous??

-> user5 yall are reaching he probably just doesn't see all of them

-------------------

"I don't know." Y/n sighed, making eye contact with her best friend through the mirror as bsf curled her hair. "I don't want to lose him."

"But you can't let him treat you like this anymore."

"I just, I'm in love with him you know? And I'd rather have a piece of him than not have him at all." Y/n sighed, a tear falling from her face.

"You're not happy anymore Y/n, this is consuming you, you have to tell him." Bsf said to her, dabbing slightly at her tears, her sparkly eye makeup shimmering on her finger. Bsf turned her hair curler off, grabbing onto Y/ns shoulder and smiling at her, "Now wipe those tears away cause we're in Ibiza babes, time to get pissed."

----------------

yourusername has posted

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 783, 495 others

yourusername trip down under w my parents lilymhe alex_albon

tagged: lilymhe, alex_albon, carlossainz55

bsfuser wait! come back! i miss you

-> yourusername omw wifey

lilymhe MY BABY

-> yourusername MOTHER

-> alex_albon i never agreed to this

-> yourusername you agreed to this when you started dating her albono

user1 of all the photos she could've used of carlos she used THAT

-> user2 little sibling energy please

carlossainz55 a pain in my neck

-> yourusername you love me don't lie

---------------

Y/n was getting ready to go put when a knock echoed through her hotel room. She opened it to see a familiar curly haired brit standing on the other side. "Lando-"

She was cut off with his lips pressing against hers in a passionate kiss. She pulled away from him, "I didn't see you earlier but congratulations I'm so happy-"

He cut her off, "I don't want to talk right now Y/n." He said before peppering kisses down her neck.

"Okay," She murmured before pulling his head up to meet his lips.

----------------------

-----------------------

Y/n stood in the cold air outside Lando's Monaco apartment. She knocked gently, not missing the surprised look on Landos face when he saw her. "Y/n hey." He said softly, stepping outside to close the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" He asked more sharply.

"I need to know, I can't keep doing this Lando. I can't keep pretending that..." She trailed off uncertainly.

"That what?"

"That I'm not in love with you Lando. What the hell are we Lando? Because I can't keep doing this Lando." She said gently, struggling to keep eye contact with the man in front of her.

"We're friends Y/n of course we are." He said gently and she scoffed, rolling her eyes at him.

"When were we ever just friends Lando, friends do not do what we do." She said crossing her arms.

"We were never anything more." Lando said and Y/n swore she could feel her heart rip open in her chest.

Y/n looked up at him, "Do you want to be anything more?" She questioned sadly.

He stopped, his face turning hard, "It was just a good hook up Y/n." He then moved inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

--------------------

The first chapter is up!!

Its a bit of a shorter one but its more to set the scene for the story.

IDK what else to write but hopefully you guys enjoyed it!!

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