#Change Language for Text in Portion

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

Has anyone read Fourth Wing translated into another language and did you agree with the Violet/Violence nickname translations in said language? Because I'm reading through the Bulgarian version rn and they. Fucking transliterated it??? With a FOOTNOTE??? Explaining what Violence means in English??? Even though it's not a one-time thing but a recurring nickname and the use of Sudden English Word in-text in what's meant to be flirty, charged and tender moments later is fucking jarring??? I am Shaking With Rage.

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

synopsis — campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter contents — explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play consensual choking, consensual slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!jeno, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides jeno, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in jeno at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!jeno, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, jeno sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, jeno and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, nct ‘00 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, jeno is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, jeno makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating jeno, sweetheart jeno, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, jeno takes reader home, boyfriend jeno (kinda), watch as jeno and oc fall in love, jeno always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak

authors note — happy birthday lee jeno <3 i love you. please interact and leave an ask or message mwah. also there will be a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up. also thank you my bae @jenolala for helping me with ideas and being my personal reader i love you.

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Lee Jeno. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.

Nayoung’s infatuation with Jeno has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of God among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

Lee Jeno was the craze around campus, and he had always been. He was apparently good in bed, a phenomenal lover with a big cock, smart, hot, handsome, and knew how to fuck and treat a girl right. He was social and friendly, outgoing, and everyone knew who he was and everyone loved him. But not you though. For you, it’s all just noise. You’re simply not interested in him.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her.

“I'm not even talking...” you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Jeno constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

“He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me,” Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Lee Jeno, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Jeno turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Lee Jeno carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

“We still on for tonight, baby?” Jeno's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says,

“Yes, I'll be waiting for you.” Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. “I'll be yours to play with all night long.”Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Lee Jeno has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Jeno’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Jeno and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Jeno and Nayoung, Donghyuck catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Renjun chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."

At Renjun's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your “personal choices” became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Jeno's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Jeno is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Jeno breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Renjun's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Donghyuck and Renjun's playful torment. Yet, Jeno's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.

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One day you’re gonna cut Lee Jeno’s cock off.

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the musical compositions you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Lee Jeno, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Jeno and his cock.

(Unfortunately)

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Jeno seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Jeno is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Jeno became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Jeno spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.

Jeno shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Jeno says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Jeno catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.

"Damn, that's cool," Jeno whispers. "What's she like?"

You gulp nervously, wondering why Lee Jeno wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Jeno chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing her major, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Jeno thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Jeno. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”

Jeno scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Jeno asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Jeno left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Jeno know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

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The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Jeno possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fucking, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Lee Jeno? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy with no heart, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! You’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Lee Jeno even asked for the name of your band."

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What you knew about Lee Jeno’s cock was against your own will.

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Jeno’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Jeno have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Jeno’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Jeno’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Jeno's sexual conquests.

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Jeno thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Jeno’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.

Nayoung goes back to praising Jeno for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Jeno. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"

You had never spoken a word to Lee Jeno in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Jeno, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Lee Jeno, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Eunji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Jeno closer is already in motion.

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Jeno received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Jeno enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Jeno eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Jeno's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Jeno strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Jeno spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you.

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Jeno spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.

In that fleeting moment, as Jeno's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Jeno, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Lee Jeno here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Jeno watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Jeno feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Jeno's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Jeno feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Jeno attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Jeno finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Jeno, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Jeno's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Eunji’s house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

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As Jeno steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.

As the conversation between you and Jeno progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Jeno, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Jeno leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Jeno continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Jeno’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Jeno’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Jeno's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Jeno looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Jeno, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.

As Jeno's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.

Jeno's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Jeno reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Jeno, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Jeno’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

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Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Jeno’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Nayoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body.

His breath hitches when he finally sees your tattoo, it really was identical to his. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in and presses his lips against the outline of your tattoo, tracing it with tantalizing kisses. His lips move slowly, sensually, as he explores every inch of the intricate design, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp as his tongue joins the dance, tracing the delicate lines of your tattoo with a teasing touch. Each stroke of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, igniting a fiery passion that consumes you both. In the heat of the moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue caressing your skin, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Jeno," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Jeno whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout.

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Jeno positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.

As Jeno pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Jeno,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”

Jeno’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Jeno ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

──────────────────────────────

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Jeno in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Jeno’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Jeno, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Jeno points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Jeno’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Jeno observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Jeno’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Jeno hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.

“Why did you start playing bass?” Jeno’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Jeno shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Jeno observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Ryujin,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Jeno’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Jeno shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Jeno have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Jeno's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jeno's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.”

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Jeno has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

──────────────────────────────

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Jeno consume your mind every time you close your eyes.

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Jeno's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Lee Jeno checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Lee Jeno’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Jeno left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Jeno fucked you in it all night long.”

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Jeno, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Jeno, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing more. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Jeno, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Jeno is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.

As Jeno adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Jeno!” He motions for him to come over.

As Jeno approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. His full name ‘Lee Jeno.’ was neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Jeno bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Jeno, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Jeno is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Jeno’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Jeno pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Jeno asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Jeno's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.

──────────────────────────────

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in —it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course you know who she is—someone in the year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Jeno fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Jeno and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.

──────────────────────────────

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Jeno," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Jeno-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Jeno strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jaemin, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Jeno who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Jeno’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Jeno since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Jeno you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Jeno, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Jeno and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Jeno, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Jeno. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Jeno wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Jeno walked in, accompanied by Jaemin. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Jeno turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Jeno, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Jeno. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.

After the lecture, you spot Jaemin lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jaemin was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Jeno’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Jeno weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jaemin approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jaemin says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jaemin continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Jeno’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jaemin’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jaemin continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jaemin walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Jeno could lead.

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The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Jeno standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jaemin’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Jeno you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Jeno greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Jeno,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Jeno’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Jeno’s words.

Jeno closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Jeno's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him… The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.

“Eric will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”

He smirks. “Close second.”

──────────────────────────────

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

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As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.

As Jaemin’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Jeno on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.

Jeno.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Jeno is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Jeno standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Jeno steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Jeno's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Jeno grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Jeno can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Jeno, Jeno," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Jeno's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Jeno’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Jeno holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Jeno aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Jeno’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Jeno

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”

Jeno’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Jeno’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

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Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Jeno’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Jeno’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Jeno chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Jeno chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck. Shotaro and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Donghyuck. “Donghyuck can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Renjun, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jaemin?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people

“I love Jaemin.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Jeno’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jaemin and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jaemin.

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Jeno chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jaemin entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jaemin’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Jeno with company. Jeno, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jaemin finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Jeno simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jaemin’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Jeno leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Jeno himself.

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.

As Jeno’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Jeno is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Jeno’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Jeno bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.

Does he realise how hot that was?

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Jeno fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen— Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Jeno’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Jeno, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Jeno chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Jeno’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Jeno’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Jeno offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.

Jeno reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”

Jeno sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Jeno’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Jeno’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Jeno leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jeno plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.

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You fidget with the hem of Jeno’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Jeno follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Jeno’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Jeno’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jaemin spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Donghyuck stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Renjun leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Jeno remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Jeno’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Jeno, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Jeno's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

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As the weeks pass, your interactions with Jeno become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out. You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Lee Jeno was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Jeno, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Jeno exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Jeno displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you.

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

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You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

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As time passed, Jeno’s friends became an integral part of your life, their presence a constant presence in your shared moments. You found yourself spending more and more time at his house, naturally integrating yourself into his circle of friends. Initially intimidating, you soon discovered that they had big hearts and welcomed you with open arms

Jeno also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.

Jeno exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Jeno are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Jeno are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Jeno to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, ‘Jeno, please touch me!’ in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Jeno’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Jeno.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting ‘higher’ over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Jen—”

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As you lay your head on Jeno’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Jeno with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Jeno, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Jeno’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Jeno looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Jeno’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Jeno doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Jeno’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Jeno’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

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authors note thank you for reading :) hope you enjoyed, happy birthday to my love jeno <3 if you liked, pls interact, leave a message, ask, reblog, my dms on here are always open too so speak to me! i love meeting new ppl. there is a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up

tag list @apuppygirlfriend @babbymochiiii @actually-vl @mingiandbaconjam @nakamotai

[leriexoxo]

Pretty Boy, Asshole 2

Husband! Leeknow x Reader (arranged marriage au)

Tags: Arranged marriage AU, Strangers to Lovers, Slowburn, Enemies(ish) to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Domestic Feels, Emotional whiplash. Mean Minho, Language.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: But the thing about sharing a house with a man like Minho? Hate starts to unravel. Fights get personal. Distance gets intimate. And soon, the walls between you start crumbling one argument, one sleepless night, one accidental kiss at a time. You didn’t ask for this marriage. But now that you’re in it, you’ll be damned if you let him walk away before knowing exactly what he’d almost thrown away.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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The phone rang.

Minho answered it quickly, stepping into the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Boss, it’s me,” his assistant said on the other end. “Everything’s confirmed for tonight. Do you still want the rooftop? The chef just needs a final headcount.”

Minho rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking back to the closed bathroom door behind him.

“…Just two,” he murmured.

“You got it. Wine pairing?”

He hesitated. “No wine. Just tea. She prefers tea.”

The assistant hummed. “Noted. I’ll text you the room code and timeline. You should be there by seven.”

Minho hung up with a soft “thanks,” and stood there for a long second.

What the hell was he doing?

He didn’t even know what this was.

Not exactly.

Only that something had changed. In the car. In the bathroom. In the silence that followed. The way her eyes softened, even while her mouth held stubborn fire.

He wanted to get this right. For once.

—

You were already trying to put the morning behind you, curled up on the couch in a robe, scrolling half-heartedly through a book you weren’t even reading. There was something in your chest today—something new. Something almost… unsteady.

And then Minho appeared in the doorway.

Wearing a black button-up and slacks. His sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms. His hair styled but still soft around the edges. Eyes on you.

“I need you to get dressed,” he said plainly.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “I want to take you out. Dinner.”

Your heart stuttered. “Is that an apology?”

“It’s a… start.”

You looked him over, unsure if this was a joke. “Do I get a dress code?”

He smirked slightly. “Wear something you’d want to be stared at in.”

And then he left.

Just like that.

You stood there for a long moment, brain short-circuiting.

Because this wasn’t the Minho who slammed doors.

This wasn’t the man who flinched when you got too close.

This was someone else.

Someone trying.

And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

—

The rooftop was glowing.

You blinked when he guided you out of the elevator, hand resting lightly at your lower back. The sun was just beginning to set—casting golden light across a candlelit table set for two, with soft music humming from somewhere invisible. The chef bowed once in greeting before disappearing inside.

Your breath caught.

There were flower petals on the ground.

Steam rising from a white porcelain teapot at the center of the table.

And the view? Endless city, kissed with orange and gold.

“…Minho,” you whispered. “What is all this?”

He looked straight ahead. “You’ve done nothing but compromise since this marriage began. This is just me… catching up.”

You stared at him, stunned silent.

He pulled the chair out for you.

You sat automatically, watching as he took the seat across from you, reaching forward to pour your tea first before his own. His hands were steady. Eyes unreadable.

The food was beautiful—small portions of rich flavor, carefully selected. The tea, your favorite blend. Every single detail chosen with care.

“You remembered I like jasmine tea?” you said softly.

He nodded, not looking up. “I notice more than you think.”

Something twisted in your stomach. You were so used to the fights, the coldness, the passive-aggressive silence. You didn’t know what to do with this version of him—this thoughtful, almost-gentle Minho.

“This doesn’t mean we’re suddenly in love,” you said quickly, trying to protect your heart.

He finally looked up.

“I know,” he said, voice steady. “But it means I want to try.”

And something in you cracked.

He didn’t reach for your hand. Didn’t make a move. But the way he was looking at you? Like he was finally seeing you, not just the obligation—you weren’t ready for it.

But god, you wanted more of it.

The dinner passed in a daze. Laughter slipped out where you didn’t expect it. Your feet bumped beneath the table and neither of you moved away. When dessert came, it was the kind of sweet you’d once mentioned liking in passing—and he’d remembered.

And by the time you returned home… the silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore.

It was something else entirely.

He paused in the doorway to his room.

You lingered in the hall.

And for a moment, neither of you moved.

“…Goodnight,” he said finally, voice low.

You nodded. “Goodnight.”

He waited a beat longer. Like he wanted to say something else.

Then shut the door softly behind him.

And you?

You stood there in the dark, heartbeat wild.

Because for the first time…

You didn’t want the night to end.

—

You couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the tea. Maybe it was the soft music still echoing in your head.

Maybe it was the way Minho looked at you all through dinner—like you were something to be remembered, not endured.

Your body was humming. Stretched tight like a bowstring.

Restless.

So you slid out of bed and padded into the hall, bare feet brushing cool wood floors.

The baby doll you wore was one of the few things you had brought from your old life—a silly little purchase from a night of wine and impulse. You’d worn it tonight just to feel soft again, for no one but yourself.

It was sheer, barely-there. Lacy. Dangerous.

You didn’t expect to run into your husband.

But of course—of course—you did.

He was already in the kitchen, leaning over the sink with a glass of water in his hand, head tilted down, neck on full display.

Shirtless.

Sweatpants.

Hung so low on his hips you genuinely forgot how to walk for a moment.

He didn’t hear you at first, but when the fridge door creaked open—he turned.

And everything in the air shifted.

He stared.

You froze.

The glass in his hand tightened ever so slightly. His jaw ticked.

His gaze dragged down your body, slow, shameless, and seething.

“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

You blinked. “What?”

Minho took a step closer. One. Measured. Step

“That,” he said, eyes burning, “is what you wear to sleep?”

You straightened, suddenly on edge. “It’s mine. I can wear whatever I want.”

“Are you expecting someone in your bed tonight?”

You scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“Because if you’re not,” he said, stepping closer again, “that’s even worse.”

Your heart was pounding. Your hands were cold but your skin was flushed. “Why would it be worse?”

He stopped just in front of you now—dangerously close.

“Because if there’s no one there to see it, then why the hell isn’t it me?”

The words cracked through the silence like a whip.

Your mouth parted but no sound came out.

Minho was breathing hard, his eyes flicking from your mouth to your thighs, rage and desire locked in a vice.

“You walked out of that room,” he continued, voice low, “looking like this—like a goddamn fantasy—and you didn’t think I’d lose my mind?”

You swallowed.

“It’s just sleepwear,” you whispered.

“Not to me.”

There was nothing but breathing now. The soft hum of the fridge. The near-silent war erupting between you.

And still—you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Minho reached past you suddenly, slow but sharp, and grabbed the water bottle from the counter behind. His hand brushed your hip. Bare skin on bare skin.

You flinched. He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned down, whispered in your ear.

“That thing you’re wearing?” His voice dripped molten heat. “Take it off before I do.”

And then he walked past you, brushing so close you could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

You turned slowly, heart in your throat, breath caught, heat pooling between your legs.

Because for the first time…

Minho didn’t just look at you like a wife.

He looked at you like he wanted you.

Really wanted you.

And you didn’t know how long you stood there after—but sleep never came.

—

You came back from your spa day practically boneless—hours of oils, massages, and hot towels had washed the whole week off your skin.

You stepped inside the house humming, keys jangling, the familiar scent of your perfume still lingering in the air. Something was different, though. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first. Maybe it was just the calm…

Then you walked into your bedroom.

Correction: your former bedroom.

Because the room was empty.

As in completely empty.

No bed. No dresser. No pillows.

Not even the sad little candle on the window sill you forgot to blow out the last time you stormed out.

“What the hell—” you whispered, spinning around in confusion.

Your bags were gone. The cozy hoodie you’d tossed over the desk chair was missing. The room was hollow, like you’d never even lived there.

And then you heard it.

A glass clink. A soft exhale. The faint sound of ice swirling in something strong.

You stalked toward the living room, your plush spa slippers slapping the floor with murderous intent.

There he was.

Minho. Lounged across the couch like it was his personal throne. Glass in one hand, half-buttoned silk shirt in the other, looking annoyingly content.

He didn’t even look up at first. Just took a sip.

“Oh hey,” he said smoothly. “You’re back.”

You blinked.

“Where’s my room?”

He raised a brow. “Gone.”

Your jaw dropped. “Gone?”

He finally turned toward you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “I moved you into the master. Wifey.”

You just stared at him.

He said it so casually—like he hadn’t just erased your entire goddamn living arrangement.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I—What—You can’t just—”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Minho stood, walking toward you with his drink, slow and unbothered. He stopped just in front of you, tilted his head slightly, and murmured:

“You’re my wife. You should be in my bed.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

Your brain rebooted.

Your knees wobbled slightly.

He was still looking at you like this wasn’t even a discussion.

“Unless…” he added softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face, “you’re planning to move out entirely?”

You scowled.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

And before you could say another goddamn word, Minho turned, finished his drink in one smooth gulp, and walked away—toward the master bedroom.

Where your things now lived.

Where he lived.

Where you would apparently sleep now.

Together. Every night.

And all you could do was stand there.

Stunned. Confused.

A little turned on.

Okay, Maybe more than a little.

—

The room was dim, lit only by the faint city glow filtering through sheer curtains.

You stood there for longer than necessary, staring at the perfectly made bed—his bed. Your bed, now.

Minho was already under the covers, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily scrolling through his phone like this was any other night. Like your entire world hadn’t just been moved, rearranged, commandeered.

You padded over to the opposite side and slipped under the sheets, trying not to let them rustle. You kept your back to him, careful not to even graze his side. The silence was heavy. Not tense—just loud.

You exhaled softly, trying to relax.

It was fine. You were adults. You could sleep beside each other. He hadn’t made any advances. Maybe he just wanted to play house to appease the parents or the board or the whole damn world.

You closed your eyes.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then sixty.

Then—you felt it.

A shift.

The sheets tugged slightly.

Minho moved behind you, inching closer.

You froze.

Another moment of stillness. Then—

A hand. His hand. Curling around your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You weren’t touching before. You definitely were now.

His body was warm, bare-chested against your back, and his grip wasn’t firm, but it wasn’t tentative either. It was intentional.

“Minho,” you whispered, barely able to get the name out.

“Hm?”

Your heart thudded.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” he murmured.

“Like that?”

He let out a slow, amused breath, the sound ghosting across your neck. “You’re my wife. I thought I should start acting like it.”

Your fingers gripped the sheet. “By spooning me?”

Another small chuckle, deeper this time. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You could feel him now—all of him. His warmth pressing into you. The way his thumb had started to trace a small, infuriating circle just below your ribs.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw in the dark.

“Minho,” you said again, more breath than sound.

“What?” he whispered, voice husky and tired and devastatingly close.

“You’re touching me.”

His lips were so close to your ear now. “I know.”

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because somehow, without even trying, he’d pulled you into a moment neither of you could take back.

Your breath hitched when he exhaled slow and low against your skin.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, like a tease. “Or don’t.”

And he didn’t move his hand. He didn’t even loosen his hold.

He just stayed wrapped around you like he belonged there.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time since this whole thing started—

You didn’t hate how it felt.

—

The morning after your first night sharing a bed was quiet. Almost suspiciously so.

Minho had slipped out early, but not without a glance back—one you didn’t see, but would’ve felt if you’d been half-awake. You stirred a little when the blankets shifted, only to realize with sleepy confusion that his warmth had been there all night. Still ghosted along your back. Still lingering on your skin.

When you finally got up, there was coffee waiting on the counter.

No note. No text.

But there was coffee.

It became a rhythm after that.

Shared space. Shared silences.

Shared bed.

You never talked about it. He just… reached for you now. Without hesitation. Every night. Arm around your waist, your back to his chest, your breath syncing with his. Sometimes you felt his hand drift up to settle under your ribs. Sometimes it stayed firmly at your waist. But he never crossed the line. Never demanded more.

Not with words, anyway.

Days passed. Tension softened into comfort. Walls began to crack. Just a little.

But that night—that night—

Something changed.

You had both just turned in. The city’s glow lit the room again, and Minho’s arm, like usual, found its place around you. You exhaled, feeling yourself fall into that familiar lull, that strange cocoon of heat and muscle and unsaid things—

But then, without thinking, without planning it—

You turned.

In his arms.

Slowly. Intentionally. Until you were face-to-face, your hand resting on his chest, your knees brushing his.

Minho froze.

His eyes locked on yours like he was trying to decipher what the hell you were doing—but more than that, why you were doing it.

The air pulsed with something new. Something electric.

You looked at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Why are you doing this?”

His brows drew together, ever so slightly. “Doing what?”

“This.” You nodded to the space—what little was left—between you. “The holding. The moving in. The everything.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just stared at you.

Or more specifically… your mouth.

You noticed the exact second his resolve wavered.

“Minho,” you said again, softly. “Tell me.”

And just like that, he lost whatever quiet battle he was fighting in his head.

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing your cheek.

And then— He kissed you.

Not like that night at the bar. Not angry, not territorial.

This time it was slow. Careful. Warm.

So soft it hurt.

And you kissed him back.

Mouths moving like they’d been waiting to. Like they’d been practicing in their dreams.

Your hand found the side of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers curled around your waist again, only this time there was no more space to close. None at all.

The kiss deepened.

Still gentle, but longer now. More open. More honest.

Breathless pauses. Whispered exhales. The soft rustle of sheets as your bodies pulled together, instinctively.

You didn’t speak again.

Didn’t have to.

Because for the first time since all this chaos began, you both understood one thing—

This was real.

And you weren’t running from it anymore.

His lips were still on yours. Still soft, still slow.

But something shifted.

Somewhere between the way your fingers curled tighter around the back of his neck and the way he exhaled through his nose—like he was starving for this, for you—the tenderness began to burn.

Minho kissed you deeper.

Hungrier.

Your breath hitched as his hand slid from your waist to your back, pressing you flush against him. There was no more hesitation. No more space. Just months of tension unraveling between your mouths, in the shaky sound you made when his tongue swept over yours, in the grip of his hand as it traced the curve of your spine.

He groaned softly into the kiss. “Fuck…”

It was like something in him finally broke loose.

You gasped when he rolled you beneath him, not forceful but urgent, his body settling between your legs as his lips never left yours. His hand found your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss even more, his thumb brushing your cheekbone so delicately it made you ache.

Your hands moved without thought—up his bare arms, over his shoulders, into his hair. You’d never felt him like this. Not in pieces. Not in stolen glances or lingering touches. This was all of him.

All heat and desperation.

He kissed down your jaw, your neck, nipping the skin there until you whimpered.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lips hot against your collarbone, his voice shaking.

You didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate.

Instead, you reached for the hem of your sleep shirt and tugged it up and off.

Minho stilled.

His eyes darkened as they swept over your bare chest, chest rising and falling faster now.

“Shit,” he breathed, like he was already undone.

And then he was on you again, kissing everywhere—lips on your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, everywhere his hands had imagined but never dared to touch until now. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t chaotic. It was worship.

Every brush of his mouth was laced with intent.

Every groan was a confession.

He whispered your name like it was something holy.

You tugged at his shirt until he finally sat up just enough to pull it over his head, and God—Minho. The way his body looked in the moonlight, toned and golden and yours. You traced your fingers over the line of his abs and he hissed, grabbing your wrist gently.

“You’ll drive me insane.”

“You already are,” you whispered.

He laughed—breathless and stunned—but it faded fast as he leaned back in to kiss you again. This time it was slower. Deeper. His hand slid between your legs, and when he found how wet you were, he cursed under his breath.

“You want this,” he said, eyes locked with yours. “You want me.”

You nodded. That was all it took.

He kissed you again, hard this time, and soon, his sweatpants were gone, and your panties followed. Every nerve was raw. Every inch of you trembling, burning, needing.

He settled above you again, chest to chest, foreheads nearly touching as he lined himself up.

He paused.

One hand cradled your jaw. The other curled around your hip.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You did.

He pushed in slowly.

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and his head dropped to your neck with a shudder.

“Fuck—baby—” he moaned, voice cracking. “You feel like—God.”

He moved with care at first, deep and slow, every thrust deliberate, like he was memorizing the way you wrapped around him. You held on like he was anchoring you—like you might float away without his weight on you.

Your name left his lips again and again, low and reverent, while you whispered his in return between breathless moans.

It was messy and perfect.

A long-awaited breaking point.

And when he finally came, it was with his mouth on yours, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Like he finally understood.

And maybe you did too.

—

The scent of eggs and butter hung warm in the air.

Sunlight spilled softly through the kitchen windows, casting sleepy gold over the countertops and floor. You stood at the stove, barefoot, wearing nothing but his oversized black T-shirt—your thighs peeking out with every shift of your hips as you stirred the pan.

It was early, earlier than you ever woke up, but after last night… you needed to move. To process. You needed space to feel what happened between you and Minho in that bed, on those sheets—space to understand why it changed something so deep, so permanent, you were scared to even breathe wrong in case the dream slipped away.

But it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

He was real.

And unbeknownst to you, he was standing right behind you—leaned against the wall shirtless, loose gray sweats hanging from his hips, his dark eyes locked on your figure.

You, in his shirt.

You, in his kitchen.

You, cooking breakfast like you belonged here.

It short-circuited something in him.

Minho didn’t move at first. He just watched, the tight coil in his chest winding tighter with every second. But then your hips swayed slightly, humming to yourself under your breath—and he was gone.

Possessed.

In a flash, he crossed the room and wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, pressing his chest against your back. You gasped, startled.

“Minho—!” you laughed, elbowing his ribs gently. “You scared me.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t say anything.

Instead, he reached forward silently and turned off the stove. You blinked in confusion—until you felt it.

Him.

Thick and hard, already pressing into your ass through his sweats. You shivered.

“Last night…” his voice was rough, low, lips grazing your ear, “was slow. Sweet.”

He pulled your hips firmly back into him. You inhaled sharply.

“This won’t be.”

He pushed your hair aside and kissed the curve of your neck, wet and open-mouthed, and your knees buckled. His grip tightened.

“No running now, baby,” he growled. “You woke this up—now you take it.”

You exhaled shakily, head lolling back against his shoulder. “Minho…”

He kissed down your shoulder, then knelt suddenly, dragging your panties—his shirt riding up your thighs—to your ankles.

And then his hands parted your legs from behind, mouth hot and dangerous against the back of your thigh.

“Oh my—” you gasped, fingers clutching the counter.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he leaned you forward, cheek pressed to the cool marble, and dove between your thighs—tongue licking a long, slow stripe up your soaked slit.

You screamed.

Minho groaned.

“Fuck—you taste like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He gripped your hips and buried his face in you, eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicked and curled, lips suctioning over your clit, and when you started trembling, he moaned—loudly—grinding his hips against your leg like he couldn’t take it either.

“Oh my God—Minho—” you sobbed, legs shaking.

He growled, arms wrapping around your thighs to steady you as he devoured you harder, wetter, like he couldn’t breathe without it. You came so fast and so hard, you nearly collapsed, but he caught you—his mouth glistening, eyes wild.

Before you could recover, he stood, grabbed your waist, and slammed into you from behind with a single, brutal thrust.

You wailed.

“Yeah,” he hissed, “that’s my good fucking girl.”

The stretch, the pressure, the way his hands gripped your hips—it was everything. He pounded into you over the stove, sweat dripping from his temple, teeth gritted, his pace merciless and unrelenting.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even think.

The only sounds were the slap of skin, your cries, and his growled praises—so tight, so fucking good, my wife, mine.

Your legs gave out around the second orgasm—he caught you again, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you upright into his chest as he continued fucking up into you with ruthless precision.

“Minho—!” you sobbed, tears leaking down your cheeks.

He kissed your temple and whispered, “I know, baby. I know.”

He chased your release with everything in him, and when he came, it was with a strangled moan of your name, spilling inside you and holding you tight like you were something he couldn’t believe was real.

You didn’t finish breakfast.

You didn’t leave the kitchen.

And when he carried you to bed afterwards, you knew—whatever this was, it wasn’t fake anymore.

—

The bedroom was still dim when you woke again.

Your cheek was pressed against a warm chest, a steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Minho’s arm was draped over your waist, holding you close like he hadn’t let go once during the night—and judging by the way your legs were tangled together, he hadn’t.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

There was no need.

The silence was calm now. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only came after storms, when everything inside had been screamed out, cried out, touched and loved into stillness.

You let your hand trace slow patterns on his skin. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense like he used to. In fact, he tugged you even closer, nuzzling into your hair with a groggy little hum.

“You didn’t run,” he whispered.

You smiled against his chest. “You didn’t push me away.”

That made him pause.

And then, softly: “I never wanted to.”

You tilted your head to look at him. He looked tired, but in the best way—raw and open and stripped of the hard walls he once wore like armor. His fingers were still tracing lazy lines up and down your back. The morning light kissed his face gently, and you realized it all at once.

This was your husband.

Not just the man your parents married you off to. Not just the cold stranger who once hated your presence in his home.

This was your husband.

He saw the thought in your eyes. His own softened.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Minho said, voice hoarse.

You reached up and touched his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“I’m not,” you whispered. “Because now it’s real. Every single piece of it.”

He leaned forward and kissed you—sweetly, slowly. No hunger this time. No urgency.

Just warmth.

And something so terrifyingly close to love, you felt it all the way in your bones.

Later, you stayed curled in bed together, ordering breakfast in and eating it right off the tray, half-naked and laughing at the mess you made of the sheets and yourselves.

He kissed your shoulder mid-bite.

You wiped syrup from his lip with a giggle.

And when he finally pulled you into his lap with a content sigh, burying his face in your neck like he never wanted to be anywhere else again—you knew.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Final part is up!!!! Ahhhhhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ so so so i’m gonna start a whole ass taglist, if you want out just let me know yeah?

Please like, comment, reblog! I look out for those, and thanks for following, we’re almost at 700!!!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @sagestarlight @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr

[incognitopolls]

This is not directed at any one specific person, just a general PSA:

If you're disappointed that I changed the premise of your submission, it's because I did not understand what you hoped to learn from the results.

If I didn't understand your question, I guarantee that a significant portion of the audience would misinterpret it as well– not because I'm the ultimate understander and "if I can't understand it nobody will," but because language is inherently interpretive. There is nobody in the world who will hear every question exactly the way it sounded in your mind. You can write the most precisely worded poll in the world with paragraphs of context and definitions, and people will still misunderstand it.

When you submit questions to this blog, I am your audience proxy/proofreader/interpreter– your first (and, honestly, only) line of "does this make sense?". It's my job to read your question and understand what you're really asking, because I then need to relay that in such a way that the largest possible segment of 39,000+ people will understand. Some submissions have a lot of subtext that many people will not pick up on based on the text of the submission alone, whether that be cultural context, internet lingo, thoughts in your head that you're thinking but not saying out loud, subconscious thoughts that you don't know are getting involved– etc. Often when I reword questions and answers, I'm doing my best to identify the subtext and the root question in order to make that the actual question. In some ways I'm trying to read your mind from a single message, and obviously that doesn't always work.

The takeaway: if you're worried about me misinterpreting your submission, good! That worry is your cue to include more context. If you don't want the additional context to be included in the post, just tell me that and I'll leave it out, but giving me more context and details of what you're actually hoping to learn from your poll will help me help you!

[bunny-jpeg]

make amends (max's version)

max verstappen & lando norris

cw: smut/pwp, lando's gf!reader, sharing & forgiveness, dirty talk/degradation, slut shaming, language that can be taken as misogynistic, filth, big dick!max, missionary, in this one you fuck max

lando's version

bunny says: i know everything has been amended, but c'mon! c'mon!

lando knew that he fucked up majorly. it was the kind of fuck up that couldn't be overturned with a simple apology. it was the kind of fuck up that he knew that the media was going to have a frenzy over.

even though he stood his ground and thought that this was all max's fault, but deep down he knew that he'd have the give the other driver a peace offering.

that came in the form of his cute girlfriend.

"i need a favour, you know how much max means to me." lando said as he pushed his hand up the skirt of your sundress, "how about we apologize for what we did by letting him fuck you." lando gave you his best puppy-dog eyes.

you didn't notice that he was pinning the incident on the track on both of you, as if he wasn't the one in the driver's seat. that it was something that you had to amend as well. and by doing that, it meant having max between your legs.

lando approached max on media day of silverstone. if he thought convincing you was easy, it was even easier to get max onboard. he told the other driver, "my girl wants to make it up to you. for what happened. it wasn't,... right of me to do that to you . so why don't you meet us at the hotel tonight? blow some steam off, champion." lando winked at the other man and slapped him on the shoulder.

"is she okay with this?"

lando laughed, "she's insatiable. but loyal like a good puppy." he seemed a little smug, "she was actually quite happy at the chance to help. she hates when we all fight. you know what she's like."

max raised his eyebrows, "give me your room number and i'll let you know when i can come." lando texted him the room number and the thoughts of lando's cute fuck toy girlfriend were on his mind as he went about his day.

in the evening, lando was happy to dress you up for max. in all honesty his second choice was to have you all tied up. he threw a sheer two piece set at you and told you to change.

it barely covered anything and the fabric that did was sheer, you could see your nipples through them! you adjusted the strap in the bathroom mirror and thought about putting your hair up. but you knew by the end of the night you were going to be a total mess so there was zero point.

lando came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. he was shirtless in some stretchy shorts and tube socks. his clothed cock was pressed up against your back.

"no you better be good for our guest tonight." he said as he kissed your neck, "i want you to be a good girl for him. i need him to forgive us for what we did."

you nodded, "i will. i'm always good." you stuck out your bottom lip and lando grazed his hand across your barely clothed pussy. you blushed when he kissed your neck.

he held you in his arms until there was a knock at the door. he smiled and pulled away, he instructed for you to get onto the bed and stay there. you scampered away and got yourself up onto the bed.

you tried to position yourself in a seductive way but ended up sitting at the edge with your bare feet barely touching the floor. you heard lando open the door and exchange conversations with max as they went through the lavish room and into the bedroom portion.

you looked up to them in the doorway.

max's words got caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you. oh, you were just beautiful weren't you? the sight of your beautiful body on display for him. he cleared his throat and turned to lando, "i forgive you." then patted the other driver on the shoulder.

the clothes started to come off, with lando close behind. when you tried to take your lingerie off, max said, "no, i want to take it off. you just sit there and look pretty."

both men were soon undressed and you swallowed. max got you laid out on the bed, his knee between your legs. he could feel the how soaked you were through the panties as he rubbed his knee up against your pussy.

he got bored of it soon and peeled them off of you lower half, followed by the bra. max lazily dragged his fingers across your swollen clit and smirked.

"max, shit." you moaned. you wanted to cover your face but you could feel the tension in your gut. the anticipation of what was to come.

max chuckled and looked to lando who had your head in his lap, his cock pressed up against your cheek. you were basically stuck between these two men. the anticipation of what was to come felt heavy in the air.

"she's got quite the mouth on her. thought you'd train her better, norris."

lando chuckled as tapped his hard cock against your cheek, smearing precum all over the skin, "she's usually behaved. i told her to be good for you, the sake of my career is on the line."

max laughed, "you told her that.' his eyebrows raised he spoke like you weren't even in the room, "it's nothing norris, just a flare up on the track. nothing is at stake. don't like to her, she might end up running away." he continued to push his knee up against your pussy.

you whimpered, your head felt dampened by the lust coursing through your body. the way they spoke about you turned you on. powerful men who used you like a chew toy, to bite up and rut as they so desire.

"she isn't going anywhere, mate." lando held you face to look up at him. those pretty eyes were overcast with darkness as he licked his lips at the sight of you rubbing against max's thigh, "right? you're not gonna whore yourself out to any man... well at least without my permission?"

you shook your head, "i wouldn't lando, i promise!" you could feel max shift and grab you by the hips to level with his cock. you looked to the other man and realized that his size was rather impressive.

"she looks like she's not going to be able to take it." max remarked.

lando laughed and combed his fingers through your hair, "are you gonna chicken out now?"

max looked at you and licked his bottom lip, he rubbed his cock up against your entrance. you were wet, it left a string is slick connecting your pussy to his cock. max knew that the downstairs was impressive, he often made sexual partners a little nervous.

before he could sink in, lando held the silver wrapped of a condom in his face. he looked at it and then looked past it at lando.

"i'm not raising your brat, mate. and i'm not taking chances on plan b." lando handed it over and watched as max quickly opened it and put it on. lando's cock on the other hand was bear against your face, getting precum all over the apple of your cheek and eyebrow. he'd get you pregnant if he wanted, but he wasn't letting a verstappen brat run around.

max jerked his cock with the condom on before he pressed into you. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he gripped onto your hips. he sank into you and was encouraged by the noises you made.

"you trained her well. she's obedient." max remarked as he touched your face. he then went in for a searing kiss as he started to fuck you. missionary was a little vanilla but he wanted to look at lando's little girlfriend as he fucked the hell out of her.

his thrusts were short and hard, his cock bulled its way into the back of your cunt and had your cheeks feeling heated. your core throbbed as he thrust more and more.

"well, training her was ea-sy!" lando beamed with pride, "turns out she's a hungry little when it comes to cum. she's a little freak like that." he patted your cheek a little harder than it looked.

"mmm, lando." you whimpered as you tried to turn your head. but max grabbed you by the chin to look at him.

"it's my turn, eyes on me. not your boyfriend." max said calmly, his face was red from the heat in his body. he maintained eye contact with you as he pushed his cock in and out of you.

there was a rhythm to it, he was in control. like how he was on the track. it left you feeling hot all over, like the tip of a match. you could feel it from the top of your head to the bottoms of your feet.

you tightened your legs around his waist as he cock nudged against more sensitive areas. it was a heat running through you as you felt your mind start to go blank.

your pussy was painfully slick, your heart was hammering and you felt like you were going to melt from the heat in your core. his cock slammed against you and your breathing was ragged.

"she's a good fuck, eh, max?" lando chuckled as he watched the champion fuck his little girlfriend, "she's got a pussy to die for."

max chuckled, "you rent her out to all your rivals, or am i just special? because i think oscar would love a taste at this."

lando chuckled, "you're acting like we haven't done that already. he fuckin' marked her like he owned her! i own her! pussy and all." he shook his head.

"she is a good fuck, i can see why you'd want to make sure she didn't run off. gotta find me a girl like that."

lando's cock twitched at the compliment, "well not even a championship can guaranteed a good girl like this." he laughed and rubbed your hot face, "one in a million."

max chuckled, "bet you could find her anywhere. tight pussy, cute face." he knew that lando couldn't have the compliment for long, "i bet i could find one with a tighter pussy outside this hotel."

lando narrowed his eyes at the other driver, he could see the sweat at his temples, "right, right. i bet if i gave her in exchange for a win in hungary, you'd take it. you'd be fucking her in your private jet from here to there."

max leaned over you a little more to get closer to lando, as a result his cock got impossibly deep and a whimper left your lips. he smiled at lando, not the media smile he had. a real one, he said to lando, "ah, don't be too cocky, lando. that's what got you in trouble last time." his cock was hitting all your sweet spots.

"fuck, max."

max silenced you with another searing kiss. he hiked your hips further up so he could fuck you as hard as he could with the most leverage he could. his body was screaming to finish, but he didn't want to part from your sweet cunt.

however, climax dawned on you as you clutched onto the dutchman and felt the hit of orgasm shock your system! your toes curled your nails dug into the the other's shoulders. your pussy throbbed as you felt the high of orgasm.

"that's a good girl." lando said, "letting him fuck you." he stroked your face as you gasped for air. you looked at him with an unfocused gaze and he just thought you were adorable.

max continued to fuck you, feeling his own orgasm as well. he swore under his breath and kept rutting against you. your pussy fit him perfectly. with a few heavy thrusts he shoved his entire cock into you and finished in the condom.

"holy fuck." he grumbled as he held onto you for a moment, pulling you into another searing kiss. he grabbed you and rolled you over so your were on top, your thighs on either side of his waist.

you could tell he was still painfully hard.

lando basked in it. who would've known getting max to fuck you would make everything better. he laid beside the both of you in bed and stroked his cock. he said to you, your worried gaze looked back at him, "c'mon, love." he reached over and smacked your bare ass,"we have all night."

[kiestrokes]

Day 5 & 6: Bad Friend | NSFW

▸ Idol: Yoon Jeonghan of SVT | Park Chanyeol of EXO ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: hard hour, smut, friends to ??? ▸ Vibe: Your bad boy best friend is tired of watching other men play with you...incorrectly. ▸ Warnings: language probably.

Sexually Explicit Content: kissing, illusions to sex, fondling, oral (female receiving) idk its smut without the details nothing too crazy.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. Sorry its late work is still sooo insane.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Yoon Jeonghan

Best friend Hannie, that has a motorcycle, pretty earrings, that's always giving you those bedrooms eyes, listening to you complain about situationship after situationship, until you’re heartbroken one night, sniffling and he can't take it anymore, watching these pathetic excuses of men yanking you around, wiping tears from your face with his thumb, before pressing the damp pad to your lips, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question, you nod and his lips are on yours, fingers clutching at the lapels of his leather jacket, his tongue twisting with yours in ways no other guy has taken the time to do, his pretty fingers squeezing your soft parts, deep grunts of appreciation hummed into the cavern of your throat, Jeonghan is all too happy to put you in your rightful place aka folded under him screaming his name as an orgasm rolls over the both of you.

Park Chanyeol

Chanyeol slams the door to his G-Wagen, as you sit quietly in the passenger seat, the two of you out for a simple chicken and beer Friday night dinner when you caught your boyfriend on a date with this ex, Chanyeol drives the two of you away from the scene, stopping briefly to retrieve snacks and drinks at a 7-11, then carting you off to his apartment, where the two of you sit watching tv in silence, drinking and eating and discussing all the horrible things about your ex, you slip up saying he never got you off, causing Chanyeol to choke on his beer mid sip, his eyes change as they take you in, he asks if any guy has gotten you off, you shrug and shake your head no, Chanyeol groans, and you laugh at his distress, he tugs you into his lap informing you this is not a laughing matter, you sober as he asks if he could give it a try, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear, you give him a nod and he grins devilishly, before laying you down on the plush carpet to strip your bottoms off, set on making you come as many times as you can stand on his tongue, grunting each time your hands tug at his bleached strands, biceps flexing under your thighs, holding your legs open, until the only thing you're crying about is his name.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations. No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without the limitation technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept.  Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3 

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios. 

Well, except for you. 

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate. 

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same. 

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips. 

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop. 

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself. 

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’. 

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant. 

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore. 

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it. 

He’s fucking savoring it. 

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict. 

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’ 

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’. 

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come. 

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest. 

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.  

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears. 

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display. 

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there. 

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”  

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did. 

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling. 

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again. 

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[synstoria]

Imperial Grace FAQ

When will the game be out?

Hopefully, early 2025, we will communicate an official date when we have more visibility. At the moment (16/08/2024) the full script is written, but we are still missing some key arts (all the CG, 5 sprites, and some MC customization), and a portion of the script still needs to be properly edited and translated.

I want to smooch the Master of Murmurs 🙏

Thanks to our generous backers, the MM will get a proper romance DLC after the game release, so you just have to be patient <3

I want to smooch another character 🙏

Unfortunately, it’s not possible; we do not have the time and resources, but that’s why fanfic and fanart exist, and they are always welcomed. 😉 (You can see more about our fan content policy.)

Is there any DLC plan for the game?

On top of the MM romance DLC, we plan on doing a marriage DLC (with a standalone storyline for each love interest) and a short prequel telling the story of Mellissandre of Terinfel. Both have been funded on Kickstarter, but I have no dates to give you yet.

How much the game will cost?

The final price is not completely set yet, but it will be somewhere between 20€ and 30€. 💸 After careful thought, I also decided I will do proper regional pricing. 🎉 I was dubious because I know a lot of people are abusing the system with VPN but I don't want to punish the people who actually benefit from it. 💖

On which platform will the game be available?

The game will be available on Steam, GOG, and Itchi.io; at the moment, we are working hard to make it completely Steamdeck compatible! At the moment, a switch port is not possible but not excluded; if the game does well enough, we might be able to get a special partnership for this.

A mobile port is not on the pipe either, as it would require a full UI overhaul and regular updates to comply with stores, and our economic model is not appropriate for the mobile market.

In which language will the game be available?

The game will be available in French and English on release day. At the moment, we do not have the budget to translate the full game into another language but we are looking for solutions to allow the most people possible to enjoy the game.

Where can I follow you?

The most reliable platform for news is Discord as I am very active on it. We also have a mailing list (with exclusive gifts upon joining!) and a twitter account.

What is the game rating?

The game doesn’t have official ratings (that cost money), but considering the mature themes in it, I would say 17+. Imperial Grace includes verbal (but not visual) descriptions of violence and consensual sex.

The game, especially through the petitions, also alludes to topics that may be sensitive, such as arranged marriage or suicide. The list of full trigger warnings is available on steam (beware spoilers). It might be subject to change depending on the petitions we include or not in the final game, I want to make sure that every sensitive topic is treated with care and really brings something to the story or denounces a social problem close to our hearts.

Sexy time, you say? 👀

The game features plenty of hot kisses and two optional sex scenes; they can be stopped (in game choices) and not happen at all or censored (fade to black). The text is explicit (anatomical parts are mentioned; it’s not all metaphor, but there is no vulgar words either.), and some suggestive but not pornographic images illustrate them. In other words, even the uncensored version of the sexy time will be safe enough to be streamed on Twitch but more steamy than what we usually find in otome games!

Is the MC customizable?

MC physical appearance is customizable to some extent: you can choose her skin color, her hairstyle, her eye colors (heterochromia possible!), and minor details like moles. The skin color options are not just recolors; the features are actually slightly different to reflect different ethnicities and bring more variety.

All customisation will be reflected in CG, except hairstyle (you can learn the difference between hairstyle and hair type on this post.)

What do you mean by “meaningful choices”?

Imperial Grace has over 200 choices during the main storyline; contrary to traditional Japanese otome game where there is usually a “good” and “bad” option for each choice leading to the best/good/bad ending, we have a more Dragon Age-like approach where most of the options are valid just entails different consequences to shape a more custom epilogue with tons of little variation to reflect your decision as Empress. (And there is instant game overs when you take very very bad decision :p)

You have more questions? Our ask box is always open! <3

[sunny-day-jack-official]

Sunny Day Jack Report 07/11/2023

Wednesday means it's time for our weekly development report, and this one's a nice big one for everyone to enjoy! Those of you who have been following us on Twitter may have noticed that we redesigned our logo for SDJ. The majority of the devlog will talk about our process behind that, so read it for free on Patreon or click the readmore for the important bits!

Unity Demo Version 0.03

Changelog:

Fixed video rendering while playing on the Steamdeck (via Windows Proton Compatibility)

Added missing CGs

Game extended slightly past the kissing on couch scene

Select narration from Y/N reworded for clarity

Macintosh OS compatible version has been added

Known bugs:

Certain voice lines may be missing or cut-off

This update was largely focused on ensuring stability before adding in more content. Those who backed the SDJ Kickstarter can access their beta testing keys via this link, while SnaccPop Patrons who pledge a minimum of $12/mo can access their beta testing key over here.

For our MacOS players, you may encounter issues launching the game due to Apple security, so please follow this tutorial to temporarily disable Gatekeeper (we recommend turning it back on afterwards). We're investigating ways to avoid Gatekeeper flagging the game, so please bear with us! As for our Linux/Steamdeck players, for the time being, please use the Windows version and use Proton Compatibility to play the game.

Logo Graphic Redesign

Like with the previous SnaccPop Studios logo, the SDJ logo was due for a makeover. For starters, the old logo was tiny.

Yes, that's literally the largest size we have on hand for the original SDJ logo source file, and everything else is just blown up bigger in size if need be. Astute viewers may also notice that the Something's Wrong With portion of the logo was also slightly off-center this entire time, as With was hanging off the edge a lot more than Something's. Another issue that came up as we continued working with our translators was the fact that we'd most likely need logos in the target language too; adapting the old logo was near impossible because all we had left of it was a .png file. At this point, making a new logo just made sense.

The new logo largely retains the important elements of the original one. Using the Buddy Belt motif as the background image and the use of two distinct fonts, a formal serif for SWW and a more bubbly sans-serif for the SDJ that essentially captures the essence of Jack's dual personality, were ideas Sauce carried over. Additionally, his signature primary colors palette is much more clear in the text, making this logo more easily identifiable. After nailing down a good foundation and centering the text, Sauce overlaid faint scanlines reminiscent of old CRT display monitors then splashed some blood here and there; all in all, the new logo is a nice visual of the ludonarrative dissonance the game itself aims to achieve.

We'll pass the mic to Gureii here when it comes to the localized logos!

Translation & Localization

Hey there! Gureii (she/her) here. You might know me from one of the previous devlogs posted here on Patreon not so long ago.

 I’ve been asked by BáiYù to present you a tiny (okay, not that tiny) little treat for both the Russian and the Japanese-speaking folks out there who are interested in our upcoming game, Something’s Wrong With Sunny Day Jack.

Let me introduce you to the new localized logos real quick:

One of the most interesting aspects of working on these was the brainstorming session behind both of them. As the Lead Russian translator of this project, one of my main concerns was to come up with the title translation that would be both both simplistic and catchy, hence the name change from a statement to a question. The localized version of the title - «Что с тобой, Джек?» - includes both the questions a player would ask to Jack himself: “What happened to you?” and “What’s wrong with you?”, either depending on their opinion towards him or both of these at the same time.

The Japanese translation team, on the other hand, opted for something much more laconic, to which I was happy to comply! They're only using Katakana to translate the commonly abbreviated title into【サニー・デー・ジャック】, which will be easy for Japanese speakers to read (it'd be pronounced "Sanī dē Jakku"). It's short and punchy, and it's not unusual for Japanese logos to have the English text as well.

Another aspect (a tricky one this time!) was looking up the Cyrillic and Kana fonts that would match the mood of the English logo we got: it gets quite tricky when we talk about anything but Latin fonts, and it gets even harder when we talk about something that is as bold, youthful and bright as it is. For example, with the katakana transcription the Japanese translation team and I had to search for something that would not scare the person interested in playing the game, something much more inviting than the crimson lettering used on the English logo. The bloody Buddy Belt portion of the logo will still indicate to potential players that this is a horror game, so it works out.

By the way, you might be asking yourself, "Why isn't there a Spanish version of the logo?" Both Pierre and Nana expressed that translating the title wouldn't sound nearly as good as the original English title (a literal Latin Spanish translation would be "Algo Malo Pasa Con Día Soleado Jack"). Luckily, both English and Spanish share similar alphabets, so it's as big of a difference compared to Russian or Japanese.

---

And that's all we got for this week. Thanks again for your continued support of SnaccPop Studios!

[realsafari]

ATTENTION TO ALL USERS OF THE HELLSITE!

MY FRIEND DOREEN (SHE/HER) LIVES IN KAKUMA KENYA, WHICH HAS A RELATIVELY LARGE LGBTQ+ POPULATION. RECENTLY, THERE HAVE BEEN CRACKDOWNS FROM MILITARY AND POLICE TARGETING LGBTQ+ INDIVIDUALS, USUALLY BY TORTURE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND/OR EXECUTION.

—————————————————————

She has asked me to share her story on my blog, since it has more outreach than her own. For direct questions, first person accounts, and interaction with her, please visit her blog @transdoreen !

THE FOLLOWING TEXT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

The following is copied exactly from a message she sent me, with some minor edits for spelling and grammar as English is not her first language.

“We have been surviving on fundraisers, but recently we haven’t been doing so well.

Our situation has become worse. We can’t be treated in the public hospital that is around. Sometimes, they chase us away, sometimes they even do worse. One of our LGBTQ+ comrades here, a lesbian named Joan, was raped and murdered by a doctor who said he will turn her straight. She was one of the biggest advocates for our freedom.

So we face alot of challenges. We have to seek private medication which is expensive. We cannot do anything here, as we are attacked on sight.

We get small food portions. Sometimes we are attacked, and the food is taken away.

LGBTQ+ women have no access to sanitary pads, and they use dirty clothes and sand during that period.

Anytime we sleep without others staying awake to lookout, our shelters get attacked and burnt down.

The challenges are so many.”

I know for a fact that most of us can’t even fathom these horrors that Doreen and her friends + family are experiencing.

I wish I could help more than simply making a Tumblr post.

————————————————————————————

HERE IS A LINK TO DOREEN’S GOFUNDME, WHICH IS HER ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME TO SURVIVE. PLEASE DONATE AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.

EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DONATE, PLEASE SEND THIS POST TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE. EVERY REBLOG HELPS.

PLEASE TALK TO DOREEN HERSELF, @transdoreen , FOR MORE INFORMATION.

Nakupenda Doreen, na natumai hii inasaidia. 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

'Canadians can give themselves far more than any foreign power can ever take away,' King Charles III gives the first sovereigns speech to the Canadian Parliament in almost 70 years. Speech in full:

King Charles III delivered the Speech from the Throne on May 27 to open the first session of the 45th Parliament of Canada. Read the full text in English, below. (Some portions were delivered in French)

Honourable Senators, members of the House of Commons,

It is with a sense of deep pride and pleasure that my wife and I join you here today, as we witness Canadians coming together in a renewed sense of national pride, unity, and hope.

I would like to acknowledge that we are gathered on the unceded territory of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg people. This land acknowledgement is a recognition of shared history as a nation. While continuing to deepen my own understanding, it is my great hope that in each of your communities, and collectively as a country, a path is found toward truth and reconciliation, in both word and deed.

This is my 20th visit to Canada, spread over the course of more than half a century, and my first as Sovereign. As I have said before, “Every time I come to Canada a little more of Canada seeps into my bloodstream – and from there straight to my heart.”

I have always had the greatest admiration for Canada’s unique identity, which is recognized across the world for bravery and sacrifice in defence of national values, and for the diversity and kindness of Canadians.

To the First Nations, Inuit, and Métis Peoples – you have welcomed my family and myself to your traditional lands with great warmth and hospitality, for which I am humbly grateful.

This year, we mark the 80th anniversary of V-E Day and V-J Day. On Juno Beach, at Dieppe, on the Somme, at Beaumont-Hamel, at Ypres, and on Vimy Ridge. At those places, and many others, forever etched into our memories, Canadians fought and died alongside our closest allies.

Today, I see representatives from every part of Canada – from St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, to Victoria, British Columbia, and Arviat, Nunavut. I see the guardians of the fundamental rights and freedoms guaranteed in the Canadian Charter and, as King, I thank you for your service to your fellow Canadians, across the length and breadth of this vast and great nation.

You speak for your communities, representing an incredible richness of cultures, languages, and perspectives. We owe it to this generation, and those who succeed us, to think and act for the greater good of all. While the world faces unprecedented challenges, generating uncertainties across the continents with regards to peace and stability, economics, and climate change, your communities have the skills and determination to bring a wealth of solutions.

By fostering collaboration and engaging in respectful, constructive debates, you will ensure this Government is capable of bold and fair action to support Canadians.

It has been nearly 70 years since the Sovereign first opened Parliament. In the time since, Canada has dramatically changed: repatriating its Constitution, achieving full independence, and witnessing immense growth. Canada has embraced its British, French, and Indigenous roots, and become a bold, ambitious, innovative country that is bilingual, truly multicultural, and committed to reconciliation.

The Crown has for so long been a symbol of unity for Canada. It also represents stability and continuity from the past to the present. As it should, it stands proudly as a symbol of Canada today, in all her richness and dynamism.

When my dear late mother, Queen Elizabeth II, opened a new Canadian Parliament in 1957, the Second World War remained a fresh, painful memory. The Cold War was intensifying. Freedom and democracy were under threat. Canada was emerging as a growing economic power and a force for peace in the world. In the decades since, history has been punctuated by epoch-making events: the Vietnam War, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the start of the War on Terror. Today, Canada faces another critical moment.

Democracy, pluralism, the rule of law, self-determination, and freedom are values which Canadians hold dear, and ones which the Government is determined to protect.

The system of open global trade that, while not perfect, has helped to deliver prosperity for Canadians for decades, is changing. Canada’s relationships with partners are also changing.

We must be clear-eyed: the world is a more dangerous and uncertain place than at any point since the Second World War. Canada is facing challenges that are unprecedented in our lifetimes.

Many Canadians are feeling anxious and worried about the drastically changing world around them.

Fundamental change is always unsettling. Yet this moment is also an incredible opportunity. An opportunity for renewal. An opportunity to think big and to act bigger. An opportunity for Canada to embark on the largest transformation of its economy since the Second World War. A confident Canada, which has welcomed new Canadians, including from some of the most tragic global conflict zones, can seize this opportunity by recognising that all Canadians can give themselves far more than any foreign power on any continent can ever take away. And that by staying true to Canadian values, Canada can build new alliances and a new economy that serves all Canadians.

Building new relationships with the United States and the world 

The Prime Minister and the President of the United States, for example, have begun defining a new economic and security relationship between Canada and the U.S., rooted in mutual respect and founded on common interests, to deliver transformational benefits for both sovereign nations.

In parallel, the Government is working to strengthen its relationships with reliable trading partners and allies around the world, recognizing that Canada has what the world needs and the values the world respects.

Canada is ready to build a coalition of like-minded countries that share its values, that believe in international co-operation and the free and open exchange of goods, services, and ideas.

In this new, fast-evolving world, Canada is ready to lead. This will be demonstrated in June, when Canada convenes the G7 Summit.

Building a more affordable Canada

The Government is guided by its conviction that the economy is only truly strong when it serves everyone.

Many Canadians are struggling to get ahead. The Government is responding, reducing middle-class taxes and saving two-income families up to $840 a year. It will cut the GST on homes at or under $1 million for first-time homebuyers, delivering savings of up to $50,000. And it will lower the GST on homes between $1 million and $1.5 million.

The Government will protect the programs that are already saving families thousands of dollars every year. These include child care and pharmacare. In addition to these, the Government has recently expanded the Canadian Dental Care Plan to cover about eight million Canadians, saving the average person more than $800 per year.

Building a stronger Canada

The Government’s overarching goal – its core mission – is to build the strongest economy in the G7. That starts with creating one Canadian economy out of thirteen. Internal barriers to trade and labour mobility cost Canada as much as $200 billion each year. The Government will introduce legislation to remove all remaining federal barriers to internal trade and labour mobility by Canada Day.

Numerous premiers have already taken vital steps to break down provincial and territorial barriers to trade. Together, we will build on that progress to deliver free trade across the nation by Canada Day. This is critical to unlocking Canada’s full economic potential, but it’s not enough.

To build Canada strong, the Government is working closely with provinces, territories, and Indigenous Peoples to identify and catalyse projects of national significance. Projects that will connect Canada, that will deepen Canada’s ties with the world, and that will create high-paying jobs for generations.

Given the pace of change and the scale of opportunities, speed is of the essence. Through the creation of a new Major Federal Project Office, the time needed to approve a project will be reduced from five years to two; all while upholding Canada’s world-leading environmental standards and its constitutional obligations to Indigenous Peoples.

The Government will also strike co-operation agreements with every interested province and territory within six months to realize its goal of “one project, one review.”

When Canadians come together, Canada builds things that last.

By removing these barriers that have held back our economy, we will unleash a new era of growth that will ensure we don’t just survive ongoing trade wars, but emerge from them stronger than ever. It will enable Canada to become the world’s leading energy superpower in both clean and conventional energy. To build an industrial strategy that will make Canada more globally competitive, while fighting climate change. To build hundreds of thousands of good careers in the skilled trades. And to build Canada into the world’s leading hub for science and innovation.

Critically, the Government will undertake a series of measures to help double the rate of home building while creating an entirely new housing industry – using Canadian technology, Canadian skilled workers, and Canadian lumber.

The Government will introduce measures to deliver affordable homes by creating Build Canada Homes. This mission-driven organization will act to accelerate the development of new affordable housing. It will invest in the growth of the prefabricated and modular housing industry.

And it will provide significant financing to affordable home builders. The Government will make the housing market work better, including by cutting municipal development charges in half for all multi-unit housing. The Government will drive supply up to bring housing costs down.

Building a safer and more secure Canada

To be truly strong, Canada must be secure. To that end, the Government will introduce legislation to enhance security at Canada’s borders. Law enforcement and intelligence agencies will have new tools to stop the flow of fentanyl and its precursors. The Canada Border Services Agency will be given new powers to examine goods destined for export, to prevent the transport of illegal and stolen products, including cars.

The Government will protect Canada’s sovereignty by rebuilding, rearming, and reinvesting in the Canadian Armed Forces. It will boost Canada’s defence industry by joining ReArm Europe, to invest in transatlantic security with Canada’s European partners. And it will invest to strengthen its presence in the North, which is an integral part of Canada, as this region faces new threats.

The Government will discharge its duty to protect Canadians and their sovereign rights, from wherever challenges may come at home or abroad. To keep communities safe, the Government will hire 1,000 more RCMP personnel. It will change firearms licensing and strengthen enforcement of yellow and red flag laws.

Weapons licences for those convicted of intimate partner violence and those subject to protection orders will be revoked. Through the deployment of scanners, drones and helicopters, additional personnel, and K-9 teams, the Government will stem the tide of illegal guns and drugs across the border.

It will take these steps while protecting the rights of lawabiding gun owners and Indigenous Peoples’ longstanding hunting traditions.

The Government will bring a renewed focus on car theft and home invasions by toughening the Criminal Code to make bail harder to get for repeat offenders charged with committing these crimes, along with human trafficking and drug smuggling.

During this time of great change, Canadians are uniting behind what makes Canada unique. The French language and the Quebec culture are at the heart of the Canadian identity. They define the country that Canadians and I love so much. Canada is a country that respects and celebrates its official languages and Indigenous languages. The Government is determined to protect the institutions that bring these cultures and this identity to the world, like CBC/Radio-Canada. It will protect the people who give us access to fresh, healthy, and quality food: agricultural producers. And it will protect supply management.

Nature is core to Canada’s identity. In 2022, Canada convened COP15 in Montréal, which concluded with 196 countries striking a historic agreement to protect 30 percent of their lands and 30 percent of waters by 2030. To this end, the Government will protect more of Canada’s nature than ever before through the creation of new national parks, national urban parks, marine protected areas, and other conservation initiatives.

The Government will always protect the rights and freedoms that the Charter guarantees for every Canadian.

The Government will be a reliable partner to Indigenous Peoples, upholding its fundamental commitment to advancing reconciliation. Central to this commitment is the creation of long-term wealth and prosperity with Indigenous Peoples. For that reason, the Government will double the Indigenous Loan Guarantee Program from $5 billion to $10 billion – enabling more Indigenous communities to become owners of major projects. As Canada moves forward with nation-building projects, the Government will always be firmly guided by the principle of free, prior, and informed consent.

Canada’s immigration system has long been a source of pride for Canadians and of dynamism for the economy. The Government is dedicated to rebuilding the trust of Canadians in immigration by restoring balance to the system.

The Government will cap the total number of temporary foreign workers and international students to less than five percent of Canada’s population by 2027. By doing this, the Government will attract the best talent in the world to build our economy, while sending a clear message to Canadians working abroad that there is no better time to come home.

Building Canada Strong by spending less and investing more

In all of its actions, the Government will be guided by a new fiscal discipline: spend less so Canadians can invest more.

Day-to-day government spending – the government’s operating budget – has been growing by nine percent every year. The Government will introduce measures to bring it below two percent.

Transfers to provinces, territories, or individuals will be maintained. The Government will balance its operating budget over the next three years by cutting waste, capping the public service, ending duplication, and deploying technology to improve public sector productivity.

In parallel, the Government will take a series of measures to catalyse new investment to create better jobs and higher incomes for Canadians. The scale of the Government’s initiative will match the challenges of our times and the ambitions of Canadians.

Honourable Senators, Members of the House of Commons,

When my dear late mother addressed your predecessors seven decades ago, she said that in that age, and against the backdrop of international affairs, no nation could live unto itself. It is a source of great pride that, in the following decades, Canada has continued to set an example to the world in her conduct and values, as a force for good.

I wish to express to you and to the people of Canada my heartfelt gratitude, and that of my wife, for the warmth of the welcome which we have received.

As the anthem reminds us: The True North is indeed strong and free!

Members of the House of Commons, you will be asked Conclusion to appropriate the funds to carry out the services and expenditures authorized by Parliament.

May you honour the profound trust bestowed upon you by Canadians, and may God bless and guide you in all your duties.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

108 for 🪞:

---

“Dove has a question,” Mara announces.

Buck’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, really? Wh-what’s up, Dove?”

Dove hurries across the kitchen to Buck, body language a little shy. He crouches so she’s not talking up at him. Then, she cups her hand over her mouth and whispers. 

“Buck, can I have something to drink?” 

For a beat, Buck is frozen. Is he imagining this? First, he thinks that’s the first time she’s actually addressed him by his name. Second, is she actually asking for something she needs? Then, he realizes he has to reply quickly. Quickly and encouragingly. 

“Of course you can have something to drink,” Buck says. “Thank you for asking me.”

She responds with a nervous little smile.

“Maddie,” Buck asks. “Do you have apple juice?”

“Yes!” Maddie replies happily. She can obviously see the significance of the moment. “In the fridge. Bottom left shelf.”

Buck grabs a plastic cup from the drying rack and moves to get the juice from the fridge. His hands are a little shaky as he pours. Why are they shaky? 

“Here you go,” he says, handing her the cup. 

“Thank you,” Dove says. 

She drinks quickly, like she’s eager to get back to playing. When she’s done, she hands him the empty cup, thanks him again, and runs back off with Mara and Jee.

“Wow,” Chim observes. 

Buck exhales. “That’s, uh… That was…”

“Told you so,” Maddie smiles at him. “It’ll all happen. Just keep being you.”

And he supposes that’s just what he’ll have to do.

iii.

After that evening at Maddie and Chim’s, Dove seems to only get more and more comfortable asking him for things. Like he’s managed to break through a boundary, and he doesn’t even know what it was that removed that final stone. Regardless, she changes. She knocks on his bedroom door in the morning. She asks when she’s hungry or thirsty. When they go to the zoo, she asks to use the washroom twice. She tells him when the AC makes her cold, and she needs a sweater. The whole thing makes him feel incredibly relieved. It’s working. She’s trusting him. 

He might not be able to do anything about Eddie, but he can keep moving forward with Dove. 

A few days before he has to start back up at work, and Dove has to start school, Buck does two things he hopes will be positive. First, he takes Dove clothing shopping. Then, he introduces her to Carla. 

They’d all agreed on it before Dove came home. Him, Carla, and Eddie. Back when Eddie was more than a ghost in Buck’s phone. Even before Chris left, he was needing Carla less. Not zero, but less. So, she said she definitely has time for Dove, too. And when Chris comes back, she can watch them both together. No problem. Like Buck, Carla is confident that he’ll be home soon. 

He wants Dove to be comfy with Carla before she starts watching her. Dove isn’t quite like the way Chris was when Carla came into his life. Chris was so open and social at seven. He had no trouble voicing his needs or befriending new people. Dove seems okay with other kids, but nervous with adults. So Buck wants to make sure she knows Carla is trustworthy. 

So here’s his plan. And he hopes it’s not terrible. 

Take Dove shopping. Let her ask for things she wants. Hopefully make her feel happy and confident. Preferably not overwhelmed and awkward, but he supposes it’s a risk. Then, they’ll meet Carla at a nearby diner for dinner. Maybe Dove can practice asking the server for what she wants, but if not, she can ask Buck to do it for her. And that feels like a win. Plus, she’ll get to know Carla. He thinks it’s all going to be good.

He does end up texting Eddie, inviting him to the dinner portion. Not that he expects him to say yes. He’s on board with Maddie’s assessment. He gets it and he’s not trying to pressure him or make him feel bad. But he needs Eddie to know there’s still a spot for him. When and if he’s ready. 

Eddie declines. Buck sighs, texts back something understanding, and moves on from it.

▪️▪️▪️

Shopping goes well. It was a good call on Buck’s part. He’s relieved his instincts are proving right. 

He takes Dove to a sort of mid-tier department store kids’ section. She looks sort of awed, knowing he’s brought her here to shop for her. 

“I can really pick stuff?” She asks.

“Yes,” Buck nods. “We’re on a budget, but within reason, go for it.”

“What’s a budget?” Dove asks.

Oh. Yeah, good point.

“Great question,” Buck says. “Well, basically, there’s a certain amount of money I can spend on new clothes. Not because I don’t want to buy you everything, but because that’s just sort of how money works. So we can’t get the whole store. But if there are things you really like, we will get them, okay?”

Dove thinks about this, like her brain is chewing on the concept.

“Okay,” she says. 

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧 [𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐡𝐮]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: yandere!Baizhu x fem!reader

Warnings: !dark content!, Zhongli's cameo, amnesia, references to somnophilia, murder and captivity.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. UNSECRET, MØØNWATER - Only The Beginning

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

God, i've been writing this for two days, almost without getting up from my chair, and now i feel like a crumbling old grandfather. I am surprised that so far the biggest work in my arsenal has been written about Baizhu, because even though i love him, he's not my favorite man, but… I love him so damn much in the image of yandere. Slippery, cunning, secretive, obsessive Baizhu is so disgustingly beautiful that i'm just not going to say another word and just let you enjoy it on your own.

This work has a more complete NSFW version, but about it… Information will be available later (>ᴗ•)

July 18th

Bright sunlight, marking the beginning of a new day, persistently seeps through heavy eyelids, inevitably squinting when consciousness gradually returns to you after a deep sleep. It stings so unpleasantly, and you turn away from the source of the rays, which cruelly outrages your eyes. The embrace of sleep doesn't lose hope of keeping you at least a moment longer in its warmth, but for some reason the heart in your chest shudders restlessly, forcing you to explode from the soft pillow.

A slight shortness of breath, and the eyes open abruptly. You're clutching the blanket convulsively in your hands.

This place…

Your gaze glides anxiously around the bright, cozy room. The curtains barely move audibly from the breeze of summer, unceremoniously slipping through a small crack in the window. For a second, you look at your own palms, twitching convulsively, as does the frightened muscle in your chest, pumping blood furiously through your veins, before the bedside table comes into your field of vision. Freshly cut qingxin flowers in an exquisite vase, in front of which there is a small mug, to which you curiously but cautiously extend your hand. The liquid has a slight greenish tint and the pungent aroma of herbs instantly cuts into your nostrils.

But there was something else.…

You turn your head anxiously to the bedside table again, now hesitantly picking up a folded piece of paper on which «Read it when you wake up» was carefully written in a beautiful neat handwriting. Whoever left it… It doesn't look like anything threatening, so you slowly unfold the sheet, starting to read a couple of lines written in the same perfect handwriting as the inscription on the outside of the note.

«If you're reading this, then you've already woken up. I'm sorry I couldn't spend the morning with you properly.

You probably have a lot of questions. I'll definitely explain everything in more detail when I get home, but for now, just read the information that you will need to come to your senses.

Your name is Y/N. Unfortunately, by the cruel design of fate, you were destined to be tested by a disease that I, your husband, tirelessly struggle with day by day. Believe me, one day everything will change and I will no longer need to tell you everything that I'll write next, over and over again every morning. But it's not a burden to me, my love, don't worry about it.

As soon as you fall asleep every night, your memories are erased in the morning, so you probably don't remember me or the house you ended up in.

This is our house, Y/N. We have been married for ten wonderful years now, and my love for you will never fade, no matter how many trials life throws at us.

You can warm up your breakfast, I left your portion in the fridge. If you need anything else, I've left hints on all the things you use every day. You can also walk to Liyue Harbor and visit me at work if you wish. I left a map for you in the hallway, with which you can safely get to the city, as you have done more than once. I understand if you don't want to see me before I get home, but I'll be very happy to see you anytime.

Please drink the decoction that you are probably holding in your hand right now. Although this medicine will not help to overcome your illness, it will make it easier to survive the stress of the information you have just read.

You have nothing to fear, Y/N. You're safe in our house.

See you soon, my love.»

The edge of the paper crumples in your hand when you unconsciously clench your fingers into a fist, trying to control the tremor running under your skin. Your gaze moves from the sheet to the mug with the cloudy liquid, and you instantly empty the glass, squinting and writhing from the bitter taste.

After putting the dishes back in place, you tentatively pull back the blanket, noticing that you are wearing a light nightgown, pulled up on your trembling hips, apparently from the way you tossed and turned, not wanting to wake up.

Emptiness. Not a single thought as you slowly lower your feet to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. There are too many thoughts, but you can't grasp any of them, being in a kind of trance in which your gaze glides over such a damn familiar, but completely strange house. You notice a lot of things, photos of you and some man, feeling that it all belongs to you, but for some reason… Wrong. This is all wrong.

You squint, pressing your palms to your face in resignation, before finally finding the strength to get up and go to the kitchen. Your legs seem to remember this short road, but your eyes refuse to believe that you've seen this place before. It is bright and spacious. In the middle of the room there is a small table designed for two, as evidenced by two chairs standing side by side. There is a light herbal aroma in the air, which permeates the walls of this house, but it is muffled by the sweet smell of baking. Apparently, that man… Your husband left home not so long ago.

How strange it is to call a husband someone whose name you can't even remember, although it's on your tongue, but all attempts to pronounce it are in vain.

«It's probably… a side effect…»

«You… don't remember me…?»

«It's for the best…»

You grab your head convulsively when other people's words, uttered in a painfully familiar voice, are introduced into your thoughts. The memories aren't as old, but they're not as fresh as you think.

«We will always be together»

Is that… is that your husband's voice?

You freeze for a moment, realizing something even more frightening than the fact that you can't remember anything. If everything that a man you don't know wrote in a letter is true, then how does he live with it? After all, you can barely remember what your face looks like, so now you slowly wander into the bathroom, and he tolerates every day that his loved one does not recognize him? He must really love you if that's the case.

You look uncertainly at your own reflection. Disheveled hair, tired look, lost look, crumpled shirt sliding off one shoulder. Even from the outside, you look like a real madwoman, although inwardly you feel that this is not the case at all.

The pleasant cool water calms down a little the alarming heat raging in your trembling body when you wash your face and then brush your teeth with a brush carefully signed with your name. While you were walking around the house, even out of the corner of your eye it was difficult not to notice how every thing that could potentially be useful to you was also signed with your name, and your heart shrinks in your chest from the mere thought that in the world there could exist a person of such bright and pure kindness of soul who is able to do everything This is for someone who barely even recognizes his face. It's probably the letter he left for you this morning.… He does this every day, right?

And so your whole day went by.

You wandered thoughtlessly around the house, checking every drawer and every corner in a vain attempt to awaken dormant memories in you or at least make your heart skip a beat from something other than an indescribable feeling of guilt. Your clothes, jewelry, dishes, men's things, books, jars of herbs, even a tidy sum of money lying in one of the drawers — nothing seemed familiar enough to you to remember anything.

And you didn't even notice how the sun had long disappeared behind the high mountains of the Geo Archon's lands, and the door of "your" house quietly opened. You were enthusiastically looking at the photos found in one of the many boxes lying in the attic when you heard unhurried footsteps coming from the kitchen before the man stopped at the bedroom door, causing you to turn around in fright.

— Oh, I'm sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you.

You're clutching a stack of photos so tightly, clutching them to your chest, as if it's the most valuable treasure you didn't even know existed. But now the glossy pieces of paper slip out of your hands as soon as your eyes meet the gaze of the man towering over you.

— Y-you are… — you stutter, looking away in confusion and suddenly stopping at one of the photos now lying on the floor. — My husband?

The man smiles softly. His golden, surprisingly snake-like eyes follow your gaze before he sits down opposite you. You can't help but take a closer look now in person at these long green curls, braided into a braid, probably incredibly soft and smooth to the touch when a man bends down, carefully picking up photos from the floor and collecting them in his hand.

— You always take them out when you're alone, — he smiles, giving you a gentle look from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. — And I'm also very disappointed that you didn't eat your breakfast after all.

— I just… — you mumble softly, but even those clumsy words melt on your tongue when you feel a man's long, elegant fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting your hand and turning your palm with the back of it to your face.

— This is the answer to your question, — the man raises his own hand, and you look at it in confusion, suddenly noticing the ring on your ring finger. And how did you not notice that before? Probably expensive gold and a small emerald, sparkling even in the dark, and on his hand… The same ring, but with a ruby. — I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten to sign my letter with my name, as I usually do. Huh, maybe I just still have a glimmer of hope that one day you'll wake up and I won't have to get to know you again...

You notice how the man's amber eyes fill with sadness, but the corners of his lips are still stretched in a smile when he suddenly chuckles softly, interlacing the fingers of his free hand with yours, which he still holds in the canopy.

— But it's kind of cute, isn't it? I can meet you again and again, as for the first time, and hope that you will be able to love me again, — you finally feel your heart clench in your chest when he brings your clasped hands to his cheek. But it's not… it's not love. — My name is Baizhu, honey.

— Baizhu… — you repeat, as if deep in thought, but the man suddenly rises from the floor, still not letting go of your hand, slightly pulling you back and forcing you to retreat from another desperate struggle with your own memory.

— Don't overexert yourself, Y/N. You haven't eaten anything, let's go.

You feel like you should just let him take you to the kitchen, which you do, but for some reason you feel so damn uncomfortable around Baizhu. Those photos, his words, his look… Everything says that you probably love this man, since you even married him, but then why are you so worried?

You sit down at the table, carefully watching as an elegant man with perfect posture takes something from the refrigerator and hastily cuts it on a board before sending it to a heated frying pan. It smells delicious… Vegetables and some meat, as you think.

After a few minutes of waiting, a plate of warm snow-white rice appears on the table in front of you and a small portion of pieces of beef, carrots, pepper and sauce, which creates such an appetizing aroma that makes your stomach turn.

— I wanted to cook fish, but I decided that you should eat your favorite dish today.

— Hey! Are you going to pretend that I'm not here?

You scream when an unfamiliar high-pitched voice is heard behind you, and Baizhu just sighs resignedly, placing his palm on top of yours when you almost drop the chopsticks from your hand.

— Changsheng, could you not scare Y/N? — you don't understand with whom your husband is talking to, so you turn around hesitantly, noticing a squinting white snake on a small pillow, looking directly at you. — Y/N, please, don't be scared. This is Changsheng — she's not dangerous. She is… Our friend.

— Since when am I considered a friend of this little girl? I'm just an observer, girl, keep eating your dinner while I'm starving.

— Well, well, hush, — Baizhu suddenly gets up from the table just to get some treats for, it seems, your pet?..

— Why is she talking?! — you still find the strength to get out of your stupor and finally ask the man with his back turned to you.

— Oh, it's a long story, I'm afraid if I start telling it now, we'll go to bed too late, — Baizhu chuckles softly, leaving Changsheng alone with her food before returning to your table.

— Then you could tell me about it… Tomorrow?

«Tomorrow, right?»

You suddenly felt your stomach churn with fear. What's going to happen tomorrow anyway? Will you remember this conversation? Does it even matter what you say or do now if everything starts from scratch tomorrow?

— Of course, — your husband doesn't seem to be at all concerned about how your face is twisted by unpleasant emotions that have flooded into your scattered consciousness. You notice how he calmly starts his dinner, still smiling softly and bringing a piece of meat to his mouth before it disappears between his lips.

— Tell me… Baizhu, how long has this been going on?

You look at your portion, feeling that this food will surely satisfy your hunger, but for some reason your hands flatly refuse to take the chopsticks off the table again.

— Eat, Y/N, — your eyes meet. Baizhu looks at you with unreadable emotion. For sure, this is just a difficult topic for him.

Of course… After all, you'll forget everything that just happened, and he lives with it day by day, falling asleep again and again with the thought that once you wake up, he will be met with a frightened look again. You won't hug him, you won't kiss him, you won't tell him you love him.

You don't know who is he.

You didn't even notice the tears rolling down your cheeks until one of them dripped into your plate of food. It's all so damn unfair. Why do you feel such suffocating guilt, but at the same time you so irresistibly want to escape from here? Why do you want to run away from your own home, from your husband? It's all… too much.

— Oh dear,— Baizhu sighs. It seemed to him that it was not the first time he saw your tears, as if he even knows why you are crying, so he calmly puts down his chopsticks, reaching across a small table to brush a strand of hair from your face behind your ear and touch your reddened cheek. — I know it's hard for you. I promise, everything will change soon.

You look at Baizhu's blurred face in front of your tear-stained eyes, but you can't stop the tears even when you feel the thrill of his thumb caressing your skin.

«Is it hard for me? And you…»

— N-no, I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me, — you sob, trying to calm both yourself and your husband. You wanted to take his hand away from your face, but you let it linger a little longer on your cheek before Baizhu finally pulls away, instead picking up his chopsticks again and pinching a piece of meat from your plate between them.

— Eat, Y/N. You'll feel better, — his honey-colored voice sounds so gentle and affectionate when he speaks to you, bringing a thin slice of meat to your lips.

The smell is so inviting that you unconsciously open your mouth while the man gently puts the meat on your tongue.

— Ha-ha, you're a terrible in cook!

— Really? Then why are you eating my cooking with both cheeks, you rascal?

— Okay, okay, it's really delicious! Maybe it will even become my favorite dish, what do you say?

— Oh, you flatter me...

What kind of voice is that?.. This is not Baizhu.

The homely delicious taste on your tongue suddenly awakened fragments of memories, from which warmth spread in your chest. You remember the male figure so vaguely… his face is blurred, but you feel that your place is next to him. You want so much to grab onto this meager memory, but it slips away from you as quickly as it surfaced in your mind.

Baizhu notices you freeze for a few seconds before finally swallowing your food, and his snake eyes squint at you.

— Is something wrong? Did you remember anything?

— I… — you blunt your gaze down, suddenly feeling awkward. — No, nothing like that. It's just very tasty.

Why did you lie?

✧ ✧ ✧

July 19th

Annoying sunlight, the smell of fresh flowers, an unfamiliar room. And once again, you burst out of bed, clutching the blanket in your fists in fright, before you see the note lying on the bedside table.

«Read it when you wake up»

«If you're reading this, then you've already woken up. I'm sorry that I couldn't spend the morning with you properly again.

You probably have a lot of questions. I will definitely explain everything in more detail when I get home, but for now, just read the information that you will need to come to your senses.

Your name is Y/N. Unfortunately, by the cruel design of fate, you were destined to be tested by a disease that I, your husband, tirelessly struggle with day by day. Believe me, one day everything will change and I will no longer need to tell you everything that I will write next, over and over again every morning. But it's not a burden to me, my love, don't worry about it.

As soon as you fall asleep every night, your memories are erased in the morning, so you probably don't remember me or the house you ended up in.

This is our house, Y/N. We have been married for ten wonderful years now, and my love for you will never fade, no matter how many trials life throws at us.

Please eat the breakfast that I left on the table for you and drink the decoction that you are probably holding in your hand right now. Although this medicine will not help to overcome your illness, it will make it easier to survive the stress of the information you have just read.

You have nothing to fear, Y/N. You're safe in our house.

See you soon, my love.

Your Baizhu.»

When you enter the kitchen uncertainly, there is such a damn familiar smell in the air… meat and vegetables. For some reason, the phantom taste of this dish settles on your tongue and causes an inexplicable feeling of simultaneous calm and anxiety. It's probably what you ate yesterday, but then why are you so uncomfortable?..

Did something happen yesterday, or is it just a figment of your imagination?

Anyway, you notice a plate of pancakes still warm, and you look around the kitchen for a mug to make yourself some tea.

«Baizhu…»

You mentally repeat this name over and over again, trying to get it into your head that this is your husband's name. How could you forget such an important person in your life?

— Delicious… — swallowing the most delicate airy dough, you put down your fork and wrap your arms around your shoulders.

Your gaze turns to the street. The sun is shining brightly over Liyue, which didn't allow you to soak up in bed in blissful ignorance for another couple of hours. Will everything be fine if you go out for a walk? Baizhu… Your husband didn't leave any instructions on this topic. After all, you don't remember anything, but you're quite able to walk, so why are you procrastinating?

Hastily washing the dishes and leaving a clean plate with a mug by the sink, you went in search of clothes. Probably all the women's clothes in the closets of this house belong to you, although you do not remember buying at least one of them. Light dresses, a pair of traditional outfits, several pairs of shoes. There is no hint of what you are doing in this life at all. Do you really just live here and… that's it?

You look at several dresses incredulously, trying to imagine how they will fit you, but then you still choose what is more authentic, and turn to the mirror, taking in your figure with a glance. At least now you look less like a local lunatic than when you woke up in the morning.

When you got to the door, you suddenly noticed a small piece of paper lying on the shelf. The sheet doesn't look new like the one you found by your bed. As if this note has been lying here for a long time and it has already been read more than once.

Unable to overcome your own curiosity, you still sigh and take the folded piece of paper. For just a moment, you're tormented by the thought that this might belong to your husband, and you don't want to violate his personal space, but what the hell?

Unfolding the piece of paper, your eyes widened in surprise for a second before squinting at the drawings on the paper. It looks like a small map with small neat captions that indicated in the drawing, probably the house where you are now, and a certain place called the Bubu Pharmacy, under which it is indicated that your husband works there. Ah, now everything falls into place.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Baizhu probably left this piece of paper just in case you want to take a walk. How sweet and thoughtful of him to worry about you not getting lost, and yet… It's a little unnerving for some reason.

Anyway, you folded the paper back up and put it in the pocket of the only bag you could find in the closet. Although you're sure you're not out of your mind enough to forget the way back, it's better to be safe, right?

When you emerged, you carefully closed the door with the key that your husband had left in the hallway. Fresh air… You take a deep breath, as if you've been locked up for ages, finally feeling a fleeting taste of freedom. Birds are chirping somewhere in the rustling deciduous branches, the grass tickles the bare skin of your feet peeking out of light sandals, and you were almost ready to just stay here and enjoy how the warmth of the sun warms the skin of your face, how the summer wind blows through the light fabric of the skirt of the dress, caressing your legs.

But from this hill, on which a small cozy house is built, in which you apparently live, there is also a beautiful view of the city below, which beckons you with all its appearance, and you do not even think to resist, so uncertainly, but still start your journey, led by pure curiosity and a desire to distract yourself.

When you get to the city, you are suddenly overcome by fear, which for some reason decided to make itself felt only now, when you are already standing with one foot on the bridge of Liyue Harbor.

What if there are people in the city that you should remember, but…

On the other hand, isn't this a good chance to try to remember something? If you have friends, family, and you are lucky enough to meet them on your way, won't they tell you what your husband might not know? Although it is foolish to believe that a person who cares so much about you would not have tried such a way to restore your memory, but still.

You have to try.

So many unfamiliar faces pass by you, but you look uncertainly at each of them. You might still be mistaken for a local lunatic, but what the hell difference does it make if you forget about everything tomorrow? You also notice local shops, restaurants and snack bars, looking curiously at the counters. It all seems familiar. It feels like you've been here before, but almost everything has changed since your last visit, except… The atmosphere? Yes, perhaps, the atmosphere of bright streets filled with the noise of conversations, muffled music and footsteps of hurrying people is exactly what seems native to you.

You stop at a jewelry store, mesmerized by the luxurious rings, chains and precious stones neatly laid out in the window. It's so beautiful, but it hardly suits you.

— You should definitely pay attention to this stone, — you flinch when a low, velvety male voice is heard behind you. You turn around and see an elegant, handsome man towering over you, thoughtfully pressing bent fingers in a black glove to his chin. Tall, slender, dressed in expensive fabrics that gleamed gold in the fading sunlight. The brown strands of his bangs barely sway in the light wind, as does the single exquisite earring in his ear. The stranger's amber eyes stare in amazement at the surprised expression on your face when you freeze, just looking up at him. — Ah, you must be… — the man suddenly stammers, clearing his throat before straightening up and smiling softly. — I wanted to say that this stone will suit you, besides, it is rare enough to be honored to be in your jewelry collection.

— Oh… I'm afraid I can't afford that, — you suddenly get embarrassed, nervously scratching the back of your head and looking away.

— I'm sorry for the tactlessness, I hadn't thought of that. It wasn't nice of me.

— No, it's all right!

— You are too kind, but still, as an apology, will you allow me to buy you tea?

You almost let out an exasperated sigh, but still decided to let the situation go. Although you really can't remember a single person you know, this gentleman's politeness is really amazing…

— If you insist, — you kindly agree, and the stranger gives you a soft smile before gesturing you to walk with him to a restaurant table on the opposite side of the street.

It's a little weird, but… this person doesn't seem bad. You watch a man kindly ask the waiter to serve two cups of tea, and thoughts begin to creep into your head that this man clearly has some kind of high position in this city. It is unlikely that ordinary people behave in this way because of a small misunderstanding.

— Ahem, I'm sorry, — you suddenly draw the man's attention to yourself as soon as the waiter hurriedly leaves the two of you. — I just wanted to say that really nothing terrible happened, so I hope you're not seriously worried about all this.

Honey-colored eyes widen as the man intertwines his long fingers on the table.

— Oh, I understand your concern. The thing is, I didn't really look at the price of this stone.

— Huh? — you wanted to be outraged that the first thing you noticed when you entered this store was the sky-high price tags, but then you cut yourself off. Perhaps this man is just so rich that he doesn't need to bother with such topics. — Ah, I get it. Then I suppose you were going to buy it for yourself, since you said it was quite rare?

— I'm afraid not. I can't afford it either.

«Who are you anyway?»

— I see…

The next few minutes passed in silence until two steaming cups of tea finally appeared on your table. The man thanked the waiter before gently wrapping his hand around the mug and bringing it to his lips. The stranger takes a short sip, closing his eyes and seeming to be aware for several seconds of the taste of the intoxicating drink that has fallen on his tongue.

— Perfect, — the man across from you suddenly breathed out before looking at you. — Please help yourself. This is the best tea in all of Liyue, I assure you, you'll not remain indifferent.

— I'm afraid to addicted to such expensive tea by accident, — you giggle nervously before trying your drink.

Well, the stranger really wasn't lying. Although you vaguely remember all the teas that you have ever tasted in your life, you could tell for sure that this one has a rich taste. Subtle fruity notes, slightly sweet, but not cloying… Perhaps it can really be called delicious.

— Oh, what an exquisite taste, — you try to look thoughtful, like him, when you swallow tea, trying to match your companion for today's walk, who, apparently, is even too well versed in what he cannot afford.

— I'm glad you like it.

— Okay, since we're having tea together now, can I at least get the name of the man who's treating me?

— Oh, where are my manners? I apologize. My name is Zhongli.

«Zhongli… Zhongli… something familiar»

— Well, then we'll get to know each other, Mr. Zhongli, — you smile politely, sipping a little more from your cup.

— And you?..

Damn, did you seriously ask his name and forget to do the same in response? Maybe you should have stayed home after all.

— Oh, yes… I… my name is Y/N.

Zhongli notices you stuttering, stumbling over the words before finally saying your name, and his eyes narrow for a moment before relaxing again.

— Perhaps my question may seem tactless to you, but you didn't want to tell me your name? Because it seemed to me that it was very difficult for you, — the man chuckles softly before taking another sip of tea.

— Huh, no… I don't want to burden you with my problems.

— No, it won't be a burden for me. Of course, if that's your wish, — Zhongli suddenly cuts you off.

You're hesitating, fidgeting in your chair. It doesn't look like he really knows you, so… wouldn't it be okay if you told him? He really doesn't look like a bad person, and how can such absurd information about you benefit him? No more than the babble of a stranger he met on the street.

— The thing is, I don't remember my name. I had to strain my memory a little to remember what my husband called me in the note he left me this morning… I don't remember anything and I seem to forget even the day I lived earlier, as soon as I fall asleep. So I suppose even our acquaintance will eventually be forgotten, as sad as it is to admit.

You suddenly become gloomy, plunging back into unpleasant thoughts about what is happening in your life at all… And can it even be considered yours if you don't remember it?

— That's how it is, — Zhongli chuckles, thinking at first, and then his eyebrows rise, as if he remembered something important, and one of his hands reaches into his pocket, from which the man takes out a small notebook. — Then why don't you write it down?

You look at him with undisguised surprise, but his words sound like something taken for granted, but something that you would never have thought of yourself in your life.

— Write it down?..

— Yes. You can write down that you visited a jewelry store today and met me there, and after that we talked and had tea. Then next time, if fate brings us together again, you can find out from your notes that we have met before.

— But I… can write down everything that happens every day… won't that help me remember at least what happened yesterday? — you enthusiastically press your palms against the table, asking this question more to yourself than to Zhongli, but he nods approvingly in response.

— I suppose so.

— Archons… — you feel tears coming to the corners of your eyes, and blink several times, graciously accepting the man's gift. — Thank you very much, Zhongli. I will… take care of that.

The man smiles, feeling a certain relief when he notices that he seems to have helped you solve some problem that was bothering you today.

— Glad to help, — you put the notebook in your pocket when the man finishes his tea and sets the cup aside. — I hope this will improve your condition a little.

You flinch when someone's hand squeezes your shoulder tightly. You turn around, lifting your head to see the man looming over you, whom you seem to have already seen in the photo in your house…

«Ah…»

— Oh, I suppose that's your husband? — Zhongli doesn't seem worried at all as he gets up from the table, slightly bowing to Baizhu standing behind you.

— Mr. Zhongli, what a blessing that you are the one who met my wife. I'm afraid to imagine what could happen to her if she walked around the Harbor alone, — you notice how your husband's eyes close and his lips stretch into a sweetly friendly smile.

— I just gave the young lady tea as an apology for my own tactlessness.

— It's nice that you admit your mistakes, it's very rare nowadays.

Their conversation sounds quite normal, but for some reason you feel your stomach clench with worry and anxiety.

— Like loyalty to the contract, good manners are something that has long been highly valued in Liyue, — Zhongli suddenly turns his gaze to you. — Now, if you'll excuse me. I suppose I can put you in safe hands now and take my leave.

— Y-yes… — you finally squeeze out the quiet words. — Thank you… for the tea.

Zhongli is smiling.

— I hope you won't forget the taste of it and come back here to taste it again.

And the man left.

✧ ✧ ✧

Baizhu didn't say a word as he dragged you up the stairs to a place that seemed to be the very Bubu Pharmacy to which he drew a map for you. It was quite strange to just let a man you didn't really know drag you in a rather possessive manner to a place that you only found out about in the morning, but for some reason you also remain silent, obediently following him.

It's like you have no other choice. Maybe, in fact, it is.

Your «husband» suddenly stops as soon as you overcome the seemingly endless staircase.

— I'm sorry, please. I shouldn't have been so harsh. You must be scared now.…

You notice how Baiazhu's face contorts in remorse as he looks at you with concern, gently squeezing your palms in his.

— It's all right.… I just found this and thought you wouldn't mind if I took a walk, — you pull your hand out of his grip and take out a homemade card from your pocket, which the man immediately snatches from your fingers.

— It doesn't matter. Y/N, I'm just worried about your condition. I don't think you should talk to strangers. Although Mr. Zhongli is a respected person, I don't know how this can affect your condition. Yes, I left this card, but I didn't think you'd be afraid to go anywhere other than my job, so…

— That's enough, — Baizhu freezes, silently opening his mouth when your face takes on an irritated look, and you cut off his endless stream of words. — I can understand your concern, but isn't everything okay? I'm here, I'm fine.…

— Y/N, I know it's pointless to ask you for anything, but just… Believe me, it would be better for you if you just stayed at home or if you came to me. Why didn't you come to me?

— BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW YOU! — you suddenly shout out, causing Baizhu to freeze in shock. Your words are laced with malice and it's so damn disgusting, but you can't help yourself. — I'm sorry, but I don't remember you, you know that yourself! Why should I listen to you at all? I wanted to take a walk, I have the right to do that, don't I?!

— Y/N, you're crossing the line, — you feel your husband's grip tighten on your palm, which was still in his hand. His snake-like eyes seemed to flash with anger, and the soft smile that you saw earlier disappeared from his face, as if it had never been on him.

The very air around the two of you has become heavier, and you feel like you're starting to suffocate. You have to say something, do something.… Apologize? For what?

— Mr. Baizhu… — you both turn around when you hear a small child's voice coming from the entrance of the Hut. Do you suddenly notice a little girl literally plastered from head to toe with… talismans? — I heard a noise.…

— Oh, Qiqi, it's okay, you can wait for me inside, — as if at the snap of his fingers, a kind and gentle smile shines on Baizhu's face again. But the grip on your arm remains just as painful.

— Okay...

The little girl awkwardly squeezes back out the door, and your husband turns back to you. You can feel his fingers slowly relaxing around your palm.

— I have a few more things to settle, and then we can go home. Or do you want to take another walk around the city?

— No, it's not… I'll wait for you here.

Why do you keep groveling in front of him, even though you've just seen what he can be like? It's an inexplicable feeling.… It's like you're being held down by unbreakable chains held by this man. You don't like it.

✧ ✧ ✧

The drive home was stressful, although Baizhu tried his best to defuse the situation by gently holding your hand and asking all sorts of trivial questions. He feels how tense you are, feels that you don't trust him, but he doesn't seem to pay any attention to it on purpose.

The rest of the evening goes the same way. He helps you change, cooks dinner for you, and you eat together, exchanging a few phrases before it's time to go to bed. You feel a certain relief that you will probably forget this chaotic day when you wake up the next morning, but… now you have a way to remember.

Is it worth writing about it? Is Baizhu really not trustworthy?

You don't know.

— Honey, are we going to bed? — your husband gently strokes your head, standing in the doorway of your bedroom until you dare to enter, clutching the hem of your shirt tightly.

— Yes, but I need to… Go to the bathroom.

That smile again.

— Okay, I'll be waiting for you in bed.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 20th

You're having a wonderful dream. You feel so happy, so carelessly free, when your palm rests in the hand of a man who kisses you on the top of your head.

And this image inevitably blurs before your eyes, no matter how hard you try to remember his face. All that you are allowed to take with you from this sweet dream is a feeling of warmth and comfort, woven by the pure feelings that you feel towards this person whom you are punished to forget.

And the last thing you see is a snake sneaking into your cozy nest before it wraps around the silhouette of the man you love, causing him to disappear without a trace. You want to scream, you want to cry, but you just look at how your pencil-drawn life is erased with an eraser, and obsessive images are drawn on top, from which a suffocating lump rises to your throat.

«Wake up, T/I…»

You open your eyes wide. The room, the smell, the warmth enveloping your body — everything is so unfamiliar and causes the anxiety that you experienced in the last moments of your spoiled sleep. You want to pull away from the pillow, but some force holds you motionless before you feel the movements on the other side of the bed.

It's so hard to breathe, and you purse your lips when you look down, noticing a man's hand hugging your body. Maybe it's…

— Good morning, Y/N.

You turn your head and see a sleepy man. His long green hair was carelessly scattered over the blanket, like thousands of threads that, if you blink, will wrap around your limbs. The man smiles softly, looking at you from under heavy eyelids. His amber eyes are like viscous honey, deceptively sweet and alluring.

— W-who are you? — you grab the edges of the blanket with your hands, pulling it higher over your body and fearfully tucking your legs in. A strange feeling of discomfort appears between the closed thighs, and before that only a distant nausea, originating somewhere in your stomach, begins to be felt more clearly.

— Your husband, of course. I'm glad that I have the opportunity to spend the morning with you today. It's not often that I get this opportunity, — a man's palm, resting on your stomach a second ago, now moves to your cheek, and before you even have time to react, his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and gentle, but you don't respond to it, only letting out a dissatisfied moan before the man pulls away, quietly grinning. — I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You're so cute when you're sulking.

— Why should I believe you? And… — you wipe your lips with the back of a trembling palm. — …don't do that anymore.

The man smiles, resting his chin on his palm.

— In our house, you'll find many confirmations for every word I say. Although you don't remember it, we've been married for ten years and we love each other.

— Then this is… — you look down, squeezing your hips harder, feeling your underwear stick uncomfortably to your skin, before turning your gaze to a naked pale man barely covered with a blanket.

His face contorts in obviously feigned embarrassment.

— Ahem, like I said, we're married. Unfortunately, you forget all the events of the past day, so you probably don't remember what we did last night.

— That's how… — you want to believe his words, but for some reason there is something inexplicable about this man.

Dangerous.

— I think we should take a shower. Will you join me?

— I'm sorry, I… it's so awkward to ask, uh… — you look away, clearing your throat before your «husband» interrupts your mumbling.

— Baizhu. My name is Baizhu, — he smiles again, leaving a short kiss on your forehead before getting out of bed.

Your assumption that he really wasn't wearing clothes turned out to be correct. Baizhu puts on a robe before silently leaving the room. You hurriedly glance around the bedroom, but then glance towards the open door, hearing a quiet noise coming from, it seems, the kitchen. Hesitantly, you reach down, running your fingers under your underwear, almost immediately feeling your fingertips touch a viscous substance that instantly sticks to your skin. You abruptly pull your hand out from under the blanket, noticing how a cloudy milky slime has remained on your fingers.

«Indeed… Either you're my husband, or…»

No, this man doesn't look like a crazy maniac. You examine your arms and the rest of your body for bruises or any other signs of violence, finding no evidence of your frightening theory. Your gaze skims around the room once more, noticing a couple of photos, flowers standing on a table by the window, a woman's robe hanging on the back of a chair that probably belongs to you.

This place really looks like the home of two lovers. Cozy, bright and tidy.

— Here, have a drink, — you startled when Baizhu's voice suddenly rings out in the silence of the room. He's standing over your figure sitting on the bed, holding a small mug in his hand, even though you didn't even hear him come back.

— What is it? — you ask, holding out your hand in disbelief.

— I'm a doctor and I'm trying to cure you. I haven't been successful so far, but it's the least I can do, at least to avoid aggravating your condition.

When you accepted the mug from the man, you immediately felt the characteristic smell of herbs. The liquid is transparent, having a slightly greenish tint. It looks like a harmless decoction. You take a sip, instantly feeling the disgusting bitter taste on your tongue, and choke, almost spitting it all back out.

— Ha-ha, you've never liked taking my medicine, — Baizhu laughs, giving you a warm look before moving away from the bed only to take your robe from the chair and return, spreading it out in front of you while you writhe down the last sips of the decoction. — So you're accepting my invitation?

✧ ✧ ✧

It was so strange to feel the touch of a man you barely knew, who called himself your husband, when he was carefully helping you take a bath. Nothing obscene, but… you felt out of place. Baizhu acts like he's really known you for decades, but you can't return the favor. It's so weird. You didn't feel bad when his hands slid down your stomach, then gently and gently rinsing your crotch from the effects of last night, but it's embarrassing.

For some reason, you feel ashamed that you don't have feelings for this person. On the contrary, you don't even feel comfortable being around him. Of course, you don't remember him, and that's a perfectly normal reaction, but still… This is kind of crazy.

— As much as I'd like to stay with you, I still have patients waiting for me, so… I hope you can manage without me until tonight?

You wipe your hair with a towel, noticing that Baizhu has already managed to get dressed, braid his long hair into a braid and put on glasses. He looked very different than at this morning, but you can't say he looks worse now.

— I've done with this before, haven't I? — you giggle nervously, suddenly thinking about what you do every day.

— That's right, — the man smiles, slowly approaching you. For just a moment, he just stops his gaze on your confused figure before bending down and touching his lips to your cheek. — Then see you tonight, Y/N.

— Y-yes, see you tonight… Baizhu.

The door closes, you hear a loud click from turning the key. He's gone.

You just stand in the middle of the kitchen for a while trying to figure out what to do next, before your gaze stops at one of the drawers, on which it is written in neat handwriting «If you want to have a snack».

You don't feel like eating. Although Bai Zhu mentioned that he always leaves food in the fridge for you while you took a shower together, you hardly feel hungry. To tell you the truth, you don't feel anything. It's so weird, but you're really not standing here because you're thinking or because you need some time alone with yourself. You don't know what you have to do. Although the windows are tightly locked, you can see that the weather is quite pleasant outside, but Bai Zhu took the keys with him. He probably doesn't want you to go out alone.

He probably just cares about you.

You walk over and open the candy drawer, pursing your lips and just staring at the various candies and chocolates that you probably love.

— What am I even doing… — you sigh, about to close the drawer, but as soon as you start to slide it back, your gaze catches on some object lying under the stacks of neatly folded sweets.

You carefully push the chocolates away, noticing a small leather-bound notebook underneath. The first thought that crossed your mind before you unfolded the notebook is that there are probably some recipes written down here, since it is in the kitchen, but even after a cursory scan of the carelessly written lines, you realized that this is not the case.

«I don't know if you will check this place tomorrow, but I know for sure that Baizhu will not look into this box for a few more days…»

«I don't know why I'm hiding this diary, but it seems right to me…»

«July 19th

Today I met a man named Zhongli, who handed me this notebook. He seemed very friendly to me, but I still think that I should be careful with any people with whom I'm connected by fate. Don't you also feel this inexplicable anxiety? It's like everyone knows something you don't. It's so annoying.»

«Baizhu was acting strangely today… When he saw me chatting with Zhongli, they had a very strange conversation. I heard their words, but all the time I had the impression that I did not understand at all what they were talking about. Baizhu is definitely familiar with Zhongli, but does this mean that Zhongli knows me? If so, why didn't he say anything? Why did you pretend that we didn't know each other?»

«I thought about it all the way home while Baizhu tried to pretend that nothing had happened. He's trying to help me, so why didn't he give me a notebook like this before? Wouldn't that help me at least try to remember what happened the day before? It's not enough, I understand, but still… isn't it weird?»

«I feel like he won't let me out of the house anymore. Baizhu was so angry, even though he tried to pretend that he wasn't. He asked me why I didn't come to him…»

«Be careful. I don't know what is really going on, but… all hope is that I will find out in the future, which means I must keep this diary even at the cost of my life. Please move it to another place so that Baizhu will definitely not find it.»

«I'm relying on you. You should know what to do.»

The last lines of the diary, written in obvious haste, began to blur before your eyes. Your head is splitting so much that it feels like it's about to burst, and you wrap your hands around your face, dropping the notebook on the floor, when chaotic images begin to emerge under your closed eyelids.

A man in a suit, the taste of hot sweet tea. Fresh air, the paths of Liyue streets.

«Ah, you must be...»

«I hope you won't forget the taste of it and come back here to taste it again»

«T/I, you're crossing the line»

It's so hard to put the pieces together, like a puzzle with missing parts, but you're desperate to see the whole picture. An obsession that can drive itself crazy, but something forcibly keeps it in check at the cost of lost fragments. You really need to remember this, remember everything, but you run into an impenetrable wall, suddenly opening your eyes.

The kitchen, silence and only a very distant muffled sound of rustling leaves.

— What was that just now?.. — you rub your eyes, just pausing for a second before taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, opening your eyes again and glancing at the notebook on the floor.

You have to… Continue recording. You have to write down everything that happened today, you have to write down what will happen tonight.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 23rd

— Have a drink.

You're sitting at the kitchen table, staring in surprise at your husband, who is handing you a mug.

— But I already drank it this morning.…

— You need to take this decoction twice a day, honey. I know you don't like the taste of it, but it's for your own good, — Baizhu smiles, leaving the mug on the table and insistently pushing it towards you.

You've been acting weird the last few days. Every morning starts the same as usual, but once Baizhu leaves for work and comes back, you… no, you just can't remember. It's impossible.

The man gently strokes your head, watching intently as you swallow the decoction. Every last drop.

— Good girl.

Baizhu's palm descends lower, gently massaging your neck. You flinch at the unexpected oppressive, but not unpleasant feeling, putting your mug back on the table. The bitter taste lingers on your tongue, forcing you to reluctantly swallow again.

— Baizhu…

The man tilts his head to the side, continuing to stand behind you, now moving his hand to your shoulder.

— Will I ever be able to… live as usual?

Baizhu narrows his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch before stretching into a soft smile.

— I'll do my best for this.

— But this decoction is the only thing I'm taking right now, isn't it? Isn't there… another medicine?

Baizhu's long fingers squeeze your shoulder harder.

— I'll definitely find it, dear.

— What if… — you stammer, suddenly pursing your lips, not sure if it's worth saying what you're going to say.

— If? — the man bends down, and you can feel his breath, from which the stray hairs are slightly waving near your ear.

— If… If I keep a diary?

— A diary? — the tone of Baizhu's voice lowers, and you can almost feel the smile fading from his face. — Where did you get such thoughts?

— Isn't that logical? If I can't remember what happened yesterday…

—No, — your husband cuts you off in mid-sentence. — We've been through this before, honey. Do you really think that I would neglect any way to help you if he was a worker?

— No, I'm not…

— You don't trust me?

You swallow nervously. Under the skin, the purest manifestation of fear that a person can experience seems to snake. This question… There is only one correct answer to it. It's on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason you don't dare say it out loud. Why? Do you really not trust him?

— I… — you take a deep breath before turning to face Baizhu. You're looking straight into cold golden eyes, staring intently at how you're desperately trying to hide the worry appearing on your face. He can feel the blood pumping furiously through your veins, throbbing under his grip on your shoulder. — Of course I trust you.

You gently place your hand over Baizhu's fingers, which are almost painfully pressed into your skin. Baizhu sees your expression soften, and you gently stroke his cool skin with your thumb, bending slightly and leaning your cheek against his hand.

The pulsations under his palm are becoming more and more distinct.

— Don't scare me like that anymore. I'm willing to do anything for you, — the grip on your shoulder loosens, and the fingers of Baizhu's free hand tangle in your hair as he bends even lower. His lips are just an inch from yours. You can feel his steady breathing on the skin of your face. — Anything.

And he kisses you.

So possessive and persistent. He can't help himself. He wants to tear you to pieces. He feels the bitter taste of lies on your lips. The same taste that his own lips have.

You're so unfair.

Isn't Baizhu doing enough for you? Why do you doubt it? It hurts Baizhu so much. He feels his heart oozing with a viscous, stinking black substance — the fruit of his own sin and your disgusting lies, and if he is ready to admit his own inferiority, ready to be punished for his actions, then you… he cannot accept that you can be so cruel to him.

You hesitate, trying to hold back the urge to push Baizhu away as his hand slides down your forearm before settling on your hip. It's not like a normal kiss. His tongue invades your mouth uninvited, long and slippery, almost making you gasp as he pushes insistently towards your throat before wrapping around yours again. You whine when he moves, now standing in front of you and possessively stroking your knee.

You were so sweet when you touched his hand. Baizhu almost believed in the sincerity of your words. He really wants to believe. And that's why he can't stop now until he feels your devotion on his own body. You belong to him. Your smell, your taste, your body and soul are all his.

Finally, the suffocating kiss is broken, and Baizhu's lips come off yours. He slowly pulls away, and the thread of your saliva mixture stretching between you breaks off as he begins to kneel down. You squirm in your chair, fearfully clutching the hem of your skirt as his palms slide up your thighs. The tips of your fingers deliberately touch the inside of your trembling legs, which you squeeze to the last before finally hesitantly spreading apart, feeling that if you don't, Baizhu will force them apart.

— What is it, honey? Don't you like it?

A cloying, such a disgustingly cloying voice. You know that he only expects one answer from you, but Baizhu also knows that you really want to answer. Are you lying again? No. This time he knows you're only lying to yourself. He's sure that if he touches your hot crotch now, he will feel the moisture sticking to the fabric of your panties. Isn't that adorable? Your resistance against the desires of your own body is what Baizhu lacked when he fucked you in your sleep, so pliant and completely surrendered to true desires.

— I-like it… — you whisper so uncertainly that you feel sick of how inept this little lie is.

— Well, of course… After all, I know you better than anyone else, — the tips of his fingers cling to your panties, and you reluctantly slightly lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and lift up your skirt. — I know what you want… — Baizhu's lips are pressed against the inside of your thigh. — I know that you love… — he inhales the fragrance coming from you, burrowing deeper and deeper between your legs. — I know that you'll never lie to me. Is that right, Y/N? You're only mine, aren't you? — your frightened eyes meet Baizhu's frighteningly cold gaze, and you nervously swallow a heavy lump in your throat before answering softly.

— Yes… only yours.

The amber eyes narrow slightly before Baizhu's lips stretch into his trademark smile.

— Even if you forget again, I'll remind you of it again and again, every minute of my life, if necessary… — you feel the man's hot breath on the sensitive skin of your thighs when he lowers his head lower again. — I'll always remind you of who you belong to.

There's something wrong with him, you shouldn't feel good with him.… But your consciousness is inevitably clouded by the uncontrollable heat localized in the bottom of your stomach. You can try to deceive yourself, but you can never deceive human nature itself. Baizhu knows how to please you, knows how to make you swallow all those brazen lies that came out of your tongue earlier and replace them with sweet moans that he loves to hear so much.

Baizhu can give you the love, enjoyment, and happy life you deserve. A life that no one else could give you. Just him.

And this is just the beginning.

«Be patient a little more, Y/N… I'll fix it soon…»

Your body trembles as Baizhu wraps his arms around your hips from below, keeping your legs spread apart. You feel so strange.… The sweet anticipation is so tempting, but it's like something's wrong. The darkness so languidly gives way to the vague outlines of your own legs with Baizhu between them as you blink slowly.

And then you see him.

The image of Baizhu suddenly blurs, replaced by the image of another man. You know him. You should know. Just for a moment you have time to look at his face, remember his soft smile, hear a voice calling your name.

You scream when you see your «husband» in his place again. His wide amber eyes are watching intently as you press your palms to your lips in horror. Your chest is shaking, rising and falling sharply in time with your labored breathing. The shackles of deceptive pleasure seem to have evaporated, now replaced by pure panic and anxiety, which penetrate deep into your skin, sending a chill down your spine.

— You… — you're not blinking. It seemed like you even stopped breathing. — Who are you?

✧ ✧ ✧

July 21st

«He refused to let me out on the street. When I asked him if I could at least go to work with him, his face suddenly darkened, but he was still smiling. As always.

Whatever he's trying to hide from me, sooner or later I'll get to the truth...»

«Why does he keep giving me this decoction? As soon as I asked what was in it and what it was for, Baizhu didn't answer anything and just changed the subject. It's so weird…»

July 22nd

«What if I had asked him about the diary? I really don't understand what he wants.… I know that Baizhu wants to help, I know that I should appreciate what he does for me, but think about it. Have you ever seen him do anything for you? Why does he never talk about my past life? Why does he just say that he is my husband and nothing else?»

«You have to find Zhongli… He definitely knows something. It's very risky, but why don't you try to escape through the window when he's not at home?»

July 23rd

«I met with Zhongli, but to no avail. No matter what I asked, his answers were so vague…»

«He said he couldn't tell me the whole truth. He said: «Why don't you ask your husband about it?». Should I even do this? The more I dig into it, the more I realize that he can't be trusted…»

«I have to ask him. Otherwise, it will never stop. I'm starting to remember… I'm starting to remember very vaguely the person I shouldn't have forgotten. Who is he? Baizhu should know him. But I can't ask about it directly.… I think he might get angry if I ask about another man.»

July 25th

— How sweet, — Baizhu smiles, gently closing the small notebook. — And how ugly it is for the God of Contracts to violate his own terms, although … — the man grins, slightly throwing his head back. — …but I should thank him, because don't trials make our ties stronger?

Baizhu turns to you.

— Oh, yes, yes, you can't answer me, — the tips of your fingers run over the tape tightly glued to your lips. — I'm sorry that I had to go to extreme measures. The last few days have been as hard for me as for you… I had to work overtime, leave you alone in this state. There wasn't a second that I didn't think about you, I swear.

He's stroking your cheek.

— Tomorrow will be our last first meeting, I promise. I'll make you forget about everything that worries you so much.… It's the least I can do to help you.

You mumble incoherently, fidgeting in your chair.

— Oh, I know what you want to say. I'm sick of having to do this to you myself. I really wanted it to be different, but your memories started coming back too soon.… This is my mistake. I'll fix it.

For a moment, Baizhu's face is distorted with mock sadness.

— I'm really sorry that I had to get rid of your former husband, — the man sighs. — I wanted you to forget about him, but even my skill is not perfect, it took a little time to refine the «medicine». I'm sorry you had to go through all this.

You gasp for air, about to scream as soon as Baizhu tears the tape off your face, but his fingers instantly press into your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing your mouth wide open.

— I have to give you credit. Although the idea of the diary seemed innocent to me at first, when you had already kept it before, this time you surpassed yourself. I knew that sooner or later you would start digging into things that you don't need to dig into, — Baizhu clicks his tongue. — You should have just trusted me. I have to be the only one who will carry this load.

You take a deep breath and immediately choke when he forcibly pours a disgusting-tasting liquid into your mouth, which you try to spit out, but it inevitably flows down your throat anyway.

— You don't need this.

The room suddenly starts spinning before your eyes. The tinnitus drowns out the sound of your coughing and vomiting.

— See you in our new life, Y/N.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 26th

Bright sunlight, marking the beginning of a new day, persistently seeps through heavy eyelids, inevitably squinting when consciousness gradually returns to you after a deep sleep. It stings so unpleasantly, and you turn away from the source of the rays, which cruelly outrages your eyes. The embrace of sleep doesn't lose hope of keeping you at least a moment longer in its warmth, but for some reason the heart in your chest shudders restlessly, forcing you to explode from the soft pillow.

A slight shortness of breath, and the eyes open abruptly. You're clutching the blanket convulsively in your hands.

Your eyes are frantically running around an unfamiliar room, you feel a drop of cold sweat trickling down your temple. Fragments of a painful nightmare pop up in my mind. There is still a bitter taste on the tongue, causing nausea.

— Are you awake yet, honey? — you turn your head sharply in the direction from which the velvety gentle voice is coming.

There's a man you don't know standing in the doorway. His eyes are closed behind the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and his lips are stretched in a smile while he holds two steaming mugs in his hand, from which a subtle coffee aroma emanates. You scan the soft features of his friendly face with your gaze, and suddenly your eyes widen when they notice a white snake wrapped around his neck.

— Hey, Baizhu! You already left me for a few days with Qiqi, and now you're forcing me to inhale this disgusting smell. Get it away from me, — the snake suddenly spoke in a haughty tone, making you completely numb from shock.

— Okay, okay, — the green-haired man grins, leaving the mugs on your bedside table before sitting on the corner of the bed next to you. — How are you feeling, Y/N?

You tear your stunned gaze away from the pouting and averted snake and turn your attention to the man who is carefully wrapping his arms around one of your palms.

— I… don't know… I'm sorry, but who are you?

The man's fingers tremble on your palm. His smile widens a little.

— Don't worry, my love, I'll tell you everything now.

✧ ✧ ✧

August 5th

Baizhu sips tea from his cup, sighing contentedly. He turns his head to the side where the sound of your ringing laughter is coming from. You carefully place a homemade wreath of flowers that you have managed to collect around your house on Qiqi's head, with a doomed look allowing you to play with yourself like with a charming doll. The little girl looks at you in a puzzled way, probing with her hands what turned out to be on her head, and you smugly straighten up, resting your fists on your hips, glancing at Baizhu, sitting at a table in the garden not far from the two of you. You wave at him and smile radiantly, making the man's heart clench in his chest for a moment.

So carefree and happy.

— I see that she's fine now, — Zhongli says, covering his golden eyes before taking a sip of his hot drink.

— Was there any problem? — Baizhu smiles, interlacing his fingers on the table.

The man opposite chuckles, returning his cup back to the small saucer.

— I'm sick of watching them not detach from each other for the last few days, — Changsheng snorts in displeasure, curling a tighter ring around Baizhu's neck.

— What a nice tea,— Zhongli glances at the empty cup. — Thank you for the invitation. I think I should go now.

Baizhu smiles softly, getting up from the table after the guest.

— I hope you'll find some more time to visit my wife and me someday. You were so kind to help her last time, and this is the least I could do to express my gratitude.

Zhongli nods briefly.

— I'm always happy to help.

— Oh, and by the way… — Baizhu takes out a small notebook from his pocket, handing it to the Consultant. — It was so kind of you to give my wife such a lovely gift, but I'm afraid she can't accept it.

Zhongli's eyes widen slightly when he recognizes the object in Baizhu's hand as the notebook he gave you at your last meeting before taking it back.

— It's a pity, but I guess it did her a favor after all.

— More than that, — the Doctor smiles, squinting slightly. — I hope you know what to do with it. Although I follow all the laws of Liyue, but this time I can forgive some mistake that you allowed yourself to make by violating the terms of our contract. It would be a shame if you were careless enough to look for loopholes in it again, Mr. Zhongli.

— I could say that I hope for future fruitful cooperation, but I wouldn't like to accidentally meet you again at night on the Wuwang Hill.

Baizhu chuckles softly.

— Fair point, — the Doctor turns around again, noticing how you worriedly pull out the wreath that Qiqi was trying to eat from her hands. — It would be extremely awkward to meet again under such circumstances.

[feargender]

I think what frustrates me about the whole “they didn’t teach us this in school” “yes they did” “no they didn’t” argument is that like. Maybe the lesson was happening in your classroom. Or maybe the lesson was happening in the room across the hall, because at age 15 you were told to decide whether or not you were going to attend a four year university or pursue a trade, and then based on that decision (which is largely based on your family’s economic status) you no longer get to learn certain subjects.

My second grade class was over 30 students, many of whom didn’t speak English (and in this particular case these were all Spanish speaking children), but there were no more spaces in the ESL class. So my teacher paired the seven year olds who spoke both English and Spanish with the ones who only spoke Spanish, in the hopes that their translational skills would be enough to get everyone to third grade, where there still wouldn’t be more spaces in the ESL class.

In my current certification program, we are meant to do a research project. Just a simple essay. My classmates that I’m personally friends with are 18, 25, 29, and 43 years old. All of them finished high school with either a diploma or GED. None of them knew how to create a basic 5 paragraph essay structure. This weekend, I am going to demonstrate an outline from my own project topic, and we will learn to construct an essay together, and how to format citations.

At a certain point in teenage and adulthood, it is absolutely true that you are responsible for seeking out your own information. “We didn’t learn this in school” is not a good excuse for a 20 year old American who doesn’t know where Palestine is. And yes, a major component of K-12 is the English and language arts portion, in which you’re taught media interpretation and literacy skills. These things are impressed upon all children who attend American public school, which is the scope of my experience and what I am able to speak on.

But those classes are of little use to people who don’t speak the language they’re being taught in. Or if they’re in a desperately overcrowded classroom. An underfunded district without enough text books to go around. Or, after a certain point in high school, you’re pulled out of English because your transcript requirements changed, since you’re not expected to attend a traditional university. The examples go on.

My point isn’t that we actually should never expect people to take responsibility for their own ignorance, just that we should not underestimate the impact of never being taught something, or the likelihood that many people genuinely were never taught.

[carylmeanslove]

Luke's Floral Message

I had some requests to do a floral meaning for Nicola's Harper's Bazaar Woman of the year photo and I do intend on doing that one soon. I have been quite busy in RL so haven't been in the right head space. I do believe I am coming out of that now and will be able to get to doing that analysis soon.

This one is a quick and easier one seeing as it's one flower. Luke is holding two light pink shades of roses in his People's Sexiest Man Alive 2024 issue photoshoot.

I for some reason am not able to highlight right now. Agh! So I will add the portions that apply below the screen capture.

Joy

✅ Joy and Happiness makes sense for Luke. I mean we can see how he is whenever he is with Nicola. In the 'This or That' that comes along with this article spread he is smiling and looks happy. So that is a yes.

✅ The beginning of a new relationship. I take that to mean a new commitment level in an established relationship. One of the further meanings backs that up. More on that one in a bit.

Tenderness

✅ A love that is tender and enduring. The way Luke always describes Nicola shows how Tender she is to him and he is to her. It's also lasting and enduring. Through all the baseless rumors of them beefing these two never gave up on each other. Nicola stood up for him multiple times and they both still showed they were in contact throughout the time of the rumored "beefing" period. Reminder to people, online interaction isn't the be all and end all of relationships. Nicola and Luke have proved in the past that they talk/text on the phone (Luke was so wanting to say they talk everyday even, but Nicola had to backtrack on that les the cat be let out of the bag about their relationship) and they hang out (They went to the play A Streetcar Named Desire and Hamilton together. She also went to his play The Shape of Things opening night then out to eat afterwards. We also got evidence of her being at his place for the Cinnamon Roll social.) Point is they are part of each other's lives outside of Bridgerton. People who want to not believe that then they are being willfully blind. All that to say that their relationship is enduring and lasting. No loud minority of fans can or will change that. No adjacents (agh I hate that word too) that they very highly likely hired to help them have privacy during a very life-changing time can or will change what they have.

✅ Suitable for long-term relationships. See long-term relationships. Luke and Nicola have known each other for 5 years. Due to some crumbs that Nicola and Luke have been giving us. They are most likely in a very serious, long term committed relationship now.

Femininty

✅ Gentleness. I wonder if Nicola helped him pick out the flower he used in this photo? She has been using flowers a lot lately in sending messages. She is very gentle to him. But he is gentle to her as well.

✅ Love. Biggest duh ever right? They love each other. Our in love pair.

New Beginnings

✅ New beginnings. Yep, their commitment rose to a new level. Deeper commitment.

✅ Purity and Innocence. They have a healthy relationship. A good and wholesome beginning. I truly believe friends to lovers is the most healthy, pure and Innocent beginning for any romantic relationship.

✅ Emotional Interest. Has anyone seen this boy looking at Nicola? He is definitely emotionally interested in her.

I'm manifesting a Nicola photoshoot by Rachell Smith and an article that will go hand and hand with this one. That it will give some more clarity. Much needed for a certain portion of this fandom.

Anyway...there you go. I thank Luke for taking a leaf from his wife's book and sending us these messages in the language of flowers. As well as all the delicious bread crumbs throughout the whole article spread, photoshoot and videos. We love you Luke! Tell Nic Hi for us and that we love her too.

[dalekowrites]

hellooo it’s me with the bug report for After Dark again!

so funnily enough I tried to play through the bit about crossing the river because of the smoke, and I went through it twice from my last save, trying to emulate the choices I picked to the best of my ability, but I couldn’t get it to loop again so. Maybe my device was just being weird 👍 either way the loop doesn’t affect gameplay other than having to play the same section twice, so it isn’t much of an issue (if it actually does exist at all)

however I’ve screen recorded the later scene jump bit! unfortunately videos cannot be sent through asks so I uploaded the screen recording to a google drive and that’s the link below. I hope you can access it!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xyl0ISyVgB8RLK1zTPA9UubfymhUw4tj/view?usp=drivesdk

as you can see the scene starts with stating that ‘You are outside’ but I highlight the bit where the text changes to when MC is somehow back in the diner. The whole bit after just shows that the MC is in the diner I guess? I’m not sure why I continued playing past that.

OH MY.

TL;DR: the bugfix will be implemented in the next update!

Ok, so. That was an indentation error.

I'm not sure how familiar you are with ChoiceScript, or even just programming languages in general, so sorry if I say anything obvious to you, but I’d really like to explain (to you and anyone else reading) what happened in the simplest way possible!

Basically, certain scenes, actions, or events are enclosed within indents (i.e., every choice is inside an indent). You can think of each indent like a box, and any additional indents inside it are like boxes within boxes.

In that specific scene, there's a variable: the phone can either be on—so the MC can check the time—or dead, meaning the MC has to guess what time it is. In both cases, we're talking about two separate "boxes," each containing the line of dialogue or description that should be shown. In your case, the phone was on, and that was—chronologically—the first indent.

After that comes the second indent (the one for the phone being dead), followed by the rest of the scene. The problem is, instead of placing the continuation of the scene at the regular (lower) level, I accidentally kept it at the same indent level as the second choice, which made it part of that second "box."

Since the game couldn't read the rest of the scene from there, it ended up skipping it entirely and jumping to the wrong scene—specifically, the first scene tied to the next directional choice. So it continued the game as if you'd stayed in the diner!

...this is probably even more difficult to understand than a normal explanation, lol. Let's try a slightly more technical one:

The issue stems from improper indentation, which in ChoiceScript determines scope and control flow. In the bugged scene, there's a conditional block based on the state of a variable (let's pretend, for clarity's sake, that it's a simple *phone_on variable):

If 'phone_on = true', the MC sees the time → first indented block.

If 'phone_on = false', the MC estimates the time → second indented block.

The problem occurred after the second condition: the rest of the scene (which should've been outside both conditionals, at the base indentation level) was mistakenly left at the same indentation level as the second conditional branch. As a result, that portion of the scene was interpreted as part of the 'phone_on = false' block only.

So, when 'phone_on = true', the engine correctly entered the first branch, but then skipped the improperly indented scene continuation, as it was not reachable outside of the second condition. This led to a fall-through to the next scene label, which caused an incorrect scene transition as if you had made a different choice (in this specific instance, staying at the diner instead of leaving).

Anyway!!

This kind of bug is one of the hardest to catch—especially in a project with complex code like After Dark. (Fun fact: about a quarter of the entire word count is just code, and the full text already amounts to the equivalent of 450–700 pages, depending on your formatting! :P) So seriously, you've done me a huge favor—thank you so much!

Can I ask if you're playing as a free reader or a subscriber? And are you only following me on Tumblr, or are you also on Discord / Patreon? Feel free to DM me if you'd rather answer privately!